~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is Your Pleasure, Sir?
by Carole
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***
Prologue : Oblivion
***

Emptiness, the great, vast dark of space filled only
with a smattering of stars; of planets; of people. 

\\Twist. Flash.\\ 

Onward it drifted, spinning and catching the light of
far off breaks in the void, a golden glimmer against
the black of the eternal night surrounding it. 

\\Twist. Flash.\\

It moved with the determination only the very stubborn
or the inanimate could know. 

\\Twist. Flash.\\

Onward into oblivion.

***
198 AC
***

His nose was running. John sniffled, scrunching it
upward as his face took on a contorted grimace. Of all
the times to catch a cold, it had to be now. He
ignored his discomfort and continued to dig into the
damaged crack in the hull.

"How's it goin' out there, buddy?" The voice was
gravelly with static over the comlink.

John sniffed again, instinctively raising his hand to
wipe his face, but instead met the casing of his suit.
"Fine, JT. I think I've found the problem. Give me
half an hour and I'll have this baby up and running
again."

The com crackled. "We'll get this shipment there on
time. You do good work, Johnny. Guess that's why they
pay us the big bucks."

Didn't he wish. Since contact between the colonies had
been re-established, there'd been a resurgence of
trade between them. A profitable business, if you knew
the right people, dangerous even if you did. John
didn't. But hey, he just worked here. It was Jakes's
ship. Let him worry about the money.

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively, removing a burned
out connector. **So that's the real problem. I have
another of these here somewhere,** he thought, letting
himself drift on his cable as he ruffled through the
supplies on his belt.

Grunting, he forced the new connector into place.
"Jake, I think that's about got it. What's it
reading?"

"In the green."

"Good, just let me patch this up. How pressed are we
for time?"

"We're still a bit ahead of schedule, but get it done
quick. These aren't the safest parts of space. You've
heard about the disappearances. Pirates and such."

John nodded to himself. Someone else was profiting
from the trade and he didn't want to be the next
victim either. "Fine. I'll just do a rough patch. It
should be fine for a colony landing. It's not like we
need to get through atmosphere. I'll fix it up when we
get there."

"Right. Well, keep 'er coming."

The spacer drifted himself over to some of his
supplies, reaching for the welder when a flash of gold
caught his eye.

"JT?" He paused, then called the man again. "Jake?"

"What?"

"Are the scanners picking up anything?"

There was a pause as the man in the cockpit checked
over the equipment. "No, why?"

"I see something."

Again, silence.

"Shit." A statement of cold finality. "A ship? Is it
cloaked? Get back in here right now."

"We can't fly like this. If something should hit the
rupture..."

"We're screwed. But, we're dead anyway if we're
attacked. Our only hope is to burn out of here."

Twist. Flash.

"Jake?"

"Johnny, what's taken you so long?"

"That's not a ship, it's a box."

"What!?!"

"Probably just some garbage from an old satellite."

"I can't believe you scared the shit out of me for
some space junk."

John shook his head. All this time out here was making
them go loopy. "Sorry. I made a mistake. I'll just
patch it up and we can get gone."

"The sooner, the better."

It was slow going, despite his words earlier. He
pounded the right top corner down with frustration,
sniffling as he did so. **Just stay there for a
second, baby. Johnny's almost got you.** Then he could
get back inside and get out of this wasteland, not to
mention something to wipe his nose. A shape swam past
his line of sight.

"Aaah!"

He could hear JT jump over the com and reassured him
quickly. "Don't worry, it's nothing."

"Didn't hit your hand again, did you?"

"No, I'm fine."

That was funny, he could have sworn it had been going
in the other direction. **Must have misjudged with the
lack of reference points.** The box was beautiful,
gold designs shining on its surface. **Well, this old
thing may be worth something. Hell, I'll just take it
with me.** He reached up, grasping it in careful hands
and tucked it in with his tools. After all, he needed
all the help he could get. Sue was expecting a baby in
two months.

***
Three weeks later
***

The door creaked open slowly, light reluctantly
entering the room as shadows slithered out of its path
like living things. Trained eyes took in the
surroundings.

One hand raised to his headset, Michael Ramsey,
Preventor, spoke. "Clear, sir. This was the last room.
It's empty. They've vanished again."

"Okay, Mike. We're pulling out."

Yet another dead end. The Preventor eyed the empty
room one last time. Something shifted in the corner of
his eye.

"Wait. I think I see something."

"We're coming, sit tight."

He turned slowly towards the living shadow, training
his gun for the expected danger. **Get here soon. I
have a bad feeling about this.**

"Michael, it's nice to see you son."

The voice was absolutely familiar, but it was
impossible. His father was dead ten years.

"Dad?"

"Over here, Michael." He couldn't help but look. Where
there had been nothing before was a vaguely human
shape.

"Dad, is that you?"

"It's nice to see you Mikey."

This voice was different, a high-pitched whine from
the back of the room. It sounded like his sister,
Marissa, life cut short by a drunk driver.

**This is crazy. I've got to get out of here.** He
backed up slowly.

"Mikey, not leaving us so soon. You just got here."

"Rissa, you're not real."

**Stress.** He'd heard stories, people who never
really got over the war now locked up for their own
safety in nut houses. **But the war's been over for
two years.**

"This isn't real."

Another voice purred, a deep, rolling unfamiliar bur.
"Oh, Michael, this is as real as it gets."

"Wha.."

Thunk.

He screamed as flesh tore.

Schnick.

"Mike, you there? Mike!"

The sounds of rushing feet.

"Mike!"

The door flew open again.

"Preventors, freeze."

There was a gag of horror among the crowd.

"What in hell?"

"Shit, what is that thing?"

Metal hitting stone, shots fired to no avail.

"Run for it!" The command turned into a scream of
pain.

"Stay away from me. Just stay away." Shuffling.
Pleading. Suffering. "Please, God."

There was a low chuckle. "Not quite."