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Star Knight, Star Bright

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Follies of Fate". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: YAHF. A response to Chorlton's challenge to show a Halloween story with lasting consequences to the various characters, based on their choice of costumes. Also, multi-crossover with Palladium's Rift game and Stargate SG-1.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Games > Fantasy > Rifts
Stargate > Xander-Centered
GreywizardFR18312,98332925,02830 Oct 056 Dec 05Yes

Part 2

Part 2

"Uhm, excuse me, sir, but we've just gotten a reading on an *extremely* powerful energy source that's heading towards the unidentified fleet."

"Can you tell which system it might have originated from, Airman?"

"That's the weird thing, sir. It appears to have originated here on Earth. From somewhere in California."

"WHAT?! California? Where in California?"

"Sorry, sir, it was traveling so fast, we couldn't track it long enough while it was in local-area space to get a good reading on it. Once it hit orbit, it seemed to, uh, just sort of…jump, sir. Into some form of non-Euclidian space, we think, according to what the instrument readings tell us. Whatever it was, it was traveling at supraliminal velocity shortly after leaving Earth orbit, sir."

"Oh-ka-a-a-a-y...What's the ETA for when this – energy source – might be meeting the mystery fleet?"

"If the energy source maintains its current velocity, then it will intersect the incoming fleet's vector in approximately seventy-three minutes, sir."

"I'm going to inform the Colonel and General Hammond. If there is any change in either of these things' status, notify me immediately, Airman."

"You betcha. I mean, yes, sir."


Marcus keyed in the universal translator comm-circuit on his armor as he began slowing down slightly in order to avoid provoking the incoming fleet into unnecessary hostilities.

"Attention, approaching fleet. This is Cosmo-Knight Marcus Sinclair, acting as a representative of the Consortium of Civilized Worlds," he broadcast to the gathering of ships ahead of him.

"I have determined that your intentions towards this solar system cannot be considered benign and am hereby ordering you to leave this system and not return. Failure to comply with these instructions or the taking of any hostile actions against this system will be responded to with whatever measures I shall determine to be appropriate."

"This is Jen'tak, First Prime to System Lord Apophis, Tauri scum," came the outraged response a bare moment later. "Your posturing will serve no purpose other than to further ensure that your people will be severely punished for their effrontery at daring to resist your god's will. Surrender immediately, and we will raze only one in ten of your cities as penalty for your impudence."

{ Nobody ever wants to do this the easy way, } Sinclair thought to himself with a sigh.

"This is your final warning, so-called 'god'," he replied. "If your fleet does not immediately commence retreat, I will defend this system with all necessary force."

"Your words have doomed not only yourself, Tauri scum, but your people as well," came the snarling answer. "Fleet, by my Lord's command, attack!"

"On your own head be it, then," Sinclair announced. "Keep in mind, I will not attack any ship that retreats. Any that attempts to attack either myself or anything in this system, however, will be destroyed."

The blast that erupted from the lead ship, one intended to be used against other battleships it might encounter, targeted the small figure squarely, with the intensity of the super-heavy plasma bolt blinding all who watched for a few seconds afterward. The power inherent in that single shot would have been sufficient to almost completely disable a vehicle commensurate with itself, leaving only charred, drifting fragments of anything smaller it might impact.

Any observers who might have been watching, however, would have been astonished, once their sight returned, to see the small, silver figure still floating directly in the path of the oncoming horde of ships.

"All right, then, if that's how you want to do it," those same observers could have heard the figure announce, an instant before it began rocketing towards its assailant as iridescent beams erupted from its eyes.

"Now it's my turn."


Summers home
Several hours later

"Who's that? Who's out there?"

Dawn let a small sigh of frustrated exasperation out as she realized that the her mom was apparently still awake and waiting up for her to get home, and not asleep on the couch as the preteen had been hoping and praying she would be.

"It's me, Mom," she called back as she headed out to the kitchen to face the music for coming in so late.

There was no way that Mom was going to believe her story about falling asleep while out getting candy and just waking up a little while ago.

Not even when it was true.

Heck, she barely believed it herself, and she was the one it had happened to! But it was the most vivid and life-like dream she'd ever had, no question about that at all, even if it had been the weirdest one she'd ever had!

She'd dreamed she was a Slayer, like Buffy – only better.

Actually she'd dreamed that she was Maureen Mac Corey, the Slayer she'd read about in those Watcher journals she'd run across in Giles' office last week when she'd been waiting with Xander and Willow for Buffy to finish her training so they could all walk home with her.

Anyway, she dreamed she was Maureen and that she'd found herself here in Sunnydale, but that there had been a bunch of demons and monsters running wild through town, and she'd been protecting the townspeople from them, just like Maureen had done way-back-when in Ireland, when Maureen was still alive.

And then she'd woken up to find herself lying facedown on the Murchison's side yard, all by herself. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened, because Marcie would *never * leave her alone and unprotected at night, but their house had been dark when she made her way over there and it looked like everyone was probably asleep, so she'd come right home, and unfortunately, Mom was up and waiting for her to come in.

She could hear her mother's footsteps heading her way and she steeled herself for a lecture about responsibility and not worrying parents with irresponsible behavior.

What she wasn't ready for was her mother's reaction to seeing her.

"Who are you? And where's my daughter?!!"


"Excuse me, sir, but that mystery energy source appears to have met with the incoming Goa'uld fleet."

"So, any idea of what's going out there?"

"Well, uh, based on the readings from the sensor system the Asgard established, sir, it would appear, uhm, that the Goa'uld fleet is under attack from the unidentified energy source."

"What?" The professional curiosity about who or what could conceivably fight a Goa'uld ship was clear in O'Neill's voice.

"And that they've lost at least half of their cruisers and at least a dozen of their smaller assault craft, too."

"WHAT?!!" The astonishment regarding what he'd just heard was quite plain in his voice, now.

"That's what the readings indicate, sir."

"Notify the General immediately!"

"Yes, sir."


"Who are you? And where's my daughter?!!"

Joyce Summers' demand seemed to take the strange young woman standing in her house by surprise.

"Mom, it's me," the young brunette announced, apparently taken aback by Joyce's shocked reaction to walking in and seeing a stranger standing in her foyer.

"You know, your younger daughter – Dawn," the girl continued, a confused expression on her face.

"I don't know who you are, young lady, but you are not my daughter, Dawn," Joyce replied, glaring at the intruder. "I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but if anything has happened to her, I guarantee you are going to be *extremely* sorry you were involved in whatever is going on."

"Mom, you're starting to freak me out," the girl replied, shaking her head as she kept on staring at her. "I don't know what your problem is, but I really am me."

"Young lady, my daughter, Dawn, is only twelve years old; something you most certainly are not," Joyce replied, reaching over and picking up the field hockey stick that was leaning against the closet door.

"If you've had anything to do with the reason she's not here right now, I suggest you tell me what it is before I lose whatever restraint I still possess," she added as she lifted the stick up and began advancing towards the intruder.

Taking an involuntary step backwards, the girl reflexively glanced over as she caught a glimpse of movement off to her side, and she suddenly paled, her hand involuntarily lifting to touch her face as she looked into the mirror hanging above the hall table.


Dawn stepped back automatically as her mother grabbed her field hockey stick and raised it threateningly, surprised and more than a bit frightened at seeing her mother's actions.

She noticed a flicker of movement off to the side and she turned her head to find herself looking into the foyer mirror, only to find someone completely different looking back at her

She was astonished to discover a tall brunette adolescent with striking blue eyes staring at her, and as she reflexively lifted her hand to her face, the girl in the mirror did the same.

"Oh my god!" she managed to gasp before the world seemed to whirl around her and everything went black.


"Sir, the Goa'uld fleet has turned around and is leaving the system at maximum speed. Sensor readings indicate that approximately half of the fleet was destroyed in the confrontation with the unidentified energy source."

"Where is this unidentified energy source at present?" General Hammond asked, worry lines marring his expression.

"Whatever it is, it's on its way back here, sir. If it maintains its current velocity, it should be intersecting earth orbit in approximately sixty-four minutes."

"I want all sensors tracking this – source – as soon as it reaches earth orbit, and I want to know the location of where it touches down the second it does."

"Yes, sir."

"Colonel O'Neill, assemble SG-1 and be ready to move out immediately," Hammond directed as he gave serious consideration to the information he'd just received. "You are to make contact with whoever is in charge of this energy source and determine what it is that just trashed that fleet, where and when they developed it, and what they want to allow us access to it, also."

"Yes, sir."

"You are authorized to take whatever actions you deem necessary or make whatever concessions and agreements are required, in order to get us that access, Colonel. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir, I do. You can count on us, sir. Carter! Space Monkey! Teal'c! Time to head 'em up and move 'em out."


Joyce carefully approached the supine figure, alert for any signs of treachery.

It was quite strange, she mused to herself while she cautiously checked the young woman for any signs of faking. The girl had looked in the mirror, a look of what she could only describe as shock and astonishment had crossed her suddenly pale face, and then she had seemed to faint.

After a moment's scrutiny failed to reveal any indications of deceit, she knelt down next to the clearly unconscious girl and began examining her with greater attention.

The girl seemed very familiar, Joyce reflected, as she checked her over – maybe she was related to one of Dawn's friends, and that was why it seemed as if she should know her.

The shape of her face was similar to Hank's mother, like Dawn's was, she noted absently, and the color of her hair was pretty much identical, too.

And this mystery girl even had the same type of mole behind her left ear that Dawn had, she also noted, as a sudden feeling of anxiety began to fill her stomach.

Motivated by a sudden, unacknowledged premonition, Joyce pushed up the girl's left sleeve and examined the inside of her elbow.

The sight of a scar identical to one her younger daughter picked up rollerblading made her drop the girl's arm as though it had suddenly been transformed into a scorpion and her hand flew to her throat as an abrupt realization of a patently impossible fact filled her mind:

This teenaged stranger lying unconscious on the floor of her home was her little girl!

How or why this could have occurred, she had no idea, but Joyce Summers now knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that things had happened this night that were going to significantly affect her and her family for the rest of their lives.


The being formerly believing himself to be Cosmo-Knight Marcus Sinclair, and now knowing himself to actually be Normal-Guy Alexander Lavelle Harris, dropped from the skies onto the asphalt surface of the parking lot.

He'd checked the school library once he'd finally returned to his home planet (and the fact that he'd actually been out in space, far beyond Pluto's icy orbit, and had single-handedly fought off an invading fleet of space ships commanded by idiots with delusions of godhood was something he was still having difficulty coming to grips with) and since given the hour and the fact that neither Giles nor the girls had been there, he'd figured it was better for him to try and contact the Watcher than disturb either Wills or Buffy at home.

Mrs. Summers was usually pretty cool about a lot of things, but he couldn't see her being the least bit happy about someone calling the house at four o'clock in the morning unless there was an honest-to-god apocalypse heading their way. And even if something like that was about to happen, he kinda thought that even a Big Bad looking to end the world was gonna be smart enough to not want to piss her off by disturbing her at this time of night.

Not that he really thought that Giles was gonna be all that delighted to see him right now, mind you, but considering everything that had happened to him over the course of the past few hours, he decided as he rang the apartment's doorbell, he was fairly sure that the expatriate Englishman wouldn't do much more that make a few sarcastic remarks about the inability of American youth to properly tell time or something along those lines before settling down and listening to his story.

The look on Giles' face as he opened the door and saw him suddenly made the pit of Xander's stomach drop, and the unexpected visions that suddenly exploded in his head and brought him to his knees– of a sterile looking hospital scene with him and a group of unfamiliar, uniformed people gathered around a bed; of himself battling side by side with some unrecognized military forces against a Hulk-sized-and-shaped smurf; of lying on the ground writhing in pain as a darkly shrouded figure pinned him to the ground with the beam from some type of wand or rod and gloated while battle raged around them; of him soaring into the photosphere of a star, desperately pursuing an only vaguely seen package – all of this did nothing whatsoever to make him think things were going well.


"You sure this is the right place, Carter?" Colonel Jack O'Neill asked doubtfully as they pulled up in front of an ordinary looking apartment complex located in one of the completely normal looking suburbs making up the majority of the town's normal looking neighborhoods. (And all of them were way too normal-looking for his taste and set his hackles a raising.)

This certainly didn't look like the kind of place some weird-o genius would use to develop any kind of combined space suit and battle armor that was powerful enough to chew up a dozen Goa'uld Ha'tak class battle cruisers with escorts and then spit out the crumbs.

But hey, who was he to judge where some crazy nutcase inventor wanted to live?

"Yes, sir, I am," Major Samantha Carter answered, pointing to one of the seemingly identical units making up the building. "The NSA's KH-15 reconnaissance satellites showed the individual wearing the power armor flew here, landed in this parking lot and then headed towards that apartment, sir. Records indicate the current tenant is a Dr. Rupert Giles, native of England, who is currently visiting on a work permit. He's employed as the librarian at the local high school."

"All right then, let's go introduce ourselves, kids. Maybe we can invite the power armor's nice genius inventor out to breakfast. I'll even offer to buy at the Waffle House down the street," Jack smirked, as he knocked on the front door of the apartment Carter had indicated.

The bespeckled older man who answered his knock didn't exactly fit the stereotypical image of the eccentric mad scientist, and the expression he was wearing was anything but friendly.

"Can I help you?" The words might have been polite, but the attitude accompanying them was definitely approaching absolute zero, Jack decided. Of course, he probably wouldn't be all sunshine and puppies if a bunch of people in military uniforms he didn't know woke him up at this hour of the morning, either, he reflected. Although the guy was completely dressed, as though he were either about to leave, or just coming back in from being somewhere else, he noticed absently as he pulled up 'Dress Uniform Artificial Smile #2' and started into his spiel.

"Hello there, Dr. Giles," he beamed winningly at the Englishman. "We're sorry to disturb you at this hour of the morning, but we believe you may possess information that could have a significant bearing on some particular situations currently being addressed by certain departments of the United States Air Force."

"Bugger off. I'm busy," the older man snarled as he began closing the door in Jack's face, drawing a small smile from both Daniel and Carter, and a slightly puzzled look from Teal'c, who was clearly unfamiliar with the idiom the Englishman used.

Before Jack could react with anything more than an irate frown, however, the newcomers heard a second voice issuing from inside the apartment.

"Hold up a minute, Giles. These guys may be the people I was just telling you about. Is one of them an older guy with my sense of humor and another one a good-looking blonde, both in uniform?" they heard the second voice ask. "And they've got a younger-looking guy with glasses with them, too, right? Looks like he could be a mini-Watcher, maybe?"

The foursome looked at each other with the least bit of surprise and questioning expressions at the last bit used to describe Danny, then shrugged. They'd been described in much less flattering terms often enough.

It was the final words the tall, dark-haired youth said as he appeared in view just beyond the librarian's shoulder and looked at them that immediately put them on their guard and threw them all into their most vigilant status.

"And they've some kind of big alien guy with them, too.

"You better let them in. I think this is probably gonna end up being kind of important."


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