A stereotypical nerd and big Star Trek fan is having major problems fitting in, let alone getting treated as a real person. Then, at an SF convention, he discovers an alien box, and it transforms his life, and the lives of many of his acquaintences.

(NOTE: I know that the preferred term is Trekker. I am one. This title sounded better to me, okay?

Another note: This started as a short little piece about one character. But sometimes, stories have minds of their own. It just mushroomed, and refused to be so confined. And it was much more fun to write this way.)

This was posted years ago at another website. I figured it was time to take a short BB break (while I'm in writer's block) and share some of the oldies. I hope you enjoy it.

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

"Well I don't care what you think!" The shorter lad thumped his finger in Danny Long's chest. "Major Kira is the hottest babe ever!"

Danny glared down, offended at the little twerp. "Hands off the uniform!" he glowered, brushing the Star Trek jacket smooth. He wore the jacket and trousers of the Voyager series, the black pants and jacket, shoulders capped by signature deep red of command staff, and a communicator pin proudly displayed on his chest. Star Trek fans could easily recognize it as the uniform of the last season of Voyager, modified from when the show first began its run. The uniform, though, looked awkward on Danny's tall skinny body; instead of a commanding Star Fleet presence, the uniform looked out of place.

The twerp confronting him, on the other hand, was maybe five foot six inches; Danny easily gazed at the top of the kid's head. The kid was heavyset, easily outweighing Danny, giving him a rather rotund appearance. Unlike Danny's tailored Voyager costume, the interloper was dressed in an ill-fitting off-the-shelf knock-off uniform of a Bajoran security officer from the Deep Space Nine series; it added greatly to the kid's sloppy appearance.

"You're both wrong!" a new voice interjected. Danny turned his head and saw Mike, a longtime friend and roommate. Mike strode noisily across the back of the conference room toward them, his Klingon armor clapping and clattering. "They're both scrawny little females with no...appeal!" He said the last with gusto, his hands clasping in front of his chest as if hefting large breasts. "They know nothing of fighting or pleasing a man!" He growled at the short intruder, causing the twerp to flinch visibly. "Take Lursa," he grinned. "Now there's a real woman!" Mike towered over even Danny; six-feet six, two hundred twenty pounds of muscle, Mike cut an imposing figure.

Danny watched the twerp scamper off, intimidated by the sheer physical bulk of Mike. "Hey, Mike," he smiled, reaching out his hand, then wincing as his large buddy clenched it painfully. "I was wondering where you were!"

Mike grinned, showing off his teeth. With the Klingon teeth caps, the armor, and the prosthetic headpiece nearly perfectly attached, he looked every inch a true Klingon warrior. All that was missing was a bat'leth; then again, here, as at most conventions, weapons were prohibited. "How could I miss today's sessions? I mean, Gowron!"

Danny smiled. Robert O'Reilly, the actor who played Chancellor Gowron on both Star Trek: The Next Generation and on Deep Space Nine, was the featured guest, and he was speaking today. Someone like Mike, a huge fan of anything Klingon, wasn't going to miss this for the world. "Yeah, he should be good." Danny didn't sound too enthusiastic.

Mike clapped Danny's shoulders. "But I know you wanted to see _her_." Though her name was unspoken, Mike knew, from their long friendship, who Danny had hoped to see. Unfortunately, due to a bout of flu, she'd had to cancel her appearance.

Danny shrugged, then he glanced at his watch. He pulled out his program book and rifled through the pages. "Gowron's not on for about three hours." He grimaced. "There's a panel discussion on the future of Star Trek," he read. "And I'm on a panel on nanotechnology right after that."

Mike grinned as he shook his head. "There's a seminar on advanced Klingonese for the next hour. But I'll catch you for the nanotech session."

**********

Danny trembled as he walked nervously from the meeting room, where he'd been on the panel. He blindly followed the throng of people meandering toward the main room, until he spied a vacant chair. Danny slumped down in the chair, his nerves jangled from the discussion, his hands trembling visibly.

"Great job!" Mike's voice boomed from above, startling Danny.

Danny sighed with relief as he recognized his roommate. "I'm not sure..." he said hesitantly.

Mike flopped down on the floor, his armor clattering. "Bull! You had them all, including that pompous ass from Stanford!"

Danny shook his head. "That was worse than the orals for my masters," he mumbled. Then he looked at Mike. "You really think I did okay?"

Mike laughed, a deep hearty laugh that would have been worthy of a true Klingon. "You nailed it. And everyone in the room loved how you stumped the so-called expert with your discussion of active versus passive nanobots."

Danny permitted a slight smile. "Well, having done a masters thesis and studying the subject for my PhD helps," he admitted. "And I'd read Kachanski's writings." He shook his head. "I just didn't expect him to be on the panel."

Mike roared again. "Well, you acquitted yourself well. So how about going to dinner after Gowron?"

Danny looked thoughtful for a moment, then he nodded. "Sure. If you can wait a bit so I can stop in the dealer's room on the way."

********************

Danny strode slowly out of the main hall. He clutched an autographed picture of Robert O'Reilly, but he wasn't really smiling. A couple of girls, dressed in normal street clothes and without convention badges, watched him walk, and he thought he heard one of them giggling. Danny shook his head, sighing heavily to himself. Why couldn't they ever accept him for his hobbies and interests? No one made fun of sports fanatics, of guys who dressed in the uniforms of overpaid athletic stars. So why were Trek fans such fair game?

Danny glanced at the strange box tucked under his arm. He'd run across it in the dealer's room, and from the strange symbols, he figured it was something that might interest Mike. The symbols etched onto the top vaguely resembled the strange Klingon script writing Mike was always practicing. Mike's birthday was coming up soon, too.

Danny sighed as he walked through the connecting tunnel from the convention center to the prime hotel. Like most big science fiction and Star Trek conventions, the main hotel was the site of the party rooms and suites, the hospitality lounge, and most of the unofficial 'action'. Being a struggling PhD student, he had to make the salary from his part-time job stretch, and he'd had wanted to stay in one of the cheaper outlying hotels, but Mike had insisted.

Mike was sprawled on one of the beds when Danny came in. He glanced at Danny, then at the box. "What'd you find?"

Danny shrugged. "I'm not sure. But it's got some neat figures on it that look kind of Klingon."

Mike sat up, suddenly very interested. "Let's see." He leaned over Danny's bed, studying the strange metal box and especially the intricate symbols in the top. "Hmm," he mused, "they _do_ look Klingon." Mike not only spoke fluent Klingon, but he also could write - with difficulty - the elaborate script. His nearly fanatical devotion to Star Trek, with his inherited wealth and his remarkable intelligence, allowed him the time and resources to become what others might call an obsessive fan.

As Mike traced the symbols, the box suddenly started to quiver, and then its metal began to stretch. Slowly, it began to grow. Mike scooted off his bed, backing away from the strange box, his eyes wide with surprise and his mouth hanging open. Danny, on the other hand, sat watching the box, his eyes narrowed as he studied it. The box suddenly stopped growing, and then it flipped itself neatly off the bed and landed right-side up.

"What the hell is it?" Mike asked, his voice sounding small and fearful.

"I don’t know," Danny answered softly, still watching the amazing little box. The box resumed its growth, now stretching vertically as well as horizontally, until it finally stopped. It now resembled a good-sized phone booth, but with plain gray sides.

"How...how did it grow like that?"

Danny shook his head as he walked to the device. "I don't know," he answered, his voice hushed. "Maybe some kind of dimensional gateway? Or nanobots?"

Mike read the excitement rising in Danny's voice. For the box to have done what it did, some very advanced technology was at work, and the potential of some kind of nanotechnology was too enticing to Danny.

Danny started around the device, curiously examining the strange metal. "Hey, this looks like some kind of control," he reported mere seconds later.

Danny's guess was quite accurate. Mike looked at the odd red plate, looking like a dinosaur paw, and the odd purple knob, then at the flat black panel. "Some kind of display panel maybe?"

Danny reached slowly for the purple knob. He winced as he touched it, as if expecting something bad to happen. But the box sat, silently concealing its secrets. "Hmm," he mumbled. "Maybe this one..." He touched the reddish plate. Instantly, the black display changed, and row after row of the alien symbols appeared, finally beginning to scroll. Danny removed his hand, and the display froze. He touched it again, and the scrolling continued. "Some kind of readout, you think?"

Mike nodded slowly. "But what does it say?"

Danny shook his head. "I don’t know. Too bad we don’t have a camera to record it."

Mike started to speak, then he pulled Danny's hand off the display, causing it to freeze once more. "Wait a sec." He bent over his suitcase and fumbled around. A moment later, he had his digital camcorder out, and he activated it. "Okay, go."

Danny grinned, then he touched the panel again. Once more, the display began to scroll, this time captured on video. Finally, it froze, and the final row of symbols blinked at them. Danny glanced at Mike, shrugging. "What do you think that's about?"

Mike frowned. "You think it's trying to ask if we want to continue? You know, like a computer display?" His guess was pretty accurate.

Danny touched the red crystal again, and the symbols vanished. As the two watched, the display began to change, and slowly a ghost-like figure began to appear. As they watched, the image began to solidify, acquiring substance as details began to form.

"Holy shit!" Mike exclaimed as he began to recognize the figure. "It's...Gowron!" His jaw hung open in disbelief as the image finally coalesced.

Danny dropped his hand, his own mouth agape. "Incredible!" he said slowly.

Mike stared at the image, then at Danny. "What?"

"Just a sec." Danny reached for the red plate again. The image of Gowron vanished, and slowly another image took its place. Danny let the image finish, then he turned to Mike smiling. "This thing...reads your mind!"

Mike stared at the image of Seven of Nine, the Borg beauty from the Voyager series. Her image was displayed in perfect detail. Mike pushed Danny aside. "Let me try," he insisted. He touched the plate, and again the image shifted. This time, the figure had the ridged forehead of a Klingon, but with the vast cleavage of a well-endowed woman. Any Trek fan worth his or her salt would have immediately recognized the image as Lursa, from The Next Generation series. Mike leered at the extremely chesty Klingon woman, clad as she was in her low-cut armor and exposing her generous cleavage. He turned, grinning broadly. "It really does read your mind!"

"I wonder what this does," Danny said to himself as he reached for the purple knob. While staring at busty Klingon women was interesting, he was more curious about the strange box. He reached out and touched the knob....

With no sound or motion, a door appeared - or a part of the side vanished; it was hard to tell which. One second, the side of the box was the plain gray metal. The next, it had a neat opening, like a door. Danny and Mike flinched.

Mike recovered first. He peered cautiously inside the box. "Hey, there's another one in here," he reported. He stepped into the box and reached for the other knob.

The door vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Danny felt a surge of panic; this was very advanced technology, and he had no idea of what it was capable. Now, Mike had vanished. Danny touched the purple knob frantically. Nothing happened. He reached for it a second time, but the door appeared before he could touch it.

Out of the box stepped Lursa, her mouth open in astonishment and her hands cupping the curved Klingon armor restraining her massive breasts. She looked identical to the picture, down to every little detail. "Wha....?" she was trying to ask. She looked up at Danny, her eyes wide. "Danny?"

Danny stood gawking at the woman, concern for his friend replaced by the surprise at seeing a voluptuous Klingon woman staring at him and holding her boobs. He felt himself starting to get aroused by the woman. "What did you do to Mike?" he finally managed to stammer.

"I...I am Mike," the woman replied. "It's me!" She looked down again, at the breasts she was cupping. "The box changed me!"

Most people would have immediately dismissed such a notion as absurd, writing the change off to a remarkable illusion or trick. Proof would have been required. Danny and Mike, however, were definitely not ordinary people. "Mike?" Danny asked; even as he asked, the last lingering doubt vanished. He knew. "It...changed you into the image? That's incredible!" He alternated his gaze between Mike and the image frozen on the display. "So is it an image projector, or did it actually alter your body? And does it work down to the genetic level? How deep are the changes? Does it have any effect on your mind?" The questions spurt forth as from a machine gun.

Mike shook his head. "I don't know," he answered, still cupping his boobs. "But it's not an illusion," he reported. "This feels...real!" He felt his body shiver, and then he glanced back at Danny. "It must be an actual alteration. It feels like my whole body is changed." He trembled again, and his eyes narrowed as he wondered why. He glanced at Danny, at the bulge in Danny's pants.

Something stirred in Mike, some vestige of his image of Lursa and Klingon women. They were the aggressors, according to the Star Trek universe. They took their men. Knowing this, Mike had been thinking subconsciously the same way every Trek fan imagined Klingon women would act. The thoughts were picked up by the box, and subtle changes were made in Mike's body as it was rearranged to the Klingon form. His libido, already high, was greatly enhanced. At the same time, his aggressive tendencies were heightened. A powerful combination was formed, and Mike felt some primitive instincts take charge of his body. Needs that he didn't know now burst forth, and with the combination of mental changes, Mike lost control to the base lust of this body.

Mike turned at Danny, then lunged at him. Danny was caught unaware, and fell backward onto his bed with Lursa atop him. The wild woman who'd been his roommate kissed and bit aggressively at him, her hands tearing frantically at both their clothes. Danny tried to protest, but Lursa was out of control with lust, and even though she was a woman, she was still much stronger than Danny. Fear of being hurt, coupled with lust at the very endowed and horny woman, caused him to quit protesting.

********

Danny sat on the bed, dazed and confused. His jacket was torn, and his skin bled in dozens of placed where Mike's claw-like fingernails had torn into his flesh. He'd been virtually raped by the Klingon woman.

Mike sat across from him. "I couldn't stop myself," he muttered to himself. "I couldn't stop!" Still in Lursa's body, he sat dazed, and yet strangely contented. He looked down at the floor, embarrassed by what he'd done, unable to look directly at Danny. "I couldn't stop..."

Danny felt conflicting emotions. On one hand, he'd just had fantastic sex. On the other hand, it had been with his roommate, albeit in a Klingon woman's body. Still, it was Mike. He had a sudden, almost terrifying thought. "So the box alters a body, and changes mental capabilities to match." He stood slowly, feeling his sore muscles complaining and the burning of the minor cuts and scratchs, and crossed to the box. His hand touched the plate, and slowly, an image of Mike appeared. "I guess the trick is going to be seeing if it's reversible."

Mike's head snapped up, and a new fear crept into his eyes. He'd not considered the possibility of being trapped in this body. Slowly, he stood, his breasts hanging free and jiggling. "You think I might be stuck?"

Danny shrugged, feeling sudden sympathy for Mike. If this weren't reversible, he'd be stuck as a horny Klingon woman. "I don't know. I guess there's only one way to find out."

Mike shuddered, then he touched the purple knob. The door reappeared, and with a quick glance over his shoulder at Danny, he stepped into the box. The door vanished as Mike touched the inner knob, only to reappear moments later. Mike stepped nervously from the box, his hands patting his body to reassure himself that he was indeed a human male again. He sat down on his bed, still nervous about meeting Danny's gaze. "At least the thing works both ways."

Danny slumped to his own bed, wincing at the tiny stabs of pain from some of his lacerations. "This thing has some incredible possibilities," he said softly, his mind racing as he contemplated some of the things this machine could do. For long moments, the two sat in awkward silence. "So how was it?" Danny finally asked with a grin.

Mike glanced up, and when he saw Danny's grin, he started to laugh aloud. "It was...interesting," he finally sputtered through his laughter. "But I don't want to do it every day."

"So," Danny asked casually, "you want to experiment with this box some more, or do you want to hit the party suites?"

Mike's mouth dropped open, then slowly, a grin spread across his features. "Party rooms." He glanced at the box. "But first..."

**********

The suite was noisy, a sure sign of a good party. A line of people waited at the door for their party stickers; every decent party had a unique sticker to affix to the attendee's badges. (To some convention attendees, the most important was getting the best assortment of party stickers.) Mike glanced at Danny and smiled. Already, heads at the door were turning their way, faces changing from bored curiosity to amazement and surprise. The two walked casually down the hall toward the party entrance. Around them, con-goers backed away, clearing a path and watching in stunned silence as the two strode confidently toward the door.

Mike reached the door first; the hapless door guard glanced up nervously. "Your badge?" he asked. Most door guards checked badges as they offered the decals.

Mike glared down at the guard and snarled. "I don't need a badge," he growled. He stepped past the awestruck young man into the party. He tilted back his head and roared, a deep booming sound that silenced the room. Heads snapped to see what the disturbance was. The sight that greeted them was imposing. While some party-goers were wearing their costumes, they paled next to Mike. From head to toe, Mike was the spitting image of Kahless, the Klingon warrior of legend. Beside him, Danny stood, his image that of Kern, brother of Worf and another Klingon warrior of repute.

"Who will bring us drink?" Mike demanded, glaring about the room angrily. "We are thirsty warriors in need of blood wine!"

Some of the crowd laughed at the display. It was perfectly in Klingon character, and these two newcomers, with their fantastic costumes, were really acting the part. A couple of party-goers in Klingon attire approached the duo. Danny watched with amusement as they tried to draw themselves up. They fell woefully short of Danny and Mike. The prosthetic headpieces were skillfully applied, but they were still visibly fake. The armor was fabricated from plastic, and it rattled like plastic rather than the metal-on-metal clanking of Mike's and Danny's armor.

In mere seconds, Danny and Mike had drinks in their hands. Curious onlookers found an excuse to talk to them, and left just as curious as to how they'd managed such convincing costumes. Serious Klingon fans sized them up, recognized the faces, and left, impressed by the skillful impersonation of the two. If it was an impersonation. Mike and Danny gave no clues.

**********

Mike rubbed his eyes, fighting the sunlight streaming into the room and the pounding aftereffects of the alcohol. He frowned, then he shook his head in an attempt to clear some cobwebs. He felt a weight on his arm. Instinctively, he glanced down, then he smiled as he recognized the brunette from last night's party. She'd been very taken with his costume, and it hadn't taken much to convince her to join him for the night.

The knock sounded again. Mike gently slid the girl's head off his arm, then he slid out of the bed, pausing to pull on a pair of shorts. Still feeling the pounding, he glanced through the security peephole. He slid open the lock and let the door open as he shuffled back into the room. Behind him, Danny, still clad in his Klingon armor, shuffled noisily into the room, shutting the door with a loud bang behind him. Mike and Danny both flinched at the loud noise.

As Danny clanked into the room, he heard a sigh on Mike's bed. Slowly, a girl sat up. Danny saw she was mostly naked - and quite unembarrassed about it - and turned to talk to Mike. Then he did a double-take. The girl was Klingon. She had the telltale ridges on her forehead. She glanced at Mike, and she made a contented growl, kind of like a purr. As Danny watched, she slid off the bed and began to pull on her garb, a perfectly fitting suit of Klingon armor. Mike stood watching in appreciation, and Danny watching in disbelief, as the girl finished dressing. She walked boldly to Mike, and reaching up, she yanked his head down and brazenly kissed him. She let go and started for the door, then she stopped and glanced at Danny, and more specifically, at the bulge in his pants. She licked her lips, a bold and seductive act that made Danny feel somehow nervous. "I may come back for you," she said, speaking as if seducing Danny were nothing more than eating a burger. She turned and strode out the door.

Danny shook his head. "I guess I don't have to ask how your night was, do I?"

Mike laughed. "She was quite...enjoyable!"

Danny glanced at the box. "Was it my imagination, or did you change her?"

Mike shrugged. "Okay, so I used the box to change her. She wanted to, anyway," he added defensively. Then, slowly, he got a sly look. "Besides, it made her all that much more grateful."

Danny shook his head, laughing softly. "If it works..." He stepped to the control panel and brought up his normal body. Seconds later, he emerged, clad in a clean fresh uniform which the box had dutifully created. "You going to change?" he asked Mike.

Mike grinned as he shook his head. "Partly." He stepped to the plate, then he ducked into the booth. He emerged, not as Kahless, but as a Klingon version of himself. "Being Klingon is a lot of fun." He eyed Danny. "You sure you don't want to try something a little different?" He saw Danny shaking his head. "Could be interesting..." Danny was thinking. Mike decided to take control of the situation. "Look, why don't you try? It couldn't hurt, and it could be a lot of fun." He stepped to the control plate and got an image. When it was done, he touched the purple crystal. "Come on," he prodded. "Give it a try."

Danny's curiosity was running full speed. He frowned at tried to see around Mike, to see what the image was.

His friend smiled and blocked the view. "You'll have to trust me on this one," Mike said mischievously.

Danny finally relented. He let Mike guide him into the booth, then with one last pleading glance at Mike, he touched the crystal. The door vanished as the machine started its work.

The door opened, and out stepped what appeared to be Seven of Nine! Only it was Danny, with his mouth hanging open in shocked disbelief, his neck gazing downward at the soft mounds on his chest, his hands cupped as if he wanted to touch them but was also deathly afraid. He looked up at Mike. "What...?" His voice was soft and wonderfully sexy, the same as Jeri Ryan's. "Why...? He was having terrible trouble focusing on forming questions with the strange sultry voice echoing in his ears.

Mike just smiled. "You weren't too happy that she couldn't make an appearance. Now she can." He saw the mixture of wonder and doubt on Danny's face. "Look, just give it a try. If you get uncomfortable, you can always change back."

Danny lifted his head to look at Mike. His eyes were wide with astonishment at what he'd become, and more, at what Mike was suggesting he do. "But...." He gazed down again, to where his hands - _her_ hands — were cupping his breasts. It wasn't right. "But this is...weird!" Danny protested. "I mean, I like her. But not being her!"

Mike tilted his head back and roared with laughter. "Why not? It's the ultimate chance to get to know her better!" His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Besides, think of how much fun you can have at the con."

Danny's will was flagging; Mike knew too well his weak points. "Well," Danny finally said, examining the dainty hands and the prosthetic Borg implants, "I guess I can give it a try."

**********

Danny felt very self-conscious as he strolled toward the main hall of the convention center. His reformed body felt awkward; shorter, with wider hips and wearing high heels, he was struggling to maintain a steady pace, with the predictable if not-yet-known result that his hips were swaying alarmingly in an effort to maintain balance. The heels, terrifying as they were in the first few moments, were not as much of a problem as Danny had feared. The machine had quite properly done its job, and since the image had high heels, it slightly altered Danny's neural pathways to allow his body to move in the silly things.

Around him, Danny knew heads were turning. One guy turned, and instantly his jaw dropped, followed immediately by the books he was holding. Still, the guy stood, dumbfounded, a mixture of disbelief, admiration, and outright lust displayed for all to see. As Danny sauntered past the poor guy, he saw the guy's head tracking his every move. Danny felt a sudden impulse to do something mischievous; he gave one hip an outward thrust toward the poor guy. Danny struggled to keep a straight face when the smitten guy tripped over the edge of a rug and fell to the ground. And even then, his eyes stayed riveted on Danny.

Danny strode lightly toward the green room, the antechamber where panelists and special guests could grab a quick snack, rest before or after a presentation, get updates on program changes, and just generally hang out away from the bulk of the convention goers.

At the door sat a guard, watching carefully to make sure that everyone who entered had a 'presenter' or 'special guest' badge. Green room hospitality cost a lot, and no convention had any money to waste giving free food to normal attendees. The guard looked up from his novel, scanning in a well-practiced glance for the badge. He saw no badge on Danny, so he tilted his head up a bit more. "You have to have...." The words froze in his mouth as his eyes widened.

"I seem to have misplaced my badge," Danny said calmly. Inside, his nerves were jangling; this was the do-or-die test of his appearance.

"Uh," the guard stammered, recognizing without question the body Danny was wearing, "that's okay. You don't need a badge." He jumped to his feet, his book falling to the floor. "If you lost it, you know," the guy stammered, "I can...uh...get you a new one."

Danny smiled, then bent over very deliberately and slowly picked up his book. He handed it to the wide-eyed guard. "That would be nice, thank you." Danny turned and sauntered into the room, leaving the stunned guard standing watching him.

Danny glanced around; since he'd been a panelist yesterday, he knew the layout of the room. He strolled over to the food table and began to select a few hors d'ouvres.

"Jeri," a familiar voice called loudly, catching Danny by surprise. His head snapped up, and he glanced around frantically. Across the room he spied the source of the noise — it was Ethan Phillips, the actor who played Neelix on Voyager. Danny felt a chill run down his spine; Ethan Phillips would catch on that he was impersonating Jeri Ryan.

"I heard you weren't going to make it," Ethan said as he strode across the room. For a shorter man, he had a tremendously quick stride. He reached out his arms to welcome a hug.

His heart in his throat, Danny embraced the actor. He knew he had to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come out.

Ethan Phillips stepped back from the embrace. "I'm glad did, though," he said with a smile. Then his features clouded. His eyes roamed up and down Danny's figure, pausing noticeably at the prosthetic Borg implants Danny was wearing. He frowned. "I thought we couldn't wear that stuff," he finally observed.

Danny gulped. "Uh, I got permission," he managed to croak. "Since I had to cancel a day, I wanted to make it up to the fans." His head was spinning as he tried to fabricate a reasonable lie. Inwardly, he was cursing himself. Of course the actors and actresses didn't wear their costumes to conventions. Danny knew that; hell, he'd organized a few conventions himself. The character was the property of the studio, including the costume and any makeup.

Ethan nodded slowly, and Danny knew he wasn't convinced. "Well, I guess if they said it's okay..."

Danny knew he had to distract the actor. How, though, was his big problem. "I bet you're glad they didn't try to get you to appear in makeup. Especially without glasses!"

Ethan laughed. He was literally as blind as a bat without his glasses, and his makeup took hours to properly don. "You got that one right," he answered. He glanced at Danny again. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little under-the-weather, if you ask me."

Danny was certain he could feel the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. "Since when is Neelix helping out in sickbay?" he said light-heartedly. "No, really, I'm not at one hundred percent," Danny lied. "I'm taking it easy today." He turned back and picked up his plate. "So what's your schedule look like?"

**********

Danny sank against the door with a heavy sigh. The day's program was over. Now he could change back.

"Sounds like you had a tough day," Mike boomed.

Danny glanced up, then he sighed again. "You said it. Everyone wanted my autograph. _Her_ autograph." He sidled to his bed and sat down, instantly reaching down to take off his heels. "I bumped into Ethan Phillips, who started asking questions. The organizing committee came en masse to meet me. Everyone wanted a picture or autograph." He held up one of the high heeled shoes. "And these things are killing my feet!"

Mike laughed heartily. "And you loved it, too," he accused. "Didn't you?"

Danny felt his cheeks redden. "Yeah," he said through his embarrassment. "It was pretty cool." He neglected to mention the other factors — that all the guys were visibly lusting after him, and that that fact had made him feel quite...strange. Almost like being horny, but in a very different way. Danny was afraid that he'd enjoyed this body too much.

"So you want to make the party rounds? You as Seven, and I'll be Martok?"

Danny shook his head no. "Nah," he said. It's kind of fun, but I want to be back to me."

Mike picked up on Danny's unenthusiastic answer. "I think you really do want to go out as Seven," he said with a smug little smile. "You just don't want to admit it."

Danny glared at Mike, then he turned away. He didn't want Mike to see him trembling. He bit his lip, wondering why he felt so conflicted. Was Mike really right? Did he enjoy being Seven? And if so, did that mean he was...weird? He'd been a virgin until the other evening; girls just didn't seem to have any interest in geeks and nerds, especially Trekkies like him.

Suddenly, Danny realized something. Being Seven gave _him_ the power. He could make the guys squirm and feel inadequate. He had the control, power over even minor details like conversation. Just as the girls had had over him for all those years. It wasn't that he wanted to be a girl, or Seven. It was about feeling like he had some control over the situation. That was what was appealing to him. And as soon as he realized that fact, being Seven became the obvious choice.

**********

Danny pried his eye open. The light _hurt_. A lot. A fog engulfed his mind; memories were hazy at best, and as he tried to think, a process slowed considerably by the drum corps practicing inside his head, it became obvious that there were some blank spots in his memories of the evening.

Slowly, to avoid the banging of the bass drum, Danny sat up. He felt the blanket slide off him, off his chest. Off the boobs on his body. He glanced down, a sudden move which resulted in major throbs of pain from which he visibly flinched.

As the pounding eased, Danny realized that he was naked. And still in Seven of Nine's body. And slowly, Danny realized something else. He wasn't alone in bed. He turned his head, slowly so as to avoid more pain, and with a sickening dread, looked.

Mike lay on the bed, his back to Danny, his body rising and falling with each breath. Danny shuddered; through the haze, he had faint images of having had sex. He turned his legs off the bed to stand.

Despite the hangover, Danny felt like whistling at the shapely, lovely legs attached to his body. He stood, and despite the throbbing in his head, he marveled at the feeling of the cool air on this magnificent nude body. Danny's hands wandered on their own to his shapely thighs. He felt the soft smooth skin beneath his delicate feminine hands. Slowly, his hands slid up to his hips, widening around the shapely curves, and on up to his waist. His tummy was flat and satiny-smooth, flowing upward gracefully to the marvelous breasts hanging on his chest. Danny gasped at the utterly sensuous feeling as his hands automatically cupped his breasts, feeling the soft voluptuous mounds in his hands.

Like a light turning on, Danny suddenly realized that he was being watched. He turned, feeling his face reddening as he saw Mike sitting up in bed, staring admiringly at him and his self-exploration. Danny turned away sharply, and paid for the sudden move in a fresh burst of pain. He took a couple of steps, and flinched at how his body moved; nude as he was, he knew that every motion was utterly and completely sensual. He hastily donned his robe. He sighed to himself; the robe was ill-fitting, with its long sleeves hanging as they would on a chimp, while the chest was pulled tight across his generous breasts and the V of the neck displaying his cleavage. He tied it shut around him, then sank into a chair, his legs splayed in a most unladylike fashion. He stared at Mike, unsure of what to say, if anything.

Mike finally broke the awkward silence. "Uh," he started to stammer, "this is kind of weird."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "We were drunk," he snapped, flinching visibly at the sultry sound of his voice. "That's all."

Mike nodded slowly. "Uh, okay." He looked down, unsure of what else to say. "Are you sure we...?"

Danny knew. The feelings in this body confirmed the answer. "Yeah," he answered quickly, looking away from Mike.

Mike nodded slowly. Then he looked up at Danny with a curious expression. He waited until Danny looked at him. "So how was it?"

Danny blushed even redder. He started to open his mouth to answer.

Mike smiled. "Hold it," he admonished sharply. "I was there, remember? You did me, too, remember?" His grin broadened. "And I don't have the excuse of having been drunk."

**************

Danny's insides were churning as he wandered through the dealer's room. On one hand, he'd really enjoyed the extra attention of being Seven. Yesterday, everyone had paid attention to him, even going out of their way to do nice things for him. Today, he was nobody, just another convention attendee. While his speaker badge still got him into the green room, it wasn't as much...fun...as yesterday. The word hit Danny like a thunderclap - being Seven had been fun.

"Hey, Danny!"

The voice calling from behind him was somehow familiar. Danny spun, his confused mood reflected in his expression. As soon as he recognized the caller, his features lightened, even though his head still hurt a bit. "Oh, hi Darla."

Darla swept up to Danny and gave him a quick hug. Like Danny, she was attired in a Star Trek uniform, but hers was from the Next Generation television series. Tall and slender, with her bangs cut straight and her long dark hair sweeping behind her fake Vulcan ears and falling loosely about her shoulders, she looked quite like the popular aliens from Star Trek. Even her eyebrows were done in the upswept style of Vulcans. As much as Mike liked Klingons, Darla liked things Vulcan. "I figured you'd be here." She looked him over, then she shook her head. "You don't look so well."

Danny sighed, trying to smile. "Bit of a hangover. Mike and I did the party circuit last night."

Darla's eyes widened. "Oh, then you saw her!"

Danny frowned. "Her?"

"You didn't?" Darla shook her head. "Jeri Ryan made it after all," she said, stunned that she was telling Danny the news. "She was even in costume, and out on the party circuit. She was with some guy dressed as General Martok."

Danny's eyes narrowed. He was thinking seriously; Darla believed that it had actually been Jeri Ryan. He'd done a much better job of fooling people than he'd first thought.

Darla misinterpreted his look. "No, really!" she insisted. "It was her."

Danny sighed. "My dumb luck that I missed her." The news added to his inner turmoil. People actually liked the impersonation. He'd been popular as Seven, far more so than he was as Danny. But he'd been a woman.

"Hey, Danny." Another voice called him. He and Darla both turned, and they saw a Klingon girl approaching. Danny's eyes narrowed as he recognized her - it was the girl Mike had changed into a real Klingon girl.

"Uh, hi..." Danny stammered. Even though he recognized her, he didn't know who she was. Darla was staring at her, curious as to the identity of Danny's new friend. Danny glanced and saw the look on Darla's face. For the briefest of moments, he considered that she might be jealous. The thought passed quickly.

The Klingon girl smiled, showing her teeth. Her armor exposed a lot of cleavage, and she seemed to be proud of that fact. She saw Danny's confusion and laughed. "Oh, that's right. I never did introduce myself. I'm Sandy." She laughed again, especially when she saw the look on Darla's face. Then she wrinkled her nose. "But Sandy just doesn't sound too Klingon, does it?"

Poor Danny stood with his mouth agape, stunned at Sandy's forwardness, and humiliated by the implications of what she was saying. Danny knew that Darla thought he was some kind of slimeball, picking up and dorking girls he didn't even know. He glanced at Darla, and from the look in her eyes, he knew that was exactly what she thought. He glanced back at Sandy.

Sandy's eyes had something else in them. She grasped Danny's hand and lifted it slowly, palm toward her. As Danny stood, stunned, she smiled. "Maybe I should properly thank you," she said. She bent her head forward, and kissed Danny's hand, and then, suddenly, she bit it, albeit not hard enough to draw blood. She glanced up, and Danny saw a fire in her eyes; she was definitely coming on to him, brazenly and in public.

"Uh..." Danny was stunned beyond words. On one hand, the girl was attractive, and having a girl attempting to seduce him was very intriguing. On the other hand...

"Stop!" Mike's voice was strong and angry; he grasped Sandy's shoulder roughly. She responded by balling her fist and swinging at him - hard. Danny could easily see the anger in her eyes. Surprisingly, Mike caught her fist, and he clasped her hand - painfully so. She began to wince, then she grasped his hand with both of hers, and the expression in her eyes changed. The anger was gone, faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with the same lust that Danny had seen only a moment before. Sandy bared her teeth, then she bit Mike's hand. In response, Mike growled, a rumbling purr.

Danny turned away from Sandy and Mike as they started to walk away. He glanced at Darla, trying to smile as if nothing had happened. "So, Jeri was here, huh?"

Darla didn't fall for his attempt at changing the subject. "What the hell was that about?" she demanded, hands moving to her hips in a rather impatient pose.

Danny sighed. "It's a long story," he finally said. "She's Klingon."

Darla frowned. "I can see that, stupid." Then she thought for a second. "But that's one of the best makeup jobs I've seen in a long time."

Danny shook his head. "It's not makeup," he finally said. Time to level with Darla.

Darla's frown deepened. "You're suggesting she's really Klingon?" She shook her head and started to laugh. "That's a good one." The laugh died in her throat when she saw Danny's expression.

"Maybe it'd be easier if I just showed you."

**********

"So you're saying that box can change people? Into whatever they want to be?" To say that Darla was skeptical would have been an understatement.

Danny expected her reaction. "That's how Jeri Ryan was here. It was really me. And Martok - that was Mike. Just like, what was her name? Sandy? The device changed us into what we wanted to be."

Darla shook her head. "Mike - as Martok and a real Klingon - that part I can believe. But you - as Seven? That's a little hard to swallow."

Danny felt his cheeks burning. "It was Mike's idea," he said defensively. "Kind of a joke. He wouldn't let me see what I was changing into."

Darla stared at Danny for a few seconds, then she started laughing. "Okay, I admit you got me. For a few seconds, I actually believed you."

Danny had expected this. He stepped to the panel and touched the red plate. In seconds, he'd brought up an image. He touched the purple crystal, and the door appeared. One glance at Darla, and he saw her expression. She'd seen the door just appear; she was almost convinced. Danny stepped inside and touched the crystal. Once more, the door vanished. When it reappeared...

Spock stepped out. It wasn't the old Spock from the movies, but the younger Spock from the original Star Trek series. Danny raised an eyebrow, amazing himself at how easily he did that. "Fascinating," he said as if it were second nature.

Darla's eyes widened, then they narrowed. "I don't know how you did this trick," she said skeptically, "but it _has_ to be a trick!" She stepped closer, and slowly she circled Danny, peering intently at his ears and face.

"You seem to believe that this is some kind of cheap parlor trick," Danny said as she studied him. "I assure you that this is no trick. The machine altered my structure to match the displayed image. Surely you would find it illogical, if not impossible, for me to have contrived such a trick. After all," he said plainly, "there is no reason for me to deceive you."

Darla finally stopped, and as the facts slowly made their way past her mental objections, she sank back on the bed. Her expression slowly changed from skepticism to awed acceptance. "Wow!" she finally stammered. "It really did change you!"

Danny stepped to the interface and got his own image back. In a few seconds, he'd changed back to his own body. He sat down opposite Darla. "Uh huh," he smiled at her disbelief. "It really can change you — into whatever you can imagine."

"You... _were_ Seven!" Darla exclaimed. "And Mike...Martok?" She shook her head slowly. "And Sandy? You changed her, too?"

Danny shrugged. "Sandy was all Mike's doing."

Darla began to analyze the data she'd collected so far. "So how far do the changes go? Beyond just appearance, I mean." She glanced at the box. "Is it genetic? Does it affect the structure? When you were Seven, were you really a woman?"

Danny felt his cheeks redden. "I don't know, but I suspect it is genetic. And structure is totally, completely changed." He stared at the floor. "And I was really a woman."

Darla ignored Danny and stepped to the interface. "How does it work? Do I just touch the panel, like you did? Or can only you use it?" She touched the reddish plate, and instantly the image changed. "Oh!" she exclaimed, flinching a bit. "I guess I can use it, too?" She ignored Danny and began to think of an image. Slowly, a tall, slender woman, with straight dark hair, upswept eyebrows, and pointed ears, appeared. The image stabilized, and then Darla concentrated some more. With agonizing slowness, the machine contemplated her inputs. Darla was as much a fan of Vulcans as Mike was of Klingons, and as Danny was of Seven. She knew _everything_ there was to know about the race, from the average lifespan of well over two hundred years to the copper-based hemoglobin, from the acute hearing to the extraordinarily logical mind. Every detail of her 'knowledge' of Vulcans, the stuff of science fiction and serious discussion among the Star Trek fans, all that data was captured by the alien box, and its computers thought long and hard about the image in her mind. To Darla, Vulcans were real; ergo, the alien box had to create the suitable alterations.

Finally, just when Darla and Danny were about to give up, the image on the screen adjusted slightly. Darla stepped back, gasping slightly. It was a hybrid of Darla and Dr. Selar from the Next Generation, a Vulcan doctor from the Enterprise. The image seemed to be taller than Darla, lithe and athletic in build. Her dark hair was just above her shoulders, with straight high bangs that clearly displayed the upswept eyebrows of Vulcans. Her features still strongly suggested Darla's, but with a very slight Vulcan twist. What was more, Darla's skin had a very slight greenish cast to it, the result of her blood being based on copper rather than iron; whereas oxidized iron was red, oxidized copper was green, and so her blood was green, and that pigmentation carried through to her overall complexion.

She raised an eyebrow as she examined her body. Seeing Danny's reaction, she stepped to the sink and peered into the mirror. "Interesting," she said in a voice curiously devoid of emotion. "The change appears to be complete." She turned back to Danny and observed him. "I suppose you will now ask for some expression of gratitude," she said, cocking her head slightly.

Danny shrugged. "A 'thank you' is customary." He smiled at Darla; she was very attractive as a Vulcan. "Or more, if you're really, really grateful..." It was a joke, and Danny said it with the tone and levity that he usually used with Darla; the two were friends, and though Danny would have jumped at the chance to sleep with Darla, the two knew nothing would ever happen.

Darla cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. You are insinuating that you would enjoy an act of copulation as a reward for changing me into a Vulcan, as you perceive that I had always desired." She looked genuinely puzzled. "First, I am not currently in Pon Farr, and as such, I find no logical reason to couple with you. Second, you and I have been friends, and there have never been occasions where such an act would have been appropriate. Third..."

A stunned Danny lifted his hands, palms outstretched toward Darla. "Okay, okay already! I give up!" He shook his head as he gazed at Darla. "Sheesh, it was just a joke!"

Darla opened her mouth slightly. "Ah, a joke. Humor." She contemplated this for a moment. "It is a most inappropriate subject for human humor, even though my memories suggest that we have 'joked' about copulating on many previous occasions."

Danny gave up. "Okay. Let's go back to the convention. Is that a safe suggestion?"

Darla canted her head. "Indeed. It would be a most logical use of time, in that we have paid a not inconsiderable sum of money to purchase memberships at this convention."

**********

The bid party was in full force when Danny arrived. Major conventions rotated their locations, and prospective host groups usually put together a bid party in an effort to entice people to support their bid for host. This was a World Con bid party, and drinks and munchies were well-represented. Sometimes, bid parties included sales of trinkets and souvenirs, all in an attempt to help defray the expense of bidding, and ultimately, of hosting the convention. Danny threaded his way through the crowd to the drink table. After getting a soda, he began to circulate, looking for friends and acquaintances.

"Man, you should have seen it. It's the best costume I've ever seen!" One guest sat on the arm of a sofa, talking with his standing mates.

A second guy chimed in. "Something's going on here," he observed quietly, but not so quietly that Danny didn’t hear. "I've never seen costumes this good! It's almost like they're real!"

A third guy shook his head. "You're drunk," he chided. "All I've seen are the run-of-the-mill costumes."

The first guy wasn't going to back down. "No way! Look, those Klingons — I tried! I looked for the makeup and stuff!" He glanced at the second guy for confirmation. "Those guys aren't wearing any makeup or prosthetics! They're real!"

The third guy shook his head. "You're drunk," he clucked. "They're costumes." His eyes narrowed and he leaned toward the first guy menacingly. "Unless you're trying to suggest those guys had plastic surgery done!"

Danny felt a nudge, and he was pushed into the second guy. The guy started to glare at Danny, then his features lit up. "You," he said almost accusingly. "Have you seen the costumes? Do they look real or not?"

Danny smiled thinly. "Yeah, they look pretty realistic to me."

The first guy smiled. "See!" He pushed out his chest in triumph. "The Klingons and that Vulcan girl — they're real!"

**********

Danny tossed and turned as he tried to get some sleep. Unlike the preceding night, he'd taken it easy in the party rooms and had gotten back to his room early. He finally gave up on sleep and turned on the light. As he sat in bed, he stared at the Morphic Adaptation Uunit. It had started so innocently; it changed forms for him and Mike. And then the girl. Danny tried to concentrate, to put his finger on the details he'd overlooked. Sandy. What was it about her? And Mike. And Darla. There was a common thread, but Danny couldn't figure it out.

The raucous voices in the hall, a gruff male and a rather intoxicated and loud female, alerted Danny to Mike's return even before he heard the key card in the door slot. The door opened, and Mike and Sandy staggered in. Mike flipped on the light, and seemed stunned to see Danny sitting in bed awake.

"We'll go elsewhere," Mike snarled to the girl.

She shook her head. "He's unimportant." She grabbed Mike's hand and bit his palm, roughly grasping him and pushing him toward the bed.

Danny watched as Mike let himself be pushed onto the bed. It was as if Danny didn't exist; the two were ripping off their armor and getting extremely passionate. Embarrassed at the spectacle, Danny slid out of bed and pulled on his trousers and a T-shirt. Grabbing his shoes, he headed quickly for the door. "I'll just leave you two alone," he mumbled. As expected, he got no response except for the primal sounds of mating Klingons. He shook his head and exited his room.

As Danny walked down the hall, he could still hear Sandy's screams echoing through the door and down the hall.

Like a thunderclap, the pieces assembled themselves. Mike's behavior in nearly raping Danny when he was a Klingon woman. Mike's actions when in his male Klingon body. Sandy, and her uncontrollable passion and anger. And Darla — cold and unemotional. Logical. The pieces all clicked into place.

Each person changed, every one, had mental characteristics and behaviors that matched what their mental pictures of the target was. To Mike and Sandy, who loved things Klingon, their passions had been unleashed, and their behavior coarsened to the Klingon norm. On top of that, Danny had seen Mike doing some mock hand-to-hand combat with a guy in a Klingon costume. Danny had seen Mike nearly tear the guy's arm off, and he saw the look in Mike's eyes — it was combat, battle, and to a Klingon, battle was the ultimate rush. In retrospect, Danny realized that Mike had barely been able to control himself.

Then Danny had another thought about the changees' actions. On the shows, Klingons had a good deal of self-control. But the changees were all acting as if they had no self-control. This had puzzled Danny; now, the answer dawned on him. The change was a fantasy come true, and they _knew_ it was going to end in a couple of days, so the changees were taking advantage of their changes, living as fast and hard as they could to make the most of every moment as a Klingon.

And then there was Darla. So logical and emotionless after her transformation. Just like Vulcans. And she was living her fantasy, being colder and less emotional than even a Vulcan because she finally could.

Danny was too tired to completely assemble the picture, even though its answer was tantalizingly close. In a near dreamlike state, he wandered back to the party floor, to where he could hopefully find a relatively quiet corner free of copulating Klingons and maybe get a bit of rest.

**********

Danny crept back into the room around three. He saw Mike and Sandy asleep on Mike's bed as he quietly slipped into his own bed. He was weary, and his eyes were closed in sleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Danny awoke late, and he gingerly pried an eye open. Slowly, quietly, he turned, and saw that Mike and Sandy were already gone. He sighed in relief.

As soon as he toweled himself dry, Danny stared at the machine. Everyone had been having a lot of fun with the machine — everyone, that is, except Danny. So far, he'd been very reluctant to use it; in fact, Mike had had to push him every time he'd changed. Danny realized that he was missing out. And Mike knew it - he'd left an image of Seven on the display, a taunt to Danny to change and enjoy. Or a hint. Whatever Mike had intended, Danny reached for the purple knob, determined to fix that situation.

**********

Seven of Nine strode confidently through the halls of the convention center. Around her, heads turned and mouths dropped open in surprise. And Danny was thoroughly pleased with the fact that not one person suspected that Seven was really Danny. He spent the day dropping in on sessions, wandering through the dealers' room, and generally being seen and enjoying the attention.

After the last session of the afternoon wrapped up, Danny went back to his room and changed back into his own body. A check on funds, and he ran to the elevator. His circle of friends was getting together for dinner, and he didn't want to be late. Danny smiled; the machine had been quite useful in that regard; he imagined himself in his own body, cleanly bathed and shaved and wearing fresh clothes, and the machine happily transformed him. Quite a time-saver, too, Danny thought to himself.

Danny walked into the restaurant a few minutes late, and even before the hostess could get to him, he spotted his group. The group was really easy to find: Mike, Sandy, and a few others were still attired as Klingons and acting as noisy as their reputation suggested. Danny joined them, and as he glanced around the table, he slowly realized that every single one of the seven Klingons was truly a Klingon; there wasn't a dab of makeup anywhere in the group. Sandy wasn't the only girl; there was one who looked remarkably like Lursa, and another resembled her sister B'Etor as well.

And the Klingons weren't the only thing. There were two Vulcans as well. Danny leaned over toward Mike. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

Mike grinned and slapped his back — hard! "Celebrating," he answered loudly. "And why not? We have the means to be what we wish — so we are merely taking advantage!" He hefted a large goblet of wine and began to quaff it.

Danny frowned. "But what if..."

Mike shook his head, lowering the goblet and wiping the dribbling wine from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bah! We'll change after the convention is over. Maybe!"

The other Klingons roared their approval of his comment. Danny had the sudden feeling that some of the Klingons weren't going to change back.

"So why haven't you changed?" Mike demanded suddenly, a toothy grin interrupted for another swig of wine. "Not feeling like enjoying life? Or are you going as Seven again tonight?" He had a leering grin that made Danny a bit uneasy.

**********

Seven of Nine walked into the bid party, and instantly heads turned. Danny smiled to himself; he was starting to enjoy this attention. The crowd parted as he strutted toward the drink table; girls' stares were clearly of envy or dislike, while the looks from the guys were almost universally lustful leers. Danny knew what they wanted to do to him, and somehow, it made the experience exciting. And even as he walked around, Danny had the vague feeling that something was...different. He couldn't quite figure it out, but it was as if this body was better. Enhanced somehow.

As the bartender handed Danny a drink, he sensed — again without realizing how — another person nearby who was paying him close attention. Danny turned. And the guy was there, exactly as Danny had known he would be. He felt puzzled; how had he known?

The guy was dressed as an ensign from Voyager. "Hi, Seven," he said, being both forward and familiar.

Danny instantly disliked the guy's demeanor. "Excuse me," he said brusquely. "I have other duties to which I must attend." He turned and started to walk away.

The Voyager crewmember was clearly inebriated, and his sensibilities were AWOL. "Oh, come on, Seven. How about some behind-the-scenes info about the upcoming movies."

Danny stopped, his shoulders stiffening. He didn't bother to turn. "I believe I said excuse me," he answered coldly. A few people were taking notice, and Danny didn't like this one bit.

The crewman made a mistake. "Oh, come on! It was just an innocent question. Or are you too good for the rest of us?" The bartender came from behind his table and took the guy's elbow, but he shook it off. "Are you as stuck-up as the rest of the cast?"

Danny spun, feeling an odd combination of determination and anger. "You wish me to answer some of your questions?"

The guy inflated his chest smugly. "Yeah. I heard Seven was going to assimilate one of the male crewmembers into a romantic situation." He glanced around, not recognizing that the looks being given him were not respect but disgust. "Tell you what, if it were me, I'd let you assimilate me any day!"

Danny felt a compulsion come over him that he couldn't control. He reached out his arm toward the guy's shoulder...

...and as everyone watched in horror, most especially Danny, twin tubes extended from Seven's forearm toward the guy, intercepting his neck and visibly puncturing the skin. The guy started to scream in pain and reach for the assimilation tubes, but he froze, a look of horror on his face.

Within seconds, his skin began to pale, and then something vaguely resembling a mechanical spider pierced the guy's cheek from the inside, spreading outward over his skin like the prosthetic devices Seven wore. His eyes glazed, and mechanical contrivances sprouted from them as well. His expression changed considerably as well, from shock and pain to neutral acceptance.

'We are Borg,' Danny heard in his mind. His eyes widened, and he glanced at the guy even as the changes continued. 'You hear my mind?' Danny asked mentally.

'We are Borg,' the voice in Danny's head answered.

'We must leave,' Danny thought. He glanced around quickly, and saw the crowd. Their expressions were disbelief, horror, and admiration. Danny nodded deferentially toward the bartender and the crowd. "You must excuse us. This...trick...is extremely tiring. We require rest."

The stunned crowd burst into applause; somehow, everyone had known it was a trick of special effects, at least after the fact. Danny led the new Borg quickly from the party suite.

**********

Danny trembled at the memories; they were still extremely vivid, and Danny suspected it had something to do with his body. He'd felt each and every sensation of the drone _and_ his own body; the sex was a jumble of mixed feelings from both their bodies. Danny awoke, feeling the quiet in his mind. Since the assimilation, he'd experienced every thought and memory of the drone, once known as Pete and now Adjunct One of Unimatrix Zero, and the flurry of thoughts had been quite disconcerting.

Danny's head spun. How? How the hell had he assimilated Pete? That wasn't possible! He wasn't _really_ Seven of Nine, former Borg drone and still partially Borg. Was he? How could the machine have made him into a _real_ Borg? That was absolutely impossible. Wasn't it?

Pete the drone awoke, and Danny knew. Before he even turned, he could feel the change in thoughts as Pete woke up. Danny knew he had to do something — anything! This wasn't exactly fair to Pete, and Danny knew that listening to someone else's thoughts would drive him nuts.

'We are Borg,' came the thought from the drone. Danny glanced; while Pete had rested', more of his body had been 'Borgified'. His right arm now ended in the multipurpose mechanical tool of all drones. One eye was covered with the multi-faceted drone sensor. Danny realized that the nanoprobes in Pete's body were probably scavenging anything and everything they could find as raw material for the Borg implants and attachments. Pete was definitely thinner. Except for the black Borg outergarment, Pete was thoroughly a drone.

Danny turned to the drone. "I will change you back."

'We are Borg,' came the unspoken and unemotional reply.

Danny felt a flash of frustration. "You will comply." He fought Pete's thoughts, his resistance to changing, fought to force Pete to comply.

The drone arose and walked to the alien box. In response to unspoken commands, the drone touched the plate. The former figure of Pete was quickly displayed. The drone glanced at Danny, then he touched the purple knob. He stepped inside, and the door closed.

Danny felt the drone's actions. The light was washing over the drone, starting the change. Then Danny gasped. The drone's defenses activated, shielding him from the ray. A whining screech began to sound in the box as it increased the power of its ray, but still, the drone's shields held, protecting it from the transforming effects. Finally, the box gave up before it could damage itself, and the door opened.

The drone stepped out, unchanged. 'We are Borg,' it thought to Danny.

Panic washed over Danny. Somehow, he'd created a Borg drone, complete down to the mechanical tools and collective communications. Danny had no idea how that had happened. But somehow, he had to undo the damage he'd done. Somehow.

A memory stirred in the collective consciousness. Danny focused, and an idea began to form. What Danny had seen so far had confirmed his suspicion, voiced over objections at the nanotech session, that the nanoprobes could be partially controlled by the host body. Maybe, if that fact had been part of the data used to design this body, the machine had given him the means to control his own nanoprobes. Maybe the box couldn't change Pete back, but, if his theory was correct, Danny could inject some of his own nanoprobes into Pete, programmed to reverse the Borg changes. At least, as many of the changes as possible. He reached toward the drone, and once more, the assimilation tubes extended, piercing the skin of the drone.

**********

Pete was still noticeably different, having some spider-like patches on his skin, but he was no longer the white half-machine drone he'd been. The second assimilation had worked — somehow — to reduce the degree to which the guy was a Borg. Danny couldn't remove all the Borg implants, but Pete looked human again. And the collective link was gone. Silence had returned to Danny's thoughts — at great relief to Danny.

"That was...weird," Pete said as he stared at his hand, covered as it was by the spiderweb of mechanical implants.

Danny felt bad, but strangely, the regret was very muted — as if his emotions were dampened. "I...regret that I was unable to restore you completely."

The former drone looked at Danny and smiled. "No. I...prefer it this way. The implants are...interesting." He smiled as he flexed his hand, feeling the new sensations the hybrid body was providing. "This is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me." He stood, then walked toward the door. He paused and glanced back. "And thank you."

Danny furrowed his brow. "For what?" The guy smiled, and Danny blushed as he realized what Pete meant.

"You're not really her, are you?" Pete asked with certainty.

Danny looked at him, then he smiled. "No, I'm not."

Pete canted his head, then he smiled. "You were Danny. You were changed by the alien device," he glanced at the box again, "into Seven of Nine."

Danny dropped his head, feeling his cheeks burning. It was bad enough to have been changed from Danny into Seven, but now Pete knew his secret as well. Pete turned and let the door close, leaving Danny alone in the room.

Danny flopped back on the bed, confused. And even that was a mistake — it made his breasts jiggle, reminding him that he was still in Seven's body. He took a deep breath, ignoring the heaving masses on his chest, and levered himself back up. He glanced at the box. He knew what he had to do.

**********

"What the hell are you saying?" Mike asked, confused. He sat across from Danny, staring at his roommate. "It won't _let_ you change back?" Alarm had crept into his voice; if it wouldn't let Danny change back, it might not let him and the others change back either.

Danny shook his head. "Not quite. My body won't let me change back," he answered slowly.

"Your...body?"

Danny dropped his head, nodding in agreement. "Somehow, this body _is_ Borg." He lifted his head to watch Mike's reaction. "Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but last night, I assimilated a guy."

Mike started to speak, then he stopped, his mouth hanging open. "I heard about it. Everyone's been talking about the special effects. But it wasn't an act."

Danny shook his head. "No, it was real."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "But that's..."

"Impossible?" Danny closed his eyes, letting his head droop wearily. "That's what I thought. But somehow, this thing has changed me more than we thought. I'm partly Borg."

Mike thought for a second, then he nodded. "That explains a lot, then."

"Explains what?" It was Danny's turn to be curious.

"Do you think I've — and Sandy and the others — have been acting a little _too_ Klingon?" He watched as Danny was reminded of this bit of data. "And Darla — she's the picture of Vulcan, including her hearing, her green blood — yeah, she got a scratch and we saw it — and her strength. Hell, she's stronger than I am! To say nothing of her mind. She's...different. Very logical. Very unemotional. Just like Spock claimed to be, like the Vulcan ideal."

Danny was starting to put the pieces together. "I thought you were all just living your fantasies. Except..." He thought for a few moments. "Just exactly like the transformee was thinking when he or she changed."

Mike nodded. "Only in your case..."

The last piece clicked into place. "Because I have a background in nanotechnology, and with all my interest in Seven, it made me into what she is. Including the implants and nanoprobes."

"Into what you _thought_ her nanoprobes and technology should be able to do, based on everything you've learned and watched on the show. Yup, it looks that way. So when you said it wouldn't let you change..."

"Seven's Borg defense systems read it as an attack and protected me." Danny dropped his head as the facts hit him. "So I'm stuck, because my mental picture was of a very accurate and complete Seven." He thought for a moment, then he looked up suddenly. "So how..."

Mike grinned. "...did I make you Seven and you didn't get stuck?" He laughed, the hearty roar of a Klingon. "Because I don't know as much about her as you do."

**********

The dinner group was larger than the one from the previous evening. Heads turned as they walked by; Trekkies looking to admire the costumes and the person they thought was Jeri Ryan in costume, and non-Trekkies to stare at the strange group. Danny shook his head as the group assembled. There were now seven Klingons, four Vulcans and two Bajorans in the dinner party. Elsewhere in the convention were handfuls of other aliens, including Romulans, Cardassians, a Tellarite, a few other Vulcans, two Spock impersonators, a Kirk, a Sisko, two Kiras, and a Jadzia Dax. Mike had been busy.

"You did pretty good on the panel," Mike noted as they walked.

Danny smiled. "It helps to have a friend in the preproduction department. Otherwise, I'd have bombed." He and Mike were referring to the afternoon panel on the future of Star Trek. With a couple of cancellations, the organizing committee had implored Danny to participate, a desperate attempt to salvage the session. A few vague rumors, a little misdirection into what it was like to work on the set, and the group was happy.

"And you promised to autograph a picture for me, remember?"

Danny feigned a frown. "Yeah, well I wasn't any too happy when you _volunteered_ me to sign autographs."

They walked a bit more in silence. Danny's silence, that is. The Klingons were far from silent, and Danny winced at their antics. They were loud, rude, and quite unmannered. They ate with their bare hands, and two waiters couldn't keep enough wine on the table. It was, all in all, quite a spectacle. Danny had to laugh — to himself — when the head waiter had tried to insist that the group use some manners — and keep it a little more quiet. Two of the Klingons had reminded him, by dangling him over a railing, that they were paying customers, and it was his responsibility to see that _they_ were suitably entertained. Danny feared that the little man would call the police, but some of the other patrons, also from the convention, found the entire episode hilarious, and besides, the head waiter was a wimpy little man who probably lacked the nerve to call the cops.

Danny and Darla walked back to the hotel separate from the group. Danny was curious about Darla's experiences and thoughts on the changes. But before they could discuss things, a couple of men decided they should accompany the girls. Despite Danny and Darla's protests, the guys wouldn't be dissuaded. They were drunk and a little forceful.

While Danny gave some serious thought to assimilating the offensive boors, Darla slid her hand up on one guy's shoulder. With a little pinch, he crumpled like a rag doll. His compatriot joined him a moment later. Danny's eyes narrowed as he stared at Darla. "How did you do that?"

Darla's head tilted. "It is a standard Vulcan technique," she said, perplexed that Danny would ask.

Danny frowned. "Yeah, but when did you learn it?"

Darla started to answer, then she paused. "Interesting. I have no recollection of learning the technique," she finally answered. The two resumed their walk back to the hotel.

"Do you recall any emotions? Or other 'illogical' thoughts?" Danny asked, prying for more information.

Darla thought for a moment. "I recall many illogical and confused thoughts. Much emotion." She glanced at Danny. "It seems as though I underwent a significant change recently."

"When you changed from human form into the Vulcan form? Is that when the change happened?"

"Yes, that makes sense. When I was changed to Vulcan, my thoughts were organized as well. Yes. That is the precise moment of my change."

Danny nodded. Darla had added yet more confirmation to his fears about the power of the machine. "The machine...changed you. Into what you were thinking of. Just as it changed me into Seven of Nine."

Darla nodded slowly. "The change extends to mental processes as well," she confirmed. "That is why things are so logical since I was changed."

Danny nodded. "And the changes seem to go deeper. Mike mentioned that you have green blood. Copper-based, I'd gather. And you are probably considerably stronger as well."

Darla nodded confirmation. "Those are the parameters of normal Vulcan physiology. As is significant longevity," she added.

Danny's eyes widened. "If that's true, then...my nanobots should be programmed to maintain my DNA and cellular structure in perfect working order...indefinitely."

Darla raised an eyebrow. "Assuming, of course, that your mental image of the nanobots was..." she paused, and the other eyebrow raised as well, "consistent with the data and conjectures you posed during the nanotechnology session." Darla glanced at Danny and knew that Danny had indeed been thinking about those parameters. "Fascinating."

**********

Danny was beat. He wore the fatigue like a mask. The convention organizing committee pressed on him to emcee the costume contest, and he'd agreed, simply because he didn't know of anything else to do. And it was fun, even if it was long and rather tiring. Still, the convention-goers seemed quite pleased to have Seven of Nine taking such an active role in their con. Danny smiled to himself at that one — the publicity department of Viacom was going to get some very strange thank-you letters. And Jeri Ryan's reputation with the fans was probably going to skyrocket — even if she never quite understood why.

Then came the party circuit — again. Danny had tried to duck out early, only to find that his room was occupied by a group of Klingons intent on making the most of their last evening as Klingons; in short, it was a major orgy. Danny had been invited to join by not fewer than four of the Klingon men, but he'd declined. That left going back to the parties, and when they wound down, Danny found Darla. The one up side to Darla being Vulcan was that her interest in illogical activities such as partying and sex was practically nonexistent; Danny got some rest — finally.

When he woke up, he slowly realized that Darla was showering. Danny sat up slowly, feeling the fatigue; for some reason, she was far more tired than she should have been.

Darla emerged from the shower and slowly padded to her suitcase. Danny sat on the bed and watched. Finally, he laughed.

Darla spun. "Is there something humorous about seeing me nude?"

Danny smiled. "A week ago, I'd have given anything to see you like this." He shook his head. "Now, it just doesn't do anything for me."

Darla canted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. One week ago, you would have been male, and I would have been a human female. Are you conjecturing that, under those circumstances, you would have become aroused by my body?" Darla watched Danny's reaction. "Or that you would have attempted to seduce me?"

Danny laughed. "Yeah, I guess I would have. Both, that is."

Darla's mouth opened and she nodded her understanding. "Ah, but in the current circumstances, with a fully functional female body, you do not find me arousing."

Danny smiled and nodded. "That about sums it up." He quickly dressed, then with Darla's help, got his hair arranged. "Thanks, Darla. I appreciate having a place to rest."

Darla nodded deferentially. "It was logical. Especially given the activities in your own room." She walked Danny to the door. "Have you considered a future course of action?"

Danny shook his head. Her head. He was going to have to get used to that. "I don't know," he said softly. "It looks like I was too clever for own good. My own mental image of Seven made her too much a Borg. The implants include defensive shielding which prevents the transformation device from affecting me." He lowered his eyes. "I've tried." His head shook slowly. "No luck. I'm afraid that I'm stuck like this."

Darla nodded. "It is logical, since the machine read _your_ pattern, it automatically would have incorporated all the features of Seven of Nine that you knew, including the defenses. However, have you considered the advantages that you have gained with the change?"

Danny tried to laugh, but it rang hollow. "I'm sorry, but I can't see anything good that can come out of being a sexy Borg like...." He stopped abruptly, and his eyes widened; Darla's question had stirred new thoughts. Danny would have to consider the possibilities.

**********

"What do you mean, it won't work?" The Klingon girl, Lursa, sounded rather alarmed. "You mean it can't change me back?" Mouth hanging open in disbelief, she pushed past Mike and stepped to the box. She pressed her hand to the plate, and nothing happened. She pressed again, more insistently. After a few more tries, she was practically beating on the plate, and cursing in fluent Klingon.

Mike stepped to her and grabbed her hands. "It's no use. It won't work," he snarled. Lursa turned and threw herself at Mike, but he easily parried her attack. "Stop!" he roared. His voice had the desired effect; the girl quit attacking the machine and him.

"I don't know why it's not working," Danny explained simply. "You've all seen it. When you touch the plate, nothing happens." He glanced around the very crowded room. Besides Mike, there were eight Klingons, six Vulcans, two Bajorans, a Romulan, a Cardassian, a Tellarite, two Spocks, a Kirk, a Sisko, two Kiras, Jadzia Dax, and a green Orion slave girl. The girl who'd changed into shapeshifting Odo was nowhere to be found; Danny suspected that the girl might have gained some shapeshifting powers. All told, counting Mike and Danny, there were thirty persons changed by the box.

Darla cleared her throat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I have no reservations about remaining Vulcan." She glanced around the room. "It is the form which I desired for many years, and now that I have achieved it, it would be illogical to seek to change back."

Mike glanced around and saw a few nods of agreement. "I agree. I am a warrior at heart. Now I am one in body as well."

Danny glanced around, then he took a quick poll. Sixteen of the people were happy as they were and didn't want to change back. Of the remainder, one Spock, Kirk, Sisko, and a Bajoran were afraid of having to resume their normal lives with the changes. The others — Danny understood their reasons.

Danny was stuck as Seven. Jadzia, the Orion slave girl, Lursa, B'Etor, the female Romulan, a Kira, and one of the female Vulcans had all been guys. Now, like Danny, they were stuck in female bodies, and in most cases, very curvy sexy female bodies. And one of the Klingon warriors had, until very recently, been a petite curvy blonde. Now she was stuck as a hulking warrior, and none too happy about the situation. At least, though, her boyfriend was the one stuck as the Orion girl.

For some of the group, the future was going to be grim. Mike glanced around the room. "Well, Danny, er, Seven, and I got you into this mess. We shall see it through." He gave out his card to the assembled group. "If you find any difficulties, give me a call or e-mail. I have, um, access to resources."

Slowly, the group dispersed. There was, after all, packing to be done, planes to catch. The convention was officially over the night before. One and two at a time, the changees drifted from the room. Mike and a couple of the Klingons eagerly sought out the bar, where Mike had promised a round of drinks. Some of the others, the reluctant ones, paused, as if trying their luck at the machine might, by some remote chance, make it work again. Disappointed, they drifted off.

Danny noticed a pattern. The ones who weren't leaving were precisely those who, like him, had changed gender. Finally, all the others were gone.

"This is going to be...tough," Danny began, glancing around before looking down, embarrassed. "I...I haven't started thinking of myself as a...girl. Yet." He looked up and glanced around the room. "But I'm going to have to. All of us are going to have to." Danny realized that the guy who'd become Kira was the very same twerp that had argued with him on the first day. He wasn't surprised.

Lursa spoke. "I...find myself...easily aroused," she said, turning her face downward. "It's...weird."

The Orion girl nodded. "Like, this body is designed for sex," she agreed. "I'm always...hot! Horny!" She looked down and Danny could see her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. "What am I going to do?"

Jadzia Dax wrapped her arm around the Orion girl. "The same thing as the rest of us, honey," she said soothingly. "We'll pull through. We'll get used to it."

The Vulcan girl who had been a guy raised an eyebrow. "I fail to understand why being in a female bodies would be so much different than the male bodies we formerly occupied," she observed, trying to soothe the group.

The Orion girl looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "That's because you don't go into heat except once every seven years!" she wailed. "Try it when you get horny every time you see a man! It's not so easy to adjust when all you want to do is get laid!"

"Or throw things!" Lursa added.

Danny nodded slowly. "We'll get through this. Together." He — she — looked around the room, at her fellow gender changees. "Okay?" Danny — Seven - saw the slow nods. Just like that, Danny vanished in his mind. He — she — was Seven now. Like the others, from here on out she was stuck with this body. A woman. "We can get together at all the cons, right? Compare notes, support each other?" Seven felt a bit of hope. She had sisters, others like her who were now stuck. She had someone to share her trials and tribulations with. She smiled. "Besides, when Mike said he had resources, believe me, he had resources. I'll get him to set it up so we can all go to at least one con a month."

**********

Seven sat in front of her computer, finishing up her work. For some reason, since the convention, she'd found computer work so much easier. As the project started to compile, she glanced to the side. At it. The box. It sat on the shelf, where it had been for the last three months, still and silent. Seven shook her head. She was past cursing the thing, as were most of her fellow changees. For all but a few, it was getting easier to deal with the changes. True to their word, the gender changees had been getting together monthly at a major convention.

The Vulcans had paired off; Darla had pointed out to the group that with their unique characteristics, including longevity and seven-year mating cycle, that pairing off would be the most 'logical' course of action. She and her partner, who had once been a girlfriend, quickly learned to perform mind melds and were 'bonded', joined together mentally. They knew it was only a matter of time before the other Vulcans entered into their own melds.

The Orion girl, who had been a guy and now went by Trish, was now pregnant by her Klingon boyfriend, who had been a girl. Lursa and Seven were sharing the basement apartment of Mike's house; he and Sandy had just been married in a full, formal Klingon ritual, of which her parents strongly objected but attended nonetheless. With makeup, Jadzia could pass as a normal human. All in all, it could have been far worse. At least no one tried to change into a Mugato.

And Seven had realized that, as a partial Borg, she needed to regenerate, just like in the series. This had scared Seven a bit, until she realized that she - or her nanoprobes - had the programming to create a regeneration unit. Now, daily regeneration was part of her normal routine, just like eating.

Still, there was something about the entire situation nagging at Seven's mind. Something about her....

With an almost electric jolt, it hit her. Her eyes widened, and she stared back at the box. Slowly, she retrieved it from the shelf and set it on her desk. Then, with a strangely easy move, her assimilation tubes shot out from her arm and intercepted the strange symbols on the top. The tubes easily penetrated the otherwise impenetrable metal.

Slowly, Seven's eyes widened as her mind was assaulted by a flood of alien data. For several minutes, she sat, rapt, digesting the information. Finally, she relaxed visibly, and as the assimilation tubes retracted, she started laughing aloud.

Lursa heard Seven and peeked into her study. "Is something wrong?" she asked, concerned. She spied the box sitting on the table.

Seven fought to control herself. "No, it's...it's perfect!" she cried. "It's the most perfect joke in the universe!"

Lursa frowned. "What?" she demanded.

Seven wiped the tears from her eyes. "It's a demo unit!" she laughed. "The symbols — they were a user agreement, saying in very specific terms that this was a four-day demonstration unit, and that to keep using the box, we needed to submit payment to the Gamalfi corporation!" Seven's sides hurt from her laughter.

Lursa shook her head and then laughed. "It serves us right." She glanced at the box. "So now what?"

It took Seven a while before she could speak again, she was laughing so hard. When she'd regained her composure, she glanced evenly at Lursa. "Would you change back? If you could, I mean?"

Lursa frowned. "But...." She looked down for a long time. Finally, she looked back up, directly into Seven's eyes. "No, I don't think so." She looked down again. "I mean, it's not fun sometimes, being like this. Being not only a woman, but a Klingon woman as well. But even with that, no, I wouldn't." She looked up at Seven. "Does that make any sense?"

Seven smiled. "Yes, it does. And I know what you mean. I...I don't think I'd change back either. If I could, I mean."

Lursa frowned. There was something about Seven's question. "Why do you ask?"

In answer, Seven just grinned.

**********

Epilogue

C sighed as he drove the car. Beside him, D was busy studying a convention program. C sighed again. "So why are we going to a Star Trek convention?" he asked.

D glanced up from the program. "Because there's something going on," he explained, as if at the end of his patience. "Like I said, there have been some, um, odd happenings in the last few months."

C frowned. "So? Why haven't I heard about them, then?" He hated to admit that his junior partner might have some information he lacked.

It was D's turn to sigh. "How much do you know about Star Trek?" he seemingly changed the subject.

C's frown deepened. "Not a lot," he admitted. "Why?"

D shook his head. "All of these things center around Star Trek and science fiction conventions." He rummaged around on the seat between them and pulled up a handful of files. "Item: a doctor delivers a baby that, according to the nurse, has a seriously deformed and ridged skull, not unlike the parents. Item: a doctor at an emergency room reports treating a patient with minor injuries; the patient, according to the report, had deformed ears and green blood. Item: a new computer company, referred to as The Collective, is growing at a pace that makes Microsoft look like amateurs. They have some highly advanced software and hardware, and are poised to dominate the market. Competitors are mysteriously convinced to join them. Item: at the last Star Trek convention, police broke up a riot at a local bar; the rioters were all dressed as Star Trek aliens, and it took seventeen police to subdue four of them. Item: a ranch in Wyoming was recently purchased for cash by an unidentified buyer. Shortly after the purchase, wild boars, bears, and other rather...nasty...wildlife were introduced, and continue to be introduced at an astounding rate. The Forest Service was anxious to investigate, but they report that there is some kind of force field around the ranch, and they can't get in. They suspect it's being run as a private game preserve. Item:..."

C held up a hand to stop his junior partner. "So what do all these have in common? Why are we going to the Star Trek convention?"

D shook his head. "The Collective is a term for a group mind, centered around a cybernetic race known as the Borg." He glanced at C, his face somber. "You better hope no-one decided to change into a Borg."

"Why?"

D was grim. "They're highly adaptable. And quite indestructible." He felt a shiver run up his spine, then he continued. "The ridged foreheads are characteristic of Star Trek aliens known as Klingons. And the Klingons love to hunt wild things."

"I thought Klingons had the silver sashes," C interrupted.

D rolled his eyes and sighed. "In the original series. Not in the new series."

"Oh."

D shook his head. "All of these events describe people who resemble Star Trek aliens or characters." He glanced at a file. "Do you know that Viacom brought a lawsuit against a couple of actors, only to have it mysteriously dropped weeks later? Or that they are secretly filming new scenes from the original Star Trek series?"

C frowned. "The actors are too old!"

D shook his head. "The scoop from the convention insiders is that there are some remarkable impersonators out there, and that Viacom is paying the original actors quite handsomely."

C was starting to see the light. "So what you're suggesting is that some group of Trekkies got a box and made some changes? Like changing themselves into the characters and aliens?"

"Half right," D said evenly. "But the events can't all be traced to one convention."

C frowned. "That means..."

D nodded solemnly. "That means that someone may have figured out how to use the box repeatedly."

C drove silently for a while. "You know," he finally said, "you better catch me up on all the Star Trek stuff if we're going to get anywhere with this bunch."

**********

(Despite all their attempts to fit in, C and D never quite gained the confidence of Seven or her group. And as outsiders, they never did learn the secrets tucked away inside Seven's pretty head, despite years of effort and persuasion. As far as the Collective went, agent Q started working on penetrating the organization, but after a few months, just after he'd reported that he was getting near paydirt, he mysteriously vanished.)

FIN (maybe)

Synopsis: Danni - changed by an MAU into an exact replica of Seven of Nine - faces what may turn out to be her ultimate challenge.

**********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

She walked down the hall with a grace that screamed feminine charm. Her clothing seemed less closely fit than spray-painted on, and in her heels, her entire body moved with an allure that seemed to dare men to ignore her. She held her head erect, but not snobbishly so, as if to announce that she knew she was attracting attention and chose to ignore it. And even that seemed to challenge men to get her attention.

As she turned the last corner, Danni glanced over her shoulder at the fen gawking after her, and she sighed. With a little extra snap in her step, she left sight of the main corridors of the convention center. Few fen deigned come this way - it was the site of the Green Room, the hospitality suite for the special guests of the convention. The room was off limits for normal convention members.

Danni paused briefly at the door; the volunteer guard had to check her ID to make sure she was allowed into the room. He smiled and nodded. "Just checking," he explained needlessly.

Danni nodded. "I know," she answered without enthusiasm. She stepped past the guard into the expansive room. A little peace and quiet was in order, and possibly some refreshments, and at a crowded science fiction convention, the Green Room was the place to get both. Several tables, surrounded by chairs, sat on once side of the room, a place for last-minute preparation for panel speakers. Across the room, nearly lining one wall, stood a row of tables; soft drinks, bottled water, coffee, tea - all for quenching the thirst of speakers. And in the center of the room sat the most coveted positions of all, a large number of comfy, overstuffed chairs and recliners - the perfect place to take a load off the feet and relax, even catch a quick nap.

The guard called after her. "By the way, that was a pretty quick change of costumes," he said.

Danni turned, surprised. He had a smile on his face, but before she could ask him what he meant, he turned to another guest entering the Green Room. She shook her head and turned back toward the refreshment table. 'He's probably confused,' she thought to herself.

**********

"Danni, wait up!"

Danni paused mid-stride and turned to the voice calling behind her. "Oh, hi, Shelby," she said as she recognized the girl running to catch her.

"You going to the Treknology panel?" Shelby panted as she caught up to Danni. Unlike Danni in her gray catsuit and her Borg devices on her eye, her cheek, and her hand, Shelby seemed rather plainly attired in a Star Fleet uniform from the Next Generation. Such sights were not atypical at science fiction conventions.

Danni nodded. "I'm on the panel," she said without boasting.

"I kind of figured you'd be," Shelby said with a grin. "Who better than the resident expert on Borg for the panel?"

Danni shrugged. "Well, it should be a fun discussion."

Shelby laughed. "You always manage to make your panel sessions ... interesting." They turned the corner into the meeting room. "You going to the bid parties tonight?"

Danni nodded. "Of course."

"You going with or without your ... makeup?" Shelby asked. Danni started, and glanced at Shelby with a confused look on her face. "I can see wearing it for this forum," Shelby continued, "but it's got to be a pain, and hard on your skin, to keep it on all the time." She shrugged. "If it were me, I'd skip it for the parties. Besides, I thought you looked enough like Seven without your makeup." She spied another acquaintance and stepped quickly into the sea of chairs. "Hi, Fred!" Shelby called. "Save me a seat!"

Danni stood, her gaze following Shelby, and a confused expression on her face. Shelby's words made absolutely no sense. She _wasn't_ wearing makeup. The Borg devices everyone thought were props really were, thanks to a strange alien device, a part of her. Finally, she shook her head and decided that she'd better get to the table before they started the panel without her.

**********

"Great job, as usual," Mike snarled. Around him, other Trek fen glanced up in both admiration and nervousness at Mike's costume. The costume and his makeup were so authentically Klingon that people couldn't help stopping and staring.

Danni smiled, both at Mike's compliment and at the way people were gawking. They all figured that Mike, and his wife Sandy beside him, were in costume. Few people realized that they weren't. Their foreheads were exposed and covered in bony ridges and knobs. Their hair _would_ have been straight, but for the tangles and snarls. Their teeth looked to be a bit sharper than normal, as if they were partly carnivorous animals. The pieces of their armor, intricately placed on their tunics, rattled when they moved suddenly, lending a martial air to their movements.

Sandy snarled. "We have to help Darla prepare."

Danni nodded slowly. "True," she agreed. "So I guess we'll catch up to you at the parties later."

Mike laughed. "I won't promise to save any blood wine for you!" He turned to leave.

Sandy grasped his arm and spun him violently around. "You will behave!" she snarled.

Mike snarled back at her, and he looked ready to strike her. Before he could, however, Sandy grasped his hand and raised it to her mouth, biting into his palm. "I _will_ be at the party ... when we have finished helping Darla!" she said, half snarling and half cooing.

Mike's angry snarl turned into a leering grin. With a clatter of his Klingon armor, he spun and stomped off toward the convention hotel and the party suite.

Danni and Sandy turned and walked casually out of the meeting room. Around them, some convention members gawked, while others puffed themselves up in a futile attempt to make their own costumes look as impressive. Sandy laughed at their efforts.

As they strode through the hotel atrium toward the glass elevator, Danni was aware that two young men sitting in the hotel lobby were staring at her. Their eyes seemed riveted on her as she and Sandy waited for the elevator to descend to their level. Danni glanced up the atrium, to the glass elevator. It seemed to take forever for the infernal machine to descend to the lobby, and as soon as the door opened, Danni and Sandy stepped in.

"I thought she went _up_ just a minute ago!" one of the young men said, allowing his voice to rise more than it should have.

The other one stared after Danni. "Couldn't have been. She wasn't in costume, and no one can change that quickly."

Danni stood silently as the elevator doors closed, wondering what the two had been talking about.

**********

"Are you _sure_ you're not nervous?"

Darla, the girl being addressed, took no offense at the question. It was as if she was used to hearing such questions. The only reaction was that one eyebrow, a sloping eyebrow beneath straight black bangs, raised ever so slightly. "Should I be?" she asked calmly. From all outward appearances, she was a stereotypical Vulcan from Star Trek, from a very faint greenish tint in her complexion to her straight black hair which masked - barely - her pointed ears. Only upon closer examination would one discover that the girl wore no makeup, and no prosthetic earpieces. The ears and eyebrows and complexion were - somehow - a part of her. Even her clothing was perfectly suited to the Star Trek characters - a traditional and simple Vulcan robe layered over a kimono-like gown of finely woven tan cloth.

"Yes!" Sandy said. "Tomorrow's your _wedding day_, Darla! For goodness sake, you act like it's nothing special!" Her armor rattled as she spoke, as if to emphasize her words.

"On the contrary, Sandy," Darla answered evenly. "It is _not_ a wedding day in the sense that you know. To be precise, it will be our _bonding_ day, when we are bonded as partners."

"Bonding day, wedding day, what's the difference?" Sandy asked, exasperated. She threw up her hands in frustration and stomped out of the room, her armor clattering with every step.

"I suspect that the Klingons will find the ceremony ... less than entertaining," Darla said to the remaining girl in the room.

"That's another of your understatements," Danni said simply. "And you're right." She shook her head with a smile. "Unless the celebration has a lot of strong drink, roast Targ, and hand-to-hand combat, the Klingons will be bored." Danni did a check of the robes, pausing to carefully smooth out a wrinkle in the back.

An urgent banging at the door interrupted the two. Danni frowned. "I thought you said this was a private suite."

Darla nodded. "It is. The only persons who know of this are the other Vulcans, Mike, and Sandy."

Danni sighed, then opened the door. It was Mike, Sandy's Klingon husband and Danni's former roommate. He looked a bit unsettled - his scowl seemed deeper than normal. "We've got a problem," he announced as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Oh?" Darla asked as her left eyebrow rose fractionally. "Is this a problem for all of us, or for some of us, or are you using the first-person plural possessive pronoun as an indicator of the severity of the ..."

Mike glared at Darla. "_We_ have a problem." He turned to Danni. "_She's_ here."

Danni paled. "She's here?" Danni suddenly felt weak. Mike could only mean Jeri Ryan herself. "She can't be. I ... we ... I checked her schedule! She hasn't been doing many cons since she started Boston Public. I know she's not booked for this con!" She glanced at Darla. "Maybe this is just a coincidence?"

Mike shook his head. "She's looking for you."

Danni eased herself into a chair. "Oh, shit!" she mouthed softly.

Darla looked puzzled. At the same convention all those months ago where Mike and Sandy become true Klingons, Darla had become a true Vulcan. Since that event, a number of other fen had been transformed into a wide variety of science fiction characters. "We all knew that, eventually, she was going to search for you. You have taken great care to avoid conventions where she is a scheduled guest, but it was inevitable that she would notice _your_ appearances. I fail to understand why this news should be so ... troubling. "

Mike shook his head. "Vulcans!" he snarled. "So what are we going to do?" he asked Danni. She was quite clearly the de-facto leader of the group, all the more so since she had learned, with her Borg implants, to reactivate the alien box responsible for all the changes.

Danni sat in the chair, her body covered in the silvery suit familiar to Voyager fen, one leg cross sloppily over the other. Her elbow rested on an arm of the chair, and her forehead rested in the palm of that hand. She shook her head a bit. "Where is she?" she finally asked.

Mike frowned. "She's outside."

Darla's eyebrow raised again. "How much does she know?"

Mike shook his head. "Not much," he scowled. "Only that you look like her and you're seen a lot at conventions."

Right after they'd discovered the alien device, Danni and Mike had done a variety of changes to themselves, and to other Trek fen. A small number, including Danni, had deliberately or inadvertently changed genders. Feeling responsible for the problems the changees were experiencing, Mike had opened his large bank account, a result of a multi-million dollar inheritance, to support the transformed fen. They were now regulars at the Trek conventions, and since Danni had learned how to reactivate the device, the group's numbers had increased. Surprisingly few had changed back.

Danni nodded glumly. "I guess you should show her in."

Mike frowned. "Is that ... wise?" he asked tentatively.

Danni frowned. "Unless you have a better idea," she replied acidly.

Mike snarled at her reponse. It was a challenge to him, and Klingons were not known to take challenges lightly. But Mike backed down quickly. Being partially Borg gave Danni a large number of advantages if he were to try to pick a fight. He'd learned that fact the hard way. "No," he grudgingly admitted.

"It may be wise to invite your mate," Darla suggested to Mike. "Her reaction may be ... unpredictable."

Danni shook her head. "No. I think I should meet her alone."

"Is _that_ wise?"

Danni closed her eyes, letting her head hang as she sighed. "I don't know. I've known this day would come for a long time." She looked up at Mike, her head shaking from side to side. "I should have been prepared. But I'm not."

"Are you sure?" Mike offered.

Danni shook her head. "No." She sat upright, pausing to brush the wrinkles from her silvery catsuit. She winced as she brushed over her prominent breasts. Even nearly a year later, Danni was having trouble adjusting to having them. "I've got to talk to her ... alone."

**********

The knock was hesitant, almost weak, as if the visitor were uncertain or shy. Without rising from her chair, Danni called out in a firm voice, "Come in. It's open."

Slowly, the door edged open. A head appeared, glancing inside the room, followed by shoulders and then the rest of the attractive woman. She instantly focused on Danni. "Oh, my God!" she mouthed softly. "You look exactly like ...."

Danni nodded without smiling. "Like you." She stood and held out her hand to the newcomer. "Come in. Have a seat. I'm Danni. And I bet you have a lot of questions."

Jeri Lynn Ryan, star of Voyager and portrayer of the television version of Seven of Nine, took Danni's hand and gave it a very tentative squeeze. "Thank you," she said, trying to sound gracious even though her eyes were wide with her surprise. Following Danni's lead, she sat down in one of the suite's large overstuffed chairs.

"Can I get you anything? Soda? Water?" Danni offered graciously.

"Diet Seven Up," Jeri replied. She was busily studying Danni, scanning up and down her body.

Danni handed the soda to Jeri. "Now, where would you like to start?" She tried to smile, but inside she was a bundle of nerves.

Jeri wrinkled her nose. "I don't really know _where_ to start. Are you ... have you always ... I mean, did you always look like me? Or have you had some kind of surgery?" She knew the question might be offensive, but on the other hand, she'd known fen to go to some extremes to be like their screen idols.

Danni laughed as she shook her head. "No. In fact, I used to look a _lot_ different." She saw Jeri's eyes narrow slightly. "And you needn't be alarmed," Danni added hastily. "I am not an obsessed fan who went under the knife to look like my idol."

Jeri started; somehow, Danni had known exactly what she was thinking. "The Borg makeup. How'd you do that? It looks real."

Danni nodded, a somber expression on her face. "It _is_ real."

Now Jeri was thoroughly confused. "But ..."

Danni sighed heavily. "Let me tell you the whole story. It's going to be _very_ hard for you to believe, I'm sure, but I have to tell you. Then if you still have questions, I'll show you what happened. Okay?"

Danni bit her lip, collecting herself for a brief moment. "About one year ago, I was a promising young PhD student and ardent science fiction fan attending the World Science Fiction Convention with my roommate. In fact, among my friends, I was considered to be a very large fan of _yours_." Danni watched, looking for some reaction from Jeri. "There, I found a gray metal box that had some ... unusual properties. As hard as it sounds to believe, the box was some kind of alien technology which allowed the user to transform his or her body into whatever he or she wanted." Danni paused, watching the disbelief spread slowly on Jeri's face. "Mike chose to become a Klingon. And since you'd missed the convention, he tricked me into becoming you."

Jeri frowned. "Wait a minute. You didn't used to look like me? But this alien ... thing ... transformed you?"

Danni nodded slowly. "Correct." She waited for Jeri to react, but when she didn't, continued. "Since you were not there, Mike suggested that I could go to the events as you. Eventually, I used my knowledge of Seven of Nine to change my body once more. " Danni watched Jeri's face closely.

Jeri Ryan's surprise was quickly metamorphosing to disbelief. "That's ... impossible!" she said. She studied Danni's face closely, looking for any sign that Danni was either insane or was pulling her leg. She saw none. "Okay, then why don't you use your alien contraption to change back?"

Danni shook her head wearily. "I can't." There was an air of resignation to her voice that couldn't be missed.

You _have_ to!" Jeri insisted. "You can't be me!" She studied Danni's face and saw the resigned look. "Why not?"

Danni shook her head sadly. "I can't. The problem is that I apparently was far too thorough in ... replicating you as Seven of Nine. When the device made me partially Borg, I had all the Borg implants and nanoprobes, precisely as your character on Voyager. The Borg implants ... shield me from any further transformations." She shrugged. "I'm stuck."

"As me. As Borg, like on the show." Jeri shook her head. On the one hand, Danni was very sincere. But on the other hand, the tale she was telling was impossible. "You need to understand one thing. I get _paid_ for doing these conventions. I get paid quite a bit! And now you're going to ruin it for me!" Jeri frowned. "Did you know that since you showed up, Viacom has quit booking me for these conventions?"

"I take it, then, that you're here because Viacom asked?" Danni asked cautiously.

Jeri started at the question, then she shook her head. "No. They don't have anything to do with me being here. I'm here because I_have to find out who's impersonating me, so Viacom will start booking me again." She leaned back. "I thought about hiring an investigator to check up on you."

"But?"

Jeri smiled thinly. "But if word got out, well, there are those who would make it into a big scandal, and I don't want bad publicity. Second, do you know how expensive it would be?" She shook her head. "After my agent started getting calls from Viacom, and some of my co-stars from Voyager started telling about how nice it was to see me at the conventions...."

Danni sighed. "I ... suspected that my appearance was causing some confusion. But I thought the ... scarcity ... of your appearances were due to filming on 'Boston Public'."

Jeri frowned. "That _does_ keep me busy, but Viacom told my agent that they're blocking my appearances until this ... situation ... gets cleared up!" She shook her head, her expression clearly unhappy. "They've essentially accused me of using 'Boston Public' as an excuse to avoid them booking me, then doing the appearance on my own so I can get more of the fees. You know what that kind of ... accusation ... could do to my career?" She sounded understandably angry. "You _have_ to put an end to this ... farce!"

Danni sighed again. Then she reached beside her and lifted a gray metal box about the size of an attaché case. "If I could..." She set the box on the floor. "This ... is the device we found."

Jeri frowned skeptically. "It looks like a gray briefcase. So?"

Danni nodded. "Watch." As Jeri watched, Danni extended her left arm toward the box. Almost quicker than the eye could follow, twin dark metallic tubes shot from her arm, intersecting with the side of the box. Danni concentrated for a brief moment, and then the box began to grow.

With a very nervous, even frightened expression, Jeri watched the box begin to grow. First of all, she'd seen the tubes - the Borg assimilation tubes - shoot out of Danni's arm. Just like on the show. And then, slowly, the box stretched. There was no unfolding, no bending. The metal just ... grew! When it finished, the box was about the size of a telephone booth, with plain gray sides.

Danni watched Jeri carefully through the entire process, as if operating the box were so automatic that she could do it with no effort. She saw a bit of fear, and some genuine curiosity. Danni rose and turned the box.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Jeri Ryan rose from her chair and examined the box, focusing in particular on the red three-digit crystal and the flat black panel above it. It looked like some form of rudimentary control panel. To the left of the red 'paw print' thing was an ornately shaped purple crystal. After examining it for a moment, Jeri glanced at Danni. "Okay, I'll admit this is ... interesting."

"Interesting is an understatement," Danni said with a wry smile. "At least, that's what most people think." She laughed. "And that's exactly what my friends the Vulcans would say."

Jeri nodded. There was something about Danni that was refreshingly honest. "Okay, it's neat," she said with a smile. "And I know a few people in Hollywood would kill to find out how you do this trick."

Danni shrugged. "It's not a trick," she said confidently. "And we'd rather ... keep it a secret."

Jeri's amused look flitted away - for a moment. Danni's statement sounded guarded, even sinister. "Okay. I agree this is an interesting trick. But ...?"

Danni smiled warmly. "It is very simple to operate. You touch the red crystal and think of a form. It can be a person, or almost anything you wish. When the form on the display matches what you wish, touch the purple crystal. That opens a portal. On the inside is the activation control. When you touch it, the machine will make the transformation."

Jeri was about to touch the red crystal, but she stopped. "It sounds ... like science fiction."

Danni smiled again. "Yes, it does, doesn't it." She gestured to the pad. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Jeri stiffened. Something about this didn't feel right. She wasn't sure she should trust Danni and her fanciful tale. "Why don't you show me?" she said cautiously.

Danni sighed. "As I said, my Borg implants shield me from the device. I _can't_ change."

"Oh, yeah." Jeri didn't sound convinced.

Danni sat back down in her chair and gestured for Jeri to sit as well. She bit her lip, and Jeri flinched at just how much the action matched her own actions. "I understand that you're a bit ... leery," Danni started. "You find someone who's your twin, who tells you a very interesting ... and frankly, quite unbelievable ... tale about alien technology, and then shows you a device that _could_ be some kind of trick or trap." She laughed. "I guess I'd be nervous, too."

Jeri sat down again and took a sip of her soda. "I ... I'm glad you understand."

Danni shrugged. "Believe it or not, I've come to be a bit suspicious of ... fen ... over the last year." She laughed again. "Being you isn't always easy." She suddenly reached for the phone. "I know what we can do, though. To demonstrate the box to you."

Danni picked up the phone and quickly punched some numbers. "Mike? Danni. I need a bit of help here. No, not like that. Have we got any volunteers? Um, hmm. Did you check? They said she's clear? Good. That should be perfect. Send her up." She replaced the phone in the cradle and turned back to Jeri, a smile on her face. "In case you hadn't noticed, science fiction fandom is a rather close group."

Jeri nodded and smiled. "I've noticed."

"Well, you can imagine how news of this box has spread through the community. Every convention, we have fen who want to change."

"Fen?" Jeri's eyebrows raised.

Danni laughed. "Plural of fan."

"Oh."

"Anyway, we are rather careful about who we change." She smiled, but there was a flash of warning in her eyes. "We can't let the knowledge of this device get out to just anyone."

Jeri suppressed a shudder. If the device were as powerful as Danni was hinting .... "I think I understand."

"Anyway, the Collective and I do a pretty thorough job of screening ... applicants," Danni finished.

"The Collective? As in 'Borg Collective'?" Jeri's eyes widened.

Danni laughed. "Yeah, we've got our own community of Borg." She saw the fear on Jeri's face. Jeri knew the plot lines. She knew how fearsome of opponents the Borg could be. Danni waved her hand nonchalantly as if to dismiss Jeri's concern. "Oh, don't worry. They're not dangerous."

Jeri didn't look too convinced. She nervously sipped her soda.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Danni continued, "when we find a suitable applicant, we let them change. Sometimes, it's for the duration of the con. Sometimes it's permanent."

A visible wave of relief coursed through Jeri's body. "Oh. So it's not a one-way change then."

Danni laughed. "Except for me, no."

"And all these ... others? They _choose_ to stay - as Vulcans and Klingons and such?" Jeri sounded amazed.

Danni smiled. "You've met fen. You tell me."

Jeri broke into a grin. "Okay, I see your point. I've met more than a few girls who would have given anything to look like me." She saw Danni flinch. "Oh, sorry," she added quickly. "I didn't mean ..."

Danni shook her head and tried to brush off the comment. "Don't worry. I wasn't one of those girls."

The cryptic answer was confusing to Jeri, and she opened her mouth to follow up, but a knock on the door interrupted before she could speak.

"Come in," Danni said, almost relieved at the distraction.

The door opened, and Mike came in, followed closely by a plump young lady. The young lady glanced nervously at Jeri and Danni.

Mike stood to one side. "This is Kayla," he growled. "She wishes to change." His role done, he turned and stomped back through the door, closing it behind himself.

Kayla looked nervous. She glanced at Danni, then at Jeri. "Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You're _really_ Seven! I mean Jeri Ryan!"

Jeri pasted on a smile, covering her surprised and even troubled expression. "Yes," she said simply.

Danni shot a quick glance at Jeri, then she looked back to Kayla. "Mike told you how the machine works?" she asked simply.

Kayla glanced at the silver box, then she nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He said it's pretty simple."

Danni nodded. "Very well," she said. "You may use the device."

Kayla, with the look of a kid opening Christmas presents, sprang
to the control panel. With a glance over her shoulder at Danni,
she set to work. In short order, a familiar figure was displayed on
the panel. She glanced at Danni. "Is this okay?" she asked.

Danni smiled. "It's your choice," she said simply.

Kayla nodded, then with a nervous glance at Jeri, she touched the purple crystal. She flinched when the side of the box simply vanished, as did Jeri. Then she stepped in and reached for another control. The side reappeared.

Jeri straightened in her chair, watching the box intently. So far, it was doing exactly as Danni had said it would. But she was disappointed - there was no strange hum of alien machinery, no unearthly screeches or pops, just a strange silence from the contraption.

It only took a few seconds for the machine to complete its work. The opening reappeared, and a figure emerged. Jeri's eyes widened as she beheld the spectacle.

The figure slowly glanced down at itself, an awkward task given the helmet on its head. Then, slowly, it reached up and removed the helmet.

Jeri's eyes, already wide with surprise, widened more. "That's ... Jango Fett!" she exclaimed softly.

Kayla - now Jango - grinned as she examined her new body and the Mandalorian armor she now wore. "Cool!" she declared in a voice that sounded like Jango rather than a young lady.

Danni held up a hand in warning. "Remember the rules. Your weapons are simulated only. Your backpack is not functional, but some of the less ... lethal ... weapons, like the grapple line, are. You must be careful. If you misuse the change in any way, we _will_ change you back. Understood?"

Kayla nodded, then pulled on the helmet. "I understand," she said in the muffled voice of Jango Fett. With a confident air, she strode from the room.

Danni watched the door close, then she turned back to her guest. "Convinced?" she asked with a sweet smile.

Jeri sat fixed, staring at the box. "It seems so ... real!" she exclaimed softly.

Danni shook her head. "Still a skeptic?" she asked.

Jeri slowly nodded her head. "Sorry, but I work in a profession where fooling the eye is a way of life."

Danni smiled. "I understand." She stood and walked to the control panel. "But now that you know it's safe, why don't you give it a try for yourself?"

Jeri knew it was time to put up or shut up. The demonstration had been so convincing. Still .... She rose abruptly and walked to the box. "So what do I do?"

Danni stood beside the controls. "Just like Kayla did. Touch the red crystal and think of what you want. Then you touch the purple crystal to enter. A similar crystal inside activates the device."

Jeri placed her hand on the red crystal, and was surprised that it felt warm. A ghostly image formed on the screen, and its features morphed quickly as Jeri found herself unable to decide precisely who she wanted to be. The image remained a blur. She dropped her hand and glanced at Danni. "I ... can't make it work."

Danni nodded. "That's because you aren't focused on one person. Think of just one person. A co-worker. A cast member, perhaps. It could be someone from Voyager or from Boston Public, or anyone else. Roxanne Dawson. Sharon Leal or Jessalyn Gelsig. But you have to focus on just one."

"Anyone?" Jeri asked carefully. "Even Chi McBride or Robert Beltran?"

Danni nodded carefully, her expression very deliberately neutral. "If you want, the device could change you into either of those ... men."

Jeri bit her lip, exactly as Danni had done earlier, then she turned back to the screen. "Uh, _that_ might be a bit much. I think I'll try something a little less ... radical." Now, the image firmed up, coalescing into one figure. "Since this is a science fiction convention, this should be appropriate." When it was done, she glanced back at Danni, then she touched the purple knob. She straightened her back, stiffening her resolve as well, and stepped into the device. The side vanished, and a few moments later, it reappeared.

Captain Janeway stepped out, dressed in full uniform. Her head bent forward, and her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she stared down at her body. "It ... it really _does_ work!" she said, and her mouth widened more as she heard the voice echoing in her ears.

Danni stepped beside her and gently touched her arm. "Have a look," she said as she guided Jeri toward a mirror.

"Oh, my God!" Jeri exclaimed. "I _look_ like Kate! I even _sound_ like her!" She touched her face and her hair. She turned to Danni, her eyes wide and an unreadable expression on her face. "It really does change a person!"

Danni nodded. "Yes, it does."

Jeri walked back to the machine. "It'll change me back?" she asked nervously.

Danni touched the control plate. "I ... added a few features. It stores previous patterns so it can restore people more exactly." She grinned at Jeri. "Some people were changing back with a few added ... enhancements." She couldn't help glancing down at her own breasts, then back at Jeri.

Jeri didn't understand why _she_ blushed; it was Danni's breasts. And yet, in a way, it was her own body that Danni had made the joke about. "Uh, no thanks," she said quickly. "I'll just change back the way I was."

Danni smiled and touched the control. Jeri's body, exactly as it had been, down to the last stitch of clothing and dab of makeup, came up on the display.

Jeri glanced at the image, and satisfied, she stepped into the box. As soon as she stepped out, back in her own body, she nervously patted herself, checking to reassure herself that she was unchanged. Danni touched the control, and the device refolded into the compact gray box.

**********

Jeri set down her fork. "So how complete are the changes?" she asked between bites. She picked up her glass and took a sip of soda.

Danni shrugged. "The changes go all the way to the genetic level."

Jeri's eyes widened, and she glanced at Mike and Sandy, both Klingon. "So ... if ...?"

Danni grinned. "The group has already added one Klingon baby and one Vulcan baby."

Sandy looked up and sloppily wiped the wine from her lip. "And if my mate would be a little more willing, I would add my own warrior child!" she said with a growl at Mike.

Mike laughed and tore a hunk off his roast with his teeth. "Bah!" he roared. "If you were as sensuous as some of the other Klingon females ..."

Danni glanced at Jeri, then at Darla. Darla caught her look. "It would be a convenient time to leave," Darla suggested.

Jeri looked confused. "Why?"

Danni laughed. "You've never seen Klingons mate, have you?"

"It will soon be rather noisy. And if they follow form, a large number of glasses and plates are about to be thrown and broken," Darla observed.

Jeri mouthed an 'oh.' She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and rose. Quickly, as the bickering between Sandy and Mike rose in volume and intensity, the trio of ladies exited the restaurant. "Won't they get thrown out?" Jeri asked as she caught up to Darla and Danni.

Darla shrugged. "Quite probably," she observed. "It is the most frequent outcome."

"Oh." They walked in silence for a while. "The girl today," Jeri broke the silence, "that changed? You said the changes were ... genetic. Does that mean she ... um ...?"

Danni knew the direction Jeri was going. "She's a man. Until she decides to change back."

Jeri's eyes widened. "But ...." She shook her head in confusion. "Does that happen a lot? Women changing to men? And vice-versa?" Jeri noticed Danni stiffened. She glanced at Darla.

"Yes," Darla said easily. "There are a number of transgendered changes in our group." She shot a glance at Danni.

The trio walked in silence the rest of the way back to the hotel. Even in the elevator, no additional words were spoken. Jeri felt uneasy, as if there was still something hidden.

"Aren't you going to your room to meditate?" Danni asked when Darla didn't get off the elevator at her own floor. "You have a big day tomorrow."

Darla shook her head. "I believe that my presence will make things ... easier for you."

Jeri glanced between the two women. "What ...?" she started to
ask.

"It would be better to complete the explanation in private," Darla said.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jeri turned to Danni. "There's something you haven't told me yet. Isn't there." It wasn't so much a question as a statement of certainty.

Danni nodded slowly, then she sat down on the sofa. "It's ... kind of hard to talk about." She bit her lip.

"It would perhaps be best to simply state the facts," Darla said evenly. "It would minimize the chance for confusion."

Jeri's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure I like where this is heading," she said warily. "If I put the pieces together, then ..."

"Before I changed, I was a male grad student named Danny," Danni blurted out. "Okay?" She turned away from Jeri and Darla, embarrassed at the admission.

Jeri sat in her chair, her mouth open and her eyes wide. For several awkward moments, the trio sat. "So ... why?" she asked finally.

Danni shook her head. "I know this sounds weird," she said softly. Her voice was straining, and she dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. "I'm not weird or anything. I'm not a homosexual, or a transsexual, or anything like that. It ... just happened."

"Danny is a very bright student of nanotechnology. He was working on his PhD, and he found the subject of the Borg ... fascinating," Darla interjected. "His interest in you was, I believe, primarily from your screen character as a cybernetic being."

"Oh," Jeri said, sounding a bit deflated.

"Look, it's not that I didn't admire your talent as an actress and your ... looks," Danni said defensively. "I mean, you're a ... a very attractive woman."

"I believe what Danni is saying is that, as a young man, it was normal for him to find you attractive," Darla added.

Jeri shook her head, unsure whether to laugh or not. "I got the message," she said to Darla. "It's all quite ... flattering. But ..."

Danni shook her head. "When we first got the box, Mike was thinking of Klingon babes, and he got accidentally changed into Lursa. After we figured out how the thing worked, he ... we ... disguised ourselves to go to parties. He tricked me into going as you."

"I see. I think. So you got stuck."

Danni sighed. "No. I just played you at the parties and the next day at the convention. Then I changed back."

"I thought you said you _couldn't_ change back." Jeri's voice sounded a touch angry.

"Later, Danni decided to make another appearance at the convention as you. This time, _he_ designed the changes. And with his background in nano-robotics and knowledge of Star Trek, he designed the body as a complete Borg. As Seven of Nine."

Jeri glanced at Darla, then at Danni. "Why?" she asked simply. "Why did you change a second time?" Her voice was devoid of anger or accusation; it sounded strangely compassionate.

Danni shook her head. "I ... liked the attention," she admitted. "It was nice to have people treat me like I was important."

Jeri closed her eyes momentarily, imagining the scene. She opened them and nodded slowly. "I think I understand. You wanted to be as popular as you thought I am." She saw the sad nod of Danni's head. "But it's not easy being a celebrity," she added. "Being recognized as a star, losing part of your privacy. It's not as glamorous as people think."

Danni nodded her agreement. "Don't I know it."

**********

"We have a problem."

Danni looked up suddenly at Darla. "What?" she asked. Her mind had been miles away, preoccupied with other thoughts. Most of her thoughts were focused on Jeri, hovering about curiously as she observed the proceedings as a 'special guest'.

"I said that we have a problem," Darla repeated.

Danni frowned. "What now?"

"I have no escort matron. If you recall, I intended that honor to be yours." She shook her head slightly. "However, as I was reminded only a few moments ago, tradition dictates that the escort matron must be Vulcan."

Danni closed her eyes and sighed. "What about the other Vulcan women?" She saw the look in Darla's eyes. "I suppose they're all taking part in the ceremony in other roles, right?"

Darla nodded. "Precisely."

Danni frowned. "You know, you're all making up half this stuff as you go along," she muttered. "There aren't any 'Guides to Vulcan Bonding Rituals' anywhere."

Darla tilted her head. "Perhaps not," she agreed evenly, "but there is a large volume of data on Vulcan ceremonies and rituals that is accepted canon for such events. It is a simple extrapolation of facts to determine the parameters of ..."

Danni held up her hands, palms outstretched toward Darla in a gesture of surrender. "I give up!" she said, shaking her head. "You believe you have a logical extrapolation of ceremonies, so you have to precisely follow protocol! You can't make an exception, can you?"

"It would not be logical to deviate from accepted practices."

"Excuse me," sounded over Danni's shoulder. Danni spun, surprised. Jeri was standing close beside her, listening attentively. "If you need a Vulcan, maybe you can get someone to change?"

Darla's eyebrow raised. "A logical solution," she said.

Danni sighed. "We don't have time to find a volunteer, do a background check, make the change! Not if the ceremony is to start on time!" She shook her head. "And if we don't do the ceremony today, we won't have a chance for another three or four weeks!"

"Could _I_ serve as the escort matron?" Jeri asked in a small, hesitant voice.

Danni stared open-mouthed at Jeri. "Are you serious?" she asked, stunned.

Darla raised both her eyebrows, a Vulcan indication of extreme surprise. "It is a logical solution, although not one I would have considered."

Danni stared at Jeri. "You're serious?"

Jeri glanced back and forth between Danni and Darla. "Uh, yeah," she answered meekly.

Darla nodded. "Your offer is acceptable. I would be honored to have you as my escort matron."

Danni suppressed a laugh. "We'd better hurry up, though, before she changes her mind!" She took Jeri's arm and turned toward the door. "You finish getting yourself prepared. We'll go change in my room. Meet you back here in a few minutes." Before Darla could answer, Danni led Jeri out of the small room.

Fortunately, Danni's room was only a few doors down from Darla's. Even with that short walk, a large number of fen noticed the two Jeri Ryans - one plain and one as Seven - walking together down the hall. Heads turned, and more than one hapless young man bumped into a corner or wall because he was watching the Jeri 'twins' instead of watching where he was going. Jeri was chuckling as they stepped into Danni's room.

"Don't you ever find that ... upsetting?" Danni asked uneasily.

Jeri thought for a moment. "No, I guess not. I've been in the spotlight for most of my life, so I guess I've gotten used to it."

Danni couldn't stop the shudder. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it," she said. She picked up the box and interfaced with it, causing it to grow.

Despite having seen it before, Jeri was still unnerved watching the box grow. "Okay," she said as she stepped to the control panel, "how do I make myself a Vulcan?"

"Just think about being a Vulcan. I programmed in the Vulcan physiological parameters," Danni instructed. "The first thing, the display will show you simply transformed into the closest Vulcan genetic match. After that, you can adjust parameters as you like."

Jeri followed her simple instructions. In seconds, a very Vulcan Jeri Ryan appeared on the display. "Like that?"

Danni nodded. "If you want to change anything, like your figure or your hair, just think of the changes, and the machine will apply those to your Vulcan physiology."

Jeri glanced at the screen, then she shook her head. "No thanks," she declined. "This is probably enough of a change for me."

Danni nodded her agreement. "Major changes can be ... disconcerting."

Jeri glanced quizzically at Danni. "The voice of experience?"

Danni laughed. "Touche," she answered. "No, some of our changes have been rather ... extreme."

"Oh?"

Danni grinned. "The shapeshifter probably had the worst time. He had to get used to spending a few hours every day resting in a bucket."

"A shapeshifter?" Jeri asked, wide-eyed. She shook her head. "After all these convention appearances and getting to know the fans ... er, fen ... I don't know why I'm surprised."

"You'd better change so we're not late."

Jeri started, then she nodded. She touched the purple knob, and after the opening appeared, she entered the box. In moments, she was back, although this time she was Vulcan. Her fine eyebrows were upswept, and her ears had the distinctive points. Her hair, formerly wavy light brown, was now dark and very straight. Her skin had the faint yellowish-green tint characteristic of all Vulcans.

She was also nude.

Danni winced. "Uh, you might want to put on some clothes," she
suggested cautiously.

Jeri's eyebrow lifted, exactly as every Vulcan's did, and she glanced down. "Oh. I seem to have omitted clothing." Her eyebrow raised again as she heard her words.

Danni stepped around her and touched the control plate. On the display, Jeri's figure quickly changed to include a ceremonial Vulcan tunic and robe. "Try that," Danni suggested.

Jeri nodded, then she stepped back into the box. She re-emerged clad in the garments.

"Is that better?" Danni asked, smiling.

Jeri nodded. "It is less drafty." Her eyebrow raised. "My memories suggest that I should have found the situation awkward and even embarrassing. However, I felt no such emotions. This is peculiar."

Danni laughed lightly. "I forgot to warn you that in Vulcans, emotions are practically non-existent. Your emotions are highly suppressed, and your brain's logic centers are greatly enhanced."

"Ah," Jeri replied. "That would explain why I felt no embarrassment."

Danni grinned. "That, and the fact that I've seen your body naked every day for the last many months!"

"A sensible answer," Jeri replied easily. "We should return to Darla's room to ensure we are prepared for the ceremony."

Danni laughed to herself. She knew that when Jeri changed back, she was going to express all the emotions that her Vulcan physiology was suppressing. It was going to be quite a sight.

**********

"It would be logical for me to appear at the reception as I appeared in the ceremony."

Danni's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you don't want to change back right now?"

Jeri shook her head lightly. "We are expected at the reception." She started to walk toward the elevator. The reception was being held in one of the larger suites of the convention hotel.

Danni lightly touched her arm, halting Jeri. "Are you sure you want to go? You don't know what these parties can be like."

Jeri paused. "It is expected. However, I would appreciate any advance information you could provide prior to our arrival. It would help me be ... prepared."

Danni winced. Jeri was determined to go, and she really had no idea what she was getting into. "Don't be surprised ... by anything," she began as they stepped into the elevator.

**********

A Vulcan male, appearing to be about 30, approached Danni and Jeri. "You are new to our group," he observed, speaking to Jeri.

Jeri nodded in acknowledgement. "Your assumption is correct," she answered simply. "I was changed for my role in the bonding ceremony."

"I am Tural," the man said in introduction.

Jeri nodded. "I am Jeri," she replied easily.

Tural nodded. "I suspected that you were Jeri Ryan. You honor us with your presence." He extended his hand, fingers spread in the familiar Vulcan greeting.

Jeri's eyebrow raised, then she lifted her hand toward his, her fingers spread. "You honor me by permitting me a role in the ceremony," she answered.

Danni's hand caught Jeri's arm in an uncomfortably firm grip. "Uh, uh," she cautioned firmly. She turned toward Tural. "You should know that she has not had time to adjust. She would be overwhelmed by even a simple ... greeting."

It was Tural's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I was not ... aware ... that there could be a problem." He lowered his hand quickly. "I assure you that I intended no affront." He turned and hastened away.

Jeri glanced at Danni and observed the firm set of her jaw and the steely gaze in her eyes. She turned back to Tural, to his retreating form. "I do not understand."

Danni sighed. "For Vulcans, a physical touch is ... intimate. It enhances the communications between two individuals. While not as significant as a full mind meld, it is nonetheless a very powerful event."

Jeri frowned - slightly. "I was not aware ..."

Danni nodded, cutting her off. "If you had completed the touch, especially since Tural is showing signs of nearing Ponn Farr, you might have been overwhelmed by the ... experience. The Vulcans have discovered that in some new changees, it can cause a ... bond."

"A bond? Similar to a mating bond?" Jeri asked, sounding more curious than alarmed.

Danni nodded grimly. "If you experienced such a bond, even a fleeting one, you could find yourself unwilling to change back from your Vulcan form. You would find yourself emotionally attached to the other person ... permanently."

"I did not realize the implications or the possibilities of such a bond." Jeri thought for a brief moment. "Your precautions on my behalf are wise.

"I suggest that you change back now, so you can avoid any other situations," Danni suggested.

Jeri nodded. "That would be logical." The two left the party suite. In less than ten minutes they were back, with Jeri Ryan now as herself. "Why don't we find a table to sit?" Danni suggested. She took Jeri's arm and led her to a small table.

As they sat engaged in small-talk about the group and the ceremony, Danni noticed that some members of the changee group seemed to hover around their table, as if wanting to talk to Jeri or get an autograph or a picture. Jeri didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she gave no indication. Danni, however, was acutely aware. Finally, she had enough. "Excuse me," she interrupted Jeri. "Doesn't all this," she glanced around, "bother you?"

Jeri gave a quick glance. "Only once in a while, when I really would like some privacy, it gets to be a real pain."

"Well, it bothers me!" Danni grimaced. "Excuse me a moment." In a graceful and fluid motion, she rose and walked to Mike.

Jeri couldn't hear Danni, but from the glances she and Mike gave toward her, and from the scowl that grew on Mike's face, she knew it was about her. Mike nodded, and Danni walked back to the table and sat down. "Now, where were we?" she asked as if nothing had happened.

Jeri frowned. "What was that all about?" she blurted out, her curiosity having gotten the better of her. Even as she asked, she saw Mike collar and yell at a couple of the Klingons that were watching her and Danni.

Danni shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just explained the situation to Mike. He's explaining to the Klingons that they _really_ should stop acting like a bunch of star-struck fen and treat you like they treat any of the rest of us."

Jeri nodded her appreciation. "You think it'll work?" As the words slipped from her mouth, she saw one of the Klingons take a swing at Mike. A few quick and savage blows from Mike left the Klingon falling to the floor. Jeri winced.

Danni saw her expression, and she turned in time to see the final moment of the Klingon's unconscious collapse. "Yes. Mike's just reminding them that you're part of our select club, just like they
are."

"Select club?" Jeri asked cautiously.

Danni smiled. "Sure. You changed into a Vulcan for the ceremony. That makes you one of us, even if you did change back."

"Oh." She glanced around the room, at all the strange Trek aliens and faces. "I suppose that'll take care of the Klingons, but what about the rest of the ... the changees?"

Danni shrugged. "The Vulcans are easy. It's their logic. The others?" She smiled. "Mike's probably telling them that if they _don't_ stop, he'll chuck them into the box and change them back." Her smile broadened. "That should take care of them."

"So just how big is this 'select group'?"

Danni thought for a moment. "When we started, there were about thirty of us. Since then, our numbers have grown to somewhere around two hundred."

Jeri's eyes widened. "Two hundred?"

Danni nodded. "Give or take. It depends on the con."

"Wow! I didn't realize there were so many." She frowned as she stared, wide-eyed, at a corner of the suite. "Is that ... girl ... naked?"

Danni followed Jeri's look. "Oh. You mean Lorella?" Danni nodded and smiled. "She prefers to entertain in the nude."

Jeri shook her head. "It was hard to tell with her body paint." She frowned. "That _is_ body paint, isn't it?" She saw Danni's eyes. "You mean she's really green?"

Danni smiled. "She's an Orion slave girl. Quite exotic, according to Trek canon. And yes, she's green."

"But the Klingons are ... fondling her!" Jeri protested. "And she seems to be enticing them for more!"

Danni nodded again. "Orion slave girls are known for their ... friendliness. She'll probably entertain five or six of the Klingons before the night is done." Her answer was so matter-of-fact that it sounded like a weather report.

Jeri suppressed a shudder. "I suppose there's a story behind her, as well? Was she just an outgoing girl who wanted to be green?" She shook her head. "God, but that sounds like a Kermit the Frog song..."

Danni laughed, but her laugh was uneasy. "No, she was a guy once, too."

"Oh." It was clear to Jeri, from the tone of Danni's answer, that Danni wasn't going to tell any more of Lorella's story. She decided to change the subject. She wrinkled her nose. "How much ... how like me are you?"

Danni started to answer, then she paused, her eyes widening as she understood the implications of what Jeri was asking. "You mean, am I a fully functional female?" she asked hesitantly.

Jeri started at the blunt rewording of her question. "Well, yeah, I guess that's another way to put it."

Danni blushed as she looked down. "Pretty close, I'd guess."

"Have you ever ... you know?"

Danni slowly nodded. "Yeah, once." She glanced up and saw Jeri's expression. "It was at the first convention, after I'd become Seven. There was one guy at a party who was being a pest. He thought I was really you, and he kept hounding me. I was thinking that Seven would shut up someone like this by simply assimilating him ... and somehow, that's what happened before I even realized it."

"You ... assimilated a guy?" Jeri's eyes were wide with surprise and even fear.

Danni nodded, still looking down. "I didn't mean to. But it happened." She shook her head. "I found myself in a shared mind, and I got confused. I guess I was kind of overwhelmed by the shared thoughts and stuff. Anyway, we ..." She broke off, unable to continue.

Jeri stared at Danni for a moment, then she let out a soft whistle. "I can't imagine how it would be to share a mind like that."

Danni looked up, surprised at Jeri's lack of condemnation. "It was ... weird." She shook her head and dropped her gaze again. "I could feel ... both of us. And I didn't feel like I was controlling anything." After a very awkward pause, Danni looked up at Jeri. Jeri could see that she was fighting tears. "I ... I haven't done anything like that since. It's ... scary."

"Because you weren't in control?" Jeri asked hesitantly.

Danni shook her head and wiped at the forming tear. "No," she answered. "Because I'm not really a woman, even though I'm in this body, and I'm afraid of ..." She cut off her words, unable to continue.

Jeri nodded her understanding. "You're afraid you might like being a woman?"

"Yeah."

Jeri's smile was warm and genuine. "I can sympathize with that." She decided this subject was getting a little too personal and painful for Danni. "What happened to the guy you assimilated? Did you change him back?"

Danni started at the change, then she laughed softly. "No. The same thing that protected me shielded him, too. We couldn't change him back."

"So ... he's a full Borg?" Jeri remembered that Danni had said the box had created some Borg.

"Not completely. I used some of my nanoprobes to undo some of the total Borg changes. He's about like me." She laughed softly. "He calls himself Adjunct One of Unimatrix Seven."

Jeri laughed at the inside joke. "How many conventions have you done ... as me?"

Danni sighed, then she shook her head slowly. "I never claim to be you. I really don't. I try to make sure they know I'm _not_ you." She shook her head again. "Especially the con organizers. Sometimes, though, they get carried away and list me as a guest. I guess they think that's what I want."

"That explains all the letters."

"Letters? You mean to Viacom?" Danni asked.

Jeri laughed. "No, I was talking more about the 'thank you' and 'nice to meet you' fan letters I've been getting."

It was Danni's turn to be surprised. "But ... I ..." she stammered. "I wasn't trying to ..." She shook her head. "When I look like this, it's hard for people to _not_ think it's really you - no matter how many times I deny it." Still shaking her head, she dropped her forehead into her hands. "I'm really, really sorry," she said softly. "I didn't realize ..."

For some reason, Jeri felt strong compassion for Danni, even in these impossible circumstances where the former guy now looked like her - in Seven of Nine's costume. Jeri put her hand on Danni's arm as a gesture of comfort. "I know," she said softly.

Danni looked up, surprised at Jeri's touch. "I really thought you'd be angry at me," she said.

Jeri laughed. "When I first got here, I was. I thought this was some kind of act or gimmick that was cutting into my convention appearances." She smiled. "But since I've gotten to know you - and how you got like that - I guess I can't really stay angry." She laughed aloud. "Besides, it's kind of fun to watch the Viacom people going crazy over your appearances. They're getting requests that they don't understand, and thank-you notes that they have no idea about." She grinned again. "As anal as they are about appearances in costume, it's driving them nuts." She laughed aloud. "Did you know that they had a private investigator following me for almost a month? They were absolutely certain that I _was_ going to the conventions in costume, despite my repeated denials!"

Danni breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm ... glad that you aren't angry." She lowered her gaze, staring at her Borg-augmented hand resting on the table top. "I guess it would have made all this ... harder ... if you were upset." She looked up at Jeri. "Does that make any sense? I barely know you, but ..."

Jeri smiled warmly. "You're a good person. Inside, I mean. And yes, it makes sense." In a strange way, she felt a connection with Danni. Few people understood the lack of privacy that celebrities had. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened, followed by a spasm of laughter that she fought unsuccessfully to suppress.

"What?" Danni asked, confused.

Jeri tried to wave off Danni's question, but she realized it wasn't going to be that easy. "If it could change me into anything, then it could make me into a man, and I could experience the ultimate fantasy of sleeping with myself!"

Danni's eyes widened in alarm, and that set Jeri to laughing even more. "Oh, don't worry. It was just a passing thought that seemed funny."

Danni eyed her, then smiled. "And you'd get to find out if you're really any good in bed, huh?"

Jeri broke out in laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks as she visualized the scenario. "I'm not sure I want to go _that_ far," she said, chuckling. Then her eyes twinkled. "But I've got an idea that we can have a little fun with this whole thing. If you're game, that is."

**********

The hall was packed, as was expected for the costume contest. It was one of the highlights of the convention, and every year, the costumes got better. Everyone knew that some of the presentations would be a little old or long-winded, or sometimes even unintelligible, but it was still a lot of fun.

"And now," the emcee announced from his post on the stage, "a special guest to help us judge the contest, straight from the Delta quadrant, the part-human, part-Borg crewmember of the USS Voyager, Seven of Nine!"

On one side of the stage, a spotlight snapped on. Into the circle of light, a figure clad in a catsuit stepped. To the cheers of the fen, Seven of Nine strode confidently onto the stage.

A hush fell over the crowd, and gasps of surprise echoed through the hall. The emcee, hearing the crowd's reaction, turned, and his jaw dropped.

On the stage, a second spotlight illuminated a figure on the opposite side of the stage. She was dressed exactly like the other figure. In fact, as the crowd had quickly observed, the two looked like twins.

The emcee stood in shock as the two met at center-stage, then they strode confidently, with a sexy gait, to his side. "Uh, who ... who are ..." he glanced back and forth between the two, confusion on his features and in his voice, "who are you?" He couldn't decide which one he should be talking to.

The two Sevens exchanged a quick glance. "We are Seven of Nine," the answered in perfect unison. "Resistance is futile."

The emcee stood, shell-shocked, alternating his stare between the two ladies. "Uh," he stammered, "which one of you is the _real_ one?"

The two ladies exchanged another glance. "We are Seven of Nine," the answered, their eyes twinkling with mirth at the plight of the hapless emcee. "Resistance is futile."

After a momentary pause, the crowd erupted with cheering. On stage, the befuddled emcee continued his futile attempt to determine which of these two ladies was really Jeri Ryan. He knew he'd been had, and he looked near tears.

**********

Jeri laughed aloud again. "This has got to be the ... strangest ... weekend I've ever spent." She glanced at Danni's Borg hand, then at her own bare hand.

Danni noticed the look. "There wasn't any danger," she said with a smile. "I made sure the device made the changes as cosmetic additions rather than functional Borg implants."

Mike and Sandy, sitting across the suite on the couch, grinned. "It was fun to watch everyone try to figure out which of you was real."

Jeri smiled at Danni. "And you did a _great_ job! If you hadn't been so good at acting like me, we couldn't have pulled it off."

Danni blushed at the compliment. As she opened her mouth to answer, the phone rang. "Excuse me," she said politely as she picked up the phone. "Hello." She paused while the unknown party at the other end spoke. "You're sure? They cleared him? Good. Now? Why now?" She sighed. "Okay. Okay, bring him up." She hung up the phone and sighed again.

"Who was that?" Mike growled.

Danni sighed yet again. "You remember that kid from last night who was bugging me?"

Mike thought for a moment. The party had been a typical Klingon party. He shook his head. "No."

"There's a kid who wants to join our ranks."

Mike's eyebrow lifted. "Oh?"

Danni nodded. "The Collective checked him out. He's clear."

"And what else?" Sandy asked cautiously. She knew that there was something in Danni's tone of voice.

Danni smiled at Sandy. "He's an orphan, so there aren't any family connections."

Mike's eyes widened. "Interesting."

Danni nodded. " Since his parents died in a car accident a few years ago, the kid's been living with an aunt. She's tried to have him ... counseled ... for his obsession with Star Trek. Turns out he's been following us for a few months to see if we were legit."

"Sharp kid," Jeri observed.

"And I suppose he wants to be a Klingon warrior?" Mike asked scornfully. "Doesn't he know we still don't have balance?"

"Balance?" Jeri asked quickly.

"Male to female ratio," Danni explained quickly. "Too many male Klingons." She glanced at Mike and shook her head. "No, he doesn't want to be a Klingon."

Sandy's eyebrows narrowed. "Then ... what?"

"Romulan."

"Romulan?" Sandy and Mike spat in unison. "That's ... stupid!"

The bell sounded, interrupting further objections from the Klingons. Danni rose and opened the door. A wiry young man of modest height, with thick glasses and tussled brown hair, stood framed in the door. "Can I help you?" Danni asked simply.

The young man sized her up. "I think so," he said bluntly. "You have some kind of technology that can answer a lot of my prayers. And I can pay for it."

"We don't need your money," Mike snarled.

The kid paled at the menacing Klingon towering over him. His principle argument - that he could help support the group - had evaporated in an instant. "But ...." He fell silent for a moment, then he looked up at Danni, his eyes pleading. "Does this mean you won't help me?"

Danni thought about denying it, to see what the young man would do, but she knew he'd been cleared. "No. We might help," she answered. "It depends on what your desires are, Sebastian John Roberts." She watched the young man's face pale as she answered with his full name. "Even though you go by John." She stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him.

John struggled to regain his composure. "I guess you know as much about me as I know about you."

"Probably more," Mike growled. "So what do you want?"

John flinched at Mike's stern rebuttal. "I want to be a part of Star Trek. And I want to belong to a group that's like ... family."

Sandy frowned. "What makes you think we can help you?" she snarled.

John held his ground. "I've been checking up on you," he said, his quavering voice betraying his nervous state. "I _know_ you have the means to change me."

Danni nodded. "I know your motivations," she said.

John drew himself upright. "I heard about your group, off and on, at some conventions. I figured that if you were real, you could help me." He shook his head. "My aunt ... she never understood. She thought my love of Star Trek was ... weird. She even had me go to psychiatrists to see if there was something wrong with me." There was an underlying anger in his voice. "I finally figured it was time for me to live my life the way _I_ wanted to."

"We know. There is no need to explain further." Danni picked up the metal briefcase. John watched in wonder as she interfaced with the device and caused it to open. Silently, slowly, it grew to full size. "This," Danni pointed to the red pad, "is a mind reading control panel. All you need do is imagine your desired form, and it will be displayed on the screen. For safety reasons, I have programmed in the physiological parameters of the race you desire, so all you need to do is focus on the appearance."

John nodded as he studied the controls. "It sounds too easy."

Danni smiled. "It is."

John reached tentatively toward the red control, then he glanced nervously at Mike, Sandy, Jeri, and Danni. "Uh, can I have ...?" He sounded more self-conscious than he should have.

Danni glanced at the others, then she nodded knowingly. "Sure. Just turn the box around, and none of us will see until you're done." She easily lifted and turned the large box so the control panel. She gave a quick glance to Mike and Sandy.

Mike understood her meaning. "I think we'll be going to the party," he growled. Danni understood - wherever there were two or more Klingons, there was either a party or a battle. The former was preferable, although sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Mike and Sandy stood and clanked out of the room, leaving John with Danni and Jeri.

John ducked behind the device, his body and actions hidden by the bulk of the telephone-booth sized gray metal box. Though there were no sounds from the box, Danni could tell when John opened the box from his gasp of surprise. "Step inside and touch the purple control knob," she reminded him. "That will activate the device and complete the changes."

"It really works!" came the surprised and excited cry from behind the box announcing the completion of the cycle.

Danni nodded. "Just as I told you," she said.

John stepped from behind the cabinet, and Jeri gasped. _She_ was dressed in the uniform of a female operative of the Tal Shiyar, the Romulan secret police.

Danni smiled. "I thought so," she said softly.

John frowned. "What?" he asked, puzzled. The sound of his voice caused his eyes to widen in surprise.

"When you seemed nervous about changing, I suspected that you wished this," Danni said.

John frowned. "I'm not ... weird," he protested. "It's just that ..."

"You've always felt that you were stuck in the wrong body. You even wrote stories about your dreams in some transgender news groups, right?" Danni asked knowingly.

John frowned. "How did you know?" he asked carefully.

Danni shrugged. "I told you we checked into your background."

John dropped his head. "I _couldn't_ tell anyone," he said softly. "No one understands."

Danni took his arm and led him to the mirror. "We understand," she said reassuringly. "Now look at your new self."

John lifted his head and stared at the mirror, his dark eyes widening. "Wow!" he said as he gawked at his reflection. His whole body was smaller, now perhaps five feet eight inches in height. Even though the quilted uniform blouse hid much of his new figure, it was obvious from the way his chest pushed out that he was well endowed. His eyebrows were finer and upswept in the Vulcan and Romulan styles, and his pointed ears poked upward. His long straight hair hung in a simple ponytail, with short bangs concealing some of his forehead. With the characteristic tint to his skin, he looked quite exotic - and attractive.

"I believe that you will need to change your name," Danni suggested. "John is hardly an appropriate name for you now."

John nodded. "Janna," he answered quickly, as if the name had been waiting for him to use it.

Danni sat back down. "It's going to take you some time to adjust ... to all the changes. If you'd like, you can come with us to the Klingon's ranch for a couple of weeks."

"Klingon ... ranch?" Janna asked, wide-eyed.

Danni saw Jeri mouth the same question, and she smiled. "The Klingons have a ranch in Wyoming. It's a private reserve where they can party and hunt game and such without being disturbed. A lot of new changees spend time there."

"That would ..." Janna cut off. "But Klingons don't like Romulans," she remembered.

Danni nodded. "That might hinder things a bit, but you have to remember that, pound for pound, you're much stronger than a Klingon. You could easily hold your own, and by doing so, you'll earn their respect."

Janna thought for a moment. "I guess ... that'd be a good way to start adjusting." She glanced nervously at Danni. "Are you ... going to be there?"

Danni nodded. "I haven't been up there for a few weeks. Yeah, I can go - if you want me to."

Janna nodded enthusiastically. "That'd help a lot. When will we leave?"

Danni shrugged. "This afternoon, once the convention closes, if that's okay with you."

Janna nodded. "I'll meet you ..."

Danni smiled. "In the lobby, around four." She watched Janna walk slowly out of the room.

Jeri smiled. "You handled that pretty well," she observed. "Knowing what was really going on, making sure he ... she ... was comfortable, offering to help her adjust."

Danni lowered her eyes. Praise wasn't exactly her primary motivation. She glanced up suddenly. "Look, if you're not busy for a while, with filming I mean, why don't you come with us?"

Jeri sat upright, startled by the suggestion. "You mean ...?"

Danni nodded. "Sure. I think you'd love it. It's a great ranch. Nice scenery, and you already know the group." Her words were rapid and as excited as she could make them sound. "It'd be a nice chance for you to get away and have some peace and privacy."

Jeri actually looked like she was considering it. "But ..." she started to object.

"Bring your son!" Danni added. "If he likes anything of Star Trek, he'll love it!

Jeri smiled sadly. "I'd love to. Really, I would. But I'm busy filming 'Boston Public' for the next couple of months, and I can't get off."

Danni sank back into her chair. "I understand," she answered half-heartedly.

Jeri shook her head quickly. "No, I _really_ would love to! You ... your group is ... neat. You're a lot of fun." She shook her head again. "To be honest, I didn't know what to expect when I got here. I was almost expecting some kind of nastiness." She smiled. "But you're really sweet, and I've enjoyed the past few days." She opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. Writing furiously, she scribbled on the paper. "Here," she said, handing the paper to Danni. "Here's my address and phone number." She saw Danni's eyes widen. Stars just didn't give out their addresses and phone numbers. "And my e-mail address." She smiled. "I really want to keep in touch with you." She glanced at her watch and stood suddenly. "I've got to run if I'm going to make my plane," she said.

Danni stood, then she offered her hand to Jeri. Instead, Jeri gave her a warm embrace. "I mean it. Send me your contact information, and as soon as this season's filming is over, we'll arrange a trip to the ranch."

Danni watched her one-time screen idol stroll from the room. She sighed. That hadn't gone nearly as badly as she'd feared. She looked at the paper, and she smiled. Maybe she'd even made an unexpected friend in the process.

FIN

Synopsis: This tale continues the adventures of Danni — a 'victim' of the Morphic Adaptation Unit who now resembles the Seven of Nine, down to functional Borg implants!

[email protected]

This story was previously posted to another site, and to the TG Fiction newsgroup. It is here on Big Closet for the first time. Enjoy. There are two more Trek stories done waiting their turn, and I'm working on another sequel.

**********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Danni eased back into the chair, stretching out her long curvy legs, feeling the muscles protesting slightly at the movement. Damn, but even the tiniest motion reminded her of the change. She glanced down between the firm round breasts on _her_ chest. A sigh escaped Danni's lips - a soft, feminine sound passing between full, feminine lips of a body which was undeniably, one hundred percent female.

"I gather that you are contemplating your changes again?" The voice was from Danni's side, where a tall, athletic young lady sat erect. Her hair was straight, black, and severely cropped at her bangs and just above her shoulders. Her upswept eyebrows and pointed ears were easily visible through the stark hairstyle.

Danni sighed yet again. "Yup," she said. "Again." Danni felt a muscle cramping, and involuntarily lifted her arms above her head to stretch. Once more, reminders sounded as she felt her breasts heave with the motion. "You know, Darla," Danni said through a yawn, "I envy you. Really I do." She knew, without looking, that one of Darla's eyebrows had just crept upward. "You don't have these damned emotions to contend with."

Darla canted her head ever so slightly. "True. You also neglected to mention that my adjustments do not include your need to familiarize yourself with having also changed sex."

Danni permitted a brief laugh to escape. "Vulcans have a knack for saying the obvious."

"Indeed," Darla commented dryly. "And yet Humans seem to _need_ constant reminders of the obvious."

Danni closed her eyes, ignoring the stares from across the convention's Green Room. This room was a sanctuary for panelists and guests, a place off-limits to the regular convention-goer. Still, a lot of the panels were comprised of science-fiction fans. And naturally, they were curious about seeing _her_ in the Green Room. _Her_, together with a girl who was seemed to be a model Vulcan impersonator. "They're staring again, aren't they?" she asked needlessly.

Darla glanced around the room in a slow, graceful, and very obvious gesture. "Yes, they are staring. As you have discovered, they are probably laboring under the misconception that you are the true Jeri Ryan."

Danni sighed. "And I can't disappoint a fan, can I?" She laughed. "Too bad I can't use the damned box on myself." Almost a year earlier, at a different science fiction convention, Danny, a promising _male_ PhD student of nanotechnology, had discovered a strange box. Unknown to Danny or his roommate, it was an alien device known as a Morphic Adaptation Unit, and when Danny used it to become, not Jeri Ryan, but Seven of Nine, the machine complied.

"If your knowledge of Seven of Nine had not been so complete when you modeled the body for the initial transformation, that would not be a problem at this time. You would not have had the Borg implants, nor the Borg defensive shields that prevented restoring you to your old form."

Danni sighed. "You don't have to remind me," she said softly. "But then, if I didn't have the Borg implants, I wouldn't have been able to get the device working again." She shook her head.

Darla raised her eyebrow, much like the expression made famous by Spock on the original Trek series. "You present an interesting conundrum. If you were not partially Borg, the device would have allowed you to changed back, but you could not operate the device past the device's allotted time limit. With the Borg implants, you are able to operate the device, but the implants shield you from the device's actions, preventing you from changing back."

Danni sighed. "I've done the permutations, Darla," she protested. "Either way, I would have been stuck. Either as Jeri Ryan, or as Seven."

Darla nodded. "That is a logical conclusion," she agreed. "I have noticed an increase in your logic. Did you include the emotional dampening implants in your reference design?" She talked about the way Danni had used the MAU to design his Seven of Nine body the way others might describe basic electronic circuits or software — as if it were merely an engineering design exercise.

Danni nodded. "Of course," she said softly. She opened her eyes and looked at Darla. "Are you sure _you_ don't want to change back?"

Darla seemed puzzled. "Why would I wish to resume my original form?" she asked. "Being Vulcan is replete with advantages over a Human form. It would not be logical to revert to my original body."

"You and just about everyone else," Danni laughed. "It is regrettable that I didn't figure out how to interface with the device earlier. It might have saved some of the changees a bit of ... trouble." Seven months after the change, Danni, with a sudden inspiration, tried to use her Borg implants to interface directly with the device. It worked, and she could now control the device completely.

"Has anyone elected to revert?"

Danni shook her head. "Only the one Sisko. I've had a few dozen request to change."

Darla opened her mouth to reply, but a disturbance at the door cut her off. Four large men and one smaller man, all wearing full Klingon battle armor and appearing to wear proper Klingon makeup, were trying to enter the room. The poor lad designated as the guard, who'd spent most of his time drooling over Danni's luscious form, was making a gallant but futile stand to stop them. In short order, he was dangling upside down, held by one Klingon warrior like a rag doll.

"Ah!" Mike called from the door in his gruff Klingon-accented voice. "I knew you'd be here!" The 'guard' was dropped and the Klingons entered the Green Room over his feeble protests, marching directly to Danni.

"Hi, Mike," Danni said easily. "Where's Sandy?" Sandy was Mike's wife. Sandy had been a random encounter at the original convention, a girl who just happened to want to be a Klingon. Mike had used the device to transform her into a Klingon woman, and after they had become stuck, they had eventually settled into an interesting, if unconventional, marriage.

Mike let out a roar of laughter. "Leaving me in peace for a change."

"I assume there is a reason you breached protocol and entered the Green Room," Darla said with not a trace of emotion in her voice.

Mike glanced at Darla, then roared again. "Vulcans!" He glanced at his compatriots. "Imagine having no passion! No feeling!" The Klingons bellowed their laughter at what they perceived to be Darla's plight. After his laughs died down, Mike turned to Danni. "We have a minor problem."

"Oh?" Danni glanced around, and soon realized what the problem might be. He gazed at the one person among the Klingons who seemed out of place.

"Exactly," Mike answered. "He wishes to join." Mike turned his head to glare at the smaller man.

At first glance, all the Klingons seemed the same - silvery battle armor over their dark outfits, darker skin, and the ridged forehead characteristic of the Star Trek aliens. But on closer examination, the differences started to show. The armor worn Mike and his men had a definite metallic look. The smaller man's armor looked plastic. The small man's clothing fit less well, and looked to be of much lower quality. Finally, and most prominently, the small man wore a prosthetic headpiece, that while applied with care, still was noticeable as artificial. However, on Mike and the other Klingons, it was impossible to see the lines of the prosthetic headpiece — because the device had made them _real_ Klingons, complete to the bony bumps and ridges. No makeup was necessary.

Danni looked at the newcomer, who seemed to be trying to look proud and defiant. "You wish to ... change?"

The newcomer glared around the Klingons, then stared evenly at Danni. "Yes. I'm worthy."

Mike snorted derisively. "He knows _nothing_ of being a warrior! He has no _heart_!"

The newcomer stood toe-to-toe with Mike, looking up at the larger man. "You may test that assumption at your convenience," he snarled. Despite his attempted show of bravado, he seemed unsure of himself. All bluster aside, he _was_ intimidated by Mike. And it showed.

Mike glowered at the man, then tilted his head back and roared with laughter. "You may yet make a warrior!"

Darla rose silently and gracefully. "I must return to William," she said evenly. "We have many arrangements to complete. I trust you will be present?"

Danni nodded. "I wouldn't miss the ceremony for anything." She extended her hand upward, her fingers splitting. "Live long and prosper."

Darla's eyes opened fractionally, then she nodded. "And you. Live long and prosper." With an economy of motion, she turned and strode from the room.

Danni turned back to Mike, then stood. "You know the rules," she said easily.

Mike nodded solemnly and glanced around his warriors. "We all vouch for him."

Danni nodded. "Very well." She turned to the newcomer.

"But there is a problem," Mike continued, interrupting Danni's train of thought.

"Oh?"

Mike glanced around. "We number nearly two dozen," he explained quickly. "But there is no balance."

Danni turned, glancing knowingly at each of the Klingons in turn, then she looked at Mike. "Do you think he would agree to those terms?"

The newcomer watched, puzzled. "What terms?" he finally asked.

Mike glared down at the man. "We number eighteen men and only five women."

The man looked at Mike for a moment, digesting the data. Then he paled. "You mean...?" He could not complete the question.

Mike nodded. "Even our women are better warriors than you are," he added.

The young man glanced at Danni, his eyes pleading. "But...?"

Danni shook her head. "It is entirely a matter of the Empire. You must abide by their rules." She saw the uncertainty in his eyes.

Mike clasped his large hand on the young man's shoulders. "If you are a warrior - a true warrior of Klinzhai - the shape of your body does not matter. Only the contents of your heart."

The young man looked down, unable to hold Mike's gaze. "I ... I'll have to think about it," he said. He turned, then he looked up at Danni. "It'd be on a trial basis, right? I mean, I could change back, right?"

Danni nodded slowly. "Changing back is possible," she confirmed.

"But if you were to do so," Mike said threateningly, "you would prove that you are no warrior. You would _never_ be a true Klingon!"

The young man glanced up at Mike, then he nodded and shuffled out of the room.

Danni shook her head as she watched him go. "Looks like you scared off another one," she observed.

Mike shook his head. "No," he answered. "He will return. I have seen his heart. He is a warrior. His passion to be a true Klingon warrior is strong."

**********

The steady hum of her portable regeneration unit had a tranquilizing effect on Danni. She lay on her bed, her breathing shallow, as the unit hummed beneath her head, its circular cranial interface swirling with chaotic discharges of electricity that looked like a lightening storm at its peak. And yet, through this man-made chaos, energy was channeled into Danni, into her Borg implants, re-energizing them and revitalizing her. At first, the need to regenerate had been eerie, even frightening. Danni hadn't realized that, with functional Borg implants, she _needed_ to regerate. Fortunately, the implants as Danny had imagined them included a vast storehouse of advance data. By figuring out how to interface to and extract that embedded data, Danni had used her engineering skills to construct a regeneration unit. Now that she was used to it, Danni found regerating more refreshing than any sleep she'd ever experienced. It was just another price she paid for having been so damned thorough in using the device to change to Seven of Nine.

Shortly after she constructed her primary regeneration unit, Danni had found it necessary to construct a portable unit. Mike, Sandy, and Danni travelled frequently to conventions. Since Mike was quite wealthy, he had ample resources. More to the point, the first encounter with the device had left over two dozen Trek fans changed. Out of a sense of responsibility, Mike and Danni were doing everything they could to help them adjust, including gathering as often as possible at conventions. A long convention without regeneration was too fatiguing.

The knock on the door caused her eyes to snap open. For a brief moment, she considered the source of the disturbance. Then the knock sounded again. Danni took a deep breath, then slowly lifted her head from the regenerator. "Please wait a moment," she called toward the door as she sat up.

Danni noted that the unit had switched off automatically as she stood. She glanced down at her jumpsuit and smoothed it, carefully avoiding the prominent curves of her breasts. Satisfied, she strode from the bedroom, closing the door behind her, into the 'living room' of the suite. Without even bothering to glance at the security peephole, she opened the door.

It was the young man, with Mike at his side. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," he said nervously.

"Please, come in," Danni invited. "I was just ... resting." She had no fear of the young man; she knew her own body was a well-honed weapon should he prove in the least bit threatening. Danni didn't know it was a function of her Borg implants, or her adjustment to them, but she found herself automatically assessing _every_ new situation for potential threats. Danni quickly dismissed any potential threats from the young man; he seemed uneasy and more likely to flee than to attack. And Mike, her former roommate and best friend, was there to help protect her should the need arise. Mike flopped down in a chair. Danni gestured to another chair, indicating the young man should sit.

Danni laughed to herself as she sat down. Being in this body had its advantages. Convention organizers believed that she _was_ Jeri Ryan, and as such, they went to great lengths to make her stays at conventions comfortable. Such as the suite she occupied.

"You aren't really ... Jeri Ryan," the young man said, trying to be polite and conversant.

"No," Danni answered evenly. "I am not."

"And those ... implants? Are they ... real?"

Danni smiled thinly. "I am partially Borg," she answered, eliciting a reaction of mixed awe and fear. "Yes. They are not merely decorative." She narrowed her eyes. "You have not told me your name."

The young man flinched, then seemed embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "Jason. Jason Temple." He shook his head. "You look exactly like her!"

"Thank you. But you didn't come here to talk about me, did you?"

Jason gulped. "Ah, no."

Danni nodded. "You accept the terms of the Empire, correct? Even if it means being female, you wish to be Klingon, right?"

Jason blushed and looked down. "Uh, yeah." He looked up suddenly, his eyes aglow. "It's not like I'm gay or anything," he added sharply. "I just want to be a Klingon!"

Danni smiled, then glanced at Mike. "Mike thought you felt that way." Her smile vanished. "Do you know what it means to change sex? To become female?"

Jason looked down again. "No," he stammered.

Danni stared at the young man, waiting until the silence in the room caused him to look back up at her. "It will be a significant change. There are many challenges associated with such a change. However, the changes to being Klingon are even greater. This is not a gag, or a prank. This is real. Down to every fiber of your being, it is a complete transformation." She saw him gulp again. "Are you certain you wish to go through with this?"

Jason's eyes were wide as he contemplated her words. "Yes," he squeaked weakly. "I need to be a Klingon."

Mike roared triumphantly. "I _told_ you he had the heart of a Klingon warrior!" he announced with a grin as he clapped Jason's shoulder, nearly knocking over the smaller man. Jason smiled nervously at the compliment.

Danni nodded, then she rose abruptly. "There is one thing we must do first," she said. "Please wait here." She and Mike went back to her bedroom, locking the door quietly behind them. Danni sat down in a chair, then she picked up a curious little gray cube from the nightstand. A data cable stretched from the cube to the suite's computer jack.

"You have checked him?" she asked Mike.

Mike glared at her. "As I said, we all vouch for him."

Danni nodded slowly. "I know. But we have to be careful. You remember those two guys at BaltiCon? They were snooping, and they seemed to know a lot more than they _should_ have."

Mike let his anger fade. "Yeah," he grunted. "You should have let me take care of them."

Danni shook her head. "Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer."

Mike chuckled. "Wisdom befitting a warrior." He scowled. "But I doubt they're going to let up."

Danni nodded solemnly. "I asked the Collective to find out what they could about him." Danni referred to a software development alliance that had formed around a guy she'd accidentally assimilated. He'd become Borg, like her. And now, he and his 'associates' in a company called 'The Collective' were rapidly dominating the software industry. Danni knew that the Collective was really a Borg hive, a communal mind linked just like in the Star Trek shows.

Mike noted her scowl. "And?"

"Nothing." Danni shook her head. "It's like they don't exist anywhere! Not even in the government systems."

Mike frowned. "If the Collective can't find out anything, then maybe they doesn't really exist."

"Well, we haven't seem them for a couple of months, but they exist, all right. And they know a little too much about the box. And whoever sent them — I doubt we've heard the last of them. If those two couldn’t get answers, they may try to send different tactics." The two men, besides appearing to be a science fiction fans, seemed to know that there was a box, somewhere, that could change people. They was referring to the Morphic Adaptation Unit that had changed Danni, Mike, and many others. Mike had been ready to brag to the man, but Danni had sensed something wrong. She convinced her small circle of friends, including Mike, Sandy, Darla, and several others, to remain tight-lipped about the box.

As Mike stretched, Danni held out her arm toward the small black cube box she held in her left hand. Almost faster than eyes could follow, two tubes appeared from her right forearm, shooting out and intersecting the small cube. Danni's eyes got a far-off look as she focused on the cube. For several long moments, she sat silently, holding the cube. Finally, the tubes retracted, and Danni set the cube back on the nightstand.

Mike laughed. "That sure beats the hell out of using a keyboard and mouse!"

Danni shrugged. "It took a while to get used to it, but now I prefer the direct interface."

"I wish you could teach me to do that," Mike joked.

Danni shrugged, then held out her arm toward Mike. The tubes shot out toward him, stopping at a length of about 8 inches, and well shy of contacting his body.

"Not like that!"

Danni retracted the assimilation tubes. "You can't say I didn't offer," she said with a wry smile.

"Well?"

Danni shrugged. "Jason Temple is precisely who he claims to be. Twenty-three years old, mathematics degree from Purdue, member of the fan club since he was nine."

"And?"

Danni shrugged. "No significant attachments. There is no reason not to accept him."

As the two returned to the living room, Jason glanced up nervously at them. His eyes were fearful, wondering if he'd passed some kind of test or if he'd be rejected. He also showed, for all to see, his nervousness at the changes he was asking to undergo. "Well?" he asked after the silence became unbearable to him.

Mike glared down at him, then tilted his head back and roared, a loud, soulful cry toward the heavens. As the wail died, he glanced back at Jason. "I was warning the Empire that a new warrior was about to join them!" he bellowed.

Danni nodded. "Kind of a 'birth howl', instead of the 'death howl' from the Next Gen," she explained. Despite a professed lack of interest, she was learning a great deal about the Klingons through nearly constant contact.

Jason stood nervously, then relief flooded his face. "So you're going to let me be ... a Klingon?"

Danni reached back into her bedroom and pulled out what appeared to be a gray metallic attache case. As Jason watched, rapt in curiosity, she set it down, then reached her wrist toward it. The two tubes shot out, intersecting the alien-looking metal. Within moments, the box began to grow, stretching until it was the size of a large telephone booth.

"Those ... you really _are_ Borg!" Jason exclaimed, trying to contain the emotion in his voice. "You could have assimilated me!" Then his eyes widened. "Those stories ... about World Con? They're ... true? You _did_ assimilate a guy?"

Danni nodded slowly. "I told you that I was fully Borg."

Jason's eyes couldn't widen any further. Then a grin appeared. "Cool!" he exclaimed.

Danni smiled to herself. Jason had just proven, beyond any doubt, that he was a true Star Trek and science fiction fan. She easily turned the large box; the side that ended up facing Jason had few features, but those were far more than the other blank sides. A black rectangular panel, about the size of a sheet of paper, seemed to be inset into the metal at about eye level. Below it, a red crystalline pad protruded like a reverse impression of a dinosaur footprint. And finally, a purple crystal knob was attached - somehow - beside the red pad. Jason stood and examined the curious features.

Danni reached out toward the pad, and her assimilation tubes shot out again. Within seconds, a Klingon figure appeared on the black panel, which was obviously a display. From the ridged crest on the forehead to the armor on the body, the display showed a Klingon. And from the cleavage on the front of the armor, the image was female.

Jason gulped. "So what do I do?" he asked uneasily.

Mike shrugged, as if to belittle his confusion. He seemed to have forgotten his own confusion when he'd first used the MAU many months ago.

Danni, however, knew that Jason needed guidance. "You merely touch the pad, and you will be able to customize the body to what you desire."

"And it will be Klingon? I mean, really Klingon?" Jason asked.

Danni smiled. "I programmed the basic parameters of Klingon physiology into the unit. You can tailor the body, but it will remain Klingon." She glanced at Mike. "Darla suggested that it would be more 'logical' to control the parameters that way than to rely on each individual's interpretation."

Mike laughed. "Sensible. For a Vulcan!"

Jason drew back his hand and stared at the display. Danni saw the motion and glanced at what he'd done. "Are you sure?" she asked, seeing the image.

Jason gulped again, then nodded weakly. "If I have to be a female Klingon to fit in, then I might as well do it right." He glanced at Danni.

Danni smiled. She touched the interface device for a moment. There was no visible change, and Jason looked puzzled when she glanced at him. "I added some muscle strength and tone to the back muscles to help accommodate the extra ... load," she said with a smile. "Trust me — you're going to need it!"

Jason gulped. "Now what?"

Danni pointed to the knob. "Touch the purple control." Jason tentatively touched the knob, and flinched visibly when half the side disappeared, forming an opening.

"Now what?"

Danni pointed inside. "Step in, and then touch the knob you find there. The machine will complete the transformation within ten to fifteen seconds."

Jason glanced at Mike, and saw the Klingon looking disdainfully at him, as if Mike expected Jason to chicken out. Jason squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped into the MAU. The door disappeared as soon as he touched the purple knob.

A few seconds later, the opening reappeared. Slowly, hesitantly, a Klingon woman emerged, her mouth hanging agape as she held her very large bosoms. For several seconds, she stood, still, shocked at her transformation. Then she looked up at Danni.

Danni nodded, then she touched the plate, causing the box to restow itself into its compact form.

Mike, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed at the new woman. She was a magnificent specimen of Klingon womanhood, with large breasts that threatened to burst forth from her armor. Her cleavage showed a gaping crevasse, an inviting channel for the stares of men. Her waist was somewhat narrowed, and her hips were definitely no longer shaped like a man's.

"Wow!" the former Jason exclaimed softly. "This is _real_!" He - she - touched her breasts gingerly, wanting to explore her new body and yet almost afraid to. Her voice, though gruff like a Klingon, was higher in pitch and more feminine. A shudder coursed up her spine. "Something's not right," she suddenly blurted as she glanced at Danni. "I feel warm." She shook her head. "Something's not right."

Danni glanced at Mike. "You better wait outside," she cautioned. "Unless you want Sandy to get angry again."

Mike considered her advice for a moment, then he nodded in agreement. "My mate _is_ a bit possessive and jealous, isn't she!" He laughed and hastened from the room.

When he was gone, Danni looked back at Jason. "Better?"

Jason took a breath, then nodded. "Yeah." She shook her head. "What was that?"

Danni laughed. "You're a Klingon woman. Klingon women are much more ... passionate ... than humans."

Jason frowned. "You mean ... I was ...?"

Danni nodded. "You were feeling aroused by the presence of a male and the pheremones he was giving off."

"But that means I'm ... " Jason looked near tears.

Danni shook her head. "No. It means your body is reacting according to Klingon physiology. Female Klingon physiology." She gently pushed Jason down into a chair. "Now, we have a few things to talk about."

"Like what?"

Danni laughed. "First of all, Jason doesn't fit you any more. You need a new name. A _woman's_ name. Because you _are_ a woman now."

Jason started. "No!" she screamed as she struck out senselessly at Danni.

Danni knew the blow was coming and easily ducked it. She let Jason flail about wildly for a while before she easily caught Jason's hand. Jason's eyes burned with anger, and she fought against Danni's Borg-enhanced strength. Danni let Jason know that she'd lost, then she pushed her back down into a chair.

For a few seconds, Jason's breathing was wild and erratic, a result of an explosion of anger and adrenaline. Her eyes slowly regained focus, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Finally, she looked back at Danni, her eyes betraying her confusion.

Danni merely smiled. "It will take you time to adjust to being Klingon. Your emotions are more ... exposed, nearer the surface. Your body will surge with adrenaline at the slightest provocation. Your hormones will heighten your emotional reactions."

"But it's ...."

"Your body is reacting in precisely the manner described in media and literary depictions of Klingons. All of SF fandom has woven a rather complex tapestry of Klingon culture and physiology, and your new body conforms to that image."

"But I got so angry ... so quickly!" Jason protested. "And when Mike was here, I was ... horny?"

"Correct." Danni eased herself into a chair. "You will adjust to your new body. At first, it will be strange, but you will adjust."

"But ... I was horny? That means ... I wanted to get laid? My body did?"

Danni smiled. "That's one way to put it."

Jason looked like she was going to be ill. "But ... screwing? Me? Getting laid ... by guys?"

"In the literature, Klingon women are very ... aggressive. The device has adjusted your hormone levels to match that profile. Ultimately, you will adjust," Danni said again, her voice soothing. "As many of us already have."

Jason's eyes widened. "You mean you ...?"

Danni smiled sadly. "I was once male. As you were." She watched Jason accept her data. "And I have adjusted." She nodded slowly. "There is a surprisingly large support group available to help you adjust."

**********

Jaina, as Jason wished to be known, paused inside the door of the party suite. Like most science fiction party rooms, a badge checker was stationed at the door to limit attendance to convention participants. The Klingon badge checker at the door was openly lusting after Jaina's prominent assets. "Are you sure about this?" she asked of Danni.

Danni finished waving at a Trill girl, then smiled. "Relax, Jaina. Everyone here is transformed. Everyone." She gestured at the guard. "If we weren't, we wouldn't have been allowed in."

Jaina glanced at the guard, and saw him staring into her cleavage. She felt a shiver run down her spine. "I suppose. But it feels ... weird!"

Danni grinned. "Hi, T'mor," she called to a Vulcan who was passing.

"I greet you, Danni," the Vulcan answered calmly. "You honor us with your presence."

"Allow me to introduce Jaina," Danni said, grasping Jaina's arm and pulling her into view, and coincidentally, out of leering range of the guard. "Jaina, this is my friend T'mor. T'mor, this is Jaina. She is new to us."

T'mor raised an eyebrow, then nodded deferentially. "You have elected to be a Klingon? I will not pretend to understand the logic of your choice, but it is _your_ choice to make. Live long and prosper."

Jaina nodded at the Vulcan. "I appreciate your wishes," she said cautiously. She grasped Danni's arm as T'mor glided away, seemingly effortlessly. "I don't know if I like this!" she whispered.

"Ah! Here you are!" Mike's voice boomed over the party noise, causing a silence to fall over the revelers. All eyes turned to Mike, and then to Danni and Jaina. Danni led Jaina to Mike's side.

Beside Mike, a Klingon girl stood, tightly clutching his arm. She frowned at Jaina, her eyes narrowing to slits that burned with anger and jealousy. Danni noticed, and leaned closer to Jaina's ear. "You should stay away from Mike," she cautioned. "That's Sandy, his wife, next to him. She's _very_ jealous. And she's had more practice at being Klingon than you have." She watched Jaina's eyes widen at the revelation. "Of course, you could challenge her for her mate, if you'd like."

"Uh, no thanks," Jaina said nervously.

"Jaina has elected to join the ranks of Klingon warriors," Mike roared to the crowd. As one, the assembled Klingon men raised their mugs and roared their approval. The contents, a deep red wine, sloshed around freely, landing on the Klingons, the carpet, and other guests. Not one person, however, seemed to object. Or, more precisely, no one deigned object. Drunk Klingons, as the group had learned, _loved_ to fight.

A goblet was thrust into Jaina's hand. "Let us drink to our new warrior!" one of the Klingons shouted. The Klingons drank deeply again, and Jaina tried to imitate them. She coughed and sputtered as the wine burned down her throat. "What _is_ this stuff?" she croaked to Danni.

Danni laughed. "It's the nearest think to Blood Wine the Klingons can get. Some kind of brandy, I think. If I were you, I'd go easy on that stuff. It's pretty potent."

Jaina nodded, her eyes still wide from the burning in her throat and stomach. "Like I need to be told to take it easy!" she whispered.

Danni smiled and drifted away, leaving Jaina to talk with her new compatriots. There were many in the room — nearly fifty total. Through the months of conventions, people had elected to change to a wide variety of forms. There were the Klingons, and the Vulcans. Romulans. A Ferengi or two. A few Bajorans. An Orion slave girl. A few major characters, like Danni. There was even a shapeshifting Odo around somewhere. Danni accepted a glass of milder spirits from one of the Vulcans.

"Thank you, Stalek," Danni said warmly, even though the emotion was wasted on the Vulcan. She glanced around. "I do not see T'Miri."

"My wife will be here momentarily," the Vulcan explained. Even as he spoke, another Vulcan, a woman, dressed in the long flowing robes so favored by most Vulcans, slipped gracefully through the crowd. She held a large bundle close against her, and as she neared Stalek, she raised her hand.

Stalek returned the greeting, gently touching two of her fingers with his own in a silent but telling gesture of intimacy.

Danni waited until the couple had finished their greetings. She looked carefully at the bundle held by T'Miri.

T'Miri turned to Danni. "I greet you, Danni," she said formally. Then she noticed Danni's gaze fixed on the carefully wrapped bundle she clutched lovingly to her chest. "I judge from your curiosity that you have not heard the news."

"News?" Danni wrinkled her brow. "No, I haven't heard anything. Not since your bonding ceremony."

T'Miri gently unwrapped the coverings from the bundle, revealing, to Danni's shock, a tiny baby Vulcan boy. "I delivered our son last month," she said matter-of-factly.

"He looks adorable," Danni finally stammered. "May I?" T'Miri looked puzzled for the briefest of moments, then she nodded and extended the bundled baby to Danni. Danni cradled the baby in her arms, running her fingers gently across the dark straight hair on his head. "What's his name?" Danni asked without looking up from the resting baby.

T'Miri opened her mouth to speak, but Stalek spoke first. "I hoped we would name him Sarek, in honor of the Ambassador."

T'Miri nodded. "I prefer Surak, in honor of the father of Vulcan. Of course, that name is an illogical choice." She spoke as if everyone knew the reasoning behind her statement. She saw the confused look on Jaina's face. "Naming a child after Surak would place an undue burden on the child to achieve greatness, to live up to the name given him. Such a thought is ... inconceivable. It would be as if we were human and named a after George Washington," she explained.

Danni nodded. "Of course," she answered. She gave the baby one more look, then she handed him gently back to his mother. "I'm surprised you had a child so ... soon."

T'Miri cocked her head to one side. "Your surprise is understandable," she noted. Her voice lowered to something only barely above a whisper. "Undoubtedly, you are surprised that we entered Pon Farr so quickly after our transformation."

Danni nodded. "That's one way to put it." Vulcans mated, through Pon Farr, only once every seven years. These two had only been Vulcan for a few months, and mated for less time. Danni began to suspect that Pon Farr had driven their choice to bond as husband and wife. Of course, it was debated hotly throughout the fan community whether the Vulcans could _only_ mate when in Pon Farr, or whether could mate at other times but were biologically _compelled_ to mate during the Pon Farr.

"Would you like to see me dance?" A green Orion slave girl sidled up to Stalek and looked up at him seductively. "I am _very_ skilled at dancing. And at many other things as well," she added. She began to move her body to the music in an extremely provocative manner, her every motion screaming sensuality. Her eyes contained a burning need, and she licked her lips at Stalek, as if desperate to get his attention.

"You waste your time, slut!" A large Klingon warrior parted the crowd and grasped the dancing girl around the waist, He easily lifted her from her feet, clutching her luscious body tightly against his. "Vulcans are the one race immune to your charms!"

"Let me go!" the girl screamed.

The Klingon laughed. "My _wife_, if you dance for anyone, it will be for me!" he roared, much to the amusement of his fellow warriors. "If anyone ravishes you tonight, it will be me!" He tipped his goblet and, spilling the wine as he drank, guzzled deeply. With a metallic clank, he tossed the now empty goblet aside, then he gazed hungrily at the girl. Even a blind man could have seen the desire building between them. With a roar of passion, the Klingon pulled his 'captive' to one corner.

"What is he doing?" Jaina whispered insistently to Danni. Danni had sensed Jaina's presence, even without having seen her approach. It was just another benefit of the Borg implants and sensors.

Danni looked to the corner, where the Klingon had torn the girl's clothing from her and was fondling her nude body as he struggled to remove his own armor. "I believe he said he was going to ravish his wife," she answered as if reporting the weather.

"But..." Jaina flapped her mouth a few times, clearly confused.

"They are husband and wife," Danni explained.

"But ... in public?" Jaina protested.

Danni shrugged. "He's a Klingon, and she's an Orion girl. They have ... high passions." She smiled. "Besides, with this group, nothing seems strange any more."

"But ... it's making me feel ... weird!" Jaina complained.

Danni laughed. "You'll get used to it." She glanced at the corner again, then at the Klingon men. "As for you, if I were you, I'd have a few quick mugs of wine to dull your senses, or get the hell out of here pronto."

Jaina shook her head. "I don't understand."

Danni smiled. "The Klingons are getting into the spirit of the evening, so to speak. Before long, they're going to be fighting, or doing other ... physical ... activities." Danni saw Jaina's eyes widen. "So your choices are to either get drunk and have fun, or retreat while you still can."

Jaina staggered away from Danni. The look in her eyes showed her inner turmoil. On the one hand, her new Klingon body was hot, sensuous, and more than ready. On the other hand, she was still Jason — sort of — and not ready to have sex in a woman's body. Danni knew it was only a matter of time before her animal instincts won. She hoped Jaina had the sense to get good and drunk first.

"I presume you are leaving," Stalek and T'Miri observed as Danni strode toward the door.

Danni cocked her head toward the Klingons, who were getting increasingly more boisterous and amorous. "I really don't want to fight off drunk horny Klingons tonight."

T'Miri nodded slightly. "Indeed," she commented dryly. "It is late enough that we should put our child to bed. And I have no desire to be in the middle of another of their drunken brawls. Perhaps we should take our leave as well."

**********

The man seemed to be about thirty-five or thirty-six. Trim, neatly dressed, he seemed, somehow, to be a little out of place in the party suite. And he seemed overly fascinated by Danni. She sensed, perhaps through female intuition, that he was trouble.

"You really do look like Seven," the man commented lightly to Danni. "Are you sure you're not really Jeri Ryan in costume?"

Danni shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not," she answered, trying to sound bored.

"Because I've heard that she has put in an appearance or two at some bid parties. Like at WorldCon last year." The man didn't seem to notice that Danni had said anything.

Danni shrugged again. "Nope. Sorry, but I'm just a girl who's lucky enough to look like a star."

The man babbled on. "You know, that's probably the best makeup I've ever seen! Are you going to wear that to the costume contest?"

Danni felt her shoulders stiffen. This guy was annoying, but she wasn't quite sure how to be rid of him. He wasn't taking any hints. "No."

"You should. I bet you'd win!" He snagged a drink from a passing tray. "You want something to drink?" he offered politely. "By the way, my name is Quinton. They call me Quint for short."

Something told Danni to stay put, to sound this guy out, despite the fact that he was annoying the hell out of her. There was something wrong, and she felt a compulsion to get to the bottom of it. "Like the dead captain in Jaws?" she observed.

The man started, then he grinned. "Yeah. Only I don't want to end up like he did!" He glanced over Danni's implants one more time. "I take it you're a big fan of the Borg, right?"

"You could say that."

"I heard someone faked a Borg assimilation at a bid party at World Con. Everyone says it was Jeri Ryan that did it." His eyes were focused, searching. "That wasn't you, was it?"

Danni silently thanked the implants which dampened her emotions. Because of them, her reaction betrayed no guilt or sense of 'gotcha'. "I heard about that, too," she replied lightly. "Sorry, I wish it was me. Everyone says it was pretty realistic."

Quint sighed. "I'd hoped I'd met the genius who pulled that off." He shook his head. "Of course," he added in a low whisper, as if confiding a state secret, "others say it was done with some kind of alien technology, and that the guy really did become a Borg."

Danni felt her heart race, and she had to concentrate on remaining calm. "Really?" she asked. "You know, you're not the first one who's suggested that."

Quint's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

It was Danni's turn to study Quint. "Yeah. A couple of guys were asking a lot of annoying questions at a con last December. They were a royal pain in the rear. They seemed to be focused on people like me who like to dress up as their favorite series character or actor." She shook her head disdainfully. "They were really annoying!"

Quint's eyes narrowed just a tiny fraction. "I suppose that would be a pain," he agreed. He lowered his voice again. "I'm glad I wasn't there in my Romulan outfit. It's tiring when non-fans keep making comments about those of us who like to wear costumes."

Danni started to ask why Quint wasn't in costume at the moment, then she thought better of it. She'd noticed that Quint had mentioned non-fans, when she hadn't said anything.

Quint took a sip of his drink. "You know," he whispered, barely audible above the crowd noise in the very packed party suite, "sometimes I wish I could find some kind of alien box that could change me into a _real_ Romulan!" He had a wistful look on his face. "That would be like a dream come true."

Danni took a measured breath. "I suppose it would be really fun," she observed. "But it might be hard to deal with in mundane life."

Quint watched her for another second, then he seemed to accept that she had nothing to tell him. His tone shifted abruptly. "Well, I've probably bored you long enough. I think I'll check out some of the other bid parties."

Danni forced a smile. "They've got some great hors d'ouvres at the 'Minneapolis in 72' party. You should give that a try."

"Thanks," Quint answered with a smile. "I'll have to check it out."

Without being obvious, Danni watched his face, his reaction to the ongoing joke bid party. She saw exactly what she expected. When he glanced away, Danni slid through the crowd, quickly losing Quint, and she began to search for someone she knew.

**********

Even before she snapped the light on, Danni's senses were on heightened alert. Something wasn't right. She flipped the switch and scanned the room quickly. Satisfied it was empty of obvious threats, Danni rescanned, much slower and taking in more detail. She repeated the process in her bedroom and bath. Satisfied at last that her room was empty, she picked up her phone and dialed a couple of numbers.

It took only moments for a knock to sound at the door. Danni opened it, admitting Darla.

"Problem?" Darla asked quickly.

Danni nodded. "Someone searched my room."

Darla's eyebrow shot up. "You are certain?"

"Yes. My implants give me the ability to note things that ... normal humans do not. Such as minute differences in the locations of my ... things. There was a heat pattern in the room that indicated someone had been present. The bathroom door.was approximately two centimeters further open than I'd left it. My bedroom door was closed, when I'd left it open." She nodded grimly. "It was probably searched while I was at the parties earlier."

"You suspect someone," Darla observed quickly.

Another knock sounded, and Danni paused to let Mike in. "Uh huh," she answered Darla's question. She quickly scanned her memory, and settled on Quint and his annoying behavior as the most likely suspect. "There was a guy named Quint at the BaltiCon party that was behaving oddly."

"I take it you mean that he was asking inappropriate questions," Mike snarled.

Danni nodded. "He was using ... mundane jargon. My guess is that he was _pretending_ to be a fan."

"Why?"

Mike frowned. "The box, I bet."

Danni's solemn nod affirmed his guess. "He said a few things that indicated that he knew about the box — and what it can do. My guess is he was trying to locate it."

"And that's why he searched your room," Mike added.

"He didn't find it?" Darla asked the obvious question.

Danni shook her head, then picked up her laptop computer. "It's nice to know that in addition to altering the appearance of others, it is capable of altering its own appearance," she said with a smile. Her assimilation tubes shot out to the laptop, and in moments, it had resumed its original form of the plain gray alien box with the strange symbols.

"So what do we do?" Mike asked.

Danni glanced at Darla, then she looked back at Mike. "I don't know," she answered softly. "I guess we should be careful."

**********

"You _really_ can do that for us?" The guy, Gary, could barely contain the excitement in his voice, even though he was obviously trying to keep himself from being disappointed. He glanced at his girlfriend Elissa, seeing the hope in her eyes as well.

Danni glanced at Mike, then back at Gary. "It is possible. But it will not be as easy as you expect."

Elissa frowned. "I'm not sure I understand ..."

Mike roared with laughter. "Such a change is not like putting on a costume!" he chuckled. "It is a change to your very being. To everything that you are."

Elissa's eyes widened. "You mean I'd really be ... Vulcan?" she asked softly.

Danni nodded. "That is correct."

"Cool!" Elissa glanced quickly at Gary, and then she smiled. "Could it, you know, switch us?"

Danni nodded, watching the confusion on the guy's face. "Yes," she answered simply.

"So it could make _me_ into Trip? And Gary into T'Pol?"

Gary's jaw dropped. "What?" he asked, stunned. "We said we'd be ..."

"Trip and T'Pol," Elissa concluded. "We didn't say who would be which!" she added with a grin.

"But that's ... weird!"

"Not really," Danni said nonchalantly. "Just yesterday, a guy wanted to be changed into Sheba. You know, Commander Cain's daughter from Battlestar Galactica."

"But me ... as T'Pol?" Gary asked again. He shook his head. "I don't know. It just sounds too ...."

"Oh, come on!" Elissa said, suddenly going into charm mode, batting her eyes at him and pleading in a soft, seductive voice. "It'll be fun! We can ... be creative!" It was obvious she was trying to use the lure of her sex appeal to persuade him.

"It may not be practical to use T'Pol's form for the ... purposes you have in mind," Danni cautioned. The girl stopped her charm offensive, and Gary's eyes widened. "Vulcans are ... Vulcan. Completely."

Elissa's jaw dropped. "So that means ..."

Danni nodded solemnly. "A person changed into a Vulcan pattern essentially _is_ Vulcan."

Elissa wrinkled her nose. "Once every seven years? And no desire to be cuddly?" She shook her head. "Ouch! I guess T'Pol is out."

Gary seemed to breath a sigh of relief. "Well, I guess ...."

"Hoshi!" Elissa suddenly called out, her face bright again. "You can be Hoshi!"

"But ..." Gary glanced at Danni, then at Mike, his eyes pleading. He realized that he was going to get no support from either of them. "I don't want to be the girl!" he complained weakly.

Elissa sidled up close again, using her feminine charms. "Oh, come on! I know you've dreamed about it! You told me!" Gary glanced quickly down even as his cheeks reddened. "It'd be fun!"

Gary knew he was going to lose. He decided to surrender with honor. "Okay. We'll try." He looked up sharply at Danni. "But we can change back, right? Tomorrow night?"

Danni nodded, ignoring Elissa's tiny gestures to say no. "If you are not satisfied with your new forms, you will be able to revert before the convention is over. After that, I will provide contact information so you will be able to get in touch with me."

Gary sighed. "Okay," he sighed. "How ... how does this work?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Danni opened the box. "Touch the pad and think about the character you desire. When the image on the screen is complete, you will be able to enter the device and be changed."

Elissa's eyes were burning with excitement. "Me first!" she said. She touched the pad and closed her eyes to concentrate. In seconds, Trip's image was displayed on the screen. "Now what?" she asked.

Danni touched the purple knob, and the opening appeared in the box. "Enter the device and touch the knob on the inside. The transformation is automatic once you touch the knob."

Elissa glanced at Gary, then she stepped into the box. She drew a deep breath, held it, and touched the knob.

Gary's eyes widened with surprise and a bit of fear as the opening vanished. He glanced nervously at Danni, and took a bit of reassurance from the fact that she seemed calm. Moments later, the door opened. Gary's jaw dropped open when Trip stepped out.

Elissa's eyes were wide open, and she was tentatively touching her new body, feeling the way her 'Enterprise' uniform hung and fit her new masculine body. "I'm really Trip?" she asked, her voice nearly trembling and her face registering surprise at the sound coming out of her mouth.

Danni nodded. "Completely."

Elissa trembled. "This is ... kind of spooky!" she said softly. Then she glanced at Gary and grinned. "Your turn!"

Gary gulped, then he stepped to the pad. With a bit of effort, mostly because his case of nerves was making it difficult to concentrate, he got Hoshi's image displayed. He touched the knob, and the opening appeared. Gary started to step inside, but he paused to glance at Elissa. His eyes were filled with uncertainty and nervousness.

"Go on," Elissa said sternly. "I did my part."

Gary swallowed again, then he nodded slightly. The door vanished, and when it reappeared, Hoshi stepped forth. More precisely, Gary stepped out in Hoshi's body, complete down to her 'Enterprise' uniform and the styling of her hair.

If Gary had appeared nervous before entering the device, he looked terrified now. He was examining his body, noting the curves on his chest. It was obvious that he wanted to touch them to confirm the change, but that he was terrified of actually discovering that they were real. He looked up at Elissa — Trip — and looked like he was going to cry.

"You look ... beautiful!" Elissa said in admiration. She — he — trembled as her new male body started reacting to the appearance of Gary. "Uh," she said hesitantly, "I think there's something wrong with this."

"Uh ... yeah," Gary whispered. He flinched at the softness, the femininity of his new voice. "I feel really ... weird! Like there's something wrong! This is weird!"

Danni nodded and smiled. "You were both rather ... excited ... at the prospect of changing for some ... exploration. Now that you _have_ changed, your bodies are reacting to the each other's pheromones. You," she looked at Gary, "are not used to female hormones or the feelings of sexual stimulation. And you," she turned to Elissa, "are not used to a _male_ body. It will take you some time to adjust to your new bodies. I would strongly suggest you spend some time getting used to them before you go out in public. Or the reactions could be ... embarrassing."

Trip glanced at her and grinned, her eyebrows raising and lowering quickly in a sign of anticipation. Gary merely nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Mike looked like he was going to laugh as the pair left the room, but Danni shot him a warning glance. Only after the door was closed behind them did she smile.

"Ten minutes," Mike said with certainty.

Danni smiled. "That's a sucker bet. You saw the look in her eyes." She thought for a moment. "Twenty. He's terrified. It'll take her a little while to get past his fears."

Mike laughed. "But she's the dominant one, remember? She's _used_ to having her way with him. I don't think this is going to be any different."

"Good point."

"Think he'll want to change back?" Mike snickered.

Danni shrugged. "I have my doubts. But we'll have to wait and see." She glanced at her watch, a totally unnecessary gesture since her implants included an extremely accurate chronometer. Still, lifelong habits were hard to break. "Have we got any more?"

Mike nodded. "A Padme Amidala and an Anakin Skywalker."

Danni's eyes widened in anticipation. "Straight, or with a gender swap?"

Mike shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Danni smiled. "I guess not." She grinned. "But I think the changes are more ... interesting."

"And one Princess Leia."

Danni shook her head. "A lot of Star Wars this time," she commented, her voice almost sad.

Mike picked up her feelings from the tone of her voice. "The movie just came out. What do you expect?" He grinned. "Wait until 'Nemesis' comes out," he added, referring to the upcoming Star Trek movie. "I bet we'll get a lot of requests then." He smiled. "And Leia — it's a guy making that request.."

Danni laughed. "You don't mind the guys changing into girls, do you? Is it just because you Klingons want to ravish another Earth girl?"

Mike roared with laughter. "Maybe some of the others! But Earth girls are too ... fragile!" He grinned broadly. "And sometimes I think that _you_ enjoy the guys changing because you enjoy watching them adapt like you had to!"

**********

"I'm ready for the party circuit," Danni sighed as the new Princess Leia practically skipped out of the room. The guy had chosen to be the older Princess Leia that was Jabba's captive, complete down to the bikini and chains, although Danni was reasonably certain that he'd exaggerated her breasts by a cup size or so. Danni ignored the inaccuracy. She'd long ago ceased questioning the choices some fans made.

Darla studied Danni carefully. "You appear to be fatigued."

Danni sighed, then she nodded. "I did not regenerate last evening."

"Why not?"

Danni shook her head slowly. "I seem to have misplaced my regeneration unit."

Mike frowned. "Or it was stolen," he said ominously.

Danni shook her head. "I don't think so," she said, but her voice echoed with uncertainty. "I do not _lose_ things," she said. "I couldn't find it after I discovered that my room had been searched."

Darla's eyebrow raised. "How much longer before you must regenerate?"

Danni winced. "Two or three days. Not much longer." She sighed. "I'll be home before regeneration becomes mandatory. I have the permanent unit there." She turned to the box and shot out her assimilation tubes. "Time to put you away for the night," she said, talking to the inanimate box as if it were a living entity. Almost instantly, the box began to shrink from its phone-booth size to the compact attache case dimensions it had when stowed.

"Danni!" Mike's voice was harsh, as if sounding a warning.

Danni spun. "What?" She followed Mike's gaze out the window, and across the street — to where drapes were fluttering in the next building. Danni felt a stir of panic. "Company?"

Mike nodded. "You think it's the same guy?"

Danni's lips were pursed tightly together, her face pale and serious. "Probably." She swore under her breath. "I'm willing to bet it is. He was a little too curious about the box. But whoever it is knows we've got the device."

Mike frowned. "You want me and the boys to catch him?"

Danni shook her head slowly. "No. If he's half as smart as I think he is, he's long gone." She picked up her black 'modem' cube and interfaced with it. "I should have done this last night." For several minutes, she stood silent, plugged into the network through her Borg interface. Finally, as Mike began to fret, she set the cube down.

"Problem?" Mike asked quickly, reading the expression on her face.

Danni nodded. "The Collective couldn't find a name to match with his face. Or anything else. The guy who registered in the room doesn't exist." She grimaced. "The Collective found no records of him in any database. Even in the restricted government systems."

"That's impossible! The only way those records couldn't exist is if they'd been erased! And the only group that could do that is ... the Collective!"

Darla nodded. "There are other possibilities. His identity might have never been entered into any official records database. Any records of him might be in a standalone system that cannot be accessed by the Collective."

Danni sank onto her bed. "It's got to be that," she decided quickly. "I just interfaced with the Collective. If they had done it, I'd know."

Mike nodded slowly. "So that means some very secretive agency. What do we do?"

Danni shook her head. "I don't know. All I _do_ know is that we can't let the government get their hands on the box."

"You fear that the government would use it for nefarious purposes?" Darla asked needlessly. "Given the events of the past two days, I am forced to agree with your conclusion. We must protect the secret."

"Apprehend and assimilate?" Mike suggested.

Darla looked at Mike with an expression that seemed to convey both disdain and surprise. "If the man is an agent of the government, and if he were to disappear, undoubtedly replacements will be sent. The advantage we how hold is that we know who this person is, and can avoid him. We need to find out how much he knows to determine how much of a threat this secretive agency is."

Mike nodded. "That sounds reasonable. But I'd suggest you take the box and go to the ranch. For safekeeping."

"And if he follows me?" Danni didn't sound worried.

Mike grinned. "Then he'll be playing in _our_ sandbox."

**********

Danni glanced over her shoulder one last time. There was no doubt but that the man, Quint, was following her. He'd followed her on the plane trip to Sheridan, Wyoming, trying to stay discreet but failing miserably thanks to Danni's Borg-enhanced senses. When she rented an SUV for the drive to the 'ranch', he followed her as well. She'd been rather reckless in her driving, counting on her enhanced senses to stay out of trouble, since she was alone in the vehicle and the ranch country around Sheridan was sparsely populated. As she skidded to a halt beside the main gate, she spied a dust cloud about a mile away. It was still Quint, following her, and a few minutes behind. Danni grabbed her duffel bag and the box from the passenger seat and alit from the big vehicle.

The gate was a massive affair, made of metal bars and heavy beams and easily topping ten feet in height. It was reinforced like something in King Kong — or Jurassic Park. On either side, stretching into the distance, the fence seemed ill-matched to the gate, consisting only of six-foot high woven wire panels attached to steel posts. Danni grinned — appearances definitely _were_ deceiving at the ranch. She ignored the warning signs and stepped to the gate. Set into the massive metal frame was a small door, a portal for human-sized beings. Danni reached for the door, flinching a bit as an energy field tickled her skin. She easily opened the door and stepped through, shivered as the field danced across her entire body.

"Oh, it's you!"

Danni turned at the snarling voice, then she grinned. "Who else could get through the field?" she laughed.

The Klingon grinned. "Mike warned us you would be coming. He said you are being followed." He glanced through the gaps in the gate, quickly focusing on the dust cloud. "What should we do with him?" he asked, almost grinning with anticipation of some type of violent encounter.

"Let him in."

The Klingon laughed. "The bears and Targs will appreciate the feast!"

Danni smiled. "No. Keep him alive." She saw the Klingon's expression fall. "Let the beasts have some sport, but keep him alive."

**********

"I would speak with you!" The sound from the door of her room was harsh, typical of the Klingons.

Danni glanced up from her desk, where she was sitting interfaced to the computer cube. She withdrew the assimilation tubes, breaking the connection. "Very well." She stared at the Klingon for a moment. "You are known as Kleng, correct?"

"Correct." The Klingon stepped into her room, then glanced behind himself. He seemed nervous to Danni. "You may close the door if you desire privacy," she offered.

Kleng nodded, then he closed the door. "Things are not ... going well."

Danni felt her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh? You are unhappy at being Klingon and wish to change back?" Her comment was deliberately provocative; in any normal Klingon, the implication of her words would cause a violent outburst.

Kleng's eyes narrowed, and the expression behind them wavered in a way that Danni couldn't read. "No!" he snarled. "Being Klingon is all I have ever desired!"

Danni felt confused. "Then ... what?"

The guy dropped his gaze to the floor. "I wish to remain Klingon. But ... there are not enough ... females."

Danni studied Kleng as he shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He was obviously embarrassed by his request. Sudden realization caused Danni's jaw to drop open. "You ... lost a wager?"

Kleng nodded, his eyes glaring with anger. "Warmok, Rotal, and I wagered on the last Targ hunt," he explained. "Whoever was last to kill a Targ would change." He snarled. "Warmok cheated. His Targ was a mere cub! Even a human could have killed such prey bare-handed! And Rotal took _my_ prey before I could get him!"

Danni nodded her understanding. "You don't _wish_ to be female, but honor ..."

"I would _die_ rather than betray my honor!" Kleng snarled, his eyes ablaze with the passion of his statement. "I must change to preserve my honor," he insisted strongly, staring at the floor as he spoke.

Danni nodded, then lifted the box. "Very well. Would you prefer to design your own body, or would you rather someone else did it?"

Kleng glared as the box unfolded. "I will design my own body!" he said gruffly. "If one of the other males designs the change, they would make me fit for little more than their own pleasure. And if one of the women were to do it, they would make me _weak_ and _soft_!" He spat the words as if they were distasteful.

Danni could find no fault with Kleng's logic. She gestured at the control pad, the odd reddish bump on the side of the device that was shaped like some odd dinosaur footprint. "Were you wanting to change immediately?" she asked when Kleng hesitated.

"The wager requires that I change at the first opportunity." He glared at Danni. "I had hoped that I would have a few more days as a male, until the convention in Dallas next week. I didn't expect you to come _here_!" He focused his attention on the control pad. Within seconds, the display above the control pad showed the image of a Klingon woman, clad in full battle armor.

Danni's eyes widened and she glanced at Kleng from the corner of her eye. "Are you certain that's what you want?" she asked softly.

Kleng snarled at her. He slapped the purple knob, then stepped into the device. Within seconds, Kleng was gone, and a new Klingon woman emerged in his place.

Kleng was going to have some serious adjustment to his new body. The newly formed woman was of moderate height, but the ridges on her forehead were very prominent, and thus, to Klingon males, very sexy. Her straight black hair was longer than normal for Klingon women, and just as coarse and tangled. This, of course, was no surprise for a race that put personal hygiene and grooming far down their list of priorities. From what could be seen beneath the armor, the woman was very muscular and athletic; there seemed to be no fat on here — except for two strategic locations.

Kleng was busily feeling his new breasts, his eyes wide at the feel of them in his hands and tugging at his shoulders. Without doubt, Kleng now had the largest breasts ever seen on a Klingon woman, which was no small feat considering that one of the women looked like Lursa, the very busty Klingon adversary of Worf from the Next Generation series.

Kleng glared once more at Danni, then she squared her shoulders and marched from the room, her eyes burning with anger. Danni laughed to herself; given the nature of the Klingons, she guessed that Kleng hadn't told her the entire wager, and that Kleng would be losing her innocence within hours to Warmok and Rotal.

Danni glanced at the window, then turned back to her desk. A curious smile formed on her lips as she contemplated the next move in this strange game.

**********

The man, Quint, was completely helpless as he stood between the two Klingons, his arms held firmly and painfully by either of his captors. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, and not because he was too warm.

"Once more, I will ask," Martok, or rather a Klingon who was the spitting image of Martok, asked. It was clear that he was the leader of the Klingons at the compound. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Quint winced as one of his guards shifted ever so slightly and a new stab of pain coursed through his shoulder. "I was just hiking and got lost," Quint explained feebly.

Martok scowled, and a fresh scream of agony erupted from Quint's lips as the guards twisted. "You can do better than that," Martok sneered.

Quint gasped for breath as the pressure and pain eased. "Okay, okay," he sputtered. "I'm ... a fan ... of Miss Ryan."

Danni smiled as she rose from her chair. She strutted in front of Quint. "Okay," she said very calmly. "What's her birth name?"

Quint's eyes widened.

Danni continued. "Where was she born? What's her son's name? Who is she dating? Where does she live? When did she compete in the Miss America Pageant, and what place did she win?" She smirked at Quint as he squirmed, his lips unmoving and his voice silent.

Danni glared at him. ""I don't think you're a fan," she said coldly. "You would know the answers if you were. And in case you'd forgotten, we had this little discussion in the party suite, remember?" She paced back and forth, then turned once more to the captive. "And what were you doing following me here? Would you have me believe that you're so stupid that you forgot our little conversation, or that you're such an obsessed fan that you'd follow me anywhere?" She grasped his cheeks between her thumb and finger, squeezing painfully as she tilted his head slightly downward to look her eye-to-eye. When she got no reaction from him, she pushed his head rudely aside. "Let him go," she said to Martok.

Quint's eyes widened with a ray of hope. Then he saw the wicked grins on the assembled Klingons. "You're just going to let me walk out of here?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, we will," Martok said. The other Klingons roared with laughter, and Quint felt a chill race down his spine. "But the Targs may not!"

Quint tried to draw himself up, to appear strong. "I didn't meet any wildlife coming in. I'm sure I'll get out okay, too."

Kleng, or the former Kleng, leered at Quint. "You fool!" she spat. "We had orders to keep you alive while you came _in_. I'm sure we will have no such orders for your journey out!"

Quint felt his knees go weak. Martok and Danni saw him pale, and they laughed. "Unless you decide you have something to say first," Martok added with a grin.

Quint glanced around the Klingons and realized that this was all sport to them. Still, there was always hope. There _had_ to be hope of getting out of this. But as he read the expressions of the Klingons, his heart sank. _They_ didn't look like there was a way out, and that they were anticipating his demise.

Danni strode back to him. "Who are you, and who do you work for?" she demanded again. When Quint failed to answer, she extended her arm toward him, and her twin assimilation tubes shot out toward him like laser-guided missiles. Only the distance between them kept the tubes from Quint's neck. Danni read the terror in his eyes. "I'm sure that whoever you're working for knows what a Borg is. And what assimilation is. Perhaps they briefed you?" She moved her arm an inch toward Quint and watched as he tried to draw away, unable to because of his Klingon captors holding him fast. "If I assimilate you, I'll know everything I need to know."

Quint stood, trembling and sweating with fear. Still, despite the pressure upon him, he kept his silence. Eventually, Danni let her tubes retract. She spun from him in disgust. Martok nodded, perhaps with a touch of admiration at the man's courage. "Throw him in a cell," he barked. As the Klingons hauled Quint away, with perhaps a bit of excess enthusiasm, Martok moved beside Danni, and whispered something in her ear. A grin spread across her face as she listened.

**********

Quint stood in the center of a small pen, with his hands and legs bound tightly. The pen looked to be intended for holding livestock such as pigs. Around the fence were Klingons. Danni stood beside Quint. His face was impassive, but no doubt he was considering his fate.

"You still have nothing to say?" Danni asked. From the tone of her voice, it was evident that she expected no answer. When Quint shook his head no, she sighed. "Bring it," she said to Martok. In response, one of the Klingons entered the pen carrying a small gray box. Quint's eyes lit up when he saw what the Klingon was carrying. Danni noticed his expression. "I see you recognize it." She smiled. "You know what it does, don't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Quint stood silent. Danni smiled. "I _know_ that you're fully aware of the device's ... capabilities," she said in a firm voice. "The box opens when you touch the lettering on top. It ... unfolds to something about the size of a telephone booth. The control pad is essentially a mental interface, and the display shows whatever the user happens to be thinking of, right?" She saw from Quint's eyes that she was dead on. "Further, the box has the power to actually change the individual to the form which is displayed. The changes extend down to the genetic level, as well." She saw Quint tremble as he realized exactly what she knew. "But ..." Danni paused, watching the man closely, "it stops working after approximately four days."

Quint alternated between staring at the box and glaring at Danni. He _knew_ that she knew all about the box. Inwardly, a debate raged. There _were_ rules about secrecy, after all. Still ... "Yes. That's how it operates," he finally answered.

Danni smiled again. "Wrong." Quint's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. With a look of triumph, she stepped to the box and extended her arm. Her assimilation tubes shot into the box, and it immediately unfolded to its operational configuration. Quint's jaw hung in amazement. "This is the first time you've seen one of these work, isn't it?" Danni taunted.

"But ... that's impossible!" Quint finally stammered. "They don't work after four days!"

Danni nodded, smiling. "Normally, that's correct. You see, this is a Fwirthian Morphic Adaptation Unit. Mark V, to be precise. It is a demonstration unit, and it operates for only four days before the user is required to pay the license fee to continue using it." She smirked as Quint's eyes went wide, his jaw dropped nearly to the ground, as she explained more about this mysterious box than he, a trained agent, had ever known.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, suddenly very wary. She'd told him things that he hadn't known, and that _she_ knew he hadn't known. She'd betrayed a lot of secrets. Why? He felt a cold chill run down his spine.

"Would you care for a demonstration?" Danni asked simply. Without waiting, she stepped to the box and interfaced to the control panel. The image on the display became something rather pig-like, but much larger and meaner. Danni glanced at Martok, who nodded. As the opening formed in the box, a Klingon dragged in a large squealing razorback hog. From the sound the pig was making, it was not happy. The Klingons, however, didn't seem to care. Nor did they seem worried that the razorback had vicious looking tusks and sharp teeth. Quint began to get a hint of the people he was dealing with; they treated a very dangerous feral razorback hog with no more concern for danger than if it had been a pet dog. The Klingon shoved the hog into the device, and before it could turn, Danni touched a control. The door vanished.

Now, the Klingons cleared the pen, dragging Quint with them. Danni, too, climbed up the fence. In moments, the doorway reappeared. What emerged, however, was not nearly so docile as the razorback which had been shoved into the device. It was much larger and much meaner. The Klingons cheered, while Quint's face drained of blood.

A Klingon opened the gate, and with a bit of encouragement, the Targ raced out of the pen into the woods. Danni turned to Quint. "Impressive, isn't it." Quint just stared after the Targ, amazed at what he'd seen. Danni walked back to the box. Within seconds, the Klingons were hooting and yelling. Quint glanced at Danni, and he saw the image on the display. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Klingons staring at him, laughing and pointing, and he realized what the display was about. He paled as he considered what was on the display.

It — or rather she — was green. Her hair was jet black, but her skin was green. Her nails were green. Even her bare nipples were very dark green. She was extremely curvy, with full firm breasts. The image alone was more sensual than anything Quint had ever seen, and judging from the Klingons, they thought so as well.

"What ... what is that?" Quint asked softly.

"If you're going to pretend to be a Trek fan, you should at least learn something about Trek," Danni said disdainfully. "She's an Orion slave girl. Her body exists for one reason — to bring pleasure to men."

It didn't seem possible, but Quint turned an even whiter shade than he'd been as the last drops of blood drained from his face. He was starting to get a very bad feeling. "What do you want?" he stammered.

Danni nodded to Martok, and almost before Quint knew what was happening, two Klingons were shoving him into the box. "We want to everything about these devices, and who is investigating them, and why."

Quint suddenly got a smug smile as he stood within the box. He'd remembered one weakness in Danni's flaw. "I won't touch the inner control on my own."

Danni nodded. "That's true." She shot out her assimilation tubes toward the red control plate. "You have, however, forgotten about these."

Quint paled as he realized that Danni could make him into whatever she wanted, with or without his cooperation, just as she'd done with the hog. It took only a couple of milliseconds for his spirit to snap, and he began to spill his guts.

As he finished divulging his data, an eerie sound echoed from the woods. The Klingons instantly turned to the noise, just in time to see a half-human cyborg emerge from the forest, with another Klingon warrior at his side.

"Dammit," Martok screamed. "There goes another Targ!" He wheeled on Danni. "Every time one of _them_ shows up, they wander through the forest killing anything that tries to attack them! They really take a hell of a toll on our prey!"

"I see you are safe!" the new Klingon boomed to Danni. "My friends have treated you well?"

Danni smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Mike. We just got our spy to talk."

Mike grinned. "What did it take? Torture? Starvation?"

Martok clapped Mike on the shoulder, rattling his armor. "No, my friend. Just the threat of making him into an Orion slave girl!"

Mike roared with laughter, as did the other Klingons. Quint stood in the box, ignoring the obvious insult at his courage while he peered out fearfully through the opening. The cybernetic man clumped straight into the holding pen and to Danni. "We have penetrated the computer system," the Borg reported in a very strange voice. It sounded like many voices overlaid, all speaking in unison. Quint cowered in the box.

Danni nodded. "We captured one of their agents. He divulged a significant amount of information."

The Borg didn't seem to flinch. "We must interface to exchange data. The database must be complete."

"Agreed." Danni extended her assimilation tubes into the Borg. Her eyes glazed for a few seconds, then the tubes retracted.

"Well?" Mike asked.

Danni grimaced. "The agency is merely an investigative group. The agency has no idea how to control the device, nor where they came from, nor how many devices there are. It is a very small agency, as well, and because of the need for secrecy, it has not, to date, used force in its investigative work. Even more significantly, Agent Q," she pointed at Quint, "has reported that we may be using the device in ways that they have never seen. The agency is highly interested in us."

Mike winced. "You are no longer safe," he said slowly to Danni.

Danni nodded slowly. "That's precisely what I was thinking." She sighed. "And we're going to have to assimilate him to control him."

Martok glanced at Quint, then at the box, then at Danni. "Perhaps not," he said with a grin. "Perhaps not."

**********

"You'll never get away with this!" the green girl screamed even as a Klingon warrior started to paw her nude body. "I'll .... No! ...a Aah! Aaahhh!" Her screams quickly turned to moans of pleasure as the Klingon began to caress her breasts and crotch. In moments, her protests were lost in cries of passion as yet another warrior had his way with the new Orion slut.

Danni ignored the copulation in the corner. "Will this work?" she asked Mike.

Mike grinned. "See for yourself." He raised his voice. "Kurnik!" On cue, Agent Q walked confidently into the room.

Danni nodded slowly. "His appearance is perfect. However, the agency probably uses fingerprints or retinal identification for added security."

Martok grinned. "We thought of that. Your friend the Borg has altered the records in their computers."

Agent Q frowned. "I do _not_ like this form," he snarled. "It's so ... weak!"

Mike clapped his shoulder roughly. "When your mission is complete, we will change you back to your true form, Kurnik."

"Yes," Martok added enthusiastically. "Or a busty female Klingon warrior! We need more females!"

Agent Q frowned. "I will choose my body at the time."

Martok glanced at Mike. "We had to try."

Danni shook her head at the Klingon's banter. "You know what you have to do?"

Agent Q nodded. "I am to slowly discredit myself to the agency by giving increasingly irrelevant, misleading, and fanciful reports. I am to give the appearance of 'going native' among Trek fans, and then resign. The entire process should take not less than four months."

Martok, Mike, and Danni smiled. "Perfect," Danni said with a smile.

"What of the Orion girl?" Agent Q asked. "From what the Borg reported, this agency has encountered some very peculiar changes, and they usually believe wild tales of transformations."

Mike frowned as he realized the agent was right. "If she ever escapes and contacts the agency, it might cause more trouble."

Danni bit her lip. "Maybe we _will_ have to assimilate her, after all."

Martok's face fell. "That would be a shame. She's such a ... lively ... little thing!" He shook his head. "Too bad we can't just have one of the Vulcans do a mind meld to help her forget her past."

Mike started to shake his head, but Danni's eyes lit up. "Perfect!" she announced. "That's a perfect solution!" She turned to Mike. "Bring her. We're going back to the con."

Martok shook his head. "If we bring her, we'll have to bring half the men! They're all eager to try her out, you know!"

**********

"No, I am _not_ interested in copulating with you," Darla said bluntly to one of the Klingons. Undeterred, he tried to put his arm around her. After brushing him away twice, Darla moved her hand to his neck. The Klingon collapsed to the floor, unconscious, and Danni shook her head. She glanced at Danni and Mike. "You really should create a more equitable ratio of males to females," she suggested.

Mike laughed. "We're trying. It's not as easy as you might think. Not everyone wants to be a Klingon woman — especially the men!"

Darla's eyebrows raised. "I see no logic in that statement. If the objective is to become a Klingon warrior, what difference does the final gender make?"

Danni tilted back her head and laughed. "You'd understand if you weren't a Vulcan ..." she commented through tears of laughter.

Darla shook her head, then glanced at the green slave girl in a very skimpy bikini sitting on the sofa. Her hands and feet were bound — just in case — and her eyes betrayed her anger. "This is the agent?" She sounded like she didn't quite believe Mike and Danni's story.

Mike nodded. "Hard to believe, isn't it."

For a Vulcan, Darla had as close to an expression of disgust as was possible. "I _do not_ approve of your request," she said coldly. "What you are asking me to do is to essentially erase one sentient being's identity and replace it with something else." She shook her head. "That seems little different from murder."

Danni opened her mouth, then she paused, staring at Darla as she contemplated her words. "We _have_ to do something," she finally pleaded. "He's ... she's ... too much of a threat. To _all_ of us."

Darla glanced at Mike who nodded in agreement. "I believe," she finally offered, "that I can implement a solution to our problem without destroying the fundamental character of our agent."

Danni glanced at Mike, then she nodded. "If you can do it..."

Darla nodded, then she sat down beside the girl. The girl flinched as Darla reached toward her, her fingers spread in the familiar pattern. Slowly, Darla touched her face. "Your thoughts to my thoughts. Your mind to my mind," she chanted softly. For several minutes, the two sat, silent, while Darla probed into the girl's mind. Finally, she withdrew her hand. The girl slumped unconscious onto the couch.

"Are you ... okay?" Danni asked as Darla seemed to have trouble focusing her attention.

Darla shook her head softly. "Such chaotic thoughts," she said disdainfully. "Such a torrent of emotion, based on conflict between her body's sexual drive and her former male thought patterns." She shuddered involuntarily.

"Were you successful?" Mike asked bluntly.

Darla nodded slowly. "I believe so. I suppressed her memories of having been Agent Q. To her, they will be hazy, like the remnants of a nightmare. I added the background of having always been a Trek fan. To facilitate the sexual conflicts, logic suggested that I include suffering from gender dysphoria stemming from being forced to cross-dress by her dominating mother. She will believe that she's always been a fan, always felt uncomfortable being a male, and that she gratefully jumped at the chance to be changed into an Orion slave girl. Any memories that surface will be easily explained as ongoing adjustments with her sexuality. The remainder of her personality and memories are intact."

Danni nodded appreciatively. "It sounds like you thought of everything."

Darla looked puzzled. "Logic dictates that I think of all possible outcomes and eventualities, and consider them in my course of action. Anything less would be illogical."

The girl was slowly stirring. As she came to, she saw a Klingon, a Vulcan girl, and Seven of Nine watching over her. "Er, did I drift off?" she asked hesitantly.

Danni nodded. "We were concerned about your safety. Are you feeling well?"

The girl tilted her head, then she glanced down at her body. "I ... think so," she replied. "What happened?" She sounded genuinely confused.

Darla raised an eyebrow. "It is a long story. It is sufficient to say that you should be okay."

"Oh, okay," she answered simply. "Oh, I don't remember if I told you my name. I'm ... Lorella." She glanced at Mike, and she slid toward him on the couch. "And I could use a bit of company," she hinted brazenly as she let her fingers begin to dance across the armor of his chest.

"Not with my mate, slut!"

Mike and the girl glanced up at the sudden interruption. Sandy marched through the room toward Mike, her eyes angry and threatening toward Lorella.

"Where have you been?" Sandy demanded. "You disappeared for over a day, then show up with this ... Orion whore!" She spat at Mike. "What about your mate? What about _my_ needs?" she grabbed Mike's hand and bit deeply into the flesh of his palm.

Danni glanced at Darla and Lorella. "I think we're not needed any more," Danni observed quietly as Sandy began to tear off her own armor.

Darla nodded. "I agree," she said. Silently, the trio of girls rose and strode quietly out of the hotel room, ignoring the very loud sounds of increasing passion behind them.

"Oh, Danni," Sandy yelled out when she realized that Danni was leaving.

Danni paused in the doorway. "Yes?"

Sandy gave her a quick glance. "There's someone looking for you. He says he wants to be Yoda."

FIN (for now)

W

Synopsis: Further adventures of Seven as she and her Trekkie friends confront their ultimate challenge - Star Wars fans.

Note: This tale contains numerous characters from both the Star Trek and Star Wars universes. If a reader is unfamiliar with the Star Wars characters, the official Star Wars databank can provide more information than I can include in this tale. I am trying to not clutter the story with too much detail on the characters, but to provide enough to identify most of the characters...
www.starwars.com/databank/

This story was posted a long time ago (in a galaxy far away ....) on another site. It has been mildly modified here - some of the very long list of changed characters has been deleted or shortened for readability without altering the intent of the story. And I know that I really pushed the limits of my own universe. So sue me - after you enjoy the story.

**********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

*** Prologue ***

Danni bolted upright, her eyes open and tightly focused. She forced herself to take a deep breath so she could concentrate on what had so disturbed her regeneration cycle. After a few moments, she swung her legs off the steel platform and stood. The swirling tendrils of energy which had animated the head rest of the unit faded into nothingness, leaving the room mostly dark. That fact, however, didn't bother Danni. Her Borg eye implant amplified the light, making the room appear to her as if bathed in sunlight.

Softly, she padded across the room and gracefully eased her curvy feminine body, clad as always in a silvery cat suit, into a chair at a desk. From old habit, she glanced needlessly at a glowing digital clock; her Borg chronometer implants made external clocks totally unnecessary. 'Six fifty-two a.m. Darla is certainly awake by now,' she muttered to herself. She picked up the phone, and after thinking for a moment, she manually pushed the buttons. For a moment or two, she held the receiver to her ear, waiting, and judging from her expression, it was not patient waiting.

"Darla?" she asked aloud. "Danni. I think we need to go to the con next week." She frowned. "No, nothing ... solid. Call it a hunch." "Yes, I know. But I really got this sudden sense that we're going to be needed." "Yeah, I guess _you_ would call it woman's intuition. But _I_ wouldn't." "Okay. You call a few people, and I'll talk to the Klingons." "Right. Bye." Danni hung up the phone and stared at it for a few moments. She couldn't shake the feeling that had awakened her and caused her to make the call. Something was going to happen. Something big.

**********

As soon as he'd shut his pickup door behind him, Sean Lowell wiped his brow with his sleeve - again. "I can't wait to get changed," he muttered. His hair was nearly soaked with sweat, and if not for the black color of the one-piece jumpsuit he wore, it would be showing massive sweat spots. He leaned heavily against the truck for a moment to rest, seemingly oblivious to how he might appear to the neighbors. After all, it wasn't every day one saw a man in a black body suit leaning against a pickup truck in his driveway - not in most neighborhoods, anyway.

On the other side of the truck, his wife Emily smiled, clad in a T-shirt and pants. "Yeah," she said, sounding sympathetic. "But the kids loved it." Her T-shirt was simple black, with a Star Wars Imperial Stormtrooper helmet superimposed over an Imperial logo. Beneath that were the simple words 'Got Armor?'

Sean nodded slowly. Like the other members of the 501st Legion, Sean and Emily supported many charitable events, like the appearance at the Children's Hospital earlier that afternoon. "Yeah, I know," he said, sounding just a little sheepish. For many of the children, a chance to see Stormtroopers, Boba or Jango Fett, or even Darth Vader, was a huge thrill. Sean and Emily were happy to participate. "But I've got to figure out a way to stay cool in the armor." With fatigue in his step, he started walking toward the door to their house.

"You going to get your armor?" Emily asked as she glanced at the large trunk in the rear of the truck. With the camper shell, it was safe from theft, but that apparently wasn't her concern. The hot sun would make an oven out of the back of the pickup.

Sean sighed. "As soon as I change." He'd put way too much time and money into the costume to let the white ABS plastic Stormtrooper armor be ruined in the hot sun.

Emily nodded and closed her door. With her purse in one hand and her digital camera in the other, she followed Sean up the walk. "Too bad you don't have a real suit," she mused. "With a built-in cooling unit."

Sean laughed. "Yeah. That'd be cool. Or to actually be a Jedi or Sith? Or an alien? I bet you'd ..." His words cut off abruptly.

"What?" Emily asked almost immediately. She saw Sean reading a note that had been taped on the door.

Sean sighed. "Probably nothing," he sighed, "but then again, it might be." He handed the note to Emily and got out his keys to unlock the door.

Emily scanned the note. "Len said a meteorite hit our backyard?" she asked incredulously. "Is this another one of his jokes?"

Sean shook his head as he opened the door, basking for a moment in the cool air-conditioned breeze wafting around him. Knowing he was wasting energy, he stepped inside and closed the door after Emily, too, was out of the bright afternoon sun. "Doesn't sound like one of his gags," Sean said as he began to strip from his body suit. "He doesn't have that much imagination."

Emily frowned. "I'll go out back and have a look while you shower, okay?" She stepped to the kitchen, set her purse and camera on the table, and opened the patio door to their backyard. She had a feeling of dread as she stepped out to the patio. Slowly, she scanned the yard, fearing she'd find a smoking crater or something similar. But she didn't see anything. Emily felt herself relax a bit. It _had_ been a gag.

Then she spotted something in one of her flowerbeds. Her eyes narrowed as she peered. It looked like the neighbor's dog had been in her flowers again! She glanced, and frowned. The gate was still shut. So what had happened to her flowers? Puzzled, she walked briskly to the damaged bed.

Emily surveyed the damage. Something had blasted through one corner of her garden, taking out a rose bush and some assorted bedding plants, and even tearing up a bit of sod in the adjoining grass. She knelt down beside the dirt and looked more closely. She couldn't see anything that looked like it could have caused this. No lumps, no smoking rocks, nothing. Just like something had hit the flowerbed with destructive force as it passed through their back yard. She stood. If so, where was it? She scanned the yard again, and still she saw nothing.

Sighing to herself yet again, Emily trudged back to the house, skirting the edge of the pool as she did so. If something _had_ hit, it wasn't serious. Just a little touch-up on the garden and the lawn, and it'd look perfect. It could even wait. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the pool. That was what Sean needed to cool off - a dip in the pool. Especially after standing all day in his hot armor.

Emily did a double-take. She peered again, then moved around the corner of the pool to avoid the reflected sun glare. The frown returned. There was something floating in the pool.

**********

"Holy shit!"

Emily poked her head into the living room, alarmed by her husband's outburst. "What?" she asked. She found herself staring, with Sean, at a large rectangular gray mass. "What ...?" she stammered. "Is it ... growing?"

Sean nodded. "I just rubbed the symbols on the face," he added, his eyes still riveted to the box.

When it reached the size of a telephone booth, the box stopped growing. It just sat there, plain and gray and looking completely out of place.

"You got any idea what it is?" Emily asked softly. Her hands still held the makings of another costume she was creating.

Sean stared at the gray box. "Not a clue," he replied just as softly.

Emily suppressed a shudder. "This is _weird_! I think we ought to leave it alone," she whispered.

Sean hadn't heard her as he moved quickly to the box. He walked around two plain gray sides, then he stopped. "I wonder if these are the controls," he asked as he stared at a black panel, a red crystalline three-fingered plate, and a purple knob.

"Sean," Emily pleaded softly, "let's leave it alone." Once she realized that he wasn't listening, she decided to change her course. "Did you get your armor out of the car yet?"

"What?" Sean swore under his breath. "No. I forgot." He glanced once more at the box, then he trudged slowly toward the door. His curiosity wasn't as strong as his sense of duty toward his precious Stormtrooper armor.

Emily sighed with relief as her ruse distracted Sean from the box - even if it was a brief victory. When she thought about the strange gray box, she felt a sense of foreboding.

**********

"You going to come to bed?" Emily's weary voice startled Sean.

"In a couple of minutes," he answered quickly. "What time is it, anyway?"

Emily sighed. "It's nearly eleven."

"Huh?" Sean glanced at the clock to confirm her answer. "I didn't realize it was this late."

Emily sighed again. "Well, it is. Now would you _please_ leave that thing alone and come to bed? Before something happens?"

"Too late," Sean answered with a grin. "Look at this!" He grabbed Emily's hand and pulled her to his side. "I think this thing reads minds."

Emily looked at the box, at the display. "What ... how?" she stammered. "That looks like ... Aayla Secura." She stared at the image of the sexy blue-skinned Twilek Jedi.

Sean smiled. "Yup. All I had to do was touch the red plate here while I was thinking of her. The box made the picture show up on the display."

Emily's eyes widened. "Is this some kind of computer graphics display?" Her mouth dropped open. "Maybe this is some secret Air Force technology or something! We shouldn't be messing with it!"

Sean shook his head. "You know what those symbols on top looked like?" She nodded slowly. "The display had screens and screens full of them when I started." He pressed his lips together and shook his head more. "This isn't Air Force technology," he said firmly. "It's more like ... something alien."

Emily's eyes narrowed as she considered his words. "But ... that means ..."

Sean nodded, smiling. "We're not alone. UFOs are real. All kinds of neat things." He took Emily's hand and pressed it to the red plate. "Here. You try."

Emily frowned. "What do I do?"

Sean smiled. "Just think of one person or thing. You have to concentrate, but it'll show up on the display in a few seconds."

Emily turned her attention to the display. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then a figure began to materialize as if from a fog. Slowly, the figure took shape and definition, until Emily dropped her hand from the plate. The cone-headed Jedi master Ki Adi Mundi was clearly displayed on the screen. "Wow! It
really works!"

Sean let her look for a bit before he put his hand on the red pad. In moments, the slave-girl version of Princess Leia was displayed. Still, Sean wasn't done. For a few more seconds, he concentrated, and then the display changed until Leia had very large breasts.

Emily slapped his arm. "Hey!" she objected in feigned protest. "What is it with you guys that every time you can, you exaggerate a girl's breasts?"

Sean laughed. "Just trying to see what she'd look like if she had your magnificent rack," he said playfully. Emily was sufficiently endowed that she would never take his playing as a threat or insult.

"My turn," Emily said again, pushing Sean aside by playfully bumping him with her chest. She put her hand on the red plate, and soon, a stern Grand Moff Tarkin showed on the display.

Sean countered quickly with Aurra Sing, the white-skinned bounty hunter from The Phantom Menace.

Emily smiled. "You know, the guys would have a lot of fun with this. Maybe we should take it with us?"

Sean nodded. "Yeah," he commented, suppressing a yawn as he tried to agree. "But right now, I'm getting tired. It's a long drive to the con, and if we're going to make the Garrison meeting before the convention opens, we'll have to leave early." He glanced once more at the screen before turning reluctantly away.

If Sean hadn't been so tired, he probably wouldn't have stumbled trying to get around Emily, the box, and the coffee table. Then again, if he hadn't bumped the purple knob then, eventually curiosity would have caused him to try touching it. In any event, when he touched the knob, half of the side of the box simply vanished. There was no sliding, no opening, no motion or sound. One moment, the box had only the display panel, the red paw-shaped crystal, and the purple knob. The next, half of the side was missing.

Emily jumped back from the box in surprise and fear. She'd overcome her initial hesitancy about the alien technology, but it had returned with a vengeance when the side disappeared.

Sean, too, started at the sudden change in the box, but he recovered quickly and peered inside. "Hey, there's another control inside," he said. Drawn by his seemingly insatiable curiosity, he stepped through the opening. Even before Emily could open her mouth to protest, Sean touched the inner knob.

The side of the box disappeared. Emily, her mouth already opening to speak, screamed. She pushed the purple knob and banged on the metal where the opening had been.

In a few seconds that seemed like hours to Emily, the side of the box reappeared. Emily started to sigh with relief.

Then Aurra Sing stepped out.

Emily screamed again, then she looked around Aurra to the inside of the now-empty box.

Aurra Sing looked stunned. She glanced up and down her chalk-white arms, from the extra-long fingers to her bare shoulders, and then down her rust-colored jumpsuit to the orbs on her chest. She swatted at the single ponytail of red hair dangling around her face as she leaned forward. The hair came from a single clump of hair on her otherwise chalk-white bald head, adding to her alien appearance. "What the hell?" she asked, and her eyes widened even more at the sound of her voice.

Emily fought the panic threatening to overcome her. "Where's Sean?" she demanded, glancing once more into the empty box. "What have you done with my husband?"

Aurra Sing looked at Emily. "It's me," she said, still amazed at the sound coming from her throat. "I'm Sean." She looked down at herself again, then at the figure displayed on the control panel. "The box ... changed me!"

Emily glanced at the display panel and then at Aurra Sing. She frowned. "Sean? Is that really you?" she asked nervously. She saw the display, the empty box, and what appeared to be Aurra Sing standing before her. Though it seemed impossible, Emily was convinced beyond words that Sean had been changed by the mysterious alien box.

Aurra Sing nodded, wincing again at the bobbing ponytail. "Yeah."

Emily lunged at the control panel and pressed her hand against the red plate. In seconds, she'd called up an image of her husband. "Change back," she prompted with a sense of urgency in her voice. "Hurry!"

Sean needed no further prompting. He ducked back inside the box and touched the purple crystal. Again, the door vanished, and after a few seconds, the opening reappeared. This time, Sean stepped out. He patted his body as if to reassure himself that he was all present. He stepped back away from the box and flopped back into a chair. "Wow!" he said, his voice carrying both the joy of a new discovery and fear at what had happened.

Emily sat down beside him. "That's ... spooky," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the alien device.

Sean thought for a moment. "I've got an idea," he suddenly announced. Again, he sprang to the control plate. As he worked, Emily joined him, warily watching what he did. Slowly, another figure formed, and with a quick grin to Emily, Sean pressed the purple knob and stepped into the cabinet. A few seconds later, he emerged, this time clad in white armor over a black body suit and carrying a helmet under his arm. "What do you think?" he asked.

Emily glanced at the image on the display. "A little heavy for a clone, aren't you?"

Sean put the clone trooper helmet on. "This is cool!" he exclaimed in a heavily muffled voice.

Emily started to relax. "Now I _know_ the guys would love this box," she said with a grin. Then she yawned. "But it's late. I think you ought to change back so we can get some sleep. We're leaving pretty early tomorrow, remember?"

Sean nodded. Reluctantly, he stepped to the control and recalled his original body. As he was about to press the purple button, Emily grabbed his hand. "Just a sec," she said before she touched the red plate. With a grin, she touched the purple knob, opening the device. "Okay."

Sean glanced at Emily, then he tried to see the display, which she was conveniently blocking. When she wouldn't move, he snorted and stepped into the box.

A few seconds later, Sean emerged. He glanced down, then at Emily. "I thought you said you wanted to sleep," he said in a gruff voice.

Emily raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Eventually," she said playfully as she took Sean's hand and led him back toward their bedroom.

**********

"So what is it?"

'It' referred to the plain gray attache-case sized box on top of the pile of luggage. Sean grinned at his friend. "I told you once, Len, I'll show you when we get checked in and get our gear stored.

"But..."

Sean shook his head. "It'll go faster if you help carry the stuff up to the lobby." Sean closed the back of the camper shell and twisted the handles to secure it. He picked up two armloads of suitcases, pausing to get the gray box balanced under his arm, and then he started trudging toward the elevators.

Nearly an hour later, mostly delayed because of the long check-in line at the hotel desk, Sean, Emily, and Len trudged off the elevator and down the hall to their room. As they walked, a girl dressed as a Vulcan paused and stared at the box with one raised eyebrow. "Do you mind if I ask where you obtained that ... device?" she asked in a curious tone of voice.

Sean frowned. It seemed that she recognized the box - which was, of course, impossible. "I found it," he said with a shrug.

"Does it have any ... unusual ... properties?" she asked with one raised eyebrow.

Sean glanced at Emily, then he shook his head. "Nope. It's just an attache case."

"Fascinating." The girl turned and continued down the hall.

Emily glanced at Sean, who had turned toward her. Both had expressions of curiosity. "What was _that_ about?" Emily asked, unable to contain her bewilderment.

Sean shook his head. "I don't know," he answered softly. He dropped one armload of gear and opened the door, then helped get the gear inside.

"Okay, now what is it?" Len asked again.

Sean put the box on the floor and rubbed the symbols. Immediately, the box grew until it was once more full sized.

Len was watching with a mixture of shock and awe. "Cool!" he said finally as the box finished growing.

Sean grinned. "It gets better. Think of a character."

Emily smiled. "The more unique, the better," she added.

Len glanced at them both. "Oola. The Twilek dancer from Jabba's palace," he finally said.

Sean's grin grew. "Okay." He turned to the box and placed his hand on the control plate, using his body to shield the display plate from Len's view. He glanced over his shoulder. "Okay, touch that purple knob," he directed.

Len flinched when the side disappeared. Emily and Sean exchanged knowing glances. "Okay," Len answered hesitantly.

"Now step inside and touch the purple knob on the inside." Sean smiled at Emily.

Immediately, the opening disappeared. A few moments later, when the side again opened, a very surprised and green Twilek dancing girl emerged, her hands cupped over her breasts and her mouth open in shock. "What ...? she started to ask.

Sean grinned. "It's some kind of alien technology that changes you to match whatever you want to be." He stepped aside so Len could see the display.

"But ..." Len protested in a sultry voice, "but ... you made me a ... a ... a girl!"

Emily took Len's elbow and led him toward the mirror hanging over the dresser. "No, the box made you into a Twilek dancing girl," she said. Then she grinned. "Besides, it was _your_ idea to be Oola!"

Len stared wide-eyed at the image in the mirror. "I'm ... I'm ... her!" he exclaimed softly. "It ... it really ... changed me!" Mesmerized by the image in the mirror, he slowly moved his hands over his breasts, down past his waist, and down around his rounder hips. "I'm ... this is ... it's real!" he stammered. His lekku, the Twilek 'brain tails' seemed to twitch nervously.

Emily led him back to the control panel. "Let's get you changed back." She suppressed a shudder. "Before you do something ... weird." She pushed the image from her mind. "And then I've got an idea for the opening ceremony tonight."

**********

"Okay, so you all _claim_ it's some kind of alien technology that can change you," Dave Johnston, a heavy-set young man with a dark beard and mustache, scowled from his perch on the edge of the dresser. His girlfriend Anne, a short stout woman, leaned against the dresser beside him. The room was crowded with almost two dozen people, and the few spaces left to sit were taken, leaving some to lean or stand. "I don't get what ..."

Sean interrupted the beginning of one of Dave's long-winded soliloquies. "I know you're skeptical," he said calmly. "So was Len. But it _works_." He smiled. "And I can prove it. Since you're the biggest skeptic, I want you to think of the most _unlikely_ costume a _man_ could wear for an appearance." He gave a sideways glance at Len, knowing that the same line had tricked Len into becoming Oola. He saw Len's answering - but nervous - grin.

Dave glared at Sean. He was going to end this farce now so they could get back to the convention. "Okay," he said with a determined expression as he stepped to the side of the box. "How does this work?"

Sean smiled warmly. "Just touch the red plate, and then think of what you want to be. Once you have the image formed, touch the purple knob and step inside, where you'll touch another purple knob to make the change."

Dave glanced at the controls, then he nodded. "Sounds simple enough." He touched the plate, and with his body shielding the view of the display, he set to work. In only a few seconds, he finished, and still blocking the display, he touched the purple knob. A collective gasp sounded from those who could see as half the side simply disappeared. Dave gulped nervously - so far, this was far more than he'd expected, but he'd gotten himself into it, so ...

With a deep breath, Dave stepped boldly into the box, and as he touched the control inside, the opening vanished.

A hushed murmur echoed through the gathered crowd as they watched. The strange box was unlike anything they'd ever experienced. It _was_ doing what Sean had claimed, but that still wasn't proof for them.

In mere seconds, the opening reappeared.

A gasp rippled through the room.

Anne screamed.

Out of the box oozed ...

Jabba the Hutt.

Sean tilted his head - he hadn't quite expected _this_! He glanced at Len, who seemed a little disappointed himself. Sean also noted that even though Jabba was much larger than the box, somehow_ he fit! Perhaps the box had some kind of dimensional shifting properties as well, especially since Jabba seemed to slide out so easily and without even touching the sides of the opening!

Jabba glanced down at himself, and his eyes widened. "This is ... impossible!" he exclaimed in a deep, echoing voice. He looked up, scanning the room full of astonished friends and co-members of their 501st garrison. "It ... it really works!"

"I wanna try!"

"Me next!"

As the enthusiastic clamoring for turns grew louder and more frantic, Sean held up his hands in a weak gesture for silence, but no one seemed to notice. "Dave!" he called loudly, to be heard over the commotion.

"Silence!" Jabba boomed in a loud, deep, echoing voice. Instantly, the room was hushed. Jabba smiled. "First, I'm going to change back," he announced. With a couple of ungraceful lurches, Jabba turned to the control panel, oblivious to the fact that his tail had knocked over a chair and two people. As the assembled group watched in suspense, Jabba worked the control panel. He hesitated, however, at the opening, his eyes turning to Sean. "I don't think I'm gonna fit!" he said nervously.

Sean frowned, then he shrugged. "You fit coming out, so you _have_ to fit going back in." He tried to sound reassuring, but in fact, he was as nervous about Dave getting back into the box as Dave was. If Dave couldn't get back in, Dave would be stuck - as a Hutt.

With a worried look in his eyes, Dave lurched toward the opening. Sean understood Dave's worry - he was easily three times as wide as the opening. And yet, as he approached and started to push into the narrow opening, it seemed that he shimmered around the edges, and Sean got the impression that Dave got much narrower, though in the same proportions, as he scooted forward. Where he could see past the 'opening', Jabba's body _inside_ the box was in the same proportions as that part outside.

The opening vanished as Jabba touched the controls, and a few moments later, it reappeared. Dave emerged, seemingly unscathed by his brief conversion to Jabba. He visually inspected his body as he patted himself, checking to ensure that he was properly restored. Even though Sean and Len had claimed that the box worked for them, Dave shuddered when he thought that it might not have worked _perfectly_ and that he might be missing some parts.

"Me next!" A tall slender man near the front of the group pressed to the control panel.

Sean held up his arms, trying to hold back the surging crowd. Everyone wanted to try the box, and he realized that keeping order, holding them back away from the box, would be like holding back the sea.

"One at a time!" Dave boomed, adding his voice to Sean's efforts at crowd control. "You'll all have a turn."

The guy grinned and darted between them. In a few moments, a tall figure in black cape and a shiny black helmet emerged. A rhythmic mechanical breathing sound emerged from behind the faceplate of the helmet.

"Whoa!" one guy called in admiration. "Cool!"

"I find your lack of faith disturbing!" the figure in black boomed. "Wow! I even _sound_ like Vader! This is _so_ cool!"

Dave turned to Sean. "You said you had something planned for the opening ceremonies tonight?" he asked curiously, suddenly oblivious to the group in the room.

Sean grinned. "We can let the box make our costumes.

Dave frowned. "But we all have costumes..."

Sean's grin spread. "But if we go as something totally wild, something unexpected, something no one has _ever_ done as a costume ..."

Dave's eyes widened, then he nodded. "Like when I did Jabba the Hutt?" He grinned as he turned to the assembled Garrison. "Guys, I've got a great idea...."

**********

A disturbance in the rear of the hall interrupted the emcee, and he tried to stare past the lights. He couldn't really see, but judging from the noise, whatever was interrupting his program was big. Low murmurs grew louder, then shouts of amazement and cheering rippled outward from the open rear doors. Cameras started to flash in an ever-widening circle, like the rings of a target centered on the cause of the disturbance.

The emcee frowned, wondering what was causing this major interruption to his program. Even though science fiction conventions were organized and run by amateurs, these types of disturbances _didn't_ happen. "What's going on back there?" he finally demanded in frustration when he realized that not a soul in the hall was paying him any mind.

The spotlight swung from the emcee back to the center of the disturbance. The emcee gasped as he recognized Jabba the Hutt flanked by two pig-like Gamorrean guards.

Egged on by the crowd, Jabba oozed and slid and lurched forward, followed by his retinue. As the applause continued unabated, Jabba halted at the foot of the stage, and his guards flanked him. Next came Bib Fortuna, his Twilek majordomo. Then came Boba Fett, the blue elephantine band leader Max Reebo, the Bith wind player D'an Barquin, a figure that appeared to be Lando Calrissian in his guard disguise, Jabba's elephantine friend and confidant Ephant Mon, the green Twilek dancer Oola, the white Twilek Lyn Me, Rystall with her flaming red hair, the green-skinned Rodian dancer Greeta, skiff guards Klaatu and Nikto, the Boush bounty hunter, and finally, tethered to a chain held by Jabba, Princess Leia in her metallic slave bikini.

The group stood for several long minutes, bathed in a near constant flash as it seemed that everyone in the hall snapped photo after photo. Finally, as the flash died down a bit, Jabba turned to the emcee. "Start this convention," he ordered in a booming voice. "There are parties to attend, and I will not be late!"

The crowd erupted in a new round of applause. Eventually, however, the crowd quieted sufficiently for the emcee to continue, and the convention was officially opened.

**********

Sean grinned at Dave as the group slowly changed back to their normal forms. "Did you see the look on that guy's face?"

Dave, rid of the enormous bulk of Jabba and back to being human, laughed in reply. "That's one for the books," he agreed. "But I'm glad I don't have to slog around as Jabba for too long. That's hard work!"

Emily smiled as she wrapped her arm around Sean's waist. "Did you hear how many people were asking how we all made the costumes? Especially the Jabba?"

Sean nodded. "I told them it was a trade secret."

Dave laughed. "I bet that didn't convince many people." Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

Emily glanced nervously at the box, then back to Sean. "Should we answer it?" The message was clear, if implied. They felt a need to protect the secret of the box from strangers.

Sean frowned as the knock sounded again. "Hold it, guys," he said to those still unchanged. "Let's see who this is." He strode quickly to the box and placed his hand on the red crystal, and almost immediately, the box shrank to briefcase size. "We'll finish changing in a minute or so," he reassured those still in 'costume', including slave Leia, Lyn Me, Boba Fett, and Nikto.

As Sean kicked the metal box behind the bed, Emily opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked slowly as she scanned the two men standing in the hall. Both were of average height, and both wore the 'Got Armor?' T-shirts that seemed so common to members of the 501st Legion.

One of the men looked at Emily, then he smiled. "Emily Lowell?" he asked with confidence.

Emily frowned. "Do I ... " Her question cut off as a look of recognition dawned on her features. "Kent Myers?" she asked uncertainly. She saw his smile and nod, and she turned back to the room. "Honey, it's Kent Myers. You remember, we met him at StellerCon last year?" She opened the door wide and gestured for the two men to come in.

Kent smiled at Sean. "Hey, Sean!" He glanced at the people still 'in costume' and he shook his head, still smiling. "Figures you guys would be behind that stunt!" His voice carried admiration for what they'd done. "This is Rich Stevens."

"Hey Rich," Sean said in a simple greeting. He turned back to Kent. "You still with the Tyrannus Garrison?"

Kent smiled. "Yup. We did quite a turnout here. In fact, the entire legion has a pretty good turnout. About two hundred members."

Dave whistled. "Wow! That's a pretty good showing."

Kent nodded. "And some of the other members think we ought to do something special for David Prowse."

Dave nodded. "Like the Death Star arrival scene in Return?" He referred, in their particular shorthand, to Return of the Jedi.

Kent nodded. "That would be fantastic. The problem is, a lot of the guys who flew in, like the guys from Titan, the UK Garrison, and the California Garrisons, didn't bring their costumes. Did you guys bring yours?"

Sean shot Dave a knowing glance. "Maybe even better," he said with a grin.

Emily's eyebrows raised. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking," she started, "then count me in."

"But ... there weren't any female troopers," Sean protested. "And you don't have any ..." He halted mid-sentence when he saw Emily's grin.

"It changed you and Dave ... to Aurra and Oola. Why couldn't it change me? _And_ into costume?" Emily asked cautiously.

Sean frowned, then he slowly nodded. He knew better than to argue with Emily when she made up her mind. "Hey, we could even do David in Vader costume!"

Dave wrinkled his nose and frowned. "Too hot, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

"But if he did the entrance in costume, then changed ...?" Emily interjected. "We could keep the box off-stage, and it would only take a few seconds for him to change out of the costume."

Kent finally gave up. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" he demanded.

Dave and Sean exchanged glances again, then Sean retrieved the box and activated it. In seconds, it grew back to telephone-booth size. Kent and Rich stood in silence, gawking at the sight.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Sean grinned.

**********

Sean strolled casually through the tables in the main hall, where conventioneers took a moment to sprawl and rest. He laughed to himself as he saw the people staring in wonder at him. So far, the box was making this a fun convention. The "Jabba's palace retinue" still had people talking, mostly about who had pulled it off. And then, to top that, all the 501st members present used the box to create costumes. When David Prowse, Vader himself and honorary commander of the entire 501st Legion, made his entrance, the 501st Legion recreated Vader's entrance to the second Death Star. And though they couldn't persuade Prowse to make an entrance in costume, one of the 501st members did the entrance scene, then ducked offstage, ostensibly to change. David Prowse came from behind the curtain, as if he'd just quickly changed from his costume to his normal clothing. It was another smash hit, and everyone was talking about it.

Sean glanced at his watch, an odd maneuver since the watch was almost lost among the long fur on his body. Emily was in a workshop on Jedi costuming for another half hour. He wondered if he should use the box to change back. Walking around as Chewbacca was starting to get boring.

"Hey!"

Sean ignored the voice; already, he'd been accosted for pictures by many fans, and though the 501st considered it one of the necessary evils of appearing in costume, he was weary of it. Changing back was starting to become even more appealing.

"Hey!" the voice boomed again. "Walking carpet!"

Sean halted, took a deep breath, and turned. He reared his head back. "Grrrrrarrarrr!" he roared at the person who'd just insulted him.

His voice halted midway through the second roar. The man facing him was a Klingon in full battle armor. "I would speak with you," the Klingon demanded. From the tone of voice, it sounded like he was used to getting his way.

Sean briefly considered his options. He could walk away, in which case the Klingon might get even more insulting or attempt to start a fight; or he could stay and talk. Sean nodded slowly. "What do you want?" he asked cautiously.

"You have used a gray metal box that grows from a briefcase to a telephone booth? That is how you made your changes?" the Klingon demanded.

Sean's heart skipped. He scanned the Klingon, from the bony ridges on his forehead to the armor on his feet. He slowly realized that the man wasn't wearing a costume. Which meant that the girl from the hall the previous day who looked very Vulcan ... Sean gulped ... probably was. He felt his hands tremble as he realized that the Klingon and the Vulcan woman knew about the box, and had probably been changed by one.

"I ... I don't understand. Gray box?" he stammered.

The Klingon frowned. "You do not wear a costume, Wookie. We have learned to recognize the effects of a box," he snarled. "And you have no idea what you are dealing with."

Sean straightened. He wasn't used to feeling this threatened. "I have to meet my wife," he said stiffly. "After I change out of my costume." He turned a walked away, wondering if the Klingon was going to do something rash. Instead, as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the Klingon roaring with laughter, his head tilted back, and holding his sides.

**********

A knock on the door awakened Sean. He sat up, and despite feeling a bit tired and hung over from the partying the night before, he instantly remembered. The combination of weights bobbing on his chest, the strange sensations of the lekku attached to his head, and the other strange feelings. He shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts. The knock sounded again.

"Who is it?" he shouted, cringing from the soft alto voice he possessed.

"A ... friend." The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but Sean couldn't place why.

"Uh," he said, "Can you come back later?"

"It is a matter of some urgency," the voice replied. Something about the tone let Sean know that he probably _should_ talk to the person.

"I've got to get decent." He shook Emily, still looking like Han Solo. "We've got company," he whispered as he woke her.

Emily groaned slightly. "Uh, who is it?" she asked softly.

Sean shook his head. "I don't know. But they said it's important."

Emily winced. "But ..." Her mind raced. "Quick - we can use the box to freshen up." She stood quickly and touched the controls, then emerged from the box in her own body - and fresh clothes. Then Sean's changed back, and he looked more than a bit relieved to be back in his own body.

Emily started for the door, but Sean put his hand on her arm. "Just a sec." He touched the controls again, and in moments, the box had shrunk to its original briefcase size. Sean scooted the box behind the curtains. Then he nodded to Emily.

"Can I help you?" Emily asked politely as she opened the door.

The Klingon Sean had seen earlier that day pushed brusquely past Emily. Behind him, Seven of Nine strutted sexily into the room. "You are Sean and Emily Lowell," she asked in a tone that seemed less a question than statement of fact.

Emily glanced at Sean, and then she nodded. "But what ...?"

"Where is it?" the Klingon demanded of Sean.

"What?" Sean asked after a quick glance at Emily.

The Klingon frowned, but Seven put her hand on his arm. "Easy, Mike," she chided. She smiled at Sean and Emily. "Klingons can be a bit ... impatient," she explained.

Mike frowned. "Bah! At least we don't waste time with _diplomatic_ nonsense!"

"What is it you're looking for?" Emily asked of Seven, working hard to keep her voice neutral and free of the nervousness she was suddenly feeling.

Seven smiled. "You have been observed with a gray metal box, about the size of an attache case."

Sean glanced at Emily. "I believe you are mistaken," he said hesitantly.

Seven shook her head. "You have _no_ idea what you are dealing with." She glanced around the room. "Based on the changes and _creative_ costumes that your group has displayed so far, there is no doubt you possess such a box." She looked directly at Emily. "You _must_ stop using the device. It is far too powerful, and it can be dangerous."

Emily thought for a moment. "If we see this device," she said, "we'll keep your warnings in mind." Her hesitation in answering belied her words.

Mike glared at Emily and Sean, then he turned and stormed out of the room. "Damned fools!" he muttered as he left.

Seven frowned, then she nodded. "If you find the device, please call me. It is _very_ important. Especially given the ... extreme nature of some of your group's changes." She handed Emily a card, then she too strode from the room.

**********

"Well?" Len sat in one chair, looking around the room at the other members of the Garrison.

Sean shook his head. "I ... I don't know," he answered. "She ... they ... seemed pretty serious."

"You suppose they found one?" one of the women conjectured. "And they don't want any competition for the costume contests?"

"Maybe," Emily said. "Maybe not. I don't know."

Len frowned. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but this thing is _way_ too cool to stop using!"

Sean and Dave nodded. "Len's right. This is too good to stop using." Nods and murmuring indicated that most of the group agreed with the two.

"I guess you're right," Emily conceded. "But there's one condition," Emily added in a stern voice. The room hushed. "No one, and I mean no one, is to enter the costume contest if he or she uses the box. Got it?"

Dave and Sean exchanged a quick glance - they hadn't thought of using the box for creating costumes. "Emily's right," Dave chimed in. "It wouldn't be fair to others if anyone were to use the box to enter the contest. Agreed?"

Slowly, murmurs of agreement circulated through the room.

Emily nodded and retrieved the box. After opening it, she turned. "Who's first?"

"We are!" a young woman called out. She stepped forward with her hand firmly clutching a man. "We want to be Han and Leia."

Emily shrugged. "Your choice." She saw the man looking a bit pale at her suggestion, and she realized with a start that _she_ intended to be Han.

"Do we have to?" the young man asked. "It just seems ... weird!"

The young woman scowled at him. "You promised me, remember?"

The man gulped. Sensing that she'd won, the girl sprang to the side of the box and touched the keypad. Once she was done, she touched the purple knob and opened the device. She gestured, and with a visible gulp, the young man stepped in. After the change cycle finished, the door reappeared, and Princess Leia, in her long white dress and her hair in the signature braided buns from A New Hope, stepped into view. She looked very unhappy. "Remember, this is only for a little bit," she said, flinching at the sound of her voice.

The girl giggled with delight, then turned her attention back to the control pad. She emerged as Han Solo, complete with his blaster pistol at his side. "This is going to be _so_ cool!" she said confidently.

Leia frowned. "But it's only for a little while, right?" she protested. Han took her arm and, with a huge grin, led her out of the room. The former man scowled at the laughter rippling around the room.

The changes went quickly - it was obvious that members had already spent time thinking of who - or what - they wanted to be. Several seemed unchanged, except for the Jedi robes and lightsaber handles. Two guys emerged as Clone Troopers - one a plain trooper, and one with the green decorations of a sergeant trooper. Both had the imposing blaster rifles of the clone army.

Len changed into Darth Vader, then as the group watched, he peeled off an ultra-realistic costume. With a grin, he stepped to the box again, only to emerge in an X-wing fighter pilot costume.

"Wait a sec," Dave cautioned as he saw Len peeling off that costume as well. "Give others a chance."

"Yeah," a girl protested. She pushed Len aside and stepped to the box, emerging a few moments later as Barriss Offee, a Jedi Master. With a grin and a flourish, she grasped her lightsaber, pretended to give it a couple of swings, then clipped it to her belt.

One woman emerged as the armored bounty hunter Boba Fett. A guy came out as Jango Fett. Darth Maul came next, followed by the old Obi-Wan Kenobi. A girl changed into Mace Windu. Another changed herself into Oola, the green Twilek dancer. One guy changed into Chewbacca, while another became Nien Nunb, the jowled, mouse-eyed Sullestan alien who'd co-piloted the Millennium Falcon with Lando during the battle of the second Death Star. One older heavyset woman changed into Luke Skywalker.

Finally, everyone had changed except Dave, Sean, and Emily. "Okay, Len," Emily spoke, "go ahead and finish."

With a grin, Len went back to the machine. In a matter of minutes, he'd created a clonetrooper costume. As he took it off, Sean and Dave started doing the same, since two could change while the third removed a costume. By the time he was done, Len had costumes for Vader, X-wing and Tie pilots, a Tusken Raider, a Clone Trooper and a Clone Trooper pilot, a snow trooper, a storm trooper, and a sand trooper, an Imperial admiral, and a Jedi. Even though they had a few costumes themselves, neither Dave nor Sean were as prolific at costume creation as Len.

Emily shook her head as Len peeled off his Jedi robes. "You've got quite a haul here," she observed.

Len grinned. "Yeah. I figure, might as well make good use of the box."

Sean smiled. "Clever. But how are you going to haul this stuff home in your car?"

Len opened his mouth to answer, then he frowned. "I'll ... " His frown deepened. "Well, maybe you can help ...." He stopped again as he looked at Sean's pile of costumes.

"Rent a U-haul?" Dave laughed.

Len scowled at him. "I guess I'll have to," he finally agreed. "I hadn't thought of that."

Dave laughed again. "Or you can ship it." He looked over the piles of costumes. "Let's get this up to our rooms."

As the two trudged out the door, their arms overflowing with bits and pieces of costumes, Emily shook her head as she observed Sean's pile. "Since we've got the box, you didn't have to make all those costumes right now!" she scolded him.

Sean grinned sheepishly. "I guess I got a bit carried away," he answered.

"Yeah, as soon as Len and Dave started, you had to join in, didn't you." She sat down, still shaking her head. "Don't tell me - it's a guy thing that I just wouldn't understand, right?"

**********

Sean led the weary retinue into his room, flopping heavily into a chair. Emily took the other chair, and an assortment of others wordlessly filed in and sat down on the beds, the dresser, and the floor.

"Long day," Dave said simply.

"Yup."

"Where should we go for dinner?" Emily asked as she glanced around the room.

Len looked thoughtfully at the box, still full-sized in one corner of the room. "I want to try something first." He levered himself up from the bed and worked the controls. After a bit, he opened the door, stepped in, and the side vanished. Moments later, a sand trooper, clad in perfect armor, stepped from the box. The large backpack seemed to be perfectly detailed.

Sean snorted. "At least if you're going to make a costume, make it a good one," he chided Len. "You've got one of the best sets of sand trooper armor in the entire Legion!"

Len drew his blaster. "Maybe," he said, his voice sounding far off and just a touch electronically distorted. Just like the movie. Len walked to a window and opened it. He pointed the blaster into the air, and after glancing around the room, he pulled the trigger.

Len and the others recoiled at the sharp sound of a blaster firing into the sky. "Holy shit!" Len cried as he stepped away from the window, staring at the blaster. "It really works!"

Sean jumped up and grabbed the blaster. "Let me see that," he said sternly. He looked at the device, then he looked out the window again. He saw a neat hole in the screen where the blaster bolt had pierced it. "Hmmm," he said. He glanced around, then he pointed the blaster down toward the ground. He pulled the trigger, and another bolt shot out of the gun.

Sean and the others winced as they saw shards of concrete blast free of a concrete column of a building under construction next door. "Damn!" Sean said as he gingerly handed the device back to Len. "That thing really _does_ work!"

Len gingerly holstered the weapon. "Yeah. Just like I was thinking when I made the suit." For a few seconds, there was silence as the Garrison members considered the power the box had just demonstrated. "Hey!" Len interrupted. "You know how fast these costumes get hot?"

Sean and the others nodded. "Yeah. So?" he asked.

Len shook his head. "I'm not getting hot at all. It's like this thing is air conditioned or something!"

Sean stepped closer to Len and bent over to study Len's armor. He even rapped the chest plate a couple of times. "Hey, this isn't like plastic," he reported, surprised. "It's feels like some kind of composite or something."

Len peeled off his helmet. "Yeah, and the helmet is a little heavier, too. I was thinking of the way it's described in the 'Star Wars Encyclopedia'. And the box made it!" He grinned. "Cool!"

"I wonder ...." Dave mused as he strode to the controls. He frowned as he thought, and the box was obviously having some trouble with his request. Several long minutes later, just as Dave was about to give up, the door opened. Dave stepped in.

Out stepped the spitting image of Obi-Wan Kenobi from Attack of the Clones, clad in his Jedi robes. He hefted the lightsaber from his belt, and with a flick of the controls, it hissed to life.

Gasps of astonishment coursed through the room. Not only could the box make a functional set of sand trooper armor and blaster, but it could also make a fictional weapon like a light saber.

Dave swung the blade easily, then he shut it off. When everyone looked at him, he frowned. "Look," he said, "if it can make a real blaster, then this thing," he indicated his now inactive lightsaber, "could be really nasty."

A college-age girl named Jenny moved to the control panel. "Hmmm ..." she mumbled half to herself. She touched the plate, her brow furrowed in concentration. Almost immediately, a familiar image appeared. But Jenny wasn't done. She closed her eyes to better focus, and the room got strangely silent as she concentrated. Finally, she took a deep breath and let it out heavily. She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the gang, then she touched the purple knob.

When Jenny emerged, she was Shaak Ti, clad in dark robes with large horns and striped lekku. In her hands, she carried the handle of a lightsaber.

"Whoa!" Len said in admiration. "Pretty cool Shaak Ti!"

Jenny smiled. "If it can make lightsabers, I wanted to see what else it can do."

Emily's eyes widened. "You trying for force powers, maybe?" she asked hesitantly.

Jenny grinned. "Yup." She closed her eyes, and at first, she seemed to be intensely concentrating. As she relaxed her intense focus, though, it seemed that something startled her, and she visibly flinched.

Emily and Sean frowned. "What was that?" they asked almost in unison.

Jenny opened her eyes wide with surprise. "It ... it works!" she said in astonishment.

"How?"

Jenny shook her head. "I don't know. Nothing was happening when I was concentrating, but when I relaxed, I could picture every one of you in my mind!"

Emily's eyes widened. "Let's try something. We'll blindfold you, and then you describe who's behind you and what they're holding." Jenny nodded.

After a lengthy and thorough test, Emily sank back onto the bed as Jenny took off the blindfold. "Wow!" she said in amazement. "It really _does_ work!"

"What else can you do?" Len asked eagerly. "Levitate? Force push? Visions?"

Jenny shook her head. "I ... I don't know." She sat down. "I was _thinking_ of all those things, but I really don't know what I got." She focused on a table. For a few moments, she seemed to be deeply concentrating, but finally, abruptly, she let out a sharp breath and sat back. "It's no use. I can't levitate things."

From behind her, Sean tossed a rolled up sock. Almost before it was out of his hand, she had moved her hand and body to block it. And her lightsaber was drawn and ready.

"Wow!" came a chorus of awed responses. "That's incredible!"

Emily thought for a second. "Faster reflexes. Enhanced non-visual senses. It looks like it gave you what you were thinking of!"

Jenny laughed. "And you can be sure I wasn't thinking of that midichlorian bullshit!"

Dave scratched his chin as he walked back to the box. After a bit of concentration, he re-entered the device, emerging a few seconds later looking unchanged. "Want to try something?" he asked Jenny as he took his lightsaber from his belt. Everyone knew instantly that he'd used the device to acquire force powers, just like Jenny.

Jenny nodded and stood, drawing her own lightsaber. The spectators drew back to give them as much space as possible.

For several seconds, the two sparred ferociously, their blades flashing green and blue, with bright sparks as the blades touched. A lamp was sliced neatly in two and one drape was slashed before the two stopped and turned off their lightsabers.

"Well, that's going to cost a little bit," Sean said dryly as he looked at the pieces of the lamp.

Dave winced. "Oops," he said meekly. "Sorry."

Emily laughed. "Don't worry about it. We'll take it out of the garrison funds."

Jenny glanced around the room. "If you're all done playing, can we go get something to eat?" she asked. "I'm getting awfully hungry."

Dave smiled. "Yeah. And let's go in costume."

Emily glanced at Sean, and he could tell that she was thinking of something unusual. "Not like we are now. Let's make the costumes ... unique," she suggested. "Everyone pick a character. We'll put the names in a hat. And everyone will draw a character to become for the night."

"Including the party circuit?" one guy asked, sounding a bit uneasy.

Emily nodded. "Including the party circuit."

Dave nodded, then he scratched his chin as he thought for a moment. "Human or humanoid. No Hutts. No B'Omarr monks. It has to be something that _you_ would be comfortable being all evening." He grinned. "Because _you_ might just draw the name and end up being that ... character!"

One guy tilted his head. "Yoda?"

Dave wrinkled his eyebrows, then he glanced around the room. "What do you think?"

Everyone nodded or shrugged their assent.

Then one guy spoke up. "If we draw, we might get stuck as a female character?"

Dave glanced at Emily and Sean, who both nodded. "Yeah. That might happen."

The guy shook his head. "Nope. Count me out."

"Chicken!" "Candy ass!" "No curiosity?"

The guy stared down his taunters, then he shut up and sat down, knowing he'd been dared and shamed into playing along.

Emily passed out slips of paper, and each of the sixteen members wrote a character's name on the paper. As Emily collected them, her eyebrows raised. "Okay. Everyone draw a paper. I'll take the last one, just to be fair."

As the slips were drawn, audible groans and moans indicated that some of the people were unhappy. Finally, Emily took the last one. "Interestingly, there are eight guys and eight girls, but there are nine female characters." Everyone glanced around, wondering the same thing - who had 'crossed over'?

Chuck, the same guy who'd protested the potential for cross-gender costumes, scowled as the other garrison members stared at him. "Okay," he admitted harshly. "I figured if we were going to play this and I might get stuck, I might as well make sure I'm not the only one!"

Sean had drawn Mara Jade, the red-haired former Emperor's Hand and force-using wife of Luke Skywalker, who'd appeared in numerous novels. Len drew Wedge Antilles, the X-wing pilot from both movies and novels. Dave got Aayla Secura, the blue-skinned Twilek Jedi woman. The other guys drew Admiral Daala, an attractive Imperial admiral from the Star Wars novels; Grand Admiral Thrawn, a blue-skinned red-eyed master Imperial admiral, again from the novels; Count Dooku, the Sith apprentice from Attack of the Clones; Jaina Solo, daughter of Han and Leia and a Jedi from the novels. As he'd feared, Chuck drew a female character - Padme Amidala in her white jumpsuit.

Things were equally interesting for the women. Emily drew Corran Horn, a Jedi from the Star Wars novels. Dave's girlfriend Anne drew Asajj Ventress, a dark-side apprentice to Count Dooku from the animated Clone Wars series. Jenny, by strange coincidence, drew Shaak Ti, the exotic Jedi master, and thus didn't have to change. The other ladies drew Darth Vader; Darth Maul; Ysanne Isard, a strikingly beautiful Imperial Intelligence officer with one blue eye and one red eye, from the novels; Lyn Me, the white-skinned Twilek dancer; and finally, Kir Kanos, a member of the Emperor's Royal Guard in his classic red helmet and robes.

Emily glanced around the group. Some of the people, especially those who'd swapped genders, seemed highly uncomfortable. Chuck, for example, was staring down at his breasts as if he didn't know whether to feel himself up or to cover them with his hands to hide them. "Ready?"

"Yup," Len - Corran Horn - quickly answered.

"Not really," the guys who'd become Padme and Jaina Solo rebutted quickly.

Anne grinned. "Past time to chicken out." Since she was closest to the door, she turned to open it so the group could leave. Instead, she was interrupted by a knock. She glanced at Emily and Sean.

"Who is it?"

"Kent Myers," came the muffled answer through the door.

Emily nodded to Anne, who opened the door. She started at the sizable contingent standing outside the room, filling the hallway.

"Uh, can we, uh, like, borrow ...?" Kent started to ask, not sure who was whom.

Emily laughed. "I'm over here," she answered in her Wedge Antilles voice. "And no, you can't borrow it. But I can help you guys change - I _assume_ that's what you're here for, right?"

Kent glanced at Rich, then around the group. "Uh, yeah. I wasn't ... you know."

"I mean," Rich blurted out, "it _is_ your box. But we'd like to change for the night."

Emily and the others laughed aloud. "Yeah, I think we understand." Emily glanced around the room. "It's a bit crowded in here, so why don't you guys wait on the mezzanine. Sean and I will be down in a few minutes."

A _few_ minutes took nearly half an hour. There were almost forty changes, and the list read like a "Who's Who" of Star Wars. Some became the actual cast, while others simply changed their clothes into costumes like Jedi robes, stormtrooper and clone trooper armor, and X-wing and TIE fighter pilots. The costumes and characters were from both the movies and the 'Expanded Universe', or novels and graphic novels which supplemented the Star Wars universe.

Just as they were finishing, one guy burst into the room out of breath. "Oh good," he panted. "It's not too late."

Emily and Sean looked over the newcomer, then Sean gestured to Kent. "Who's he? I don't recognize him," Emily whispered.

Kent looked over the young man. "Mark Westin. I think he's from Orlando. I bumped into him last night. He just joined the Legion last month."

Sean looked over the man carefully as he operated the controls. Around twenty-eight, trim to the point of looking athletic, he seemed - somehow - to be out of place. But anxious to get to dinner with their friends, Emily and Sean merely shrugged and let the guy finish his changes. When everyone had left, Emily collapsed the box, hid it behind the curtains, and followed Sean.

**********

As the elevator doors closed, Emily couldn't hold her snickering any longer. She still appeared as Corran Horn, and her chuckles turned to outright laughter. "That was so fun!" she exclaimed as tears of mirth ran down her cheeks. She glanced at Darth Maul. "You scared the pants off that poor waiter!"

The girl who'd become Darth Maul for the evening grinned wickedly. "Serves him right! Serving me lukewarm soup, and then serving a burned steak! Poor bastard probably had to change his shorts!" The steak really wasn't burned, but well done.

Len laughed. "And all the people who thought you guys were really the major stars!" He laughed. "As if real stars would eat at a place like that!"

Sean, feeling the effects of two glasses of wine, leaned against Emily. "Just as long as no one tries to pretend that they really _are_ a star," he said slowly. It was an easy statement for him to make. His character, Mara Jade, had never been portrayed by an actress. She existed only in novels and in some drawings. All of the drawings featured her as a curvy attractive redhead, a description that now fit Sean.

Dave frowned. "I'm not thrilled with all the guys trying to hit on me," he complained. He saw Chuck's glare. "At least everyone recognizes Natalie Portman, and since they think you're her, they leave you alone." He laughed. "You're out of their league!" He put his arm around Sean's shoulder. "Not so for us less _well-known_ women!"

Chuck took a deep breath, puffing out his chest in a manly display of defiance. Unfortunately for him, in the tight white jumpsuit, it just accentuated his bust line and made him look like he was jealous of the other female bodies. "Well, that's just _one_ of the benefits of being famous," he said with mock condescension.

Sean slapped him. "You're so bad!"

"Indeed," the man who appeared as Count Dooku said simply. "Bad enough to turn to the Dark Side, perhaps?"

Anne turned to face Dooku. "You already _have_ an apprentice, my master!" she hissed with feigned menace. "Or have you forgotten?"

By the time the elevator stopped, everyone was holding his or her sides from laughing too hard and the seemingly unending stream of Star Wars-related inside jokes. "Which party first?" the girl costumed as Isard asked.

Emily put her arm around Sean to steady him, since he was a bit tipsy. "Follow the noise. We'll go to the loudest one first." She glanced around. "Where's Jenny?"

Sean shrugged. "She went back - to change again."

Emily frowned. "We were going to stay in costume all evening."

Dave laughed. "Become Yoda, she wished to. Change her mind, we could not," he said in his best imitation of Yoda's voice and strange grammar.

Sean's eyes widened as his jaw dropped. "Yoda?"

"Yup. Yoda," he snickered.

"With the Force?" Emily asked with certainty.

Dave nodded again. "Strong in the Force, Yoda is. Join us, Yoda will. To the party we must go," he added in the strange grammar of the green Jedi master. Dave set off down the hall, following the noise as Emily had suggested.

The noise took them to a WorldCon bid party. At the door, a surprised hostess looked over the group. "Uh, you want stickers?" she asked hesitantly.

Emily started to answer, but Darth Vader stepped forward, pointing his finger menacingly at the girl. "Your stickers are insignificant compared to the power of the Force!" he said in a deep, James Earl Jones voice.

The girl stared, wide-eyed, as the Dark Lords stormed past her into the party suite. Dooku, Asajj Ventress, Isard and Thrawn followed closely, making a meaningful and imposing entrance.

Emily shook her head sadly. "You'll have to forgive our friends," she said evenly. "They're a little grouchy today. Seems they got up on the wrong side of the Force this morning."

Sean, Dave, and Chuck all flinched at her joke. "That's so bad!" Dave hissed. They waited patiently for the girl to apply stickers to their convention badges.

Inside, the Imperials were already causing quite a stir. When the other Star Wars characters joined them, the effect on the party was almost electric. People were pressing around them for a variety of reasons, including to see the well-done costumes and to see if the people who appeared to be the stars really _were_ the stars. And the few who dared to inquire about autographs were very quickly discouraged.

Emily quickly sensed that the other party guests were segregating her group. The 'Imperials' were surrounded and fawned over by fans that were either dressed in Imperial costumes, or who Emily knew were 'Imperial-sympathizers' in their Star Wars fandom. Likewise, those fans whose thoughts, admiration, and sympathies were oriented toward the Jedi and the New Republic tended to gravitate toward the 'good guys' of her group.

Emily sighed as she again glanced at the 'Imperial' group - the more notable characters were also dealing with a few overzealous fans. It _shouldn't_ have happened - this was a bid party, and only true fans attended - fans who should know better than to think that real celebs would attend.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Emily spun at the deep booming voice which carried easily through the crowd. She saw Darth Vader pointing angrily at a fan, fingers held out in the 'force choke' pose. The fan being addressed seemed both awed and frightened by the convincing impression of Vader. She shook her head again. This was turning out to be a bad idea after all. Everyone was getting a little _too_ much into their roles. Perhaps they should change back.

Aayla Secura, in reality Dave, slid between the fan and Vader in a defensive pose, and before Emily could say anything, Aayla drew her lightsaber. Fans drew back, gasping in surprise and awe as the bright blade hissed to life. "This time, Sith, you've met your match," she said bravely.

The crowd drew back quickly as Vader drew his lightsaber. "You do not understand the power of the Dark Side," he intoned as his own red blade extended.

In a flash, his blade swung toward Aayla. She sensed it coming and with minimal motion, blocked the blow. The blades collided in a bright flash, and Aayla twirled quickly, swinging her own blade toward the unguarded hip of the Dark Lord.

Vader was as quick as Aayla. Their blades hummed and clashed as they battled on, all the while the crowd stood in rapt attention, watching the fantastic duel in awe. The time crawled by, and after what seemed an hour to the observers, Vader slipped his blade past Aayla's guard. She dropped her own saber as her scream mixed with the nasty hissing of Vader's blade biting into her thigh.

The crowd flinched visibly. Aayla's reaction was so genuine that the observers were unsure if the battle and injury were real or fake. Emily rushed to Aayla's side even as Vader stepped back uncertainly, letting his saber turn off.

"You okay?" Emily whispered to Aayla as they knelt beside the wounded Jedi.

Aayla gritted her teeth. "Hurts," she stammered softly. Her eyes seemed unfocused from shock.

Emily nodded, then glanced around to her group. "Len, Sean, Anne, let's get him back to the room." Her orders were crisp and firm to assert control over what she knew was a bad situation. She looked at the others from the group. "Give me your sabers."

Sean and Anne were working to lift the wounded Aayla to her feet. "Can you stand?" Anne asked.

Aayla shook her head, fighting tears. "No," she mumbled.

Emily glanced at Sean. "Cross-arm carry." They locked wrists, then eased under Aayla's seat and lifted her. Emily glanced at Jenny. "Get the sabers," she added as she and Sean started moving Aayla toward the door. "Anne, help out."

Jenny glanced at Emily. "On their way, hotel security is," she reported with grim certainty.

Emily closed her eyes for a moment, and she nodded. "I know. I can see them. Let's move it."

**********

Emily grimaced as she examined the wound on Dave's leg. Fortunately, the lightsaber had cauterized the wound even as it cut, which prevented bleeding. And as deep as the wound went, Dave would have lost a lot of blood.

"How bad is it?" Dave asked cautiously.

Emily frowned. "It's not too bad," she lied.

Dave shook his head feebly, causing the blue lekku to quiver, and sighed. "You can't lie to me," he observed. "I can see it. With my Force senses. It's pretty bad, isn't it?"

Sean glanced at Emily and bit his lip.

"Bad, the wound is," Jenny answered somberly.

Dave forced a tiny laugh. "Too bad I wasn't thinking about healing powers. Then I could have already started healing myself." His voice, already softer because he was in Aayla's body, was even weaker and more unsteady.

Jenny bit her lip. "Going into shock she - er, he - is, " she said, her words echoing the fear she was feeling.

Emily frowned at Jenny. "Stop that, please."

Jenny looked at Emily, a bit confused, then she understood. "Stop it, I cannot. Talk like Yoda, somehow, I do. An effect of the device it may be."

Anne glared at Jenny, then she glanced at Emily. "Change him back - into Dave?"

Emily glanced at the wound. "If the box will heal the wound. Otherwise, we're going to have to get him to a hospital." She turned to Dave. "If we hold you, do you think you can operate the box?"

Dave nodded. His blue skin was paling, and he was sweating and trembling. "I think so."

Sean looked behind the curtain, then behind the chairs. He turned, his face ashen. "It's gone!"

"What?" Emily felt her world spin. "What do you mean, gone?"

"It isn't where Jenny said she left it," he answered unsteadily. "It's not where we left it before we went to dinner!"

Anne looked at Jenny, her features starting to show panic. In silent answer, Jenny shook her head. "Not here is the box." She looked positively grim. "Large is its disturbance in the Force. Easy to find it should be. Not in the room is it."

Anne sank onto the bed, her face pale. "What ... what do we do?" she asked, her voice weak.

In silent answer, Jenny - Yoda - squatted beside Dave. Her eyes closed, and her brow furrowed in concentration. Her hand stretched out over Dave's wound. For a long time, she was immobile. Then she sat back. She looked at Emily and shook her head. "I don't know."

Anne looked at Dave. "He seems ... calmer." Indeed, his breathing was a little less ragged, and he wasn't sweating as much.

Emily shook her head again. "We're going to have to take him to a hospital," she said softly. "

"No." Dave's voice was weak, but firm. "No hospital."

"But ..." Emily started to protest, surprised though she was from his words. Like Anne and Sean, she thought that Dave was unconscious.

"No hospital." He raised his head slightly. "Look at me. If you take me to a hospital, I'll be ... a freak. I'll end up in some lab or something. There's no way you can explain this."

"Impeccable logic."

The voice from the doorway startled Emily, Sean, and Anne. Jenny merely turned her head slowly, her green Yoda ears curling at the tips. "Knock you should have. Polite it would be."

The trio framed in the doorway were a contrast in style. Seven of Nine, with her silky brown hair and silver cat suit, stood in stark contrast to male. His white skin, mottled with dark splotches, was pierced in many locations by mechanical devices, tubes, and hoses. Machinery engulfed his left arm, and indeed seemed to form a major component of his body. He seemed as eerie and unworldly as the woman was attractive. He was Borg. The third person, the speaker, stood in dignified calm, her long black hair falling loosely about her shoulders, and her body mostly concealed by a simple robe. Though her hair concealed her ears, from the upsweep of her eyebrows, everyone knew that the ears were pointed. She was Vulcan.

Emily's eyes narrowly focused and her voice became harsh. "What do you mean intruding in our room?"

Seven ignored her tone of voice. "You ignored my earlier warnings. Your use of the device is becoming dangerous. You _must_ cease using it."

Sean frowned as he stepped in front of the Seven. "What's it to you?"

Seven shook her head softly. "The device is very dangerous - far more dangerous than you realize." She frowned. "You should realize that after your stunt at the bid party. I'm only trying to help you avoid more trouble."

Sean glanced at the Borg. "Sure. You only want to help," he said sarcastically.

His feet clumping heavily on the floor, the Borg advanced toward Sean, and behind them, Anne crouched beside Dave. As Sean stepped forward to block the drone, the drone pushed Sean aside easily, knocking him halfway across the room.

The flash of light was as unexpected as it was bright. In a motion almost too fast for the human eye, Asajj Ventress stepped between the Borg drone and Dave, her lightsabers flashing to life. She slashed with one of her pair of red lightsabers as the Borg extended his prosthetic multi-tooled arm toward Sean. With a thud, the still-clacking mechanical arm fell to the floor.

The drone stood for a moment, as if confused by the loss of his arm. Then the drone started moving toward the Sean again.

Anne slashed a second time, this time aiming to wound a leg. But just before the lightsaber blade impacted the drone, it stopped, blocked by a nearly transparent shield which had somehow appeared. Anne drew back and repeated her attack, and again the shield appeared and blocked the glowing blade. Now the drone was advancing toward Anne, and his assimilation tubes were extended.

Without warning, the Borg drone was hurled backward against a wall as if struck by a giant hand. Slowly, the drone stood again, his head tilting to one side and then the other, while his eye scanned the room in search of some mysterious attacker.

Beside Anne, the diminutive Yoda stood, one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber, and the other extended to do a Force push. She had a determined look on her face.

"Stop!"

The strong commanding voice caused everyone to halt, including the drone. Anne and Jenny, like the others, turned toward the source of the command.

Seven stood near the door, her face marred by a frown. "Stop." She glanced around the room, then her gaze settled on Emily. "Are you in charge?" she demanded.

Emily glanced around, then hesitantly stepped forward. "Yeah, I guess so," she answered.

Seven frowned at Emily. "I _told_ you that the box was dangerous. I tried to warn you."

Emily grimaced. "We ... we weren't sure if you ... well, what your motives were."

The Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow. "Your caution is understandable," she said evenly, "give the powers that you have discovered from the alien device."

Seven nodded her agreement. "I understand," she said simply. "First off, I'm not a competitor. My name is Danni. I ... am familiar with those devices, and I want to help you."

Sean's eyes narrowed. "Help us? How? And why should we trust you?"

Danni turned slightly, then she glanced at Emily and Sean. "Can we talk - in private?" she asked.

Sean was taken aback. Far from her earlier commanding presence, this request was very meek, even humble. He glanced at Emily, then he nodded. "Yeah," he answered.

Emily glanced around the room, settling her gaze on Jenny. "You guys go wait in your room." She waited until everyone from her group had left, then she gestured to the chairs. "Can I get you anything?" she offered to Danni and the Vulcan woman.

The Vulcan woman lowered herself to the floor, cross-legged, as if she was going to meditate. Rather than relax, however, her eyes seemed intent and alert, as radars scanning and recording every detail.

Danni sat down in a motion that was fluid grace. "No thanks," she started, then she tilted her head slightly. "On second thought, if you have a Diet Seven-Up, I wouldn't turn it down." The Vulcan woman shook her head. "Darla, why don't you wait outside?" Danni asked.

The Vulcan woman, Darla, narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain?"

Danni nodded. "Yes. It'll be okay."

Without another word, the Vulcan woman rose and glided silently from the room.

Sean sat on the edge of the bed and flipped open a large chest cooler. "No 7-up, but we've got Sprite," he offered.

Danni nodded and reached out to accept the can from Sean.

Emily sat down in the other chair and sprawled back, her relaxed posture belying her inner feelings. She glanced at the Borg drone standing like a statue in the room. Her eyes widened as she saw the mechanical arm slowly and visibly rebuilding itself. "He really is Borg?" she asked.

Danni glanced at the drone. "Oh, yes," she answered with a nervous laugh. With a suddenness that startled Sean and Emily, the Drone unfroze and turned, clomping toward the door. Seven watched Emily and Sean. "I just asked him to leave," she said lightly. "I thought his presence might make you a bit nervous."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, he was." His features clouded. "You - asked him?"

"They usually intimidate people," she said with a smile. Her expression darkened slightly. "Okay, Sean," she said, addressing Emily.

Emily laughed. "Actually, I'm Emily."

Danni frowned, then she glanced questioningly at Sean. "And you're ... Sean?" She observed Sean's nervous nod. "Hmm, maybe this won't sound so strange after all."

Sean frowned. "It's not ... well, I know it sounds weird. But ...." He was looking down at the carpet, too embarrassed to look directly at Danni. "We randomly drew characters for our changes tonight," he tried to explain.

Danni laughed. "Don't worry. I run into this all the time," she said. "I'm even ... well, experienced in that type of change." She took a long sip of her drink. "A couple of years ago, my roommate and I went to a convention. There, I found an alien box - just like the one you've been observed with."

Emily's eyes widened. "So _that's_ how you know ..."

Danni nodded. "I ... changed into Seven ... to put in an appearance. Apparently, I did too good a job of designing the changes." She saw Sean and Emily's looks of disbelief. "I ... am partly Borg. My implants are fully functional - even to the point of making it impossible for me to change back."

Emily's eyes widened. "So ... you used a Borg implant to communicate with the drone?" Her voice sounded a little unsteady, even nervous.

Danni nodded, still smiling. "And no, we're not going to take over the world or anything like that. The drone's name is Matt. He's still an individual - whenever he wants to be. They only link up when they want to or need to." She frowned. "But I didn't come here to talk about the hive. I came to talk about the alien device you're using."

"You said one of them changed you, and it won't change you back?" Sean returned to Danni's original subject.

Danni nodded, her expression a bit sad. "That's right. When I designed the Borg changes, I included all my knowledge and speculation of nanotechnology." She smiled a tiny bit. "I _used_ to be studying for my PhD in nanotechnology. So everything I knew about nanotechnology and about Seven went into the changes." Danni took a sip of her soda. "You know how the box works. It scans your mental images. Whatever you're thinking about, it creates - if its technology can handle it." She smiled. "As I know too well from my Borg implants, it's a pretty sophisticated technology, so there isn't a lot it can't do." She laughed softly. "And as you're learning from the lightsabers."

Emily looked warily at Danni. "You said ... you've experienced some other changes."

Danni winced as she slowly, deliberately set her soda can on the table. "I was afraid you'd bring that up." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The reason I'm not surprised by your gender swapping is that I used to be male. Before I got stuck, that is."

Sean's eyes widened. "You ... were a _guy_?" he asked incredulously. In fact, his words would have sounded a bit more convincing if he himself hadn't been Mara Jade.

Danni noted that fact. "And your point is...?" she asked, staring directly at the breasts on Sean's chest.

Sean followed her gaze, then he felt his cheeks warm as he blushed.

"I didn't intend to be stuck as Seven. I didn't want to be a woman. It just ... happened." Danni sounded more than a bit unhappy.

"Sorry," Sean apologized as he recognized the pain in Danni's voice.

"How long?" Emily asked simply.

Danni sighed. "Almost two years," she answered. Then she abruptly changed the subject. "I didn't come here to talk about me. I came about the device you've been using. The F'wirthian Morphic Adaptation Unit, Mark 4, to be precise."

Emily frowned. "You seem to know a hell of a lot about it."

In answer, Danni extended her arm, and her twin assimilation tubes shot out. "Let's just say I have a very ... intimate ... relationship with _my_ unit."

Sean opened his mouth to say something, but he decided better. He'd seen the assimilation tubes on the Borg drone, and he'd seen some incredible creations by the device. It just _might_ be possible that the Borg assimilation capabilities were real. He gulped out of nervousness.

Danni frowned. "I'd like to understand how the box is creating these 'Force' powers. And the lightsabers."

"I thought the thing read minds. That's how it made the lightsabers and Force powers," Sean speculated.

Danni shook her head. "It does have a mechanism to scan your brain waves, so that's the 'mind reading' part. And the changes are complete - down to the genetic level. But it's based on technology, not fantasy and wishes. It couldn't make a person into a Genie or give them magical powers." She shrugged. "It has to be technologically feasible."

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," Emily quoted.

Danni laughed softly. "I guess Clarke was right on that count. In fact, if one of these devices were to appear in less modern times, it would be considered magic." She glanced around the room. "Could I interface with your MAU device to see how it's making these things?" she asked hesitantly.

Emily glanced nervously at Sean. "We ... we can't find it."

Danni's eyes widened, and she paled visibly. "What?"

Sean gulped again. "When we got back from the bid party, we couldn't find it."

Danni closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, then the door opened. Both Darla and the Borg Drone entered, Darla, of course, moving much more rapidly.

"Is it as you feared?" Darla asked simply.

Danni nodded. "Worse. Their device is missing. And it was functional."

Darla's eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips tightly together. "We must alert the others. We must find the device."

Sean shook his head. "Why? You act like it's a major conspiracy or something."

Danni stared grimly at Sean. "Or something. The device is extraordinarily powerful. Imagine what could happen one were to fall into the wrong hands. A device that could make any person look like anyone else. The ultimate spy. Or give an agent superior technological ... skills."

Emily suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. "I ... we ... hadn't thought of that," she admitted softly. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Danni's expression. "You've ... you've encountered someone who wants this technology?" she asked with more conviction than question.

Danni nodded. "Yes. There is at least one agency in _our_ government who is highly interested in the devices." She grimaced. "And we know of two foreign agencies that are actively pursuing the secrets of the device. To date - fortunately - all their activities are investigating the ... effects ... of the devices."

"Effects?" Dave asked with a gulp of nervousness.

Danni nodded, even blushing a little. "You've seen the Klingons and Vulcans and the Borg?" she asked. When the trio nodded, she continued. "Those are mild. Very mild."

"Mild?" Both Sean and Emily were suddenly very alert.

Danni nodded somberly. "That's why we have to find the device."

Darla's eyebrow raised. "The so-called Force senses you have - if real - could perhaps be useful."

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped. "I'll get the other Jedi."

**********

The man glanced around the darkened utility room nervously, his cell phone held to one ear. "That's right," he snapped. "It's a functional device. Get to the rendezvous point in half an hour." He shook his head. "No, I don't know how much time is left." He stopped and cocked his head to one side. "Someone's coming. Half an hour." He hung up the phone, then he backed away from the door. Carefully, he opened the back door, the one that led into the service corridors and elevators. As quietly as possible, he closed the door and began to pad down the stairs.

A strange duo cautiously entered the utility room. One was short, with very long pointed ears, while the other had horns atop her head. The short one looked around the room carefully. "Gone he is."

"I feel it, too," the other said. Moving slowly, Yoda and Shaak Ti crossed through the utility room to the service door.

Shaak Ti grasped the handle and attempted to turn it. "Damn," she cursed. "It looks like he wedged it shut or something."

In response, Yoda drew his lightsaber. In one deft stroke, he cut through the locking mechanism and the door burst open. As Shaak Ti leaped through the now-open door, an energy bolt came from the landing below. With superhuman reflexes, Yoda and his blade vaulted in front of Shaak Ti and deflected the shot with a burst of bright energy from where the lightsaber hit the blaster bolt. Shaak Ti's blade was drawn a fraction of a second later - just in case, even as they heard the clatter of the armored feet running down the stairs.

"Careless this one is," Yoda said unexcitedly. "Gave away his position, he did."

Shaak Ti nodded. "Careless, but also dangerous. He intends to keep the device at all costs."

Yoda shook his head. "Set for stun, the blaster was." He eased himself into the stairwell, a glowing green blade held at the ready. "Proceed with caution we must."

**********

Down the stairwell the man ran, his costume of stormtrooper armor clattering with every step, his blaster unholstered in one hand and the box under the other arm. It was clumsy, running this way without the handrails, but he felt the adrenaline surge of danger. As he rounded a corner at a landing, he heard a noise at the bottom of the stairwell, a strange, almost unearthly noise as if something alien was dragging itself up the stairwell. He stopped, peered over the railing, then sprinted back up one flight to a doorway. With the Jedi above and something unknown below, he opened the door, closing it quickly, and, he hoped, quietly, behind him.

He was in another utility closet, and he opened the outer door into the hotel corridors. As he raced down the hall, he turned a corner - and nearly ran into a man dressed in long robes.

"It could be hazardous to run here," the man started to say, then his strangely upswept eyebrows raised. "You ... are the one who took the device?" he questioned sharply. As the Vulcan man turned to grasp the stormtrooper, the stormtrooper leveled his gun An energy bolt erupted and enveloped the Vulcan. The Vulcan collapsed in a heap.

The man, still in armor, turned around the corner, ignoring the stunned Vulcan behind him. From his belt he took a key card, and without pausing, he opened the first door he saw. He glanced around quickly to be sure he was alone, then he darted across the room. He parted the thick drapes, then he smiled to himself when he saw the balcony. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself as he stepped out onto the balcony. Five stories below, the streetlights cast their circles of light on the busy streets, and the occasional spotlight shone up to highlight the hotel building itself. This balcony, however, was not in a highlight, so he was nearly invisible.

The man glanced down. There were other balconies below, and a roof nearby. He pulled a line from the stormtrooper utility belt, just as Luke had in 'A New Hope', hooked it on the balcony, and began to climb over the rail. As he started to descend, he heard a noise at the door, and he saw the two Jedi - Yoda and Shaak Ti - burst through the door. He hastened his descent.

**********

"He's getting away!" Shaak Ti called as she saw the man descend from the balcony. She drew her lightsaber, but Yoda stilled her hand.

"Harm him, we must not. Cut the line, you must not," the old Jedi Master rasped.

"But he'll get away," Shaak Ti protested.

"So sure, are you?" He chuckled. "Observe."

As the man climbed onto a balcony below, there was a flare from the street. Slowly at first, and then more quickly, a figure rose at the head of the flare. Now, it was twin flares, flames from nozzles astride a jetpack which was strapped to the back of a helmeted, armored figure. The man heard the roar of the rockets, and he turned, his face suddenly ashen, as he saw the familiar green and gray of Boba Fett ascending quickly to the balcony beside him.

Boba landed, a little off balance, and straightened himself, turning to face the armor-clad figure. The man turned, again with his blaster, and shot at Boba Fett.

The Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett absorbed the blast with no effect. As the man looked, angered at the intrusion and horror-stricken that nothing had happened, he saw Boba Fett raise his arm, extended toward the man. The man turned to run just as a dart thudded harmlessly against his armor. He bolted out of the room, crashing over a room service cart laden with food, then shoved the cart back against the door just as Boba Fett came through. Boba went down in a tangle of cart, dishes, and food.

The man ran down the hall, around a corner, and ducked into another stairwell.

As he turned to descend, the man saw an unearthly half-human, half-machine turning up onto the landing below, and then look up. The being's face was half hidden by mechanical devices of strange forms, and a red laser seemed to sweep up and down him. The Borg continued to relentlessly climb up the stairs, his eye scanning the man as he moved with emotionless determination.

The man shot, and the Borg halted. Slowly, it collapsed. But there was another behind it, and it came up the stairs as if nothing had happened. The man shot again, but this time, it was as if a prismatic shield had appeared in front of the Borg. The shot didn't even reach the being. The man turned and ran back up the stairs.

As he exited the stairwell one floor up, the man paused momentarily. He glanced around, and then he saw the landing which overlooked the mezzanine. He ran to the railing and looked down.

The mezzanine was only one floor below. He looked again - it was a long way down, but then he heard a sound in the corridors. He looked up and saw a gorgeous red-head with extended lightsaber racing toward him. He loosed a shot - which was easily deflected by the lightsaber. He turned and jumped over the railing.

Sean - Mara Jade - ran to the balcony and looked down. He'd half expected to see the man lying crumpled on the floor. Instead, the man was getting up, slowly, and he started limping across the mezzanine toward the escalator.

Without thinking twice, Sean vaulted over the railing. As he fell, he concentrated on landing upright and softly, and surprisingly, when he hit, it seemed as though he'd only fallen a few inches instead of over twelve feet. He darted after the fleeing man in the stormtrooper armor.

**********

The man dodged and wove his way through the dealers' room. There were many fans in costume, and he seemed to blend in with the crowd. For the first time in what had seemed an hour, he permitted himself a faint smile. They couldn't track him in here.

He heard a roar, and turned with the rest of the crowd. Overhead, a man in silver and blue armor, with a jetpack and helmet, was hovering, scanning the crowd. The man frowned to himself - he'd already dealt with one man in armor. This was getting very old. He turned and walked, slowly and deliberately, toward an exit. He knew he looked out of place, since every face in the crowd was looking up at the hovering Jango Fett. But he had to get away.

As he stepped more quickly toward the door, he heard someone cry out, "There he is!" He glanced over his shoulder and saw four large men, with knobbed ridged foreheads, long unkempt hair, and covered in scaled armor, trotting toward him. The man ducked around the corner and began to run as fast as his twisted ankle would carry him.

He glanced over his shoulders again, and he saw the Klingons giving chase. He paused, and loosed a blast toward the running aliens. The blast hit one, and it halted him mid-stride. But as the man watched over his shoulder, he saw the Klingon stagger, steady himself slowly, shake his head to clear it, and then resume running.

As he hobbled along, the man glanced down at his blaster rifle, and awkwardly because of the gray case under his other arm, twisted a knob. He paused and loosed another shot at the Klingons. This time, the Klingon collapsed and hit the floor.

The man ran some more. The sound of the shots was attracting attention, and as people peeked out into the hallway from the various meeting rooms, he ducked and wove through them, using the curious fans as a newfound shield to interfere with the pursuing Klingons.

The man saw his opening, and he took it. He ducked into the main exit stairway - down to the parking garage. He was close to his escape, and he redoubled his determination to successfully complete his mission.

**********

The man, still in stormtrooper armor, burst through the door into the dimly-lit parking garage. He glanced around to orient himself, then he set out at his best pace toward a row of cars.

From behind a pole, a woman stepped. She had flaming red hair atop her curvy body, and was clad in a dark skin-tight jumpsuit. The man paused, then he halted as the woman drew a lightsaber. It hissed to life as she held it up.

The man shot, forgetting that he'd increased power to his blaster to fight the Klingons. As he squeezed the trigger, too late, he remembered. A look of horror spread across his face at the thought that he might actually harm this woman.

The woman's arm moved faster than his eye could follow, the blade moving with it. It intercepted the bolt, deflecting it harmlessly into the floor. The man saw that she was between him and his car, and as he heard the clomping in the stairwell, he panicked. He shot, again and again and again, but each time the woman easily deflected the shots. And with each shot, she advanced a step toward him. He raised the blaster one more time, but even before he could pull the trigger, her lightsaber moved with impossible speed, and the tip of his blaster clattered to the ground.

The man threw the useless remains of his blaster at the woman, and the need to dodge the weapon distracted her enough for the man to flee. Even as he turned, he heard the door open. Three of the half-human machines clomped through the door, and immediately they began a slow advance toward him. He turned again, to run between the cars. He stopped short - between each car was a Klingon - each wearing a wicked grin and bearing a viciously curved sword, the Klingon Bat'leth.

He turned again, fleeing in the only direction possible - down the other drive. Even as he turned, he heard it. That familiar, impossible roaring whooshing sound. The helmeted figure, clad in a blue jumpsuit and silver armor pieces, landed. He turned again, but before he could take another step, he felt his arms encircled by a wire cable that wrapped around him again and again. He looked up, frustrated, as the metal case fell from beneath his arm. The last thing he saw was a woman with long, straight, black hair, upswept eyebrows, and pointed ears, as she touched his shoulder.

**********

Danni shook her head as she glanced around the room. Mike, her gruff Klingon friend, was their, as was Darla, the Vulcan. Also present were Sean, still changed into Mara Jade, Emily, still in the form of Corran Horn, Anne as Asajj Ventress, Jenny as the diminutive green Jedi master Yoda, and the unconscious stormtrooper agent sprawled on the couch. Danni shook her head. "This is one hell of a mess now." Mike and Darla mutely nodded his agreement.

"Is he ... one of the agents you were talking about?" Sean asked softly.

"Yup," Mike snarled as he nodded.

Danni sighed. "According to the Collective, he's already reported to his superiors. He's late for a rendezvous, so they're probably on their way here."

"Damn," Mike cursed. He spun to glare at Emily and Sean. "See what you've started?"

"Mike," Danni said sternly, "give it a rest." She shook her head. "They didn't know."

"But now the agency knows more about us," Mike protested angrily.

"So now what?" Emily asked softly. "Do you eliminate him or something?"

Darla stared unbelievingly at Emily. "That would be both illogical and highly unethical."

"Replace him?" Mike suggested.

Darla shook her head. "Not again. I will not be party to another identity murder." Though her voice was emotionless, it was nonetheless firm with resolve.

Mike's jaw set with determination. "Agent Q's ... change ... was not an identity death."

Emily's mouth dropped open at Darla and Mike's exchange. She decided she'd have to ask Danni more about it - if Danni would talk.

"But can't you have someone ... impersonate him?" Sean asked as he glanced around the room.

Darla started to speak, but Danni touched her arm to still her. "We had to do that once before. It was not altogether successful. Nor was it ... pleasant."

"So why not just let him go with a box, then?" Emily asked suddenly.

Darla raised her eyebrows, and Mike frowned. "Explain," Danni commanded.

Emily glanced around her group. "Surely this agency already knows a lot about you. And from what you've said, they've encountered these devices before, so they already know something about them. And you said that the boxes stop working after a while."

Danni's eyes lit up as she grasped what Emily was getting at. "So if we give him something that looks exactly like a non-functional box, then the agency will think they won one..." She glanced at Mike. "What do you think?"

Mike shook his head. "I dunno. But it sounds better than anything I could think of."

Darla's eyebrow raised even higher. "Perhaps we could implant a Borg transceiver into the replica box, and then _we_ could learn more about the agency instead of having it work the other way."

Danni smiled. "That's it! I'm going to use the MAU to make a replica box. Darla, can you change his memories so that they're more of a dream? Give him a nice, normal, and uneventful walk to his car so he can make his meeting?"

Darla sighed. "It is preferable to erasing his identity." As Sean and Emily watched in awe, Darla put her fingers to the temple of the agent. In near total silence, she concentrated, her own eyes closing as she focused on the task at hand. Finally, after a few long minutes, she broke the contact and lifted her head. She glanced at Danni. "He will believe that he had a nightmare about being chased by science fiction characters. He will also believe that after he purloined the device, he simply walked out of the hotel to his car, which would not start, thus making him late for his rendezvous."

Mike grinned. "Good." Then his eyes widened. "His ankle! How ...?"

Darla had a smug look on her face - if, that is, Vulcans could be smug. "He will remember twisting his ankle doing down the service stairway, in which he ran to avoid bumping into fans who were also using the stairway."

Danni smiled as she retrieved a case from inside her device. She'd managed to have her device activate, make a clone copy, and stow again, while the others watched Darla and her mind meld. "You think of everything, don't you?" Then she looked at Mike. "Get him to his car, and set him in it. He'll be coming to in a couple of minutes, and his fellow agents will be here very soon.

Mike started picking up the agent, but in his stormtrooper armor, he was not easily held. "Let me help," Emily suggested as she grasped the agent's other arm. Together, they got the agent's arms on their shoulders, and with Mike holding the fake case, they dragged him out the door.

**********

"Qapla!" Mike's voice boomed from the doorway as soon as he spied Danni in the crowded party suite. As he moved toward Danni, he snagged a metal goblet of drink from a tray. "Success!" he cried again.

Beside him, Emily seemed small, even insignificant. Even as Corran Horn, she was shorter and far less physically imposing than the large Klingon. She glanced around the room nervously, looking for Sean and some of his friends. From the assortment of Klingons, Vulcans, and other Star Trek characters, Emily felt even more out of place.

She felt the presence of Sean before she actually saw him. She permitted herself a thin smile; the extra senses of the Force were rather useful at times. Emily gently - she hoped - pushed away the goblet sloshing over with _some_ red liquid that was proffered to her. Judging from the effects that it was having on the Klingons, it was clearly some rather potent drink, and she didn't think getting drunk, or even tipsy, would be a good idea.

"I take it things went well?" Danni asked as Mike and Emily got within earshot.

Mike grinned. "It was close, but I think we pulled it off."

"Explain," Darla's request for clarification was obvious.

Emily smiled. "It looks like they bought it."

Mike tilted back his head and roared as he clapped Emily's shoulder - with sufficient strength to nearly knock Emily from her feet. "Boast of your victories!" He grinned at Danni. "It was a great victory! She helped him 'recover' from his spill on the stairway, and even helped him limp to his car!" He took a great swig of his drink, leaving red liquid pouring down his chin. "She even offered to call for help if he required!"

Danni's eyebrows raised. "Really? What was his reaction?"

Emily tried to shrug modestly. "He seemed quite grateful for the help, and he kept looking at the box. It was like ... I don't know ... he was expecting me to try to take it? Anyway, he got in his car and then his 'friends' showed up."

Darla raised her eyebrow. "Did you observe the reactions of his compatriots?"

Emily nodded. "I saw a bit as I left. I didn't want to hang around and make it seem obvious," she added. "Anyway, they didn't seem to be in any panic or anything."

Sean glanced around the room nervously. "Maybe we should go to our parties," he suggested.

Darla raised her eyebrow. "Why?"

Sean frowned. "Look at them."

Darla glanced around the room, then her eyebrow raised higher. "To what do you refer?"

Sean sighed, and he Danni mutter what sounded like 'Vulcans'. "Look. Your group isn't mingling with our group. It's like ... a standoff or something!" He winced. "You can almost feel an unspoken tension."

Danni nodded a bit. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen. After all, you guys are like us in that you've changed." She shook her head sadly. "I guess ..."

"I said, you have warped taste in science fiction!" a Klingon roared, his words a touch slurred by too much drink. He glared at a shorter, but equally ferocious-looking Darth Maul.

Maul sneered. "It is not wise to insult a Sith!" His hand was ready to reach for his lightsaber.

Danni glanced at Mike, who charged across the room and intercepted the fist coiling to strike at Maul. At the same time, Sean reached his outstretched hand toward Maul, with the result that Maul's lightsaber flew across the room into Sean's outstretched hand.

"Enough!" Danni roared over the growing noise. The effect was electric. If there was any single person who had authority over all the Trek fans, it was clearly Danni. She turned to Emily. "I'm afraid you're right. There's just too much ..." She stopped when she saw Emily's open-mouthed stare across the room, and she followed the gaze.

A green-skinned Orion slave girl was wrapping herself around one of the Jedi, dancing seductively and sensuously. Around him, the Klingons were hooting appreciatively at her dance, although a bit of jealousy seemed to be present that _they_ weren't the focus of the dancer's attention. And not too far away, Oola, the green-skinned Twilek dancing girl was sitting on the lap of a Klingon warrior, laughing and giggling as she shared a sip of his wine.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Sean muttered softly. "Maybe our groups aren't so different!"

"Yeah," Danni said with a soft laugh, "maybe we've discovered a new universal rule of sci-fi. Green skin goes with an overactive libido!"

Darth Maul approached Sean and held out his hand toward the lightsaber handle. Sean glanced at Emily, who shrugged, then he handed it back. "No more fights, got it?"

Maul frowned, but nodded. "Okay." He saw Sean and Emily's eyes widen, and he turned to follow their gaze. His eyes settled on an armor-clad busty Klingon woman looking him over and licking her lips.

"You have a warrior's spirit," she said appreciatively, undisguised lust in her voice. "I may try you." She grasped his arm tightly and pulled him to her side.

Maul's eyes widened, then he glanced at Emily. His face had a frightened, almost fearful look. Emily grinned. "What's the word?" she asked aloud. "Qapla?" She smiled at Maul. "Qapla!" she roared.

Sean watched the exchange, then his mouth opened. "But ... wasn't Denise the one that changed into Maul?"

Emily grinned. "Yup. She always was a blowhard! I'd like to see how she gets out of this one."

Danni's own mouth dropped at the exchange, and then she started laughing. With Mike and Danni wiping tears of mirth from their eyes, they watched as the suddenly helpless Maul was led away by a strong, curvy, and overly-lustful Klingon woman.

"Looks like that Sith Lord has met his match!" Sean noted dryly. He smiled at Danni. "Maybe we aren't so different after all."

**********

Danni shook her head sadly as she looked around the room. All the Star Wars characters were still 'in costume'. "I told you the box would quit working after a short time." She glanced at Sean and Emily. "Are you sure this is the right one? You didn't accidentally give the agent the real one, did you?"

Sean scowled. "Of course not! I double-checked by making sure it worked!"

Danni sighed. "When the device quits working, it quits. Period and stop." She saw a few jaws drop. "Most of the time, someone who is playing with the device gets stuck in one odd form or another."

Maul's mouth hung open. "You mean I'm stuck ... like this?" Maul's body had scratches and scrapes visible, obvious souvenirs from his encounter with the Klingon woman.

Others began to complain, not least of them Sean and Emily now in bodies of opposite gender.

Danni held up her hands to silence the discussions. "I said _most_ of the time." Her words brought a deafening silence to the room. She looked at the box, then she reached her arm toward it. Her assimilation tubes shot forward and merged with the alien metal. For a few seconds, Danni closed her eyes in concentration. Then she opened her eyes and the tubes retracted. She handed the box to Emily.

Emily looked warily at Danni, then at the box. She traced the alien figures on the top, and immediately, the box began to grow, until it assumed its normal phone-booth proportions. Emily glanced warily at Danni, uncertain why Danni was helping them.

Danni smiled. "You - and only you - can activate the device."

Sean frowned. "Why?" he asked simply.

Danni glanced down at the carpet, then at Mike. His questioning shrug gave her none of the reinforcement or encouragement she needed. Finally, she looked back up at Emily and Sean. "Because ... you're good people. I don't know," she added uneasily. "I ... I guess I just ... I guess it's because I like you." She looked down, embarrassed.

She looked up when she felt arms around her. It was Emily - still as Corran Horn - wrapping her in an embrace. "I can honestly say that I think you're pretty cool yourself," she said softly. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to call you friend." She saw the smile on Danni's face, and she reached out to clasp her hand. "But I have one question."

Danni frowned. "Shoot."

"How did that thing make lightsabers? And the Force powers?"

Danni bit her lip. "It involves some pretty heavy Quantum Physics. I'm not sure I can explain it, but I can always get the Collective to help. _If_ you really want to know!"

Emily cringed. "No!" she said hastily. "I wasn't looking for a technical explanation. I was just ... curious." Then she smiled. "And we promise to be careful with them - however they work!"

**********

"Well?" Sean asked Emily as the last of their group filed from the room.

"Well, what?" Emily asked in response.

"You ready to change back?" Sean answered with a question.

Emily nodded. "Yeah. This is fun, but it's time to get back to being me."

"I'm willing to bet that most kept Force powers," Sean speculated as Emily stepped to the side of the box. He shook his head. "I'm not sure I completely understood what Danni said about _how_ the Force works."

Emily frowned. "Something about sensing the electrical and magnetic and gravity fields."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, I know that part. She said they're all around us anyway, and that the Force just gives us a way to sense them." She frowned. "But the Force push? And the other manipulations?"

Emily's brow wrinkled. "Maybe we can control the fields a little bit?"

Sean shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, it's kind of cool!" He grinned. "Did you see the way everyone stared when I grabbed Denise's - Maul's - lightsaber last night?"

Emily grinned. "Yeah. I think everyone thought the Force was cool." She knew for a fact that most of the group had elected to keep the unique powers. "Funny about Jenny, though. Staying Yoda."

Sean laughed. "As Yoda, she will stay. Good business opportunities she senses. Fun she will have, hmmm?" he mocked in his best Yoda voice.

Emily laughed as well. Then she looked thoughtful. "I feel sorry for Tim. Stuck looking like Princess Leia."

Sean paled at the thought. "Yeah. Do you think he - she - is really pregnant?"

"That's what Danni said. The box won't change someone who's pregnant."

Sean shook his head in disbelief. "It was good of Tammy to stay with him. To become him so they can stay together and all."

"Yeah. Tammy'll make a good dad."

Sean frowned. "It's going to be messy, though. Some people are going to think that Tim left Tammy for a Leia look-alike."

Emily nodded slowly. "Yeah. But they'll get through it. Danni said the Collective can help if they need it." She shook her head. "Turns out they're the ones behind the new OS and business suite. The Collective has more money than they know what to do with." She stepped to the control panel. She saw the thoughtful look on Sean's face, and she paused. "What's on your mind?"

Sean glanced up, then he snickered. "Are you reading my mind?" he asked. He looked down again. "No, I was just wondering."

"What?"

"What it was like."

"What _what_ was like?" Emily started to ask. Then her mouth opened. "Oh. Ohhh!!!" She glanced warily at Sean. "You want to try something ... different?"

Sean continued to stare at the carpet. "Maybe," he said softly. He shrugged. "I guess I might be just a little bit curious." He looked up at his wife. "As long as you don't get me pregnant so I'm stuck."

Emily stared for a long moment, then she grinned. "I guess I'm a bit curious, too. But there's a couple of little problems."

"Oh?"

Emily laughed. "What would you say if I told you I was having a fantasy about a having my way with a large-breasted blue Twilek Jedi?"

Sean's eyes widened, then he started to snicker. "You always did have a way of making our _games_ interesting, my love."

***** Epilogue *****

Agent L involuntarily patted the bandage on his forehead as he waited in the office. Beneath the bandage, the contusion was healing, but he was bound to have a scar. Moments later, the 'senior' agents assigned to work with him came in. He didn't bother to rise; the agency wasn't like that.

D sat down behind his cluttered desk and turned to his keyboard. In moments, he opened a document, while his partner C sat down lazily in another chair. After scanning the document for a bit, D turned to L. "Well?" he asked simply.

L glanced at C, then looked at D. "Looks like we missed it by a few hours," he answered.

"Yeah," C said, sounding more than a bit frustrated.

L heard C's mood in his words. He looked down at his shoes. "If I hadn't tripped, or if I'd have gotten into the room a little earlier ..."

D shook his head. "No accusations," he said firmly. "Just an observation."

C nodded. "We've never been this close before. We're getting better. Eventually, we'll get one."

L shook his head. "Yeah, but _I_ was the one in the field. It's my responsibility."

D shrugged. "If you want to take the blame, go right ahead. No one else is blaming you."

"Besides, you're the first one of us who actually used one of the damn things," C added.

L glanced at the two agents, then he sighed and leaned back heavily into the chair. "Yeah. I guess there's that."

D stared at the computer screen for several long seconds. "Well, I guess we can file this one as closed. We recovered the box, but no-joy on active."

L nodded slowly. "Sounds like a wrap to me, too."

C frowned slightly; he'd noticed something in his partner's tone and choice of words. "We got a new case," he announced. "Pretty sensitive, from what the Director said in the summary." He turned and stared at L, his face impassive.

L glanced at C, and saw the look. He knew what it meant. Cases like these were _always_ compartmentalized. "I think I'll go see what the Boss has for my next case." He stood, and without a glance behind him, he strode from the office.

C reached out and shut the door after L had left. "Something isn't quite right, is it?" he asked bluntly.

D shook his head. "It's all a little _too_ convenient."

C nodded his agreement. "The 'dream' about the chase. The injury on the stairs. And the debriefs and news stories from the convention."

D sighed and sat back in his chair. "Psych gave him a very thorough check and hypnotic memory scan. Everything checked out."

"And that bothers you."

D nodded slowly. "You know the reports. Cybernetic Borg. Star Trek aliens. And now Star Wars aliens and characters. Weapons. Force fields. Blasters. Laser swords."

C interrupted. "They're called 'lightsabers'."

D frowned. "_I_ know that!" he snapped. "I'm not _that_ old!"

C started to say something, then he decided to hold his tongue. After a second, he found another direction. "You think there's too much correlation between his dream and the reports?"

D nodded. "And I bet you do, too." His eyes narrowed as he scanned the file. "You know that these people aren't just your average yokels dreaming of big-chested blondes. These guys are smart. Real smart."

"And?"

D raised one eyebrow. His partner was starting to think like he was. And that was both good and bad. "It seems that there are two groups. The Star Trek guys, and this new group of Star Wars people. And I think we better watch both these groups."

C nodded grimly. "You know," he observed quietly, "we might have better luck with the new group. They haven't had their ... toy as long."

D narrowed his eyes. "Good point. We'll have to ask the boss to assign an agent to it."

"Not L?"

D shook his head. "His cover is blown." He looked at his computer for a few seconds as if the display would help him collect his thoughts. "He's a rookie. He's making rookie mistakes. And with these groups, we can't afford that. They're too smart."

"I see your point. The boss'll probably give him something simple. Like the hunting group. Or that logging camp." C sighed.

D nodded his agreement. "He'll probably do okay on the simple ones." He glanced at the computer again. "In the meantime, we're going to have to open up some new case files," he said. "How many weird Star Wars aliens are there running around out there now? How many more after the _next_ convention?"

C laughed. "This could be one _thick_ case file." He clicked his computer and saved the files. "Let's go get a cup of coffee. I have a feeling we're going to need it."

FIN