Milliways Field Reports

 
[After this.]

When you've been on the job for thirty-plus years, you're going to know where the bodies are buried, and that's especially true if you're a Man in Black. Which is why K knows all the codes and conduits down to Sublevel 86-D-Epsilon, the very lowest floor (so far) of MiB Headquarters.

Because that's where you have to go to find the department devoted to trans-dimensional and trans-temporal operations. It wasn't Zed's favorite to begin with, but ever since Milliways came on the scene, its status in the bureau couldn't be worse. Even K isn't sure what Agent W did to get assigned down here, but he has to agree with the rest of the bureau that he's 'the unluckiest bastard there is.'

It takes K about forty minutes to get down there, which is probably why W practically hugs him when he comes in through the door. K smiles but keeps an arm out, not being the hugging kind.

"This isn't a social call, kid," K replies gently, as W's expression collapses. "I've got a new assignment for you. Straight from Zed."

W's expression lifts--then halts in suspicion. "This is a joke, isn't it."

"Nope."

"From Zed himself?"

"Yup."

Joyful joy like a joyous thing. "Really? A real assignment? What is it?"

"We're going to be needing a surveillance checkpoint into Loompaland."

"....What?"

"Loompaland. L-O-O--."

"No, I--. I know how to spell it. Loompaland?"

"Yeah."

"But--. But that's a Milliways dimension."

"Yeah."

"Zed wants me to map a path to a Milliways dimension."

"That's right."

"On purpose."

"Yup."

"Zed."

"The man himself."

It's a very confused Agent W who starts punching buttons and turning dials on the impossibly complex control panels scattered around the large chamber. After a couple minutes of this, a large machine against one wall suddenly comes to life. Strange alien symbols flare up around a two-story tall ring as a weird watery bubble pattern erupts in its center.

K shakes his head. "Wish I could see the expression on O'Neill's face when he finds out we borrowed this."

"Sh'yeah. That'll teach Sheppard to play poker with you."

K chuckles as he strolls around the room, killing time while he waits for W to finish. It must have been a couple years since he was last down here. There's that old DeLorean, getting pretty dusty these days, now that Doc Brown's tech is getting about as out-of-date as the car itself. But K is genuinely surprised to see another, equally distinctive truck right next to it. K walks over for a closer look, letting out a low whistle at the sight of....

"Well, will you look at that. A genuine oscillation overthruster."

Then he eyes the dashboard, nearly completely disassembled, its parts scattered everywhere in arm's reach. "What's the story here?"

"Huh? Oh, the guys on Team Banzai want a dvd player."

"You're telling me Buckaroo can't install a dvd player?"

"Not in 1984 he can't. "

"Point taken. What are you giving them for a library?"

"I was thinking 'Big Bang Theory', but most of the jokes wouldn't have happened yet."

K nods. "1984 was pretty bad. We got by on Centaurian soap operas and those Denebian remakes of 'Zatoichi.'"

W shudders. "Man that must've sucked."

"It beat repeats of 'Galactica 1980.'"

W barely manages not to flail in horror.

"They love 'Firefly,' though. Say, you think you could talk to Malcolm Reynolds...?"

K shakes his head. "Sorry, kid. I don't know the Captain too well, and I'm pretty sure he's not the type to make housecalls. Most of those Milliways guys hate going to dimensions where they're fictional. Makes 'em kind of.... twitchy."

W, disappointed, nods. "Yeah, kind of figured. Oh, hey, here you go. One trans-dimensional surveillance checkpoint coming up."

"OK, Tiger. Let's see what the Loompas are up to."

And with that the Stargate abruptly shuts down.

W stares in surprise. "Ohhhh-kay."

K just nods. "I had a feeling it wasn't going to be that easy. Looks like we'll be needing a plan B after all."

So it’s no secret I haven’t been very good about following through on plots lately. (For ‘lately’, read ‘two years.’) Some of that is due to the job I started back then, and the long commute, which cut seriously into my free time. But it wasn’t all that.

See, the thing is, back when I started with Milliways in 2005, my plan was to never have any real continuity. My tabletop RP tends to go like this, with crazy amounts of detail, and while that insanity is pretty much what my tabletop group expects (I’m not the only one who does it), I was determined not to do anything like that with my livejournal RP. That was going to be strictly impromptu, just made up as I went along.

Except, suddenly, it was two years later and--oops, I did it again.

And now it’s been two years since THEN, and all my tries at making all that unplanned plot work have only led to fits and starts with lots of promises but not much to show for it.

So. Time to fix that!

It’s always a bad idea to keep pushing a plot that’s gone past its sell-by date, so I’m going to say that both the Black Oil plot and the Prank War plot have faded to black. The MiB won, of course--you think Zed would tolerate anything less?--but it was all worked out behind-the-scenes, just the way the bureau likes it.

(And truth be told, while I had plans for both, they were much too elaborate to really work on LJ, so I don’t think anything’s really being lost except some very frustrating, hopelessly elaborate ‘events’. And we all know how bad those can get when they go wrong.)

With those two mega-plots wrapped, that still leaves plenty of Milli-canon to build on. (This isn't a reboot, just a refresh.) It also clears the deck for brand-new plottage to evolve. And this time I won't be surprised when continuity happens.

I'm also leaving some things on the table in case muns are interested. If you guys have moved on, no worries, the MiB will have plenty of other things happening. But if some of these things would still be fun, then I'm definitely up for going in new directions with them:

1) The auxiliary agents from Milliways (Goldy, Nita, and Shulkie) are still on call if they want to be. And Duo’s Stiletto remains well-tended for when he wants it (or when Zed can railroad him into a mission).

2) Agent L will be moving on to still crazier problems with her love life, and that can remain Goldy's problem if her mun is up for that.

3) Rollerball: it’s a space in the HQ, not really a plot, so a Milliways tournament can happen sometime if a fresh group of people get interested in it. But officially, it’s now considered an area for field training, especially for starting Agents (the poor bastards). Yup, the MiB now has a Danger Room.

And, of course, the Annelid worms are still crazy. The Grays are still bastards. And all the other aliens are up to no good or total crack. And places like the Love Pits of Sargaxi VIII are still there. Just add new plot.

What you won't find, anywhere, though, is Black Oil. That stuff found out just how big a bastard Zed can be. And nobody's going to be having another Prank War either.

Aside from that, let the new plottery begin!

(And there will also be a guide to the Milli-MiB later this summer for anyone interested.)

 
[After this]

Turns out K does have time to aim at the hooded figure standing before him. It just doesn’t make any difference. His staccato burst of white-hot energy slams into the Entity.

No damn effect.

“Aw, shit!” K growls, turning and diving for the hallway as the air in front of the figure shimmers, contorts... and then something rips into the bulkhead right behind where K was standing, leaving it blasted and smoldering.

From the hallway, K hears a low, wet chuckle.

“Laugh it up, Slick,” K calls out as he re-calibrates the blaster, then taps its emergency power reserve. “Got your fine for damages right here.” The Man in Black snaps into a firing pose and takes several steps back, pulse blaster raised to unleash hell the moment the Entity steps out of the galley.

Nothing.

K waits. He’s a patient man.

Still nothing.

“Shit,” K grumbles again. Only one way to play this, and that Entity knows it just as well as he does. He slips over to the other side of the hallway, blaster still raised and takes step after careful step back toward the open doorway. Then with a rush, K throws himself through the door, falling to his knees, blaster braced in both hands.

Empty.

"SHIT!" K roars a third time. He leaps to his feet, and slams the activation trigger on a nearby control panel. As the protective seal slides back, K sweeps the room with his blaster. "Computer! Initiate code omega 7-3x-beta-tau. Re-task to hibernation unit, authorization K-23-F-kshtna-niner-delta. Initiate crash-revival system on my mark.... Mark!"

He's never going to hear the end of that from F and N, but dammit, they’ll be alive.

K flat out runs for the hibernation chamber, but by the time he gets there, the two Men in Black are already coming around.

"Goddammit, K," F groans, "What the hell are you thi--?"

"ON YOUR FEET," K shouts. “We’ve got an Omega class threat on this boat, so haul ass or get ready to start sucking down Oil."

With a chorus of "FUCK!" F and N lurch off their hibernation cots, falling flat on their faces before scrambling back to their feet and pulling on their gear.

K, meanwhile, is already back by the doorway, glaring down the shadowed hall.

"Looks like we get in-flight entertainment, after all."

 
It took the assault teams 38 days just to establish a beachhead near the Rimiran colony. It’s been another 78 days since then with barely a word from the Regula Cluster.

There are a lot more empty bottles of Eli Lockhart’s finest bourbon since then.

If he could, Zed would have demanded regular reports from O and the other Special Tasks Agents. But that isn’t how they roll, and since Zed trained them to be that way, he doesn’t have any room to complain about it. So he’s been waiting. And waiting.

Now the Agents back at MiB HQ are assembled again, standing before the Egg Display in the main hall, B’s hand poised once more above the comm channel. Zed nods. B’s hand drops.

The Egg Display remains dark for another long moment.

There isn’t supposed to be a delay.

The display flickers, and Special Agent O appears. One of his eyes is heavily bandaged. Quiet gasps echo in the hall. Every Agent there knows a Special Agent has somehow lost one of his eyes. Special agents do not get touched in a fight. Ever.

The fact that the bio-techs will have a new, vat-grown eye ready for O before he even gets back to Earth is entirely beside the point.

“I guess I don’t have to ask how it went,” Zed growls.

“I guess you don’t, Chief,” O replies. He sounds tired.

“Control of the colony tentatively established as of 0900 Approximate Terran Chronology. We’re--,” O looks down, checking to see how much time has passed since that morning, even though he must have known when he was supposed to report to Zed. It was a sign of how exhausted the man must be.

“--Four hours into a 72-hour alert. If it ends quiet, I’ll confirm the colony a secure site.”

“What about the their root systems, O?” K asks.

O nods wearily. “That structure you pointed out when you were here, K. We secured it three days ago, mostly intact. Turned out it was their backup command-and-control, just like you thought.”

“You’ve got access?” K asks, surprised.

O shakes his head. “Completely locked down. But we don’t need access to know what it is. We’ve got the system in stasis now. Whatever’s left, the techs can come out here and try to recover it.”

“Good,” Zed nods, his voice finally sounding a little closer to normal. “This whole thing’s been a massive kick in the balls, but if that works out, we’re still ahead. Agents F and N will be on their way out there within the hour. With escort.”

Zed is looking at K. K looks back. Then nods.

“Sorry, old friend.”

K shakes his head. “Has to be done, and I’m the right choice.”

“...But I think I’ll be having a drink first.”


[Next.]

 
The Gray Men were back. The Gray Men who had been coming every night. Helen knew They would be back. They still had more experiments. She knew that. It was the only thing she was certain of anymore.

There would always be more experiments.

She felt Them coming even before she saw the first one appear at the gate to her back yard. She still had time. She could run back inside and lock the door behind her. Barricade it. Hide inside and hope They would go away this time. But she didn’t bother. There was no point. They would only shatter her door again, and use one of Their Devices to move away whatever heavy furniture she piled up in Their way. And then They would that same Device on her. Just like the last time.

And yet, she almost did want to run this time. She wasn’t sure why at first, but then the reason came to her.

This time was going to be different. This visit wasn’t going to be like all the others (though she had lost count of how many there had been). This time They would be taking her away with Them. And she would never be coming back. Her life, her friends, her mother, her dog, everything she had and everyone she loved. She had already seen them all for the very last time.

She gave up trying to make her hands stop trembling.

They were here now, surrounding her. They still looked just like They did in that movie, and on the covers of all those books. They were only half her height, with gray bodies so thin and delicate and graceful. And those big, beautiful eyes she once thought she would have loved to fall into forever. But that had been back during Their first visit. Back before she had learned why They were visiting her.

“Please,” she started to beg, but one of the Gray Men waved the oblong-shaped object. Helen clutched her throat and mouthed a silent, “NO!” even though she knew her voice would be silenced for hours to come.

She wouldn’t even get one last scream for help.

Her body felt so heavy. So, so heavy. And now one of the Gray Men had come up to her and taken her hand. His hand was so delicate and smooth. But his grip unbreakable as steel. And now he was drawing her forward, on to Their dazzling, silver-hued, terrible ship and to her new life as Their--.

“Evenin’, fellas. Looks like you boys are having quite a party.”

Startled, Helen looked up at the row of trees bordering her property. A man dressed in a black suit had stepped out from the shadows.

“Aw, hell, I have to admit. I sorta knew you’d be around tonight. You gents are just so damn predictable. Could set a clock by these visits of yours.”

Helen tried to yell, but the silence was still tight around her throat. She had to warn this man. Tell him to run, while he still had a chance. But Helen already knew it was too late for him. The poor man could not possibly know what awful danger he was in.

“You know, I have to say I’m a little disappointed.” The man was walking right into Helen’s yard. The Gray Men were moving around him, cutting off any hope of escape, but still the man kept talking.

“How many times have you dropped in on Ms. Conroy here?” (How did he know--?). “Twelve, thirteen times? That’s how many the sub-space tel-nets picked up anyway. I’d have been by earlier, but you know how it goes.”

“My point is, you boys have had plenty of time to send me an invitation to these parties, but did I even get so much as an ether-beam? I’ll tell you what: I didn’t get a damn thing. Now you and I know how bad the Aldebaran mail branch is around these parts, but after all, fellas, you could have made an effort.”

“Especially,” and now the man’s voice grew hard, “Seeing as how you’ve made over a dozen unauthorized landings on Terran soil. Not even two months after I recited for you every single word of regulation thirty-eight slash bee vector alpha nine comma jay comma tau. And the preamble from the Treaty of Gamma Prime.”

Glaring now, the man stopped in front of the Leader and dropped his voice to a dangerous growl. “And you know how much I hate to repeat myself.”

The man leaned over, forcing the Leader to take several steps back. “So now, why don’t you tell me: Is that authorization request for a Grade Three Planetary Excursion already in the mail? Or is this little Encounter of ours going to get ugly?”

Helen’s eyes were wide, but they got wider still when she realized that the Gray Men were no longer calm and superior. In fact, they were agitated, their thin arms waving around frantically. Chattering and screeching at the man in those voices that always made it so hard to think straight and gave her the awful headaches. But the man just seemed to get more angry.

Suddenly all the smaller Gray Men were shaking their heads and jabbing fingers toward the Leader. Helen had the strangest feeling They were trying to blame Him for something. The Leader seemed to have the same impression. And He didn’t seem pleased about it.

The Gray Man had let go over her arm. Feeling very dizzy, Helen plopped down on the ground.

“Regulation seven code alpha three nine subsection-cee sub-subsection delta mu specifically states that no alien expedition may have unauthorized congress with a Terran civilian. And I’d say what you little bastards have been having is a god-damned sight worse than a 'congress'--.”

The Gray Leader had pulled out the shock-gun! Oh god, not tha--!!

But the man just grabbed the barrel, and snarled, “Give. Me. That,” as he ripped it out of the Leader’s sinuous hands. “As if you aren’t in enough trouble already.”

Glancing at the shock gun, the man’s eyebrows raised. “I take that back. Look who must have stumbled on that missing Dentazi shipment from Betel Gee Alpha. Let me guess. It sort of fell off that transit-freighter, and there it was sitting by the side of the space-lane gathering dust and you were going to report it, but you got so busy with Ms. Conroy here, it just slipped your mind. Is that it?”

The Gray Leader looked one step away from swallowing his tongue.

And for the first time in many weeks, Helen felt a faint glow of hope.

The hyperspace leg from Yekub to Proxima Centauri is generally considered one of the most deadly dull in the galaxy. It’s only been about an hour and twenty minutes (Relatively speaking), and Agent K is already half out of his mind with boredom.

There's no Agent J around to torment or Agent Zed to antagonize. Not even an Annelid worm to roll his eyes over. The intergalactic newsfeeds and databanks are just the same old same old. As for Agent B, he’s still with the glow worms, handling all the petty details left over from K’s rough-justice peace-making. Agent Zed's reaction to that had been a record-long "...." but, dammit, it worked and that ought to be all that matters.

K spends five minutes imagining increasingly baroque and grotesque deaths for Walter Peck, but he has to give up when he realizes he can't top a scenario calling for twenty high-pressure tubes of Cheez-Whiz, five particularly horny tribbles, a ten-foot serrated pole (heavily greased), and a large sign with blinking, LED lights proclaiming, "Ghostbusters Rule!"

Systems check for his MiBlackberry: 30 seconds. Field-strip and rebuild of his neuralyzer: 2.5 minutes (a new record). Use of his MiB scanner on Agent V—-again—-to make sure he’s still human (thereby annoying the crap out of him): 4 minutes.

Only one hundred and five hours left to go.

K starts to think very seriously about neuralyzing himself.

----------------------

Eventually, finally, the MiB commandeered Arquillian fleet transport ship drops out of hyperspace. Almost home. But as soon as they're back in normal space, K finds an etherwave transmission waiting for him at the nearest deep-space depot. It's from Zed.

REPORT TO MIB HQ IMMEDIATELY STOP WALTERS AND MAXWELL PLANNING ROLLERBALL SHOWDOWN SPECTACULAR STOP MIB WILL HOST IT AS COMBAT LEVEL STRESS TEST OF NEW FACILITY END

No, wait, there's also a second transmission, but K can already guess what this one will be:

BY RECEIVING THIS YOU HAVE VOLUNTEERED TO BE ROLLERBALL PROJECT LEADER STOP NO NEED TO THANK ME END

K finishes the letter and squints. Yup, he can feel that first headache coming on already.

That neuralyzer is just looking better and better.

 

MiB Headquarters,
Post-Black Oil Infestation Recovery Operation: Day Twelve,
Main Hall

Agent K was barely out the Front Door of Milliways when his phone began ringing. It was a priority ring pattern too. At least it wasn't Priority Alpha--K had heard enough of those to last him a while. But something was up.

The Door took him to Sublevel C again. It used to connect to the MiB locker room, but ever since Zed had retasked it during the Black Oil crisis, the Door had been bringing him here instead. Didn’t matter much. He was only a jury-rigged stairway from the Main Hall.

Hell, he could just lift himself up through the big damn hole in the ceiling. There were still scorch marks on the floor underneath it, left behind by the jumpjets on Duo’s Stiletto when he and Shulkie touched down, just before they joined the showdown with Marvin, the giant Unipod worm. The Headquarters reconstruction might have been ahead of schedule, but the place remained a complete mess.

K went up the stairs to the Main Hall and found Zed, standing right by that gaping hole. Zed nodded. “K.”

“Chief,” K nodded back. Agents B and R were standing nearby. Neither was saying a word, but they didn’t look happy.

Zed was pointing to something on the floor. "Take a look at these. Cleaning crew just uncovered them a few minutes ago.”

K hunkered down for a closer look. Just before his visit to Milliways, he had noticed the cleaning crew had reached the Main Hall and were starting to clear away the debris that still filled the enormous room. Now he could see they'd uncovered two sets of shoeprints, flash-burned into the floor. The pair of prints nearest the hole were noticeably smaller than the enormous pair that faced them several feet away.

“Looks like we had some kind of a standoff during the fight.” K looked up at Zed.

“Looks like. That smaller pair by the hole matches the foot dimensions of the Black Suit we had made for Stephanie Brown.”

K glanced down again at the pattern in surprise. Then looked at the larger pair again. “What about those?”

Zed shook his head. “Unknown.”

“Stephanie say anything to you about it?”

This time Zed didn’t even bother to shake his head. “Not a word. And nothing from the rest of Team Delta either.”

“What do we think caused these patterns?”

B spoke up. “Best guess is a photonic blast pattern.”

“Photonic?” K glared. “Don’t tell me it matches--.”

“—Spectroscopic analysis confirms a rough similarity to neuralyzer technology," Zed replied. "But there are no recorded instances of our neuralyzers ever leaving anything close to a blast pattern like this. I think we might have hit the next layer of the conspiracy already, old friend. You’d better talk to Stephanie. Make certain she's all right.”

“I’d recommend asking her how well she’s been sleeping, K,” Agent R added. “We’re still analyzing these patterns, but that flash was strong. Ms. Brown’s Black Suit should have compromised the effect to a significant extent, but if you go over the events of that day with her, she might be able to recover intact memories of whatever happened here."

“Right,” K said. He stood up again and met Zed’s glare with one of his own. Something had happened to Stephanie here, when she was putting herself at risk for their sake. Someone had messed with one of their own, and the Men in Black were going to make goddamned sure whoever they were learned how serious a mistake that was.

MiB HQ: Conference Room Alpha-Prime, 1800 hrs
Mission Briefing: Operation Black Oil (Class Omega), Final Report

[Following parts one and two.]

[Agent B nods at the holographic schematic again:]

MiB: fictional --------- Black Oil: fictional
MiB: real ------------- Black Oil: fictional
MiB: real ------------- Black Oil: real
MiB fictional ---------- Black Oil: real

[Agent B:] As you can see, our own Earth falls into category three, where both MiB and the Black Oil are real.

[Agent K:] Now, hold on. There is no X-Files program on our Earth.

[Agent B:] No, but there’s no fictional one either, and that seems to be the crucial factor. If something does not exist on our Earth as a work of fiction, then we are vulnerable to its introduction as a real phenomenon from an alternate dimension.

[Agent L:] This is making my head hurt.

[Agent Zed:] Don’t worry about it. You’re all scheduled for psych exams as soon as we’re done here.

[Agent K:] So you’re saying it’s because we don’t have “X-Files” the tv series that we’re now vulnerable to invasion by real Black Oil?

[Agent B:] Exactly. And now that it’s here for real, it’s too late to go back.

[Agent K:] So what happens if one of us goes to an Earth where MiB is already fictional?

[Agent B:] Well, that brings us to Agent N’s report:

[Agent N:] Thanks. We’re still drafting the final report for Operation Meta-Fiction, but the results are clear: dimensional insertion into a theater where MiB is a fictional creation has a devastating impact on agents’ capabilities.

All extraordinary MiB training and resources are compromised one hundred percent. Agents do retain knowledge and training within normal human perimeters, but all alien augmentation either disappears or becames nonfunctional.

[Agent Zed:] Turns a neuralyzer into a fancy flashlight. A damn movie prop.

[Agent N:] All zero-G fighting techniques, ineffective. All implants, offline. Alien weapons and scanning equipment, transformed into nonfunctioning replicas.

[Agent K:] So what would happen to an actual alien?

[Agent N:] We believe at best an alien might transform into a human wearing makeup and prosthetics. At worst….

[Agent N shrugs.]

[Agent J:] I say we send Frank and find out.

[Agent K:] And you’re telling us all this because--? Aww, shit.

[Agent B: (nodding)] You guessed it. The Black Oil is from a dimension where 'MiB' is a Hollywood blockbuster.


[To be concluded…]

[K strides down a hallway in MiB headquarters, his face set even more than usual. He knows he’s late for the briefing, but Zed will just have to deal. There were special arrangements K needed to make, and he had put them off too long as it was. Even now he isn’t sure they will make the slightest difference, but Zed is too crucial. The normal protocols aren't going to be good enough, and K is the only agent in a position to--.]

MiB HQ: Conference Room Alpha-Prime, 1800 hrs
Mission Briefing: Operation Black Oil (Class Omega), Final Report

[Agent Zed:] K, take a seat. We’re ready. B, let’s get this started.

[Agent B:] Right, Chief.

[Agent B shuffles papers and brings up a full-color holographic display of Earth.]

“What I have today is the result of several months research and field operations. I should point out that none of our findings would have been possible without the regular reports provided by Agent K regarding his ongoing activities at Milliways. In fact, it was Milliways that gave us our breakthrough in understanding the Black Oil and what its intentions might be on our planet.

[Agent B nods at the screen and a holographic projection appears, clearly visible against the white background.]

[Agent B:] Now, we’ve known about the existence of other dimensions for thirty years, and have had contact with MiBs on alternate Earths. Which, of course, made joint operations like Stellar Twilight and Ultimate Sanction possible. The discovery of Milliways, however, has taken our understanding of these phenomena to an entirely higher level.

[Agent Zed:] What the hell does any of this have to do with Black Oil?

[Agent B:] Because we’ve been able to trace the ultimate origin of the Oil. Or at least we’ve been able to determine on which Earth it first manifested as a real phenomenon.

[Agent L:] What do you mean, a ‘real’ phenomenon?

[Agent B:] Because by the time it first manifested as a real phenomenon on that Earth, it had already appeared on several other Earths. As an entirely fictional phenomenon.

[Rest of the room:] ...!

[Agent J:] I don’t know what kicked my ass last week, but it sure wasn’t any ‘fictional phenomenon.’

[Agent B:] With respect, Agent J, we believe it was. Or at least, the Black Oil started out that way. As a fictional phenomenon on several worlds. And, uh, by the way, it looks like we started out that way too.

[Agent B temporarily drowned out by shouts and bellowing]

[To be continued...]

There were few things Zed loved more than delivering bad news, but this time was different. He tossed the report into K's lap as he rounded the corner of his desk and sat down heavily. A little too heavily--there'd almost been an Arquillian invasion again. And that always meant Zed had been hitting Zabar's twice a day for the potato salad.

K flipped through the report, but he already knew what it would say. "Not a damn thing."

"Nothing," Zed agreed. "That joke you were making about the tracer bug isn't so damn funny now. We can't lose this guy, K, he's too important. Him and Venkman both. And probably this Spengler guy too. If Stanz doesn't turn up soon, I might have to send in a team to get him."

"Send them where? We haven't got a lead, Boss, and this report proves it. Who ever did this knew Ray and knew New York. Some Greek hole-in-the-wall--even we couldn't find him. Not until they get careless."

The other thing Zed loved was ripping an Agent a new one for being negative, but that was also something else different this time. The goddamn situation just sucked.

K forced himself to go over the summary again. And then something caught his eye. "The hell--?"

"What?" Zed growled, as K flipped to the middle of the tech section. "WHAT, dammit?"

"This," K said as he tossed the report back on Zed's desk.

"I've been over the damn thing three times, what the hell do you think--." Zed stopped and read the passage again. "The f--."

"Just the thing, you might have done, wouldn't you say?"

It wasn't quite good enough to be a lead. It was a damn long shot, really. But it might be cause for some hope. That is, if Zed's were more alike than they were different across the dimensions. But K, at least, was willing to make the bet that they were.