Well, it's been over a year since I've posted a challenge. I started to get...antsy. So, here is a new one for you all!

I'm hoping we'll get some folks participating -- "old folks" and some first time participants in the challenge arena.

Remember...the goal here is to have fun. No big pressures. No need to have incredibly complex and detailed plotlines. Just, have some fun writing a one-off story.

Okay...so...the "requirements" (though I prefer to think of them as "guiding ideas"):

1. Setting cannot be 'contemporary'...meaning it cannot take place between 1996 and 2016. Place your story distinctly in either the past or future. How far in the past or future is completely up to you.
   
2. Both Willow and Tara should have careers that we wouldn’t normally expect. These can certainly be careers that they’ve had in other fics…but try to be original and creative. Take a new spin on it. They can either be in the same line of work OR diametrically opposing lines of work. They can be colleagues or competitors. Just…something different than, say, the typical “Willow is a computer programmer and Tara is an aspiring artist.” (And, yes, I know my own fics have fallen into that one.) At the same time, try not to drastically change who Willow and Tara are at their cores.
   
3. The story needs to revolve around "an event"...this can be an actual, historical event OR one that you've made up…one that would make the front page of newspapers—or, if not the front page, it should at least be a “big story.” Something that can be considered “big” on a societal scale. Doesn’t have to be a worldwide news event. Doesn’t have to be a disastrous event (though it can be if you wish). Again, let your creative juices flow here.
   
4. At some point, Willow, Tara or both must use a “directional device” of some sort. Make this appropriate to your setting as needed. So, compass, sun dial, GPS system, homing device, map. Whatever works for you—and for your fic.
   
5. Any rating.
   
6. Using other members of the Scooby Gang or not is totally up to you. Willow and Tara are the only required characters.
   
7. The fic must be completed in one posting -- it can be as long as you wish/need it to be, but you must have it done with one posting. Okay...if it's so long that you need to have two postings, that's fine, too. But they MUST be consecutive posts...like, one immediately after the other. No "updates" on this thread.

That's it, Gang. I tried to leave you as much leeway as possible. Use the guiding ideas as a starting point and then let your imaginations run wild. I've seen the stuff you people write...I know you have active imaginations.

Please remember, however, all contributions still need to fall under the board's FAQs. So, if you're a first time fic poster, please make sure you look over those.

Can't wait to see what you come up with...hope you're inspired to take part.

Carleen

_________________

Frivolous Views

Don't kid yourselves, people...it's an order...a Supreme Directive, even. You will be graded accordingly and there will be a test.

-Cam (scampers off to start plotting)

_________________

Verrrrry interesting.

I may just have to drag out my One-Off Story Generator and dust it off.

_________________
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed until the morning comes
-- Patti Smith, "Because The Night (Belongs to Lovers)"

Lemme see, 'not contemporary,' 'unexpected careers,' 'large-scale event'... in other words, 'Hey Chris, post one of your usual stories.'

I'll see what I can come up with - a few possibilities are percolating in my head at the moment.

Edit: Ooh! Got an idea! *scampers off to write*

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

You've given me ideas, Carleen. Don't you know how bad an idea that is?

_________________
Avatar Images Courtesy of Kirari-PGSM.net
The Star Witches Saga | Under the Sea | The Moonlight Densetsu Chronicles | Going the Distance | Slippery When Wet | Short Fics by Sith

WOOT! I've already got mine in the works!!

_________________
G Wing

DIBS! I mean, here...

Title: God of War
Author: Chris Cook
Email: alia@netspace.net.au
Rating: PG-13
Copyright: Based on characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy.

Notes: Car, thanks for the challenge I was probably just going to watch a DVD and waste some time tonight, but instead you inspired me to write this, and it was really fun. And it's now 5:30am, but who cares, eh? Thanks.

Italics are thoughts.

[center][/center]

September 1st, 1939

Willow breathed, finding it a sickening sensation. She fought to remain calm, as the thick liquid surrounding her flowed down her throat, into her lungs. The oxygen within it sustained her, but it was still difficult, and always had been, to ignore the urge to hold her breath against the influx of fluid. She had almost drowned once, as a toddler playing by a riverbank, or at least her parents had told her as much - she had no memory of it, but she wondered if her body somehow remembered in spite of her.

Given that she was strapped immobile into a sealed capsule, she supposed she should just consider herself lucky that she wasn't claustrophobic. She knew that, if she were, she would have been required to endure the confinement regardless, under semi-sedation if necessary.

After all, dragoons are too rare to be excused their duty to King and Empire, she thought sourly, inhaling another lungful of oxygenated fluid.

A bone-shaking impact startled her - she had forgotten to keep an eye on her mission clock. She felt as if the shape of her harness had been imprinted onto her skin permanently, but knowing what would have happened to her had she not been secured and immersed - having seen the results first-hand - she ignored the aches, and waited for her household staff to appear. They were well-trained, and in spite of having had to come out of immersion first, with no-one to help them, it took only two minutes for Willow to see her manservant outside the thick window of her capsule, and for the fluid level to begin to fall. She closed her eyes and held her breath, her lungful of liquid, as the level dropped past her head and chest, wincing as the water layer on top of the dense oxygen fluid bathed her, and finally spitting out the contents of her lungs as she felt air touch her face, and her servant's hands steady on her shoulders, holding her as she coughed and gasped for real air.

"How did we hit?" she asked, as soon as she had the wherewithal to speak.

"Only a hundred yards off-centre, ma'am," the man replied, facing respectfully to one side as he handed Willow a washcloth. "Leftenant Harris reports we're secure from impact, and has established beam signals with regimental HQ. Lord Giles's compliments, and he welcomes us to the theatre, ma'am."

"Very good," Willow nodded distractedly, concentrating on using the capsule's water sluices to rid herself of the last traces of oxygen fluid, especially her eyes. The regiment's surgeon, in a minor breach of protocol, had always made a point about warning her to wash her eyes thoroughly after a gravity session, for all that Parliament refused to acknowledge any possible risk in the procedure. Better safe than sorry, Willow had agreed with the surgeon. She blinked away the moisture, and reached out blindly for a towel, which the servant put in her hand.

"Your uniform will be laid out in just a moment ma'am," he went on. "The storage seal was not quite sufficient to the impact, but I have Mister Wells ironing out the creases."

"Good, good," Willow replied, not particularly caring.

"Oh, and there was one other message from headquarters. We are to receive an empath, at our convenience. I took the liberty of preparing the reception room."

"Thank you," Willow said, more sharply than she'd intended. You couldn't have mentioned that first? That's a bit more important than whether my blasted uniform is ironed or not. An empath could... "Have her shown in as soon as she arrives. And dispatch a signal to HQ: compliments to Lord Giles, and request the current order of battle. That'll be all."

"Thank you ma'am," the servant bowed stiffly and turned, leaving Willow to emerge from her capsule and get dressed in privacy. Having donned her uniform, fidgeting as usual with the high, tight collar, and strapped on her belt with its sabre and duelling pistol, she crossed the room and twirled the brass-plated valve to open the window. With a hiss of releasing pressure a section of the wall drew back, revealing a thick glass pane, and beyond that a vast, flat landscape of dusty soil infested with wretched, dying weeds, their blood-red turned almost black.

"Welcome to Mars," Willow murmured grimly. On the horizon were dim flashes, and the hint of explosions drifted on the thin breeze. The third War of the Worlds had begun.

[hr]
I am the very model of a modern Major General I've information vegetable animal and mineral I know the Kings of England and I quote the fights historical from Marathon to Waterloo in order categorical-

The fast-paced lyrics rattled through Willow's mind as she forced herself not to fidget, waiting in the ante-chamber of the habitat. Outside the three-inch-thick bay windows she could see her staff at work, lining up the Hermes machines ready for her household guard, who were no doubt still enjoying a leisurely breakfast in the mess hall. Good for them, they don't have to deal with a Political. Rank hath its privileges, Willow sneered silently. Then she caught herself, and grimaced as she realised her mind had wandered. That could prove fatal. She mentally scurried back to the safety of Messrs Gilbert and Sullivan.

The cycling of the lock sounded, and she drew herself up to her full height, such as it was, and smoothed the front of her uniform, shrugging off her valet's attempt to straighten her medals.

She was braced for the sight of the empath - they were invariably beautiful - but even so she barely kept her mind in check when the door cycled open and her butler stepped out and to one side, presenting the woman. Her cornfield-gold hair leapt out against the dark of her black leather greatcoat, and her eyes were the most stunning shade of blue Willow had ever seen. Then she felt the fleeting skitter of the woman's mind touching hers, and she clamped down on her surprise, and kept her recital running through her thoughts.

"Colonel, may I present Lady Tara of Marseilles. Milady," the butler bowed and excused himself.

"Thank you," the empath - Tara - said softly, with a quick glance at the man. Then her attention was back on Willow, and the redhead lifted her chin.

"Milady," she said impassively.

"Colonel," Tara replied, with a polite smile. "Lord Giles sends his regards. I've been confirmed to your command for the duration of the present crisis. My orders, Sir," she finished, holding out an oilskin-bound packet.

"Welcome to the command, Milady," Willow acknowledged, following Tara in sticking to protocol. She took the packet and handed it to her valet - there was no need to check them. The King's Service Special Branch never had to stoop to anything so crude as forging papers to have its operatives 'confirmed' to whichever command they liked, and any officer who seemed to doubt this only brought suspicion upon himself. Those who wanted their commands free of Politicals had to be far more subtle.

"I understand you have your order of battle?" Tara asked.

"We move within the hour," Willow nodded. "If that suits you of course, Milady."

"I'll be ready." There was a hesitant silence, during which Willow wondered whether the woman was trying to put her off-balance.

"I-I'll report to our machine," Tara said at last.

"Very well," Willow replied too quickly, finding herself indeed caught off guard. Empaths usually were far too certain and composed for comfort - seeing one hesitate was almost as unsettling as a full-on mental offensive. "The colour sergeant will show you to your suite." She glanced over her shoulder, and her valet detached himself from her side and gestured for Tara to precede him through the adjacent bulkhead door.

Tara nodded, and went without a word, leaving Willow feeling confused, and not at all reassured by the fact that, but for the first almost-expected brush, her mind had gone untouched throughout their encounter.

[hr]
Willow sat uneasily in her saddle, with her fingers splayed on the touch-panels controlling the giant machine she rode in, her eyes shifting from the landscape to the silver-edged navigation-positioning dials and back again. On either side of her, her household guard advanced in line abreast, eight Hermes-class mechanised cavalry units, quadrapeds striding quickly and surely across dull the Martian terrain. They were sure machines, fast and reliable and resilient - for all that Parliament touted the accomplishments of the Hephaestus dreadnoughts, the popular opinion was that it had been the Hermes striders that had won the second War - had beaten the Martians back from the hastily-claimed beachheads of their renewed invasion, and scoured their landing sites, and the factory-shells they had arrived in.

Though Willow had been too young to fight at the time - barely six years old - the Royal Health Service had already identified her talent, and she had begun her training as a dragoon, one of the few with the aptitude to pilot true fighting machines. Willow had always imaged herself piloting a Hermes, fast and agile.

But when the decision was taken to invade Mars - the King's famous Manifest Destiny proclamation made from the ruins of the Hofburg in Vienna, declaring that peaceful cohabitation of the solar system between human and Martian was impossible - the Royal Industrial Cavalry decided that the Hermes fleet, and especially their accident-prone larger brothers the Hephaestus class, were inadequate to tackling the enemy on their home soil. Thus it was, while the Astronomer Royal was marshalling half the Royal College to master interplanetary travel, the Cavalry was developing its ultimate weapon, the Zeus class, in one of which Willow now found herself.

She contented herself that, for all that she would have felt safer in a battle-proven Hermes, her machine was steady, and surprisingly light to her touch given its mammoth size. Having three gunners was certainly nothing to scoff at, compared to the Hermes' one, though whether the new inferno cannons they were currently peering down the sights of were any better than the trusty old heat ray was a matter that was far from proven, no matter what the Board of Ordnance claimed. And as for the empath's suite mounted above the pilot's canopy, like a scorpion's sting - well, the opinion of all commissioned officers when it came to Politicals was no secret, for all that none would dare state it publicly. Willow had no idea whether, as claimed by Parliament, an empath could interfere with an enemy's conduct - she was merely glad that there was no direct line of sight - and thus, no way to make safe contact - from where she sat piloting the machine to where Tara lay in her cushioned couch, surveying the scenery.

Her reverie was rudely interrupted by a flash of movement from starboard. Suddenly what had been a flat, featureless plain was erupting, Martian fighting machines rising from hollows in the ground, red dust streaming off their carapaces in the wind as they reached their full vertiginous heights. Willow quickly brought her machine's nose down, presenting its armoured back and cannons to the largest concentration of Martians, hearing the eye-watering hiss of her gunners opening fire in the next instant.

The battle was quick and vicious. Two of Willow's guard were down in the first instant, one crashing to the ground as two of its legs warped beneath it - Willow hoped its crew would survive - and one simply exploding as Martian heat rays burrowed through its armour and reached the interior. Martian machines were skidding left and right, trying to dodge as the powerful heat cannons on Willow's machine scythed through their ranks, felling three almost as soon as they had stood up. Willow felt the shudder of heat rays skittering across her machine's armour, flash-blasting the ablative layers to vapour, but she forced herself to trust in her gunners, and devoted herself to keeping them mobile and alive. A swarm of the short-legged crab machines came scurrying forward out of some hidden burrow, and Willow dodged their attempts to get at the Zeus's legs, sidestepping the swipe of their bulky claws, and even managing to bring one of her machine's six feet down on top of one, crushing it in an instant.

"Power failure!" she heard over the internal circuit, and to her horror the sound of her machine's heat rays vanished, though thank God the motive systems seemed unaffected. She glanced about in a panic, seeing her guard too busy fighting for their lives to step in, then another Martian reared up directly in front of her, rising up to the height of Willow's canopy, as if wanting to stare its enemy in the eyes before firing. Willow ducked and retreated, but the Martian was faster than she was, and raced forwards on its three legs to keep her from bringing her armour to bear.

Willow braced herself, wondering if she would die instantly, or if there would be long enough to feel the searing pain of the heat ray. But no heat came. The Martian's weapon wavered on the end of its tapering mechanical arm, then lowered, and it simply stood still, as if there was suddenly nothing piloting the alien fighting machine. Willow stared at it, unsure of what she was seeing.

The hissing resumed, and the Martian staggered under the assault of three inferno cannons, quickly collapsing as fires broke out within its body. Willow forced her hands to move, taking her machine striding back towards the roiling melee between the survivors of her guard and the swarm of Martians.

[hr]
Willow sat in her study, trying to shut out the moaning of the Martian wind blowing around the habitat's walls. She held a fountain pen in her hand, poised above a paper, unsure of what to write next.

'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Tomkinson,

It is with deep regret that I must inform you that your son David'

Gave his life for Mother England? Died a hero's death? Laid down his life in the finest traditions of the service... God damn it, he never even knew what hit him. His sergeant didn't even have time to flip the lock off his heat ray, they just... died. It didn't mean anything, this damned planet killed them, and... and why did we even come here? God damn it. God damn this.

"Have you never lost someone before?"

Willow whirled around in her chair, to find Tara at the door, gazing at her. She searched for a nursery rhyme, multiplication tables, anything, even as she realised it was too late. The empath had been standing there who knew how long - long enough to read her disloyal musings, without even the effort of pushing past repetitive recitations in her surface thoughts. Willow cursed herself for being so careless, and for endangering the others. She knew only a few names, had only dared voice her reservations about Parliament and the King to a handful of her most trusted friends... and now they'll be the ones they come for first.

"No," she shook her head, forcing herself to answer Tara's question as if nothing was amiss. Gilbert and Sullivan turned up, too late, and under their cover Willow wondered whether the empath would play along, or just arrest her now. 'In the name of the King of England, Emperor of Terra...'

"My last officer lost a man in a training exercise," Tara said, taking a pace forwards, into the room proper. "He had his staff draft the letter. He just signed it."

"They were under my command," Willow said automatically. "They were my men." For some reason she felt it was important to say it - whatever happened next, for Tara to at least know this about her.

"May I?" the empath asked, glancing at the chair beside Willow's writing desk. Curious, Willow shrugged her assent, and the blonde sat gingerly, with her hands held in her lap.

"I expect they won't be the last," she said, nodding at the two letterhead pages on the desk.

"I expect not," Willow agreed, wondering what game was being played. Oh for goodness' sake, you know I'm a dissenter, arrest me and be done with it. Are you enjoying this or something?

"Of course," Tara said carefully, "it can be necessary for soldiers to give their lives. To protect the general populace-"

"Who would otherwise bear the brunt of the enemy's assault," Willow finished, recognising the quote from the King's declaration of war.

"For instance, if the black smoke were to be released against London, or Calcutta..." Tara went on, as if thinking to herself.

Oh bugger this for a game of soldiers.

"True," Willow agreed carelessly. "Of course, that supposes that the Martians would manage to get their slimy backsides in proximity to said cities without being detected, and of course we so far have no evidence that they have the capability to launch unseen, or indeed deploy the smoke without having first - somehow - nullified the countermeasures the RHS has developed." She smiled brightly, as if she'd just said something incredibly clever, rather than simply confirming her guilt by casting the crown's views into doubt.

"Hmm," Tara nodded, as if Willow had said something most people hadn't guessed themselves. "Your butler told me that the problem with our fighting machine has been isolated?"

Our fighting machine? In what parallel world am I going to be in command of anything at the end of this conversation?

"The Corps has had similar problems today with some of the other Zeuses," Willow said to cover her unease. "Engaging all the cannons at once, heat build-up and power spikes in the electrical systems and so on. They're refitting the machines already." She wondered if she should go on, and found in light of her already-certain arrest that she was not lacking in courage. "Of course, if it were me I'd have been more inclined to test the blasted things until they ran hot before we got launched into a theatre of war, but I'm sure the Board of Ordnance had some vastly intelligent reason for not bothering."

"I suppose," Tara agreed, with was that a grin? a quirk of her lips. "In any case... I'm glad I could be of some help today."

"You held the Martian in place," Willow said. "Kept him from firing."

"Yes," Tara nodded. "For want of a better term, I suppressed its thoughts."

"I see," said Willow, who didn't really, and wasn't sure she wanted to. Curiosity, as always, got the better of her. "What's it like?"

"Making contact with them?" Tara asked. Willow nodded, leaning forward slightly. "It's a little disorienting. Quite... unpleasant, though with practice it's possible to overcome the instinctive urge to back away. Though now I know the difference between one fighting, and one that's been captured back on Earth, and has given up. They're not like us."

"Obviously," Willow said, inclined to feel flippant, but somewhat hopeful that Tara would continue in spite of her.

"They're not emotionless, the way people suppose," the blonde continued. "They don't have the same emotions as we do, but they have analogues that you can learn to recognise - like a foreign language. They're very proud, and determined. They hate failure. And they have no compassion, no... no sense of other beings as individuals. Everything is filtered through their needs. Even their own kind, I think. They're very intelligent of course, but I think that's all that drives them to cooperate with one another. If they weren't stronger together, they wouldn't be social at all."

"Sounds a miserable way to live," Willow surmised.

"I suppose," Tara shrugged. "Perhaps if it's all you've ever known, you don't know to be miserable..." She fixed Willow with a stare, and the redhead braced herself against the expected sudden psychic lance, and was baffled when none came.

"I think," Tara said instead, "that's why they attempted a second invasion, even after the first had failed so disastrously. They hated their failure, and us for being somehow the cause of it, even though they knew by then what had defeated them the first time. When their Venus colony failed, they... well, they couldn't hate a planet's natural environment, but they could hate us, for opposing them, even though it did us no good in '98. They needed a target, for their anger, for their wounded pride. So they lashed out at us, for damaging their perception of their own innate superiority. And I suppose, if we hadn't stopped them, they'd have wiped us out - whether or not they needed to, to survive. Beneath all their intellectual enlightenment, there's still an animal part of them that refuses to believe that we and they can coexist. No compassion. Quite unlike us," she finished, flashing Willow a wry, humourless smile.

Willow actually started in surprise - hearing that kind of talk from anyone in the service was rare enough, but from an empath? Unless she had mistaken the subtext of what Tara had said... but no, it was practically as plain as day. What the deuce?

"I think this present order of battle won't be the last," she said, testing very unfamiliar waters.

"Once our present objectives are achieved, new ones will be produced," Tara agreed.

"The necessary step of preventing the Martians from waging war on us could become an unnecessary one..."

"...of subjugating the species," Tara nodded.

"There's a perception in headquarters that even if lines of communications could be forces open, peace could never be achieved."

"Leaving only genocide," the empath said distastefully. She and Willow regarded each other carefully, searching for layers beneath layers in each other's eyes.

"But even if that decision were taken," Willow suggested, throwing caution to the Martian wind, "it would require the compliance of the rank and file to carry out. Headquarters can't destroy the Martian species by itself."

"If dissent were to become resistance..." Tara said quietly, "...willing to defy the crown..."

"Parliament's hoping that having participated in the defeat of the Martians," Willow leaned forward, excited despite herself, "the service will be invested enough to participate in their extermination."

Tara let out a slow breath.

"Dissent isn't the same as disloyalty," she said softly. Willow bit her lip, then took the plunge.

"There is a resistance."

"Can you help me?" Tara said after a brief pause.

"Help?" Willow asked, still unable to not be surprised.

"I have... gifts," Tara said. "So do you, your piloting, otherwise we wouldn't be here. And I'm willing to do what has to be done to protect Earth. But I'm not willing to be made a murderer to satisfy Parliament's ambition or the crown's vanity. I want to do... something. Something to keep that from happening." She fixed Willow with a pleading stare. "Can you help me do that?"

"They... the others..." Willow said slowly, "they'll be... wary. Very wary. No-one I know has ever even heard of a dissenting empath."

"I've never met another," Tara admitted, looking down at her tightly-clenched hands. "I can keep their thoughts out, but I never... felt, I could trust anyone." She looked again at Willow. "Will you help me?"

"Yes," Willow nodded, after a long moment's thought. She wasn't anyone significant in the movement, almost certainly not the kind of person who should be thinking about bringing an empath into their confidence, but... how in God's name am I supposed to say no? "Why?" she asked suddenly.

"Why?" Tara repeated.

"Why me?" Willow asked. "Why tell me, why ask me, why... me?"

Tara began to shake her head, as if she had no explanation, then she paused, and rose from her seat. She leaned forward, and to the redhead's immense shock and, even more surprising, delight, brushed her lips across Willow's. She leaned a fraction closer, actually capturing Willow's lips in a true kiss, tasting her, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment before withdrawing.

"I'm expected to report in," she whispered. "Can I... come back up, later?"

Willow nodded dumbly, completely unable to formulate even simple words. Tara gave her a quick, nervous smile, then turned and left the study. Willow sat stunned for a long while, then her gaze fell on her desk, and the letters waiting to be written there.

We won't become like them. By God we'll make this mean something.

[hr]
[center]THE END[/center]

Additional Copyright: And, of course, based on War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells (accept no substitutes) - I just wanted that to be a bit of a surprise at the beginning.

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

I want to be mad at you, Chris. Yes, you conform to the "must be complete in one posting" rule, as this is technically a complete chapter, but dammit, it's clearly a prelude to a bigger story...and now I want more! Grrrr. You did that with Stardate: Christmas Eve, too! Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, mister!

Anyhoo, this was very nicely done. I was a little surprised you made Tara an empath, since that actually seemed like a very typical Tara-job, but then to turn it around at the end and make her a secret revolutionary---well played, sir! I especially like the hesitant banter between them as they feel out the others' interest---in the political realm, anyway. Tara seemed to have no problem ascertaining interest of the more personal variety. You made it clear throughout that Willow was skittish about Tara being inside her head, and for good reason, obviously. The fact that Tara had to put herself on the line as well---by actually saying it out loud---was a very moving moment, and done beautifully:

That gave me a chill. Well done, Chris, and you are planning more of this someday, right?
-Cam

_________________

I second that thought. It's amazing to me how, in the right hands, characters can be completely developed in a short piece. More please??

Michelle

_________________
My one and only wrecking ball
and you're crashing through my walls
~Brandi Carlile

Chris, you big tease! way to leave us hanging, isn't that? i almost want to hit you of course, i loved it. it took a bit of time for me to appreciate the setting though, cause i didn't get it at first, i was a bit disoriented.

and you're right.....this is kind of a typical fic for you, isn't it.

tara as an empath....used enough, i guess, but you can't go wrong with that. i mean, being able to read people, interpret feelings....she seems to fit the descriptions, doesn't she? the good wiccan, good at people stuff.

and willow, the captain, with the tough façade but really a big softie...

i liked it Chris, good job! and i'll personally hurt you if you don't continue this

Car....a new challenge. that was so a great idea! i can't wait to see who else will take it and how!

_________________
Vale
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"When you get excited about something, one might imagine you as a small, maniacally grinning rubber ball, which someone throws at the wall in an enclosed room, and goes bouncing off every surface for about 15 minutes." - Mudrat

Holy Cow Chris! That was fan-bloody-tastic!

I don't know how you do it, coming up with a story like this overnight (about 16.5 hours in fact), that catches the imagination so thoroughly, and as Cam says, is a complete story but also a great beginning for a many-chaptered one. Which I also beg to see.

Fascinated by the mix of imaginative futuristic technology and (I imagined) Victorian costumery, manners, and weapons (swords and duelling pistols). You've chosen a significant date for your fic: the differences between that date in reality and your fic are great, and yet, as we read on, maybe not so great. The build up of evidence that Willow was against this war, and the careful conversation between her and Tara as they let the other know their true feelings about it and the perceived future actions of their King re the genocide of the Martians, drew me into the story.

I bow and bow to your brilliance. (O, Katisha..)
Anne

_________________
Spells for Two

Every path has its puddle. Old English Saying... I think I just stepped in mine...

Dear Chris,

As someone who struggles with writer's block--which is a problem in my job--I'm constantly amazed by how quickly you can put together a complete package: incisive characterization, rich setting, compelling plot, and flowing prose. Wow.

On an unrelated note: on initial read I though Willow was a dragon rather than a dragoon! LOL.

--Blue

Ok Chris,
That's more than I've written in the last four months. And wow, what writing. It seems like when you get inspired, you really produce some dense and powerful things in a hurry. I think you said that Roses came very quickly too, yes?

Anyway, the characterizations and descriptions are truly wonderful. Yes, terrible person, I've never read War of the Worlds. I'm particularly impressed here with the way the two women seems to simultaneously and slowly let down their barriers.

Very well done.

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Man! I may have to check out a copy of WotW from my local library.

As always, a fantastically constructed story from the Thunda' Down Unda' The great thing about SF/fantasy is that you can truly put characters in different situations/worlds/etc. and make it work. And you, as always, pull it off. You amaze me.

So...anyone else? I am thinking of incorporating a short from my Trekfic W/T universe.

_________________
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed until the morning comes
-- Patti Smith, "Because The Night (Belongs to Lovers)"

Chris: great job as always. I am defintiely a big fan of the whole Martians invading storyline of course but I love your trademark touches of wit and a narrative that never ceases to flow perfectly. Fantastic action scenes btw


This is a really cool challenge, I would love to write something but I know I would get carried away and write a monstrosity that could never be incapsulated within a single chapter...that and the other two fics that need updating, a thesis proposal to write and the flu to deal with....

...and after all that, I'm still tempted!!!!!

Cheers
Alcy

_________________
Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Chris,

Oh, Chris. If you had the right girly parts, I think I could fall in love with you.

First of all, I want to thank you for being the first to take up the challenge. I didn't realize until well after I'd posted the challenge that I'd left the door wide open for you. LOL But, that's okay. Because we all love your writing. So this was just another perfect opportunity to get more from you.

I agree with everyone else...this is just a taste. Yes, it's complete in and of itself...but there is so much more here to be explored. And I truly hope that you will explore it sometime (Hellebore sequel first, Mister).

The way you are able to infuse so much information into such a short chapter has always amazed me. There's detail, but it's not overwhelming. We learn enough about Willow and Tara in the very short amount of time we have with them. Really a delight.

Again, Chris, let me reiterate that I hope you go forward with this story. I think it would be brilliant...in YOUR very capable hands.

Thanks, Chris!

Carleen

P.S. Okay, folks...who is next to take up the challenge? C'mon...I know there are more of you out there who are thinking about this...who want to write...who have started writing. Let's see them!

_________________

Frivolous Views

Chris!

Wow. You have this really visual way of writing - it is like I can 'see' everything you describe... and what a vision you paint.

I am going to have to echo the cacophony of folks begging for you to continue... please?

Great work!

_________________
I am, you know.

For some reason my most vivid recollection of the WotW franchise is Jeff Wayne's musical. I heard it over the radio I think when I was young. Strains of the music still dance around in my head even now.

Anyway, a very enjoyable read indeed. You brought us into the settings and characters almost immediately. Even the small details like

had me rolling and chuckling.

The interaction between Willow and Tara was so well developed over so few paragraphs. How they started being guarded and careful, but the small tendrils of feelers about where the other actual loyalty lies. They aren't together in the usual (ie what we're used to) sense, but like others, I sense that this is the beginning of something special.

Fabulous contribution, Chris. An inspiration.


Seeing that others coughCamEmmyetccough have thrown their hats (as opposed to their towels) into the ring, I'll report that ... yeah, I'm working on mine.
[br]

_________________
quiet thoughts

Chris,
This is a wondrous stand-alone piece of two dissenters standing against the tyranny of a galactic Imperial system but it also could easily be expanded upon like a LEGO starter kit into an epic space opera akin to Mr. Wizard's "Dune" series.
No wait sorry, Don Herbert was Mr. Wizard. Frank wrote the "Dune" series.
The Red Planet has captured the imagination and become a cottage industry for science-fiction genre artists since its discovery.
Your tale of Willow and Tara can stand with the best of them.
I'm glad Tara can't empathically sense what i'm thinking as she'd slap me.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

Cam: Thanks Here's the odd thing about God of War, it is obviously part of a much larger story - but I don't know the rest of it yet. I dare say it'll turn up in due time. I did figure out roughly how the world moved from the end of the invasion in 1898 to the 'present,' which sort of figured itself out as I was writing the story. Very strange writing process all 'round - it seemed as if the story arrived first, and then afterwards I pieced together the reasons why I wrote it the way I did.

True, the role of empath isn't atypical of Tara... but Gestapo empath, that's different That was another thing that turned up out of the blue - I had the idea of Willow as a 'cavalry' commander, but I really only figured Tara would be along in some sort of auxiliary capacity - until I wrote the word 'empath' I hadn't figured out what that'd be, and it was only a little later that I realised the empaths were this feared secret police. And it was only after that that I realised Willow had a secret - I had to go back and put in her initial worry about what an empath might find in her thoughts.

So I suppose it'd be most accurate to say that I'm not planning more of this, but something in my head is. I wouldn't be surprised if it gets written sooner or later.

Michelle: Thanks. As I said to Cam, it looks like there will be more, someday. I'm glad you like how the characters came across - with a story like this, rather than write a whole story in short form, I kind of just write the kick-ass bit of a big story, with the assumption that all of the characters' complicated motives are all being explained somewhere along the way. It's kind of a leap of faith to just write them and hope the readers will accept them as they are, without all the background being laid out.

Vale: Thanks I promise this will be continued! You didn't say you'd hurt me if I didn't continue it soon, though, right? Like I said to Cam, empath Tara isn't unusual, but Gestapo empath Tara is a different spin on it I do worry that when I write like this it's disorienting, but I'm glad it worked out okay in the end, if not immediately.

Anne: Thanks. I was really surprised by how quickly this turned up - judging by the post times (I edited my first post as soon as I had the idea), it took about seven hours from 'Hmm... War of the Worlds...' to finishing the story. Car's challenge turned up at a good time, I was feeling a bit blah due to not having been able to write much lately, and it just gave me the kick I needed to get going and have fun. That thing with the date was actually a happy coincidence - at first (being a smart-ass) I had the idea of breaking the challenge rules by setting the story in 2006, but making it such a different 2006 to ours that it'd be in the spirit of the challenge nonetheless. But then I thought it'd be better to have less time between the original Martian invasion and this story, and I just picked the beginning of WWII as a convenient date for a war to start. It was only when I looked it up that I was reminded that the war is considered to have begun upon the invasion of Poland (it's been a while since I studied history - I'd forgotten that, and assumed the actual date had been when the rest of Europe gave up and declared war, rather than the date being the invasion itself). It turned out weirdly fitting though - especially as I hadn't started writing with the intention of the British Empire having become so dark, that just turned up along the way.

I do love steampunk - Victorian design, HG Wells or Jules Verne or something like that, with advanced technology. I drew heavily on the Flashman series for the 'feel' of the new British Empire - the invasion of Mars was sort of a translation of the feel I got from the invasion of the Crimea in Flashman at the Charge.

Blue: Thanks Block is something I deal with - well, not really deal with, because I have no techniques for getting around it. It's just, sometimes the story doesn't want to come out yet, and sometimes it does - I got lucky this time. I was at first going to make Willow a hussar, but then I did some checking and found out that hussars were usually light cavalry, and I can't really consider a massive war machine 'light'. Funny you should mention Willow as a dragon though, I've got another short story in the works...

Elvis: Thanks Yep, it was like Roses - quicker, even, but similar in that the idea just popped up fully-formed out of my head (like Zeus's children, but less painful I imagine). I suppose it was just the right inspiration at the right time, causing all the things I've read and thought about prior to this - the Victorian feel of Flashman, War of the Worlds, my general fascination with anything involving giant robots, steampunk - to arrange themselves in my head in just the right way.

CaptMurdock: Thanks. I highly recommend War of the Worlds - the novel, or the Jeff Wayne rock musical. Please do go ahead with your Trekfic, I'd love to read it.

Alcy: Thanks. Yeah, I recall you having a fondness for alien invasions I did have fun doing the action scene, I looove the idea of the Martian fighting machines. Pity you've got so much on your plate, I'm always keen to see more of your writing.

Challenge-Mistress Car: Thanks! Darn my lack of girly parts Don't worry, I'm sure that when I have the time to devote myself wholly to a really big story (rather than a smaller one, or a comedy I can stop and start easily with) it'll be the Hellebore sequel rather than anything else. I think I would like any expanded God of War fic to be a big one, so no need to worry about Hellebore being pushed back even more.

db: Thanks I think if my writing is visual, it's because that's how the stories arrive in my head. Most of what I do while I'm writing isn't so much imagining from scratch, as trying to find the right words to describe what I'm already seeing. Yes, one day I'll continue this... not soon, but eventually.

Watty-boss: Thanks. I love the Jeff Wayne WotW, I have the CD version copied to my hard drive so I can bring it up and play it whenever I'm busy with something else on the computer. And I love the word 'leftenant' - for day to day use I prefer the American version (let's face facts, there's no 'f' in 'lieutenant'), but 'leftenant' sounds so perfectly British that I couldn't resist it here. I had a bit of fun with the Willow/Tara relationship, starting it so antagonistic, and then bringing Willow around to the point where Tara could kiss her. That did, I admit, come kind of suddenly, but I had this idea in mind of empaths being unusually sensual and emotionally-sensitive - I think being able to perceive Willow's thoughts and feelings on a much more intimate level than a normal person, Tara's capable of falling for her much quicker. Plus she's Willow, who wouldn't want to kiss her?

Taralicious: Thanks. LOL 'Mr Wizard' You're right, there is a bit of Dune in this, with the anachronistic culture, and the heavily political shades to the characters. And yeah, there's just something about Mars, isn't there? The look of it, the shape of the name... it's just made for alien invaders to come from

Well, that's it from me folks. Waiting hopefully for others

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

Title: Challenger
Author: watty
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: BtVS / AtS concepts and characters belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, the WB, UPN and others
Summary: how can something so insignificant can change something so momentous
Notes: the actual science and facts in this fic aren't completely plausible; but well, it's just a story isn't it?
Thanks: Car for the challenge; and helping with the story idea and being her usual influential self


January 1986

Tara Maclay stopped sweeping for the umpteenth time, resting her chin on top of the broom handle as she surveyed the hangar forlornly.

With a 100 billion dollar budget and presidential endorsement couldn't they have thought about inventing an automatic sweeping robot? Or hiring more cleaners? She sighed and returned to her task. It never ended. There was always more dust, or shreds of paper, or food remains, or worse. She shuddered at some of the truly grisly discards she'd had to clear up.

Her mother's voice rang out in her head. Self-pity gets you nowhere my sweet girl. You've got a job, which is more than your father and brother ever managed.

Not for the first time, her mind began to wander and soon she was in her familiar dreamzone. Between fantasizing that she was Mickey the Apprentice orchestrating an army of buckets and brooms to clean the vast space and Gene Kelly tap-dancing around lamp-posts while singing in the rain, she didn't hear her name being called until a small female hand swatted her on her shoulder.

She dropped her broom sharply and jumped in fright.

"Buffy! Damn, don't scare me like that!" she exclaimed.

"I called out to you a few times. You were in La-la land as usual." Buffy Summers looked after security at the space center, working night-shift like Tara. They were a different breed, the night-shift folks. It paid more but it took a certain mental attitude to have their body clocks and personal lives turned upside down like that. It also meant that they stuck together, regardless of job or level.

"I was, um, contemplating," Tara huffed.

Buffy shot her a 'yeah, right' look but didn't pursue the matter further. "Your girl's here," she said simply, before shoving her hands in her pockets and making her way back to the staff room.

Tara's frown turned into a warm grin and she ran the few steps to catch up with Buffy, the task of keeping the thousands of square feet of space spotlessly clean was abandoned as her mind filled with the image of 'her girl' as Buffy called her.

The smell of piping hot pizza greeted them and Tara's stomach did a few somersaults. Of course it wasn't just the pizza, though she knew the selection that the night-shift folks were such experts at ordering would be delicious as usual. No, Tara's insides flipped and fluttered because of how they were delivered.

She grabbed the bringer of the feast by the waist and planted a light kiss on surprised lips.

It didn't matter that object of her affections wore a 16th century sailor's outfit that was required of all employees of the Magellan Pizza Palace. It didn't matter that the same object was sweaty from running about and sticky from the grease from the kitchen. It didn't matter because Tara was hating her job, miserable about life in general and the sight of Willow Rosenberg, regardless of dress or condition, was the perennial bright spot in her life.

"Hey, baby," Willow returned the kiss, this time a little firmer than Tara's.

"You brought me pizza. Sweetie, you shouldn't have. You have no consideration for my waistline," Tara mock-pouted.

"There's nothing wrong with your waistline," Willow chuckled. "Besides, you think I'd care if you were Fred Flintstone, as long as you're mine?"

"I'm a prehistoric caveman who works a crane?" Tara's eyebrow shot up toward her hairline.

"Well, cave something," Willow whispered conspirationally.

"Oh geez, I need insulin," a friendly voice interrupted their banter.

Tara waved to the newcomer, space engineer Xander Harris, looking quite ragged as he staggered in, throwing his utility belt on the floor and himself on a hard plastic chair. He groaned as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

"You look like you did ten rounds with the Karate Kid," Willow said, as she propped an extra slice of pizza vertically on top of the round pizza, the Sunny Sundial Extra Slice Extravaganza being a Magellan signature offering. Tara always thought it looked more like a doughnut shaped sailboat than the pretend sundial that Willow's boss insisted it was. The extra slice (on the house!) was a big draw with Magellan customers though.

"Oh, man. Don't," Xander closed his eyes and tried to rub the tiredness out of his temple.

"The sequel's coming out soon," Buffy added between mouthfuls.

Xander reached for a slice himself and sighed heavily as he bit into the soft filled dough. "Your boss is a weirdo, Will. But he knows his pizza."

Willow shrugged. "Willy's okay, if a little crazy. But I have to cut my hours; I've enrolled in more units this semester."

"Way to go, Will," Xander, who was taking a sip of his Pepsi, saluted her. "When you graduate, see about getting a job here."

"That's the idea," Willow nodded. "All my life, I've wanted to work at NASA. I'll really need your recommendation, Xand, I'm not exactly Ms Big Brain."

Tara put her arms around Willow's shoulders in encouragement. "You'll be fine. I can't wait till you join our little space family, sweetie."

The group made small talk as they chowed down the pizza, Willow politely refusing. Having to work with pizza all the time, she couldn't actually eat a bite without being sick.

Xander finished his portion quickly and stood up, patting his firm stomach. "Gotta go. It'll be an allnighter," he said. "So much to do."

"When are they gonna actually launch?" Tara asked.

Xander snorted. "There's always a delay. We'll be lucky if it makes it this weekend. But what's new? They want a reusable rocket, they gotta make sure it comes back," he said.

"Is it really busy in the hangar?" Willow asked, with a longing in her eyes. "I-- I'd ..."

"No, just the maintenance crew. Most people are off for the night. The delays are cuz of weather, not mechanical problems," Xander added. "Hey! You want to see it up close? Not inside the cabin or anything, but you can take a look at the tank and the boosters."

Willow's eyes lit up. "Are you sure? You won't get into trouble?"

"Nah. A quick look-see won't do anyone's harm, right Buffy?"

Xander glanced over to the security chief, who continued eating her pizza. "I'm having my pizza; and for those interested, I'll be enjoying my pizza for the next 20 minutes," she said to no one in particular.

Xander and Willow hastily made their way from the staff room. Tara, after one look at Buffy and receiving a slight nod, ran after them.



"Oh my god, look at the size of that thing," Willow gasped as she stood underneath the external tank of the huge vertical craft. "How can it lift off all the way to space, and come back. Wow."

"A lot of energy, a lot of dedicated people," Xander said quietly. They marveled at the sheer engineering miracle that was the Space Transportation System, or Space Shuttle as it was more commonly known.

Tara walked up to Willow and took the redhead's hand. She had gotten used to the spacecraft and had almost forgotten the feeling of awe and inspiration that hit her the first time she was within touching distance. Seeing the same in Willow's eyes brought back memories, as well as love for the girl in her life.

"Shit," Xander's hiss spoiled the mood, and she looked over at him in annoyance. "Sorry, I left my tool belt in the rec room. I'm getting forgetful in my old age."

Willow's disappointment was so obvious that Tara's heart instinctively reached out to her. The visit had to be cut short now.

Xander thought for a moment. "Look, I'll run back real quick, okay? Don't do anything or go anywhere. If someone asks you, Tara flash your pass and tell them you're waiting for me," he said in a rush, and ran off before either of them had a chance to say anything.

Tara mentally made a note to buy him a beer next time they were at the pub.

She held onto Willow's hand, but didn't say anything, preferring to let Willow absorb the sight before her.

"Come on," Willow said suddenly, as she dragged Tara toward the support tower.

"Will! What are you doing?" Tara squeaked as she quickly righted herself to stop herself from stumbling.

"I want to get closer. Touch it. Any part of it. So I know my DNA has gone into space. How often do you get a chance like this?" Willow said as they reached the lower levels and began climbing up the steep steps.

"But --" Tara started to protest.

"No one's looking," Willow shot Tara a pleading look and Tara was unable to resist.



They stood inches from the lower part of one of the external boosters. Willow continued looking up, and Tara could tell she was debating whether to continue further up or stop where they were.

"How did they come up with the names of these shuttles?" Willow mused.

"Well, they had Columbia, and this is the Challenger," Tara started.

"Names beginning with 'C' may be," Willow guessed.

"Not when the next ones are called Discovery and Atlantis," Tara pointed out. "May be it's to do with adventure and the pioneering spirit."

"I know a couple of 'C'-words that are pioneering and adventurous. Not to mention very, very satisfying," Willow winked mischievously.

Despite her worry about being discovered, Tara couldn't help but react to Willow's innuendo. She knew what her girlfriend was thinking of. "And these words are ...?" she gave Willow the perfect opening.

"Climax of course," Willow smirked. And stepped closer to Tara so their bodies connected fully. She kissed Tara, and worked her way to biting on Tara's earlobe gently.

This was one of Tara's erogenous zones, and Willow knew it.

Tara's whimper shivered down her body. "Of course," she hummed at the pleasure that proximity to Willow always brought.

"And there's also--" Willow whispered seductively, the salient word only heard by Tara's ears.

Tara's smile grew broader. "Gutterbrain," she accused, but was secretly aroused by the suggestion.

Willow's kisses grew more insistent, and soon hands had found their way underneath layers of clothing. They were beginning to reach the 'zone' where soon they'd be oblivious to their surroundings.

Tara took Willow's tongue when it slipped inside her mouth, the taste and the texture were so exotic and yet familiar. It was the only sensation she'd ever known, or would want to know. Spurred on by a sudden hunger, she threw Willow against the booster tanks, with little regard to what these were. Her mind had only one mission -- find a solid surface to hold her girlfriend against.

Slowly, gently, rhythmically, firmly they rocked against each other with increasing urgency.

Willow threw her head back with a deep sigh, and reached her arms back to steady herself. Tara's lips firmly planted on her face, neck and rapidly moving lower. Their arms were wrapped tightly around the other and how their legs intertwined so naturally.

---- CRA-CKKKK ----

"Shit!"

"What was that?"

"I think we pushed too hard, sounds like something fell off."

All thoughts about soft skin and interlocking parts and frottage vanished as they looked at each other in mortification.

Without further discussion they ran down the steps of the support structure. Only to be confronted by Xander, who had just walked in with utility belt firmly secured around his hips. His eyes narrowed as he saw the pair jumping off the last few steps.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

Willow was scanning the immediate floor area for anything that looked like it just fell off a multi-million dollar space shuttle but couldn't spot anything. Tara was studying the floor intently in embarrassment.

"It's my fault. I made her go with me," Willow said.

Tara looked up and shook her head violently. "No, no. It's my fault. I didn't tell her about procedures," she tried to explain.

"Did you go up there?" Xander pointed at the exact same spot they were just moments ago.

The silence was finally broken by Tara. "Y-yes."

"I wanted to get closer, to touch it. We didn't mean to break it!" Willow blurted out.

"Whoa! Break?" Xander had to clamp his mouth shut forcefully, he was on the verge of shouting.

"We only touched it briefly," Tara said quietly, having regained her composure. "There was a sound, like when the door hinge is loose. I don't think it was us."

Xander sighed, and then made up his mind. "How high did you go?"

"Only to the first platform," Willow said.

"Okay, I'll check it out. Are you sure you only touched the external boosters?"

They were adamant. "Yes."

Xander took them back out to the public area and Willow sheepishly went back to her bike. She gave Tara's arm a squeeze before she left. "I'll see you at home."

By the time Tara turned around, Xander had left.



She didn't run into him again until the night before the launch, when she was taking a rest in the staff room. With all the activity and hustle-bustle of pre-launch activities, she and the entire sanitary department had been working overtime.

"Hey Tara," Xander made the first contact.

She was still embarrassed about the incident, she knew that they, and especially her since she was a staff member, had broken important rules. "Xander, about the other night, I'm really sorry. We got too excited."

Xander shrugged as he popped open a can of soda. "May have been a blessing in disguise. There was a defect in the lower segment of the right booster. It may or may not have been detected, but they did a thorough inspection. Replaced some parts, applied an extra coating of sealant to the joints, put in new o-rings. The vessel is as solid as we can make it," he recounted.

"Still, we could have gotten into trouble," Tara said quietly.

"But we didn't, although I'm not sure I'd risk it again, you know what I mean?" he said.

She placed her hand on his arm and thanked him. "I really appreciate this."

He finished his soda and tossed it into the trash can. "Are you watching the launch?" he asked as he prepared to go back to work.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, as she too made her way back to the drudge.



It was beautiful and impressive.

Tara and Willow had a clear view of the launchpad from their spot in the semi-public viewing area. They watched excitedly as the preparations went underway and listened, enraptured, at the countdown sequence from mission control.

[blockquote]"T minus Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Three main engines up and burning."

"Two. One. And liftoff. Liftoff of the 25th space shuttle mission, and it has cleared the tower."
[/blockquote]

There was a big cheer as the engines ignited with smoke and gas billowing out in all directions. The shuttle seemed to be briefly suspended on top of the cloud of gas before rapidly gaining speed and climbing its way up into orbit.

The loudspeakers continued to broadcast the exchange between mission control and the crew.

[blockquote]"Houston, Challenger. Roll program."

"Roger roll, Challenger."

"Good roll program confirmed."
[/blockquote]

Another big cheer as the shuttle reached milestones checkpoints.

[blockquote]"There's 10,000 feet and Mach point five."

"Mach 1."

"Velocity 2,257 feet per second, altitude 4.3 nautical miles, downrange distance 3 nautical miles."

"Throttling up."
[/blockquote]

Seventy seconds into the flight was one of the most important points, as the main engines began throttling up to full thrust just before it passed through Max-Q, or the area of maximum aerodynamic pressure that was experienced during its ascent.

Tara had hung around Xander long enough to know that if anything were to go wrong, these were the vital seconds. Willow had her arms around her waist, and she leaned in closer to feel the intimacy and comfort.

[blockquote]"Engines are throttling up. Three engines now at 104 percent."

"Challenger, go at throttle up."

"Roger, go at throttle up."
[/blockquote]

A sigh of relief seemed to be heard from KSC all the way to Houston and around the world, when the maneuver was successful. Shortly afterward, the rocket boosters and main tank separated, allowing the plane-shaped orbiter to continue into orbit.

[blockquote]"STS-51-L launched successfully. Good job."

"Roger that, Houston."
[/blockquote]


"I'm going to be in the space program one day," Willow said quietly but with resolve.

"I'll be with you all the way." Tara turned and regarded her serious-looking girlfriend, her heart bursting with pride at her determination. "Mission Specialist Willow Rosenberg, I like that."




*****

The End

[br]

_________________
quiet thoughts

DIBS!

Edit: I did it! I finally DIBSed!

That was really sweet - and well-timed too, seeing as I've been reading about the space program all week. There was something very very endearing about Willow and Tara being among the 'nobodies,' yet still having that spark of individuality and the ability to dream that makes them special - whether or not Willow ever gets to be a mission specialist. Tara sweeping the floor, and then lighting up at Willow's arrival... that was heartwarming. Floor-sweeper or no, she's got her own little miracle going, just as precious as the big ones they store in the hangers.

Naturally I was tense throughout, what with Challenger being Challenger and all - I was flashing back to Farscape, with the "I accidentally travelled back in time, and somehow caused my dad to be assigned to command Challenger... what the heck do I do?" episode. And so I heaved a big sigh of relief when the end of the story rolled around, and the shuttle launched without incident. That was a neat interpretation of the 'big event' requirement - we all know what happened, but Willow and Tara (and the rest of their version of the world) remain completely oblivious to it.

And it just goes to show what I've been saying for years - the space program needs more hot gay love at every level from top management down to the workforce. How else are we going to reach the ultimate goal of spaceflight (that being, Jane Fonda doing a zero-g striptease in a shag-pile-carpet-furnished spaceship)?

Speaking of Willow and Tara making out... Yay 'Up against a space shuttle booster' must rank as one of the more notable make-out locations Willow/Tara fandom has yet devised.

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

well, i already knew the story....but damn woman, can you write! of course i loved it....and the pizza talk made me hungry again even if i just ate dinner *sigh*

the smoochies were taken, ahem, way further than i thought initially.....and wow!

plus, Challenger, NASA, very cool.

Watty, i loved it!

_________________
Vale
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"When you get excited about something, one might imagine you as a small, maniacally grinning rubber ball, which someone throws at the wall in an enclosed room, and goes bouncing off every surface for about 15 minutes." - Mudrat

Watty.

yay!

Very inventive and interesting story -- the story definately rose to car's challenge of unusual jobs!

Plus Willow/Tara makeout session saved the day in the end.

Doesn't it always?

frottage. **giggle** .

db

_________________
I am, you know.

Hey Watty,
Ok, strangely enough I need to change my planned (loosely) offering now since I was going to use the Challenger also. Of course, mine would go boom. I like your take better. Last week I put on the shuttle for Asher to watch the launch. He didn't really care but I went to take my shower and Rachel came in to tell me that she was sorry I missed it because they said how much everything weighed (one of my quirks: I like to know how much stuff weighs).

But your story... adorable and very funny. Particularly fantasizing about Mickey's cleaning up... Tee hee. Well done.

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Yeah, the Challenger mention made me kinda squicky through the whole story...kind of a sore subject round these parts since Christa McAuliffe was from the next town over and mnay family connections with both my brother and his wife being teachers...I like your version so much better than the actual turn of events...now really, is there nothing Willow/Tara lovin' can't do?

I don't suppose you could provide photos of Willow in her Magellan's Pizza outfit, huh? Hehehehe

Watty, that was wonderful. As others have mentioned, I too was tense the moment the word Challenger was mentioned, and the phrase 'go at throttle up' will forever make my stomach clench, but you made it all better. Up til then I was still trying to wrap my mind around Willow not being 'the Big Brain' while Xander is an aerospace engineer. Dude! You're whacked. But I love Willow's sailor suit...teehee. This was a very nice historical 'what if?' and I like that you threw in just a few 80s references and didn't overdo it (I had a horrific image of Willow poking her eye out on Tara's moussed bangs---glad you didn't go there).

-Cam

_________________

i feel like the weird-o of the situation, being too young to remember the Challenger thing...actually, i think i wasn't even born, was i?

i'm an outcast!

_________________
Vale
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"When you get excited about something, one might imagine you as a small, maniacally grinning rubber ball, which someone throws at the wall in an enclosed room, and goes bouncing off every surface for about 15 minutes." - Mudrat

I'm being neat. This is for my replies.

ETA: and replies.

Chris

I came up with the Challenger event before I thought of janitor and pizza-delivery girl. I did know I wanted two "ordinary" people to be the ones who unwittingly prevented the disaster. It's a tried and tested cliché in time-travel stories and tv programs isn't it, the butterfly effect. I haven't seen the Farscape ep, but we've had so many Quantum Leaps and Seven Days. It was the trying to place them inside the Space Center that was trick. I know there'd be more security, but I hope the fudge didn't stretch too far.

I hope it's also believable that two young people living and working around NASA will have ambitions to be part of that -- and NASA so need more hot gay lovin'. I'm glad you like that Willow was Tara's own bright miracle, I didn't want to stray too far away from their well-established personalities.

Thanks for reading, and dibs too! Not the same as your entry, which had lots more in terms of story and depth. Speaking of, I was listening to Jeff Wayne's WotW yesterday, sure brought back memories.

~~~~~

Vale

pizza! Why do you think I talked about pizza that day when I was writing? Glad you liked the smoochies. I, um, originally the fic had a NC-17 rating, but I couldn't write the smut, you know. sigh.

And no, you weren't born then. Jealous now.

~~~~~

db

W/T smoochies are the answer to everything, it's a proven fact. Yes siree. And yay! Someone got the frottage reference. I always like that word, it's provocative without being vulgar, we need to use it more.

~~~~~

Debra

Ooops, sorry for being in your head and taking your idea. Oh wait, why were you in my head?

Wow, you'd keep the disaster? In a "where was I when JFK got shot" scenario? Or just as background to set the time period. Anyway, I for one will love to read your version anytime.

~~~~~

Sandi

Sorry to bring up a sore subject and make you squicky, but it was a big historical event and the first that came to my mind when Car and I were talking about the challenge. I do like the part where two ordinary young people made the difference, like I said to Chris, ah the butterfly effect.

Willow in Megellan Pizza outfit? Hmmm. Probably over to Chris. When I google imaged "sailor's uniform" I found one that was prettty, shall I say ... if pizza delivery persons were dressed like that, they'd sell a hell of a lot pizzas.


~~~~~

Cam

Can't agree more on the "go at throttle up" phrase, it's one of those that are instantly recognizable. Gives me a lump in my throat every time I hear it. I'm old enough to remember the disaster well, and remember reading it in the newspapers the next few days. I didn't want too many 80s reference, it didn't really fit this fic -- big hair and legwarmers aren't quite the image for W/T, no matter which era.

I'm whacked? That coming from a dudette who has [spoiler]the President of the USA carrying on a secret affair with the Vice President? For 15 years?[/spoiler]

~~~~~

[br]

_________________
quiet thoughts

Hail to the Chief
by Tarawhipped
Rated PG
Disclaimers: Willow Rosenberg, Tara Maclay, and all the citizens of Sunnydale are the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy
Notes: I’d like to apologize in advance to anyone from Alabama for the unflattering portrayal. I hope Tara makes up for it. And hey, I also made people from Michigan sound clueless! Umm…I’d also like to apologize to anyone from Michigan. And Iowa…just to be safe.

Car, thanks for another fun challenge!




“Willow Rosenberg appeared destined for greatness from childhood. At an age when most children were content to play with Barbie dolls and Tinkertoys, Willow was already reading the Constitution.”[br]
Willow’s father, Ira Rosenberg, recalls: “We thought she was just coloring in her ‘Great Documents in History’ coloring book, but she was actually taking notes.”[br]
Mom Sheila adds: “I asked her what the different colors meant, and she said the blue was for articles she agreed with and the red was for ones she thought needed work. Can you imagine? She was 6!”[br]
“A shy, bookish child, Willow excelled in school, eventually skipping two grades on her way to becoming, at 16, the youngest valedictorian in Sunnydale High School history. Rupert Giles, her former librarian, remembers her fondly:”[br]
“Ah yes, Willow Rosenberg. She was truly the finest of all of them.”[br]
“It was during her high school years that Willow gave up her childhood dream of becoming a florist and began to consider a career in teaching.”[br]
Jenny Calendar, Willow’s computer teacher: “She definitely had the gift, but she was so dedicated to learning that I think it frustrated her when the jocks she tutored didn’t take it seriously.”[br]
“When asked by this reporter for his recollection, Percy West, assistant junior varsity boys’ basketball coach at Podunk High School and a former classmate of Willow’s, had this to say:”[br]
“Rosenberg? That nerd?”[br]
“Willow’s tutoring may not have led to a teaching career, but it did offer her vital contacts for her first political aspiration: President of the Student Council. Willow lost that election to cheerleader Cordelia Chase, but would later dismiss it as ‘a popularity contest.’ Despite her disappointment, Willow made the most of her tenure on the Student Senate, almost single-handedly pushing through the ‘Lunchtime Be Damned!” initiative, which allowed students to eat during whichever free period they chose.[br]
Perhaps the most important event that happened to Willow at this time was meeting her future husband, Larry Blaisdell. Though the couple are adamantly private about their personal lives, in a 2007 interview with Larry King, Willow was candid about her childhood sweetheart…”[br]
“We were paired off for a class assignment. You know, when you pretend an egg is a baby? We, um, we discovered we had a lot in common.”[br]
“True love was put on hold, however, when Larry accepted a football scholarship to USC and Willow headed north to Stanford, where she graduated Summa Cum Laude with degrees in history and political science in three years. Willow returned to Southern California for the summer to rekindle her romance, but the fall would find her in Cambridge, Massachusetts, earning a law degree from Harvard. From there she went to the University of Michigan to complete her formal education with an MBA in 2006. But her heart remained in California, where Larry had taken a job as a creative consultant to David Geffen. Willow had numerous offers from top L.A.- area corporate and legal firms, but chose instead to take a position in the District Attorney’s office, where she spent two years before the world of politics again beckoned. In 2008, on the eve of her first bid for Congress, she popped the question. Larry remembers their wedding…”[br]
“It was so beautiful! Willow had on this gorgeous custom designed Vera Wang gown, and the flowers were just fabulous…did you know we both wanted to be florists? Oh god, I’m going to start crying again.”[br]
“They honeymooned at the home of friends in Provincetown, Massachusetts, returning after three weeks of wedded bliss to dive headfirst into her campaign. She won against incumbent Richard M. Wilkins by the narrowest of margins, but the grueling race had taken its toll. Larry would spend most of the next four years in Key West, while Willow split her time between Sunnydale, Washington, and her vacation home in rural Alabama.[br]
“In her first Congressional term, Willow advocated a wide array of social programs and anti-discriminatory legislation, but as a freshman Congresswoman, she held little influence in the halls of power. She was reelected in 2010, but again found most of her initiatives stymied. Her push to have Wicca added to a list of protected religions did not even make it to committee. After two terms in Congress, Willow had had enough.[br]
“Her political career might have ended there, were it not for the tragic death of California’s beloved Governor Joyce Summers in the midst of her reelection campaign. The Democratic Party tapped Willow in her stead. Running against Sacramento businesswoman Anya Jenkins-Harris proved to be the fight of Willow’s career, as both campaigns resorted to increasingly negative ‘attack ads.’ In one, Jenkins-Harris’ husband, a childhood classmate of Willow’s, claimed that she had once vandalized school property and pinned the blame on him. Willow adamantly denied the charge, and countered with this now infamous ad:”[br]
“Anya Harris claims she knows what’s best for California, despite being raised in Indiana and born in a foreign country. She claims to be ‘a decider.’ But how decisive can she be when she can’t even decide on a hair color? Willow Rosenberg is 100 percent Californian, 100% redhead. Vote for the natural choice. Vote Willow Rosenberg.”[br]
“Willow won by a landslide, and news outlets nationwide ran footage of hundreds of voters sporting ‘Rosenberg-red’ wigs at the polls. With tearful hubby Larry by her side, she took the oath of office. In her first official act as Governor, she signed into law the long-delayed same-sex marriage proposal, which was just one of many accomplishments during her tenure. In addition to passing universal healthcare and expanding the state scholarship program, she also enacted stronger penalties for violent criminals—the so-called ‘Warren Mears Law,’ after the man who stalked and murdered his ex-girlfriend in cold blood.[br]
“In the summer of 2016, Willow was contemplating a second term when she was again called on by the Democratic Party. Political prodigy Justin Christopher handpicked Willow as his running mate, and the pair became the youngest President and Vice President, respectively, of the United States. In their four years, they not only brokered a lasting peace accord in the Middle East, they also passed the National Marriage Act, allowing same-sex marriage in all 50 states, brought the War on Terror to a successful conclusion, and forced the auto industry to convert to hydrogen fuel cell cars. It was a shock to the entire nation when President Christopher declined to pursue a second term, but no surprise at all when Willow won the November primary by the largest margin in history, defeating her old schoolmate Cordelia Chase by 95% of the vote.[br]
“Willow immediately tagged the well-known software designer and erstwhile rock musician Daniel ‘Wolfman’ Osbourne as her running mate, but Osbourne was forced to withdraw when scandalous photos of the Wolfman in a compromising position with notorious porn star Veruca were published in the National Enquirer. The question was on everyone’s mind: who would Willow choose?”[br][br][br][br]
“Tara Maclay was as unlikely a politician as you’d ever meet. Born and raised in Bensonville, Alabama, population 42—most of whom she was related to—Tara was home schooled by her parents, Doris and Jasper. When Tara was fifteen, her elder brother Donny drowned while performing high dives into a flooded quarry. Haunted by the death of her best friend and protector, Tara was determined to honor his memory by becoming the first person from Bensonville to graduate from college. She earned a degree in environmental science from Jacksonville State University, and won a scholarship to the University of Michigan’s prestigious graduate program in Ecosystem Management. After graduating in 2006, she spent two years doing research on the beaches of Southern California, followed by a brief sojourn on Cape Cod.[br]
“In 2008 she returned to Alabama to work for the state forestry service, spending months on end alone, studying the Shoal Creek region of Talladega National Forest. Tara might have remained an unknown Ranger, were it not for a freak hailstorm in the summer of ’11 back in Bensonville that sadly took the lives of the entire town, assembled for one of Donald’s bi-weekly ‘State of the Village’ speeches in the Maclay’s front yard.[br]
“Tara reluctantly accepted the title of Mayor, but refused to move back to the deserted town, choosing instead to lease it to the Michigan Womyn’s Festival, which had remained homeless following the 2009 realization by Michiganders that the festival was a haven for half naked lesbians.[br]
“Tara felt most at home in the woods, and often found herself acting as nature and tour guide to stray hikers and school groups alike. It was in the winter of 2013 that Tara Maclay became nationally known as ‘The Mayor Who Cares,’ after bravely battling the elements to find little Carly Watson, who had wandered off on a Girl Scout camping trip, sparking worldwide media interest. Two days later, Tara and Carly walked out of the wilderness and into the nation’s hearts! When asked how she’d done it, Tara said:”[br]
“Well, Carly took apart the GPS to figure out how it worked, and the needle on her Official Xena Warrior Princess compass froze. Normally I’d just follow the creek…except for the layers of snow and ice covering it, so I couldn’t figure out which way it was flowing. At some point I realized I could hear music off in the distance, and just kept following the sound. So really, that guy that kept blaring ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida’ for 15 hours deserves a lot of the credit.”[br]
“Tara shied away from the spotlight, spending the next six months on sabbatical in Sacramento, California. When she returned home, she found to her surprise that she had won the 2014 Green Party nomination for U.S. senate as a write-in candidate. Despite refusing to campaign, or even accept or reject the nomination, she won the general election in a bizarre race in which the Republican and Democratic candidates were both viewed so negatively that registered voters of all parties rallied around their small town sweetheart. Betty Louise Plotnick had this to say:”[br]
“Them other two fellers was all like ‘vote for me, I’m so great,’ but Tara acted like she didn’t care neither way. I liked that. She’s just real people, you know?”[br]
“Despite her initial reluctance, once elected Tara threw herself into the business of government. Over the next six years, she introduced several pieces of legislation, such as the bill to convert cars to hydrogen fuel cells and the National Marriage Act. Her fellow Senators universally praised her dedication. Iowa Senator Riley Finn recalls…”[br]
“She was the hardest working woman on the Hill. I don’t mind saying that a lot of us found the Vice President intimidating, but Tara volunteered to act as liaison, and I can’t tell you how many late nights they spent poring over every detail of the NMA. She’s really something.”[br]
“And so it was little surprise when campaign manager Buffy Summers made the announcement that Willow Rosenberg had chosen Tara Maclay as her running mate for this 2020 Presidential election. Concluding a groundbreaking race, Willow becomes the first female President of the United States, and did so in definitive fashion. In addition to taking an astonishing 83 percent of the popular vote, she and Tara won all but 57 electoral votes to defeat Jonathan Levinson and Andrew Wells by the largest margin in United States history. Levinson, looking pale and shaken, conceded a little over an hour ago, and now all eyes are on the Vice Presidential residence, where Willow and Tara have been watching the returns all evening in the company of family and friends. We understand the President-elect will be making a short speech, and we will come back as soon as she does, but in the meantime let’s go to Debra, who’s live in Austin…”[br][br][br][br]
“Sweetie?”[br]
“Hmm?”[br]
“They’re going to expect your victory speech soon. Maybe we should put some clothes on?”[br]
“Party pooper. I’m the President…I’m invoking my executive right of Tara-snuggles.”[br]
“I think I missed that one in civics class,” Tara mused, extricating her limbs from Willow’s and rising from the rumpled bed. “And since you don’t get sworn in until January, does that mean I have to snuggle with Justin?”[br]
“Nuh-uh!” Willow exclaimed, jumping from the bed and embracing Tara from behind. “It’s a super top secret executive directive that I’ll be enacting right after I take the oath of office.”[br]
Tara gave Willow a quick kiss and began dressing.[br]
“Speaking of secrets…where’s, um…what are we calling Larry now? First Laddie?”[br]
“The First Beard is probably debriefing his favorite Secret Serviceman,” Willow admitted with a grin. She paused with one leg in her slacks and looked up. “On a scale of ‘barely raised eyebrows’ to ‘spontaneous human combustion’ how scandalous do you think it would it be if we fessed up?”[br]
“Don’t even think about it!” Tara warned, yanking down her turtleneck and making sure it covered the large hickey on her throat. “One of us would have to step down. Besides, why rock the boat?”[br]
“I guess. It just feels weird since we could actually get married now. I want everyone to know you’re my First, Last, and Always Lady,” Willow said with a pout.[br]
Tara zipped up her skirt and enveloped Willow in a warm hug.[br]
“We’ve been together for fifteen years, darling. You can wait another eight and write a tell-all book. It’ll be huge.”[br]
“You mean sixteen years,” Willow replied, pulling down Tara’s turtleneck to kiss her bruised throat. “Two terms for me, two for you?”[br]
Tara grabbed Willow by the shoulders and pushed her away to make eye contact.[br]
“Don’t make me impeach you, Rosenberg. I haven’t forgotten the whole ‘oh, I’m tired of the D.A.’s office, I’m gonna run for Congress, just this once.’”[br]
Willow sighed dramatically.[br]
“Alright, eight years and we’ll let someone else have a shot.”[br]
“That’s very magnanimous of you,” Tara laughed, grabbing her hairbrush off of the dresser and running it through her tangled locks. “Now hurry up; the sooner you get out there and make your speech, the sooner we can get back to our private celebration.”[br]
Tara stood and straightened her skirt while Willow hurriedly buttoned her shirt and slipped into her shoes. The pair gravitated together, savoring a deep kiss before walking hand-in-hand out of the room and down the corridor, separating only when they reached the foyer and were joined by Larry, Buffy, Ira, Sheila, a half-dozen Secret Service agents and a small flock of friends and campaign staff. The din of the assembled reporters on the front lawn became a roar when the double doors were thrown open.[br]
A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd as Willow emerged, blinking against the blinding lights of a hundred flashbulbs. She reached back and entwined Tara’s fingers with her own, raising their joined hands in triumph, and as she waited for the noise to subside, Willow leaned towards Tara.[br]
“Do you have any idea how much I want to be kissing you now?”[br]
Tara grinned widely and waved at the crowd before replying.[br]
“If I have to preemptively strike your ass, I will.”[br]
Willow regained her composure almost immediately, and only had a brief moment to hope that pictures of herself with her mouth hanging open, staring wide-eyed at her very smug looking Vice President-elect wouldn’t appear on the front page of every newspaper in the country the next day.[br]
Buffy stepped up to the podium emblazoned with the Presidential seal.[br]
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the forty-seventh President of the United States of America…Willow Rosenberg!”[br][br][br]
The End[br][br]

_________________