Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Is your email address still valid?

An Undecided Start

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Story

This story is No. 1 in the series "A Promethean Odyssey". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: Captain's Log. I'm Willow, Best friend of the Slayer, I'm smart, and I have the training and experience of a Captain of a Flag Vessel. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > General
Star Trek > Other/General
AlexanderMcphersonFR1539,1301338,76527 May 1313 Jun 13Yes

Prologue

Prologue

“Captain’s Log, Earth Date, October 28th, 1997”

Rosenberg House, 3 days before Halloween

“Captain’s Log, Earth Date, October 28th, 1997.” Willow was grinning, even as she logged onto the nascent internet and started a search. “I am still stuck here in Sunnydale, on this alternate Earth. A Native, one Xander Harris, has been protecting me from the local, ah, ‘wildlife’. This alternate reality is truly strange, with creatures that are only myths back home. Vampires, Werewolves and Demons... Oh my, as another native, one ‘Buffy’ Summers, once said. I believe the comment was what they call, a pop-culture reference.”

Xander and Buffy were sharing amused looks at the excited Willow.

“So, decided what you’re going as yet?” Xander asked Buffy quietly, while Willow murmured more of her ‘log’ more to herself than the others.

“I don’t know... I saw this gorgeous dress in the new shop today, when I was helping my mom find one.” She sniffed and finished, “Someone got it first.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was this, French 18th century noble girl type dress.” Xander blinked, and Buffy grinned to herself at the blank look slowly crawling onto Xander’s face, as the boy probably started to imagine her in such a dress. “What about you?” She wrinkled her nose and asked, "You're seriously not going as a soldier, are you?” That demon wrecked your costume.”

He shook his head, “Kind of. Soldier-Scientist, I’m thinking. No idea if whoever this name patch was from was one, but, well...” he held up the nametag from the green sweater that had come off earlier. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a bit handy when it comes to sewing up torn clothes.” He looked up from said sewing of said clothes, and added, “If you say one word... I’m telling your mom that Angel isn’t 18.”

Buffy sighed, “Fine, you don’t fight fair.”

“If I did, then that would mean I’m honest elsewhere and she’d already know about more stuff.”

“Such a nice friend I have.”

“I FOUND ONE!”

The pair was treated to the odd sight of Willow doing a victory dance... Xander style.

“Huh?”

“She found one.” Xander answered.

“Found what?”

Willow grinned and sat down next to them, and answered, “A shop that sells Star Trek costumes!”

--

6 Miles outside Sunnydale, October 29th

“I don’t remember these from the show.” Buffy commented at the all-color uniforms on the racks.

“Oh, we haven’t shown you the episodes like All Good Things, where they’re used as uniforms from the future.” Willow commented from behind a rack.

“Isn’t the show set in the future?” The slayer pointed out.

Joyce chuckled as she too roamed her eyes over the various sci-fi costumes that the shop sold, and commented, “Why don’t you all go as Star Trek characters?”

“Because Snyder put in a rule today telling us no co-ordinating on costumes.” Xander inserted as he came out, carrying an unfamiliar set of uniforms that resembled the First Contact uniforms, rather than the all-color AGT-future uniforms. “Hey Wills, found these, didn’t you say you didn’t like the rainbow uniforms?”

Buffy snorted, as he was a little apt with that description. Who wore Yellow jumpsuits like those?

Willow came round and looked the sets over, and hummed to herself. They weren’t one-piece jumpsuits for one, second they weren’t the lycra-type uniforms from early TNG, and third, only the Command uniform was in her size.

She disappeared to try it on quicker than Xander could pronounce “Today is a Good Day to Die” in Klingon... which he promptly pointed out by trying to do so.

“You speak Klingon?”

“It’s how I learned Shakespeare.” Xander replied with a grin, prompting the closet-trekker in the elder Summers to grin at the joke.

Buffy just stared at Xander, probably wondering what the hell.

“What do you think?”

The trio turned and saw Willow, in the non-canon star trek uniform.

The Jacket was black, with grey shoulders, but that is where the similarity with the first contact uniforms ended. The grey shoulders were bordered by red lines, indicating command. IT was also open; showing a similarly-styled shirt of black with red lines bordered the collar. The material was slightly shiny, which was odd. The pants she wore were reinforced, considering the seams.

“How’s it feel?” Buffy asked.

“Like I could wear it all day.” Willow replied as she flexed around a little, checking how loose it was on her even though it clearly fit her well.

“Are... Are you going to get a belt and holster, um... for a phaser and tricorder?” Xander asked.

Willow nodded, “I think that new costume shop has some. What’s your mom doing?”

Xander blinked, and turned to see that Joyce was holding up a First Contact uniform, blue, against Buffy.... only to blush and put it back.

“Snyder said no co-ordythingy.” Buffy commented, even though her eyes were gleaming.

“Well, he wouldn’t know, would he? Willow’s costume after all, wasn’t on the show...” Joyce winked.

--

Ethan’s

Willow smiled to herself as she left the shopkeeper, some British guy, almost drooling at her. It was almost enough to make her get a ghost costume again.

“You really gonna wear that all day?”

“Shush Xander, I think this is good for her.” Buffy whispered to their male friend.

For his part, Xander agreed, but she was attracting a lot of attention, the sort that she normally hid from due to lack of confidence. All it would take was Cordelia or the Cordettes to make a bad comment...

“Wow that actually looks good on you, Willow.”

Buffy and Xander shared a look of confusion, and then turned to see that Cordelia was actually complimenting a shell-shocked Willow in her costume choice.

“You got a stake on you?” Xander whispered.

“Yeah...  you take the right, I’ll go left...”

“I can hear you. Geez.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Is it really that out of character for me to compliment someone when they look good?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Willow glared at her two friends for a moment, and then smiled at the girl. “It doesn’t happen often, that’s all.”

Cordelia grinned and nodded. “Which is a shame, I mean, surely they want to look good all the time, right?”

Suddenly, the slayer and the Scooby found themselves ditched.

“What just happened?”

They turned to each other, then back at the departing pair.

“Buff?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we made a little bit of a mistake.”

“Maybe.”

“... Giles?”

“No, Mom.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“Ah. Right.”

--

Summers House, October 31st

“Now, be careful, this stuff won’t come off for days.”

“You really want to wear that for days?”

“Mom and Dad have washer-dryer... all I have to do is put it in and turn it on when I go to bed.”

Joyce looked in on the pair, and commented, “Willow, I don’t think it would wash well, the materials...”

“Are machine-washable. I checked before I bought it.” Willow replied, and grinned, “Besides... it’ll be fun pretending to be a Trill for a whole weekend. Halloween’s not just for a few hours these days.”

Joyce sent a glance at the front door, particularly the pot of candy that had been emptied four times in the last week already. “I think I know to which you refer.”

Willow held still as Buffy started another trill ‘spot’ on her hairline.

“So, who are you, anyway?”

“Captain Willow Rosenberg, joined Starfleet in 2367, shortly after the Battle of Wolf 359. Mom was an officer on the Saratoga, and I’d been onboard at the time. In the aftermath, Starfleet went on a large recruitment drive. Most of the people who applied over the next four years had all lost someone in the attack, while overall recruitment numbers were significantly down as everyone else finally saw the hazards that went with a Starfleet career. Pretty much ninety percent of all civilian survivors from the attack joined up as soon as they were old enough.”

Xander coughed.

“Sorry. I went security and tactical track. Assigned to the Odyssey, about a year later it was destroyed in the Gamma Quadrant... transferred to Deep Space Nine, under Odo’s command, with detachment to the Defiant. After the conclusion of the Dominion War, Promoted and transferred to the Enterprise, on the recommendation of the Deep Space Nine command staff. Had a stint on another ship named Prometheus, where I was promoted to Chief of Security, and Chief Tactical Officer, then across to a Galaxy-Class ship called Challenger, where I was also the Second officer, next in line for command after the First Officer. Four years on the Challenger, then a five year deep space mission as first officer on a small science vessel, and then three years first officer of the Enterprise, Picard having accepted a promotion to Admiral and Riker as captain. Then Riker accepted promotion and I got the Enterprise... Five years as captain, and a new deep-space explorer ship needed a captain and I put my name down, and it was the Prometheus, launched 2401.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all mapped out.”

“Kinda, I’m leaving the middle part, around the dominion war, open a little since only the first few episodes of season 6 of DS9 have been on.”

“And the Prometheus?” Xander asked. “You said it was new, but you’d had a posting there before.

“That was the previous ship, it was destroyed during a Borg Attack, or decommissioned, or something like that. The USS Prometheus, Odyssey Class, launched April 4th, 2401, crew of 4, or 500 or so. Bigger than the Enterprise-E, and very fast.”

After a moment, Buffy grinned as she opened her wardrobe to show her costume. “And am I on the crew?”

“You are now.”

Xander felt left out, just a little bit.

--

Rosenberg House, November 1st, 1997

She stared at the non-functional props.

Not a few hours ago, they had been working. Fully, working.

She stared at her hands.

Not a few hours ago, she’d used them, with phaser or fist, to defend herself.

She stared at the scratches on the uniform.

Not a few hours ago, the materials had been tested; demons of various sorts had tried to tear them. The scratches were only scuff marks. She could easily clean them. The Uniform was otherwise, fine.

She looked up into the bathroom mirror.

She didn’t see the costume make-up. She saw Trill spots.

She saw Captain Rosenberg, a Starfleet captain, staring back in confusion, elation, sadness, awe, too many emotions.

She wanted to go to her ship...

“Rosenberg to the Prometheus...” She spoke slightly, testing.

A beep of a familiar computer made her heart flutter.

“One to beam up... energize.” She said... she half expected nothing.

She half expected to wake up from this dream.

She didn’t expect her vision to shimmer from what her mind was telling her was a transporter in action on herself.

She didn’t expect the shimmer to fade and reveal a very familiar site to any trekker... the fully functional well-lit transporter room of a Starfleet vessel.

--

Bridge

Her feet had known where to go, even if she for a moment hadn’t.

She stepped out and saw... no one.

No Holograms of the Emergency Command crew.

No Crew members.

She saw the earth on the view screen, and if it wasn’t zoomed in, then the ship was in a high geostationary orbit over California.

“Computer, status of the Cloaking device?” She asked, even as mentally she reviewed her new knowledge of Starfleet’s relationship to that technology, that being in the aftermath of the dominion war, a new treaty between the Federation, Klingon and Romulans included permission of Cloaking devices to be used on exploration vessels. The Prometheus had an advanced one, designed by some of the smartest Romulan and Klingon engineers. While weapons couldn’t fire without disrupting the cloaking field, shields were able to be up just beneath the edge of that field, and it was otherwise ‘perfect’.

“All Cloaking Generators active and functioning within normal parameters.”

She felt faint a bit. She had a space ship. And no one knew...

“Confirm Voiceprint... Willow Rosenberg, Captain, identification code Epsilon Lambda Phi Nine Three Three Beta.”

“Voiceprint confirmed.”

She blinked.

The computer accepted her as the captain... unless it was a different ship... but no, she’d called ‘Rosenberg to the Prometheus’. Unless this was the other Prometheus she’d mentioned before, but no, this bridge was her bridge, not that bridge.

A hiss of the doors distracted her and she turned to a shocking sight... and a familiar one.

Her Chief Engineer, Nog. A Ferengi... out of uniform, but still Nog.

Or Not.

“Fix this now! And don’t you dare fai-“

Faint? Was that what she was doing?

Because she swore that that voice wasn’t Nog's, instead it was that of her principal.

But...

“If you don’t fix this right now, Detention for a year!

Yeah.

Guess someone had wished he were a Ferengi and it came true or something.

She felt the strong arms of Nog – even if they were currently Snyder’s – as her body did in fact finish her slow faint.

--

Authors Note:

This is a Rewritten Prologue.

Stargate will appear later, Chapter two maybe, depends how I pace it and stuff.

Btw, I’m sort of trying to come up with a design for the Odyssey class. Think bigger Prometheus-class, with MVAM. But the saucer nacelles are, inspired by the delta flyer. 22 decks, and each section has to be “A Fully-independant starship all its’ own.”

Disclaimer: I do not own Btvs, ST, SG, Etcetera

Rewritten Chapter One will be uploaded with Chapter Two, once I have finished writing two and proofing both.
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking