Title: Poet and Lauren's Trip to Oz
Author: Derien Nada
Rating: PG so far (and I think it will stay that way)
Pairing: Poet and Lauren (duh)
Warnings: Some femmeslash.  Probably you're more in danger of being bored than squicked.  
Disclaimers: Poet Norse Blue and Lauren Scavenger, being real people, belong 
only to themselves, and offered to let their names and vague descriptions be 
borrowed for this story.  Oz may belong to the estate of L. Frank Baum, but I had in mind 
Gregory Maguire's "Wicked" and Robert Heinlein's "Number of the Beast."  Arnold "Ace" 
Rimmer belongs to Grant Naylor.  I'm making no money from this (or anything else for that 
matter), so suing me would be a big waste of time.
Derivation/Reason for existing: Written for the Red Dwarf Slash Society's "Slash the 
Slashers" challenge/game.  

-------------------------------------------

Part Four: Another Find
(In which a hardlight man is good to find)

As Lotta went through the front gate with a wheelbarrow to loot the shotgun shack, Poet 
turned to Lauren.  "You seriously think...?"

Lauren pulled back the bearskin rug which covered the trapdoor.  "I saw her bring up the 
cheese and soup from down there when you were washing up.  I don't know how much space 
could be under the house, but we need to check that, and I just wasn't sure it was a good 
idea to do it while she was here.  If she ::was:: a psycho, one of us goes down there, the 
other is up here looking down, whack on the head and slam the trap - it wouldn't take much.  
Hurry, I'll watch for her."  

Poet pulled up the trapdoor and looked down into the hole.  "Ick," she whispered.  But she 
fetched a candle and lit it, and went down.  "Not much to see," she called back up, 
"Shelves, cobwebs, food," her voice grew fainter as she walked further away, "roots 
sticking through the wall...  Um.  A hole back here."  Quiet.

"Yes??" Lauren called, not daring to leave her post at the window.

"Nope, nothing in it."  Poet popped back up the ladder.  She blew out the candle and they 
closed the trapdoor and pulled the bearskin back into place.  "Do you feel better?" she 
asked Lauren.

"Not entirely.  Let's pace out the sizes of the rooms and the house and make sure there's 
no space between the walls or anything."  

However this did not take long, and as there was no attic they eventually returned to the 
middle of the room, looking around.  

"We need to go back and try to talk to Wildfire again," Lauren said.  "I think she needs 
her instruments calibrated, or something, because she must be wrong."  

They opened the back door and cautiously began across the lawn.  Twenty feet from the ship 
they stopped and Lauren reached for Poet's hand.  "Erm, Miss Wildfire, Ma'am?  Not to be a 
bother, but uh...  Well, we can't find your Captain, and we're wondering if you can give us 
any more information that might help us find him?"

For a few moments the only answer was silence, then the ship's voice came from it's 
external speakers.  "He is in a small metal container.  It is a little less than ten 
centimeters by twelve centimeters, and two point five centimeters deep."

"CENTImeters??"  Poet asked.  "I'm not quite sure of exactly what centimeters looks like, 
but I know that's got to be a pretty small guy!  Are you sure you shouldn't run a self-test 
of some sort and make sure you sensors are all working properly?"

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY INSTRUMENTS!!" 

Again they flinched back.  "Okay, okay!  Centimeters, right!" said Lauren.  

They backed slowly to the house and slipped in the door, closing it.  Poet leaned against 
it.  "What the hell are we doing and why are we doing it?" she asked.  They heard the clank 
of the front gate.  "The dishes, oh hell."  Moving quickly, they had the dishes submerged 
in soap and water before Lotta had put the wheelbarrow in the shed and entered the house.  
They admitted to Lotta that they had been quite distracted by the puzzle which the ship had 
presented them, and she accepted that without comment, merely asking them if, when they 
were done, they would help her choose some things to take to the market the next day, which 
they happily agreed to.

Later, after sorting and picking and choosing nearly a hundred small items for variety and 
interest, Poet noticed a silver face peeking out from a jumble in a box under the front 
window, and she pulled it out to take a closer look.  A grinning man's face with leaves for 
hair and deer antlers, set as a raised design on a silver flask.  "Pretty cool.  I wonder 
if it could be cleaned up enough to use again?"

"Perhaps, dear," Lotta replied, "but my poor old hands can't get the top off to even see 
what's inside."

Poet turned the flask and heard the clunk from within.  Curious, she tried her strength, 
but had no luck.  

"Perhaps if you heated the cap," Lauren suggested.  They took it inside the house and 
dipped the cap into one of the kettles on the stove.  With a little more work if finally 
came loose, and Lauren unscrewed the cap and shook the object inside out into Poet's palm.  

However, before they could even get a good look at the object, there was a man standing 
there, Poet's wrist disappearing into his sternum.  Lotta shrieked, Poet leapt back in 
surprise, and the man let out an "AH!" - a sound of immense relief.  "I was bally well 
going crackers in there!  Sorry to have shocked you ladies, but thank you ever so much!"

"It's Ace!"  Lauren cried out.

"Rimmer!" Poet responded.

He stared keenly from Lauren to Poet, and back to Lauren.  "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he 
tried, but something in his face told Lauren that he did remember her.  

"You know you do, Arnold Rimmer.  Picture me with bunny ears on."

"No, no, you're mistaken.  Arny died, poor old chap.  We did look a lot alike, though, it 
would be easy for you to mistake me for him."  

"I know better, Arnold Rimmer," Lauren replied, haughtily.  "Ace died, the previous Ace, 
and Arnold took up the mantle of duty, playing Ace Rimmer, and left to be the 
interdimensional hero."

Arnold/Ace looked a little deflated, and responded peevishly, "Okay, yes, I do remember 
you.  Scavenger, of the Red Dwarf Secret Service.  Although I'm still not convinced of the 
existence of such an organization!"  

"Then how do I know all I do?" Lauren replied, and smiled in a somewhat predatory fashion.  
"Allow me to present my associate, Poet Norse Blue."  

Poet extended her hand, her face glowing with delight.  "Very pleased to meet you.  I'm a 
great fan... er, admirer."

Lauren was looking at the flask in her hand.  "It's your ship!  Wildfire!  What the hell 
was wrong with me that I didn't recognize the name??"

"Yes, Wildfire, I should contact her."  Ace-Arnold reached for his com, but Poet 
interrupted him.

"That won't be hard.  She's just outside the back door, here."  

"Excuse me sir, but exactly what ARE you?  A ghost?"  Lotta, nearly forgotten by all, had 
recovered from her fright.  She stood, hands on her hips, glaring at him.  

"Hardlight hologram, ma'am.  The tiny metal object inside the flask was my light-bee.  
Normally it's supposed to be buzzing around projecting me, but a rather nasty person 
managed to catch it and stuff it in the flask.  Then of course it couldn't project."

"You're the 'Captain' she's been on about?  She's been driving me nearly batty!  The 
sooner you get her out of my yard the happier I'll be!"  

"Terribly sorry, ma'am.  I'll be speaking with her right away about her bad manners.  Is 
there anything I can do to make it up to you?"  

She appeared somewhat mollified.  "Well.  I'm sorry you ended up spending so much time in 
that flask.  It must have been rather cramped.  Of course she was right to be loyal and 
keep after me to keep looking.  Only she scared me a bit."  

"Do try and think of any little service I could perform by way of apology, and I'll be 
speaking with her right now."  Arnold gave a little Ace almost bow and strode to the back 
door of the house, trailed by the others.  

==============================================

Part Five: Not An End
(In which Poet and Lauren consider their options)

Wildfire was delighted to see Ace, and apologized profusely to Lotta for her bad manners.  
It was decided that they would all go to town with Lotta the next day to take turns pulling 
her barrow and help her hawk her things, and Ace found he had a knack for selling junk.  
Poet and Lauren explained their predicament to Ace, and he offered that he would be glad 
to try to return them to their own places of origin.  "Although," he said, "it's not all 
that easy without any coordinates to work with.  And, have you considered, we really 
haven't seen much of this delightful country?  I heard a rumor in the marketplace that 
there's an infestation of goblins afflicting a mountain town in the Williken Country."  

Lauren and Poet looked at each other and both broke into shy smiles.  "Well," said Lauren, 
"I've heard that time can run very different in fairy realms.  Perhaps they won't notice 
we're missing if we're not gone for too very much longer."