Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: Voyager, Star Wars, Stargate or any of the characters in this story. I make no money from this fic, and I take no responsibility for any harm suffered while reading it.
A/N: I'm back! Oh, stop groaning, you know you missed me. Okay, so no one noticed I was gone...still, never mind. I promise to catch up on all the wonderful stories posted in my absence and leave some reviews! Meanwhile, please don't kill me for what I'm about to post, and make sure you READ THE WARNING! I am not getting flames from people who claim they weren't warned about how awful this fic is!
WARNING: This fic is not to be taken seriously. I believe a lot of fanfiction writers out there are very talented people who write excellent stories about characters we all love deeply (some more than others…). It's just that, well, I'm going to take thep--s out of Fanfic Writers, particularly those who like to write romance, slash and Mary Sues. I'm sorry if this causes you offence. If it does, don't read this. There's nothing hugely offensive aside from some gratuitous sex references, violence, absurdity, hysteria and blatantly bad attempts at humour. If you take yourself and your fan fiction seriously, I would advise you not to read this fic. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Synopsis: Writer's block has stricken, and the crew are terrified as to what could happen next…but can they fight back?Chapter One
Archer frowned, staring at each of his officers assembled around the situation room table.
"Does anyone have any idea what's causing these phenomena?" he asked, at last, "Because, quite frankly, the situation is becoming intolerable."
The senior officers were doing their best not to look at each other. Archer glanced at each of them. T'Pol was standing as far away from Trip as possible, arms folded, her face a mask. The others were not so good at hiding their feelings. Hoshi was stood there in her underwear, at the opposite end of the table, a dark flush creeping up her face, also staying as far away from the men as possible. Trip and Reed were standing side by side; Trip had an expression of vague confusion, while Reed had a black eye, a split lip and flinched every time anyone so much as moved near him.
"Captain, the phenomenon defies any attempt at logical reasoning…" T'Pol began.
"I love you!" Hoshi suddenly screamed, at the top her voice, "I want to have your babies!"
She threw herself forwards, hands outstretched towards Reed. With a practiced manoeuvre, the lieutenant yanked out a phase pistol and stunned her into unconsciousness.
"Was the really necessary?" Archer asked, glancing down at Hoshi's unconscious form.
"It's about the only thing that works, captain," Trip said, and scowled.
"What's the matter?"
"It's my…mah…accent. It keeps changing…changin'. It disappears without warning. Warnin', even. Captain. Cap'n. Damn!"
"I had noticed," said Archer, dryly, "does anybody have any clue what's going on?"
"There's nothing on long range sensors," Reed said, and instinctively ducked.
Nothing happened, and Archer frowned at him. Reed looked up apologetically.
"Sorry, sir," he said, "It's just that every time I draw attention to myself, something…"
With a loud clatter, the section of bulkhead right above the lieutenant fell away from the ceiling, landing right on top of him. Archer sighed.
"Someone drag him out of there," he said, waving his hand as Trip and Travis Mayweather – who seemed to have materialised out of thin air – lifted the bulkhead, and Reed staggered to his feet.
"That should have at least given you a concussion," Trip said, stunned.
"I've had so many knocks on the head, I think I'm immune," Reed groaned, "Hey – your accent's gone again."
Trip glowered at him, as Travis waved his arms frantically.
"You guys can see me, right?" he shouted, "I'm here! Pay attention to me! I exist!"
"Did anyone else hear that?" Archer frowned.
"Hear what?" Trip asked.
"I believe it is Ensign Mayweather," T'Pol replied, dryly.
"Who?" Archer asked, blankly.
"Your helmsman? The one who flies the ship?" T'Pol prompted.
"Oh…oh! Yes," Archer nodded, "Carry on, ensign…"
Deflated, Travis vanished into the background again, as Archer paced backwards and forwards for a moment.
"Things keep happening to us," he said, thinking aloud, "things we have no control over. It's getting in the way of our mission…weird things…"
Archer glanced up at an odd noise. T'Pol was growling – yes, actually growling – at Trip. The engineer was staring at Reed, who was backing up in horror.
"I love you, Malcolm…" Trip whispered.
"Captain! Do something!" Reed's voice was about two octaves higher than normal.
"You're supposed to love me!" T'Pol shouted, "I'm the established love interest!"
"What the-?" Archer said, faintly, "Come on, let's just talk about this, we can find a peaceful solution before I kick the crap out of everybody, right?"
Reed pulled out his phase pistol and stunned Trip, and for good measure turned it on T'Pol.
"I'm straight, okay?" he shouted, his voice bordering on the hysterical, "The gratuitous references to your bum and past girlfriends in 'Shuttlepod One' was supposed to establish that!"
"Doesn't mean you're not bisexual," Travis butted in, reappearing.
Reed turned around and shot him.
"Recognition at last!" Travis cried, collapsed to the deck, and promptly disappeared again.
The turbo lift door opened, and a Klingon walked in. He calmly crossed over to Reed, bashed him over the head with his clenched fist, and walked out again. Archer sighed, leaning against the table.
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.
"I believe we…and our surroundings…are being manipulated," T'Pol said, at length, "by strange beings who probably have nothing better to do with their spare time."
"What?" Archer said, confused, "Now, wait a minute, they could be perfectly normal, balanced human beings…wait…where did that come from?"
"My theory is that these beings are capable of putting words into our mouths and making us act according to their own desires," T'Pol told him, "I believe that this is done for their own amusement."
"What…like, the Q Continuum?" Archer asked.
"Continuity error, Captain. The Q Continuum has not yet been discovered," T'Pol responded, "my theory is that we are dealing with a species that is much, much worse…"
Archer felt a cold pit of dread in his stomach. Reed had crawled under the table, and was muttering fearfully to himself.
"You don't mean…?" Archer began, hesitantly.
"I'm afraid so, Captain. We are at the mercy of…Fanfic Writers."