by Enola Jones
Peter rolled out of bed, slightly disoriented. Unsure of himself on his feet. What was wrong?
Peter rubbed his eyes. He activated his power and hovered a few inches off the ground, so as not to hit his head on the ceiling.
Peter touched down, nodding. Everything seemed okay... so why was he still so disoriented?
Peter rubbed his eyes again, stumbling toward the bathroom. He telekinetically activated the light and ran the water in the sink. He rubbed his face with the water and sighed as he straightened up and looked in the mirror.....
And screamed in terror as Mike's face with only blue eyes and a birthmark to show Peter was there at all looked back at him.
Peter jerked upright, screaming as the glow that now enveloped him as he slept vanished. He launched himself out of bed and flew to the bathroom, snapping on the light as he did so.
Peter's glowing eyes closed in sheer relief as his own face surrounded by straight blonde hair looked out at him. Only a dream....
Thank goodness it was only a dream....
Peter stretched, enjoying the sheer pleasure of just being in his own body. It had been five days since that hellish merge, and things were nearly back to what now passed for normal.
Peter telekinetically snapped off the light and held up his hand. He smiled as that hand suddenly began to glow.
The toothbrush that rested on the sink suddenly rose from the sink and flashed across the room. Peter's eyes widened... He wasn't....
Mike reached out and took the brush in mid-air, and his eyes lost their brown glow. He met Peter's eyes, smiling. "This is fun."
"This is temporary, I hope," Peter said.
"Yeah, temporary," Mike agreed. His eyes began to glow again, and he released the toothbrush. Borne on his tiny bit of borrowed telekinesis, it floated back to its place.
Mike cut off the power, and met Peter's eyes. "But still-- fun."
And Peter smiled, nodding his agreement.
Davy had won the shoot to cook, and his pancakes were nearly finished by the time the others came downstairs: Mike walking, Micky and Peter flying. They sat down and began to eat--
And a brilliant light flared around them.
"Mike!" three voices chorused.
"Hey, this ain't me!" Mike yelled as the light around them faded. Mike looked at Peter--and gaped.
Peter sat there in leather pants and a green-dyed leather jacket. No shirt. He wore a thin golden choker around his neck. From the look he was shooting Mike, Mike assumed he was similarly attired. From the air he felt, he realized he too wore no shirt. A quick glance down confirmed his suspicions about his clothing: the leather pants and white-dyed leather jacket he had worn on some of the Quests.
Davy wore leather pants and the red silk shirt he had sported on some Quests. Micky also was in leather pants and the leather lace up vest sans shirt. He was no longer wearing the bandages on his left shoulder, and the jagged scar from the wound he had sustained on the Quests was plainly visible.
Barely had the clothes registered when they realized they no longer were in the Pad. Instead they were outdoors, on a cliff overlooking the ocean, sitting around a campfire where fish was cooking.
The four gained their feet and looked around. "What the hell...." Mike breathed.
There was no trace of Malibu Beach at all! There was only the ocean, the cliff, and off in the distance, a small town with roofs that appeared to be thatched.
Peter looked at Mike. "I'm scouting," he said. Mike nodded and Peter's eyes glowed as he shot into the air. Mike stood and caught eyes with Micky and Davy.
Suddenly Mike's eyes lightened, and a visible shade of blue became visible under the brownness of them. "Can you hear me?" he asked, his voice subtly different.
"What does Peter see?" Micky asked.
Mike opened his mouth to answer, then winced. "He just hit something....Micky, use your power," Mike said in that eerily altered voice. "Make the invisible visible. Look to the sky."
Micky looked up and gasped. He used his power, and a huge dome shimmered into existence. It took up all of Malibu beach and part of the ocean under its expanse. "What in the world..."
"Magic," Mike breathed. "This is magic.... something has covered Malibu Beach with a dome that shifted time.. "
There was silence on the cliff as this bit of information was processed. Micky released his power, and the dome shimmered out of visibility.
"He's coming back," Mike announced. A few moments later, Peter touched down on the cliff's edge. Mike disengaged the link a bit suddenly, and Peter staggered. Seven-foot Davy grabbed his waist and held Peter till his balance reasserted itself.
Peter glared at Mike. Next time some warning, shotgun? he said telepathically, deliberately using Mike's term of aggravation.
He was answered by Mike's version of his own shy smile; Mike's way of letting him know his message was received... and the irony was not lost.
"Okay you two," Micky asked, "What's our first order of business?"
"Finding out who did this," Mike began.
"And why," Peter added.
"And how to reverse it," Mike finished.
The confused four made their way down the cliff that used to be their home. They walked, Peter and Micky curbing the instinct to fly so as not to attract attention.
They hadn't gone far when they heard a woman scream, "No! Stop it!" As one, they bolted toward the sound.
She was a young woman, barely out of girlhood, and like the Monkees, she wore mediaeval clothes. So did the three men who surrounded her. Two held her arms, one was taunting her.
"She's blind," Peter breathed. The four moved forward, ready to free her--
When her body pulsed, sending the two who held her flying. She raised her hands over her head and changed in an unfamiliar tongue.
The three assaulters were suddenly three kittens. They mewled and ran off.
Impressed, Mike let out a low whistle. Davy chuckled. "I guess she didn't need our help after all."
She turned toward the sound of his voice. "There are... how many of you?" she asked.
"Four, ma'am," Peter said.
"And you are powerful." This was a statement, not a question. As if she could see the four jaws unhinging, she smiled and said, "The time-shift took my sight, and left me able to... do and sense things. Once you make things right, I'll be plain old Carol Jacobs again... and I can't wait!"
They smiled, then Peter stepped forward. "Ms. Jacobs..."
"Carol... what caused this?"
"You said we would fix it," Micky said. "How?"
Carol sat on the ground. The Monkees followed suit, and she began, "I think the shift was caused by an Ogre King." She smiled. "See, I'm a librarian with an interest in mediaeval legends. One from the thirteenth century tells of an Ogre King who was defeated by a wizard. It was banished to a Land across the Waves, and put under a spell of sleep that would last.... oh now how did that go..."
"I've read that legend," Peter said. "'Till those with the power to defeat the Ogre King arise into their power'."
"Yes!" Carol said. "And you four apparently are those ones, because it has definitely awakened and is here. The time-shift is proof of that."
"I see," Mike said. "This Ogre King made things the way they were when he was imprisoned to give himself a home-turf advantage."
"So how do we defeat him?" Davy asked.
"According to the legend," Peter supplied, "we destroy him utterly. The only problem is, it doesn't say howexactly we go about this."
"How are you aware of such an obscure legend?" Carol asked. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you--I just thought I was the only one who'd ever--"
Peter smiled and Carol heard it in his voice. "I've got an eidetic memory, Carol."
"And there's nothing he won't read..." Micky said. "Science fiction, newspapers, obscure mediaeval legends..."
"Shut up," Peter hissed, but he was smiling.
Carol pursed her lips in a silent whistle. "A photographic memory," she breathed, smiling in admiration. "Wish I had one. In my line of work, it could prove... useful."
And the other three laughed as Peter flushed bright red. Once they explained why they were laughing, Carol laughed too.
All laughter stopped utterly as the ground pitched under their feet. Luckily, they were all sitting down, so nobody fell.
"What was that?" Micky gasped.
Peter gained his feet. He saw them advancing over the ridge--
"Micky!" Peter yelled. "Protect Carol! Get her to safety! Mike, Davy--you're with me!"
Micky grabbed Carol around the waist and shot into the air, becoming invisible as he did so. The others heard Carol's squeak of surprise before they soared out of earshot.
Three ogres suddenly shot over the ridge. "There!" one growled. "There they be!"
Davy sized them up. He grew to eight feet, matching their height. The nearest ogre to Davy grabbed him, and a wrestling match erupted.
Peter was trying to telekinetically keep his opponent off-balance, when Mike made a discovery. "Pete!" he yelled. "They're light-sensitive!"
Peter smiled. He couldn't fire light like Mike could and was, but he did have enough borrowed power to glow. He made his entire body glow and flew in dizzying circles around his opponent's head.
The ogre cringed, then lashed out. Its fist impacted squarely on the back of Peter's neck. Peter jerked, the glow cutting out from both his body and his eyes as he slid into unconsciousness, crashing unceremoniously to the ground.
Mike cried out, a hand flying to his head as their link severed. Recovering swiftly out of necessity, he fired more rainbow beams and lasers at the ogres, aiming to stun.
Grinning, the ogre that had downed Peter reached for him--only to find its hand blocked. It grunted in confusion. Then something struck the ogre in the stomach, doubling it over. That same something then struck in on the back of the neck, sending it to the ground.
Micky shimmered into view, standing triumphantly over the fallen ogre. "Gotcha."
Then Micky's feet were swept out from under him as the downed ogre struck his ankles with a sweeping kick. Micky's bottom impacted with the ground at the same time as the ogre's elbow slammed into his face, knocking him flat--
And knocking him out.
The ogre picked up Peter in one arm, Micky in its other, and waited. Davy screamed Micky's name, and while he was distracted, his opponent head-butted him. Davy's eyes crossed involuntarily and he released the ogre, staggering backward, shaking his head to try to dispel the flashing lights behind his eyes.
Before Davy could recover, the ogre that held his two unconscious friends gingerly lay Micky down. It then raised Peter over its head and sent him hurling toward Davy.
Peter's unconscious form impacted Davy squarely between the shoulder blades, sending him to the ground. Davy shrank back to his normal height as he slid into unconsciousness.
Mike shot beam after beam of rainbow light and laser beams toward the ogres, aiming to stun. When he saw Peter used as a human battering ram, he screamed
"No!" and whirled to fire a beam at that ogre.
His opponent took advantage of the distraction and struck Mike at the base of the skull. Mike felt his eyes begin to cross, and he fell to his knees. Another blow, this time between his shoulder blades, and Mike pitched forward unceremoniously, unconscious.
The ogres picked up their powerful prey and carried them toward the new castle over the horizon.
For the first time ever, the Monkees had lost a battle.