Date: Mon, 28 Feb 2000 22:43:15 PST
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "This Isn't Kansas, Nog" (t/t, sci fi slash)

Author's Note: This is a crossover story between the Star Trek series DS9
and the world of Chaos Law.  Star Trek, Deep Space Nine and all characters
from the series are trademarks and copyright of Paramount Pictures
Corporation.  The Chaos Law world is copyright of Pat Scott Enterprises and
is found at http://www.chaoslaw.com Permission has been given to use the
Chaos World as background for this story.  The character Jamal was created
by this author.  Fans of the two series can write to the author, Aardon
Beta, c/o authorsix@hotmail.com where he has a subspace temporal portal
link for communicating when he is in transmission range with Earth.

                     This Isn't Kansas, Nog

     "Well?" eighteen-year-old Jake asked impatiently as he looked over
Nog's shoulder.
     "Jake, for fucksake, give me time," his best friend said irritably.
"This isn't easy you know."
     "You said it would be a piece of cake."
     "And it would be, if you weren't constantly interrupting me."
     "All right, all right, I'll just stand over here and be quiet."
     "That's what I've been telling you to do for the past half hour."
     As Jake stepped back and watched Nog, he thought of the many escapades
they had engaged in over the past four years.  A lot had happened since
that evening Nog had enlightened him on the mysteries of jacking off in the
privacy of Nog's bedroom.  They had been fourteen, and he had been on the
station for only four months.  Jake considered that afternoon of discovery
the true beginning of their friendship, sort of a brotherhood sealed with
cum and the secrecy of that forbidden sin.  They were probably destined to
become best friends, despite the objection of both of their fathers, but
that very private secret they shared that evening ensured it.
     They had shared many dreams and secrets over the past four years,
resulting in a strong bond between the human and the Ferengi.  They still
were the best of friends, but they were not kids anymore, and their paths
were beginning to part.  Jake had chosen civilian life and was beginning a
career in writing.  Nog, nineteen a week ago, was now an officer in
training for Star Fleet, and taking his position seriously.  When Nog
decided to do something, he went all the way.
     Although he would never admit it, even Nog's uncle, Quark, was
delighted when he found out his nephew was returning to DS9 from the
Academy for his second year practicum.  Jake had been delighted too.  Nog
had been the only one his age that he'd really befriended at the station,
and he had missed Nog greatly when he'd gone away to Starfleet Academy last
year.  At the same time, the eighteen-year-old was worried about Nog's
return.  Although they had been best buddies and had gotten physically
intimate with each other on more than one occasion, they had headed in very
different directions over this past year in more than just choice of
careers.  The most significant difference was that Nog had become straight,
or at best bi, whereas he had become gay.  Actually, they had probably
always been what they were.  It was just that Jake had only recently come
to terms with who he was while on Dorvan V.
     There were four men with whom he'd become intimate with since Nog, and
each relationship had been from his heart and with total commitment.  Like
Nog, Jake did not do things part way.  The first relationship had been with
the Vulcan Salene, the first boy he'd really loved with his heart.  Then
there had been the Klingon Gowran.  Their relationship had begun as one of
ritual and lust, but had become a bond stronger than any fraternity on
Earth could forge.  The Bajoran, Nolar, had been next, forming a
relationship that was both filled with love and filled with despair, and
last there had been the Dorvanian, Chilam, with whom he'd had a sublime,
almost mystical relationship.
     So far he'd managed to keep his sexuality hidden, but he was
uncomfortable keeping secrets from anyone, and he knew sooner or later he
was going to be discovered.  Nog had some very definite views on the roles
of males and females, and he would have some very definite opinions about a
male who preferred to have sex exclusively with other males.  Jake tried to
imagine what Nog's response would be when he told the Ferengi he was gay.
On the way back from Dorvan V he had decided it would be better if he told
Nog than for his best pal to find out by hearsay.  He just had not yet
figured out when and how to do it.  It was funny, but he was more worried
about Nog's reaction to finding out he was gay than he was about his
father's.
     His father had some very definite ideas about what it was to be a man
too, and about Jake's future.  He could still remember the disappointment
and attempt to change his mind when his father had learned he did not want
to join Starfleet.  It had taken his father a while to accept that fact,
but in time he did, and now supported Jake's endeavours in writing.  What
Jake was about to tell him next was something much more difficult to
accept, and possibly even impossible to support.  He imagined it would be
difficult for any father to accept having gay son, and being the Commander
of DS9, and the Emissary, would make that all the more difficult.  On his
way back to DS9 from Dorvan V, the youth had resolved that he would come
out to his father despite the obstacles.  He knew that was the right thing
to do, but still the thought had troubled him deeply, so deeply he'd even
had a highly erotic incestuous dream about him and his father.
     The eighteen-year-old youth had had good intentions.  However, upon
arriving back on the station, he'd discovered his father had a lot on his
mind, which was not unusual.  While he'd been gone, his father had
concluded his eight-month search for the Maquis Eddington, his dad's former
Security Chief and a major problem for the Federation.  Besides still being
upset about Eddington, he had to contend with the growing threat of
invasion by the Dominion, and the constant power struggle with Kai Winn.
It came as no surprise his dad had little time even for his new love,
Kasidy Yates.  With that in mind, his ever faithful son had decided to
wait.
     "Okay," announced Nog, interrupting his thoughts.  "I think it's set."
     "You think?"
     "Hey, we're breaking new ground here, okay?" responded the
nineteen-year-old cadet irritably.
     "Yeah, all right.  I trust you, Nog."
     "And so you should.  I'm not a Starfleet Cadet Officer because of my
good looks you know."
     "Yeah, I know," Jake replied, avoiding saying the obvious.  He did not
know anyone who considered any member of the Ferengi race as having good
looks.  "So explain what you've done again."
     "I've input the exact location of the supply warehouse in the
institute where Nolar is being treated," Nog explained proudly.  "And that
was not easy to obtain.  I don't run with that sort of crowd anymore, and
if Starfleet ever found out. . . ."
     "I know, I know," replied Jake.  "And I appreciate the trouble and
risks you've gone to."
     Nog didn't respond, but he was pleased with the recognition.  "I've
linked the location to coordinates for the reception centre of the Bajoran
Port of Entry with a nanosecond delay.  You should beam down to the
reception centre, and the next instant be whisked away to the institute."
     "Should."
     "Will.  You will be whisked away," corrected Nog, but not
convincingly.
  "To those in the Port it will appear to be a failed or aborted
transportation down to the surface."
     "All right.  Can we do it now?"
     "Now is as good a time as any," Nog said.  "It is almost midnight.
Should be nobody wandering around the warehouse."  Jake stood on the
transporter pad, ready to be beamed down.
     "Remember, you have to be exactly at the same coordinates in the
warehouse in two hours.  And if anything goes wrong, you'll have to hide
and I'll try to beam you back at midnight the next evening."
     "Try to?"
     "All right, I will beam you back.  You ready now?" Nog asked, anxious
to have this over with.
     "Yes."
     "Okay, Stardate 50543.9, check.  Bajor reception centre coordinates,
check.  Energize."
     Jake had been transported enough times to know what to expect.  As his
body began to tingle like every muscle had suddenly fallen asleep, and the
transporter room began to fade, he knew at least at this end things were
working as they should.  Now, if Nog was right. . . .
     There was a full moon out.  Something whizzed millimetres away from
his head.  A metal garbage bin twenty metres in front of him suddenly
exploded in a blaze of fire, igniting two bodies and tossing them in the
air.  A shot was fired in the opposite direction and a blast shattered the
brick wall beside him, sending fragments in all directions.  Several struck
him in the side of the head, drawing blood.
     "Fuck," the eighteen-year-old cursed as he dove for the pile of debris
in front of him.  "This is becoming a habit."  First there was arriving in
the middle of fire on Ajilon Prime, then being pinned down while on
reconnaissance on Dorvan V, and now this place, which quite evidently was
neither the reception centre of Bajor nor the supply warehouse in the Bajor
Institute for the Behaviourally Dysfunctional.  He was getting tired of
being shot at.
  At least this time he landed on something soft in his dive for safety.
     "Gummmph," wheezed the soft object beneath him, "watch where the hell
you're falling mothafucka."
     "If I had any control over where I'm falling don't you think I would?"
Jake snapped back.
     The two of them hugged the ground and tried to burrow into the pile of
debris as another volley of shots were exchanged above their heads.  They
crouched there silent and motionless as the battle ranged around them.
Finally the side by the brick wall, evidently the losing side, tried to
make a break for it.  The other was immediately in hot pursuit.  As the
combatants raced down the alley, the person beside Jake suddenly leaped to
his feet and made a dash in the opposite direction.  Jake had no idea where
the person was heading, but any place other than where he was seemed
preferable.  He leaped to his feet and took after the individual.  They ran
half a dozen blocks before the fellow in front of him ducked into a bombed
out shell of a building and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.
Jake joined him.
     "What . . .  the fuck . . .  you doing . . .  following me."
     "I'm . . .  not . . .  following you," Jake lied.
     "You've been a step . . .  behind me . . .  for the past six blocks,
mothafucka," the fellow replied, still breathing heavily but quickly
catching his breath.  He was evidently in excellent physical shape.
     "So?  I just happen to be running in the same direction," rejoined
Jake, who after his experience on Dorvan V was in good shape himself.  If
the fellow called him a mother fucker one more time he was going to slug
him.
     The fellow looked at him, hesitated, and then breaking into a wide
grin began to laugh.  Stepping to the entry way, he paused to listen.
"Well, I think we have lost the mothafuckas."
     "Who the hell were they?"
     The boy looked at him blankly.
     "Who was fighting?"
     "The Klan and the Disruptors."
     "Ah . . . ," responded Jake.  He'd heard of the Klan, if it was the
same Klan that he'd learned about in history classes, but they had not
existed for two centuries.  "Where, where exactly am I?"
     "Peaches Cafe.  Or at least what used to be Peaches Cafe."
     "Which is where?"
     "North Farish Street.  Third Avenue I think."
     "What . . .  ah . . .  city?"
     "What city?" his new companion asked incredulously.  "You been hit on
the head by one of those falling bricks back there?"
     "No.  Yes.  Well, I'm just a little confused right now."
     "Confused?  The man asks what city he's in and says he's just a little
confused?"
     "So?  Where am I?"
     "Jackson."
     "Jackson," repeated Jake, the name meaning nothing.
     "Jackson, Mississippi."
     Jake looked at him blankly.
     "You know Mississippi, the good ol' US of A, planet Earth."
     "Earth."
     "Yeah.  And what planet might you be from?"
     Jake was about to respond, but the tone of the youth's voice indicated
that he was being sarcastic, not serious.  "And what year is this?"
     "Four," the youth replied, not surprised at the question considering
the others the stranger had asked.
     "Four?"
     "That's right.  That's how people around here judge time anyway.  Too
hard to follow the Julian calendar.  Days and weeks don't mean shit when
you have no schedule to follow or special holidays to celebrate.  But
everyone remembers the day of the invasion.  So we count the years since
then, and divide the year by the seasons.  Just like our ancestors when
they lived in the jungles of darkest Africa," he concluded with a wry
smile.
     "The invasion?"
     "The Yarilians, man.  Where the fuck you been living?"
     "Far away, very far away."
     "Yeah.  Well, it's been nice meeting you," the youth said, giving Jake
a suspicious look as he began to back away.
     "Wait.  Ah, well, I don't know my way around here, and well, I was
wondering. . . ."
     "If you could tag along with me."
     "Well, yeah, for a while," Jake said with a shrug.  "You know, til I
get my bearings."
     "Well, you sure the hell aren't Klan, and you don't look like no
Disruptor, so I guess it's all right."
     "So, you from around here?" Jake asked as they continued down the
street.
     "What's with the questions?"
     "Like I said, just trying to get my bearings," Jake said quickly.
"I'll keep quiet if that's a problem."
     "I live around here.  My father lived here, and his father before
that.
  My great-great- grandfather lived here.  He was one of the twenty-two
free blacks listed in the 1860 Jackson registry," the youth said proudly as
they headed up one of the avenues and entered what appeared to be a
residential area.  Most of the buildings were black shells and appeared
deserted.  "Pretty soon there won't be any free blacks left," he observed,
his voice sharp with bitterness and anger and a hint of despair.
     Jake decided it prudent not to pursue that line of discussion.  Forty
minutes later they arrived at a small bungalow cottage.  The blackened
outer walls were pitted and gouged, and the windows were boarded up.
Inside Jake was surprised to find the place clean and bright although
filled with a clutter of knickknacks, boxes and stacks of books and papers.
     "Nice place."
     "Thanks.  Don't know why the good Lord saved our home, but He did.
Wish He'd have saved the people who lived here and destroyed their
belongings instead though," he added, his voice again sharp with
bitterness.  The youth glanced around the room.  "At least I got my folk's
stuff, and my uncle's and my grandparent's.  A lot of people didn't even
have that at the end of the bombing.  One advantage of having lived in the
low-rent district only had to contend with the fires after the bombing, not
the bombing itself."
     "You do have a lot of stuff," Jake observed, glancing about at the
clutter of boxes and objects piled one on top of the other.  The youth's
sarcasm and bitterness had not been lost on him, and a younger Jake might
have responded to the comments.  He was a different person now after
spending time with Chilam on Dorvan V.  At the moment he was not Jake
Sisko, son of Commander Benjamin Sisko and aspiring journalist.  He was
Ekbalam, Black Jaguar Spirit, alert and poised for action.
     "Yeah.  Lots of memories here.  My dad was a collector.  A real
promoter of all things black.  Was a rapper in his earlier days.  He played
me some of his songs.  They were full of anger at society and promotion of
Afro-Americans."  The youth sorted through a pile of flat, plastic cases.
"Sort of unimportant when you consider the toilet the human race is in now,
blacks and whites," he said, switching from pride to despair like a light
switch being turned off and on.
     "Rapper?"
     "Yeah.  You know, rap music."
     Jake shook his head.
     "Bro, you have really been living in an isolated world."  Snapping his
fingers, he jerked his body to the right and to the left in time to the
beat.  "There is no doubt, in my mind, this black boy, is deaf and blind.
Got no anger, got no wounds, got no mind, and got no balls."
     "Now just wait there a second!" Jake objected.
     The boy looked at him blankly.  "You angry about what's happened to
Earth?"
     "Well, no, but ."
     "You in any pain?"
     "Not really."
     "You want to fight?"
     "Fight who?"
     "The Klan and the Disruptors, man."
     Jake considered.  He knew little about the first, and nothing about
the latter.
     "See what I mean.  Mothafucka got no mind, got no balls."
     "It's just I don't know enough about them to say I want to fight
them," Jake responded, keeping his cool.  He had no idea where he was or
how he was going to get back to DS9.  This was not the time to get into a
fight with the only person he knew.
     "Man, no matter where you've come from, it can't be that isolated.
You must have lead one sheltered life."
     Jake looked at his watch.  It was one forty.  He'd never get back to
the spot where he'd arrived.  Besides, he had no idea where it was.
     "You can crash at my pad for tonight if you want."  It wasn't the
warmest welcome Jake had ever received, but it wasn't totally reluctant.
     "Thanks.  Name's Jake by the way, Jake Sisko."
     "Jamal," the boy replied, shaking Jake's extended hand.
     Moving aside the clutter, the boy unburied a roll-away cot and found
some blankets.  Bidding Jake goodnight, he headed for one of the adjoining
rooms.  Jake suddenly found that he was exhausted, and despite the strange
surroundings and his worry about how he was going to get back to DS9, he
fell asleep almost instantly.
     "So, tell me a bit about these Disruptors," Jake asked after a meagre
breakfast of two slices of stale bread and three mugs of weak coffee.
     He had drawn a total blank on who they were.  Keiko O'Brien could not
have been that remiss in her teaching, so it had to have something to do
with this time/spacial rift that had resulted in him being here instead of
on Bajor or something.  He had no way of knowing if this was the real
Earth, and if it was, if he was in some forgotten era in the past or in the
future.  The boy had mentioned a date the previous night, but Jake couldn't
recall what it was.
     "Well, the mothafuckas surfaced just weeks after the Yarilians arrived
in their space ship and began to bomb the shit out of Earth."
     "Space ship?" Jake asked, suddenly interested.  A space ship meant
planetary travel, or at least communication across space.
     "Yeah."
     "And where is this ship now?"
     "Who knows?" Jamal responded with a shrug.  "Orbiting Earth
somewhere."
     "What about Earth's defences?  Our own space ships?"
     "Destroyed all our ships, and our facilities.  I'm told Canaveral is
one black hole, and I don't mean the space variety.  Where you from
anyway?"
     "New Orleans."
     "Yeah?  Always wanted to visit New Orleans.  Jazz bands, blues, a lot
of black history there," Jamal observed, a flash of that pride Jake had
begun to recognize brightening his face.
     "Yeah."
     "What line of work was your family in?"
     "Grandfather had a restaurant.  Served the best gumbo in the city."
     "Still alive?"
     "No," Jake said after a moment's consideration.  That made it more
logical why he hadn't stayed there.  He wondered how he could get the
conversation back around to space ships.  He had to find some way to get
back to DS9, or at least to get a message to Nog.

"Lucky.  This life would be hard on a restauranteur."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Not having any food, except what you can scrounge or steal, or that
is dolled out by the Disruptors if you're willing to join them.  How could
a restauranteur live like that?"
     "Oh, yeah.  So tell me more about the Disruptors up here.  Guess
they'd be the same as back in New Orleans," Jake bluffed
     "Think those mothafuckas are the same everywhere.  Around here they're
assholes who have taken the easy way out.  Most of them are drug addicts
and criminals who work for the Yarilians' in exchange for food, drugs,
alcohol, anything they want.  They live in these huge collectives where
they spend most of their time stoned out of their minds and having wild
orgiastic sex.  Their life is like one long crazed party until the
Yarilians call them to action, and then they do those blue bastard's
bidding with an animalistic bloodlust.  In return the Yarilians use their
technology to cure them of any diseases they pick up, or any injuries they
receive."
     "Tell me about their technology," Jake asked, trying not to sound too
eager.
     "Don't know anything about it," Jamal replied with a shake of his
head.
     "Yeah.  Same in New Orleans," Jake lied.  "What about the Klan?" he
asked, believing any more questions about the Yarilians would just lead in
a dead end.
     "Well, the group here is living out at the old Boddie Mansion.
They've used the invasion to go back to their old ways, you know, like in
the eighteen and nineteen hundreds.  The Disruptors pretty much leave them
alone.  After all, they're helping the fucking Yarilians achieve their
goal."
     "Which is?"
     "To wipe out the human race."
     "That's what we figure in New Orleans too."
     "I been thinking of joining brothers up in Harlem," continued Jamal.
"Hear they got things easier."
     "You got brothers up there?"
     "Not brothers as in relatives," Jamal said, looking at Jake curiously.
"Brothers, you know, fellow Afro-Americans."
     "That's what I thought you meant, just wasn't sure," Jake said,
covering his ignorance.  "So, you think there's any technology left around
anywhere, you know, to contact others?"
     "They spent seventeen million dollars converting the old Standard Life
Building into a telecommunications centre.  Might still be something left
there."
     "Can we go there?"
     "Why not," Jamal replied with a shrug.  "I certainly don't have any
plans."
     The old Standard Life Building was nothing more than a crumbling
shell.
  What had not been destroyed in the invasion had been vandalized over the
subsequent years.  The equipment that did remain was useless to Jake, other
than it did confirm what time in history he was in.  Examining the
equipment was like visiting a museum.  They spent the rest of the day
wandering around, searching the debris for anything of value to trade for
food.  The streets were deserted.  While they searched, they talked.  The
area was rich in Afro-American history, and Jamal not only knew a lot about
it, but he spoke about it with pride.  Evidently their ancestry was
something his family valued.  Before they realized the time, the sun began
to go down.
     "We'd better be heading back.  We have to get home before the Klan
begins their patrols."
     "Their patrols?"
     "The mothafuckas work by day, though I don't know doing what.  Then
for entertainment they roam the streets at night, looking for blacks to
kill."
     "You're kidding."
     "No."
     "Fuck," observed Jake with a shake of his head as he wondered just
what sort of world this was.
     "Besides, the Disruptors will be waking up with hangovers from last
night's festivities and getting ready to party again."
     "They looking to kill us too?"
     "Yeah, after raping and torturing us."
     "Because we're black?"
     "Because we're human.  Those mothafuckas that aren't addicts or
criminals are psychotic.  Would think nothing of setting a black boy on
fire."
     "Fuck."
     "Yeah.  Everyone is after this boy's black ass."
     Jake thought for a moment about Jamal's black ass, but quickly put his
thoughts aside.  They had serious shit to worry about.  "How do you know so
much about the Disruptors anyway?"
     "Got to know your enemy.  That's what my mother used to say.  Besides,
there ain't a whole lot to do day after day around here, so I figure I
might as well do something productive, like keeping tabs on what those
mothafuckas are doing."
     Jake smiled.  Nog would like this boy.  On the way back they passed
the Alamo Theater, which Jamal informed Jake served as a performing arts
theater for black vaudeville acts, stage bands, and black performing
artists.
     "That brick building over there is the Hill-Holly Building.  Way back
it was a civic and social meting place for a political party called the
Black and Tan Republican Party.  Can you believe they had such a name?"
     "No," Jake said with a smile.
     "Until the invasion, the Jacksonville Advocate was in the building.
There might be some computers or communication stuff there."
     They looked inside but found nothing.  As they were about to leave,
they heard a commotion outside.  Peeking out the window, they saw a group
of people in white sheets and white, peaked hoods had gathered in the
street.  In the middle of them was a young black boy, twelve or thirteen,
looking like a scared rabbit and his big white eyes shining in the dark.
Remembering pictures of Klansmen and burning crosses in the DS9 archives,
Jake knew immediately who the men were.  One of the men was trying to throw
a rope over a light standard.
     "The mothafuckas are out on the street early."
     "We have to do something to stop them."
     "Like what?  We show our black asses out there and we'll be swinging
beside that boy."
     "We have to do something," Jake said desperately.
     The two sat there and watched.  Jake fingered the thin silver ring
he'd received from Camaxtle, the God of Fate back on Dorvan V, and found
himself praying for help.  The man had stopped trying to throw the rope
over the top of the light standard and the crowd was looking for something
they could use to climb on.
     "Com'on," whispered Jamal.  "I have a plan."
     Jake readily got to his feet, willing to do anything to help the boy.
They slipped out the back and ran up the alley.  A dozen blocks away, Jamal
stopped and removed his shirt.  "Okay, here is the plan.  You take off your
shirt and vest and hide here and wait for me.  When I duck in here, you
leap out and head back to where the Klan is.  You a fast runner?"
     "Yeah."
     Without more of an explanation he was gone.  Ten minutes later Jake
heard a noise coming from up the street.  He glanced out to see Jamal
racing toward him, hotly pursued by a group of Disruptors.  Ducking into
the dilapidated building, he hid while Jake leaped out and raced down the
alley toward the Klan, the Disruptors, not in the best of shape and
starting to run out steam, falling behind.  They had no idea the shirtless
black boy in the black pants was a different individual than the one they'd
chased the first dozen blocks.
     Clustered around their young victim, the Klan did not see the black
teenager race up to within thirty metres of them and then duck into the
shadows of the nearest building.  They did hear and see the Disruptors
charging toward them with weapons held high a minute later, and the Klan
reacted as Jamal had suspected they would.  As the two groups clashed,
intent on killing each other and saving their own hides, Jake emerged from
the shadows where he'd hidden and quickly crawled over and untied the young
boy.  The two slipped away in the darkness and raced back up the alley,
accompanied by Jamal who had followed behind the Disruptors and had been
waiting for them.
     The two teenagers returned the boy to the burnt out hovel he called
home, which was not that far from Jamal's home.  The boy's mother
immediately invited the two heros in and insisted on making them a thin but
delicious herb broth for their supper.  They talked until close to
midnight, by which time it was too late for Jake to try to reach his
rendezvous point.
     When Jake woke in the morning, Jamal was already up.  Jake joined him
for morning coffee, not one of Jake's favourite drinks.  He wished there
was some way he could get his hands on a can of root beer.  They had
nothing to eat.
     "Yesterday was something, rescuing the kid," grinned Jamal.
     "Oh yeah," Jake readily agreed.
     Jake looked across the table at the boy.  It was the first time he'd
seen Jamal smile.  He had a wonderful smile, and beautiful teeth that
contrasted sharply with his dark skin.  Jake had considered himself dark,
but Jamal's skin was several shades even darker.  Jake figured that when
Jamal talked about his black ass, he really meant it, and he could not help
but wonder just how black it was.  The boy was five-foot-ten, two inches
shorter than Jake, and had a smooth, unblemished complexion and full
cheeks.
     The teenager was wearing the same black, baggy pants and loose maroon
and grey pullover shirt as the day they had met.  Both were at least three
sizes too large.  The clothes did nothing to accent his body.  In fact they
hid it, so you had no way of knowing if the youth was in shape, overweight,
or skinny.  He wore his hair long and in multiple braids entwined with
beads and leather straps.  Jake wondered if the hair style and the clothing
Jamal was wearing was the style for teens at the moment, some sort of
individual statement, or just what he had been able to made do with under
the circumstances.  It certainly was different from the clothes and hair
styles of boys their age on DS9.
     Noticing he was being examined, Jamal rose on impulse, and walking
over and sitting beside Jake, he gave his strange tag-along companion a hot
kiss on the lips.
  As they parted, Jake looked at him in surprise.
     "What was that for?"
     "Time for you to pay the rent," Jamal replied with a blank stare.
"This is no free bed and breakfast, mothafucka."
     He wrapped his arm about Jake and gave him another long kiss.  That
second kiss was like a catalyst.  Jamal was in high spirits over their
victory the previous night and feeling daring, and Jake, finding the boy's
aggressiveness exciting and having had enough of being called a mother
fucker, immediately responded.  He had no idea if Jamal was serious about
paying for his bed and breakfast, but he would show this boy what he was
made of.  They began to kiss and caress each other in a wild frenzy, as if
making up for lost time.  Jake's heart speeded up and his blood raced
through his veins as he felt himself being caressed by the handsome black
boy.  His thick, hot lips met those of Jamal and the two boys kissed with
fervid passion, allowing their pent-up emotions to run free.
     Jake easily slipped Jamal's oversize shirt over his head, and Jamal
quickly removed Jake's vest and unbuttoned and removed his burgundy shirt.
Both teenagers had well-developed shoulder muscles and firm pecs.  While
Jake was smooth-skinned with only a tuft of hair at the V of his neck and
under his pits, Jamal had an impressive curly mat of chest hair.  His
muscles were also more defined and firmer than Jake's, and while Jake was
on the thin side, Jamal had very definite six-pack abs.  Jake trembled with
delight as he caressed Jamal's firm deltoids and his broad pecs.  He ran
his fingers through the boy's curly black chest hair, and caressed his
nipples, which quickly became firm beneath his touch.  At the same time his
own nipples became hard and tingled with irritation as Jamal's fingers
lightly touched them and ran circles around them.
     Taking the lead, Jake slipped his hand down Jamal's back to his baggy
trousers, and then around to the front.  He undid the youth's belt and
unzipped his pants.  As Jamal stood, the oversized trousers fell to his
ankles.  The boy quickly stepped out of them.
  The bulge in the youth's boxers was obvious, and Jake wondered if Jamal
was aroused, or well hung.  Also standing, and slowly slipping his hands
across Jamal's flat stomach, Jake inhaled as his right hand reached the
bulge.  It was warm, and it was soft, answering his question.  As he
squeezed the flesh through Jamal's underwear, Jamal fumbled with Jake's
belt and drew down his fly.  Pushing down his jeans, Jamal revealed Jake
was wearing boxers also, and soon Jamal's hand was cupping the
eighteen-year-old's jewels just as he was cupping Jamal's.  The two boys
eased each other's underwear down simultaneously.
     Standing there in only their socks, the two young boys began to caress
and explore each other's body.  Back on Dorvan V, Jake had made love with
the black merchant-god Ekchuah, the first person of his colour he'd ever
had sex with.  Making love with Jamal was totally different.  For one,
Jamal was human, and for another, he was a youth just as he was.  Jamal was
also the first black boy Jake had ever seen naked, and he found the youth's
dark skin especially erotic.  It was so different running his hand over the
skin of a boy the same colour as himself, and so different to see a black
hand caressing him.  Their lips met again in a hot, passionate kiss, and
they drew each other close, pressing their naked bodies against each other.
Jamal's hairy chest pressed against Jake's smooth pecs, and his swelling
cock pressed against Jake's similarly growing black tube.
     Jake ran his hands over Jamal's tight, smooth buns and caressed them
with firm, concentric circles.  Jamal reached around and did the same to
him and Jake's cock began to rise in response.  The two youths kissed
eagerly, on the lips, cheeks, and necks, and their manhoods rose and stood
erect as if to watch.  Jake glanced down and was glad to see Jamal matched
his eight- inch bone in length and thickness.  Unlike himself, the boy was
uncircumcised and the skin totally covered his knob.  Jake's skin had
stretched back, revealing his dark purplish-black knob.
     Jake ran his middle finger along Jamal's crack from his huge, dangling
balls to his butthole.  The eighteen-year-old boy's anus opened immediately
to Jake's probing finger.  Lacking anything for lube, Jake slipped his
finger in his mouth and worked a mouthful of spittle about it, and then
reached behind and wiggled the tip of his finger into Jamal's anus.  The
boy's hole opened up to him, and he slowly and carefully eased the tip of
his finger further in.  Jake felt Jamal massage his butt more firmly as he
slowly slipped his finger up the horny eighteen-year- old's rectum.  He
began to work his finger in and out slowly and Jamal continued to kiss him
and massage his buttocks.
     Easing out his finger, Jake worked up another mouthful of spit and
drooled it over his cock.  The teenage boy spread the natural lube over his
towering black tube until it was slimy and shiny with his spittle.  Jamal
dropped to his hands and knees there on the kitchen floor, and Jake knelt
behind him.  Reaching down, he positioned the tip of his spit slick cock
against Jamal's butthole.  Ever so slowly he pressed forward, gradually
easing his thick, black tube into the boy's body.  He trembled with the
familiar delight of a tight, hot hole surrounding his aching cock, and
Jamal shuddered with the delight of a thick, eight-inch cock embedded up
his rectum.
     Pushing his cock in until his curly black hairs were pressed against
Jamal's black ass, Jake paused and enjoyed the union of their two bodies.
Then, as he began to work his cock in and out of the black boy's hole, he
delighted in the physical pleasure and the mental delight of fucking
another boy.  He worked slowly, easing his thick tube in and out of the
tight, moist hole of the teenage boy and enjoying the throbbing of the hot
flesh about his bone.  He grasped Jamal's hips and worked his own to and
fro with a rhythm that had become natural to him, thrusting his big black
cock up the boy's rectum and then withdrawing it until the knob was just
about to pop out.  It was delightful, and it was not long before he lunged
forward and shot his load up the boy's rectum.
     The two boys knelt there motionlessly, Jamal on his hands and knees
and Jake kneeling behind him, the one boy embedded in the other, the two
enjoying the delight that comes from sharing an orgasm.  Finally Jake eased
his cock out and sat back on his heels.  He looked down at the slick organ,
still standing stiffly between his legs, now sticky from Jamal's rectum and
Jake's cum.
     Wordlessly, they reversed positions.  Jamal slicked up his finger with
spittle and worked the digit into Jake's rectum.  Jake squirmed with the
sensation as his asshole was prepared for the penetration of a much thicker
and longer object.  He did not have to wait long.  Jamal slicked up the
knob of his eight-inch black probe with bubbly spittle, and pressed it
against Jake's eager hole.  Jake willingly pushed out, opening up his anus
to the boy's cock.  Ever so slowly he felt his anus being stretched by the
firm, hot knob.  He inhaled sharply as it forced apart his anal sphincter
and slipped into his rectum, his sphincter clamping shut behind the swollen
head.
     With the knob firmly wedged in Jake's body, Jamal slowly sank his
thick, black cock up the teenager's black butt.  Jake sighed as he felt the
boy's cock penetrate him until his coarse hairs were pressed against his
backside.  Then as Jamal began to slowly pump his hips to and fro, Jake
thrilled with the unique sensation of being fucked.  Jamal tried to work
slowly, but the teenager was hot and aching to get off a load, and it was
not long before he was working his hips to and fro as rapidly as he could.
     The two teens were flushed with sexual heat and their black skin
beaded with sweat.  Jake thrilled with the sensation of having his rectum
savagely assaulted, and Jamal thrilled with the rapidly growing tension in
his loins.  Jamal's fingers tightened about Jake's narrow hips, and he
inhaled and exhaled deeply as he worked his cock in and out of Jake's
smooth backside.  The eighteen-year-old suddenly grunted and grasped Jake's
hips even more tightly as he thrust his body forward, and Jake knew he was
being filled with the boy's seed.  That was always an awesome moment,
physically and mentally, knowing another boy was depositing his seed deep
in your body.  There was nothing else in the world that could bring two
boys so close together as sharing that experience.
     When Jamal withdrew, the two boys got to their feet, and without a
word, reached out and took each other's hand.  They walked into Jamal's
bedroom and lay down on his bed.  They cuddled together and slowly began to
caress each other between sporadic kisses.  Those kisses gradually became
more and more passionate, and the caresses more and more forceful.  Soon
the boys were erect once again, and once again they fucked each other.  It
was just as great the second time as it had been the first.
     As they cuddled there in the small bedroom once again in postclimatic
bliss, the two teenagers forgot their worries and problems for the moment
and relished one of the pleasures of being gay.  Just lying there in the
bed holding each other was almost as delightful as having sex.
     "So, I guess we should get out of bed," Jamal observed an hour later.
     "Why?" asked Jake with a smile as he reached over and lightly ran his
fingers across Jamal's chest.
     "I've suddenly forgotten," said Jamal, wrapping his arm about Jake and
drawing him close.
     The two boys kissed.
     "So," Jamal asked, "you plan on staying here in Jackson, or you moving
on?"
     "No, I don't plan on staying," Jake responded, unwilling to accept the
possibility he could be stranded there for the rest of his life.  "I ... I
plan on going back home."
     "Yeah, nothing here for you, or anybody for that matter," Jamal said
bitterly.
     "No, it's not that," Jake replied, understanding how one could give up
in a world like this.  "Though I certainly could live without the Klan or
the Disruptors."
     "Yeah.  Now that would make life easier without those mothafuckas."
     "What about you?  You still thinking of moving up to New York City?"
     "Yeah," replied Jamal, but there was a hint of hesitancy in his voice.
     "Guess it would be safer to move up there."
     "Yeah."
     "You don't sound convinced."
     "I'm convinced," Jamal retorted sharply.
     Jake dropped the topic, and Jamal said nothing, regretting his sudden
angry response.  He was angry, but not at Jake.  The two boys got up and
dressed.  Like the previous day they roamed the city looking for things to
trade for food and keeping an eye out for any Klan or Disruptors.  They
occasionally ran into others, usually pairs, who were doing the same thing.
When it got dark they returned to Jamal's home.  Over the next hour Jake
checked what the time was every fifteen minutes.
     "Why do you keep checking your watch?"
     "I have to go back."
     "Back where?"
     "Where we met."
     "Where we met?  Now?  You crazy?"
     "No.  I just have to be there."
     "Why?"
     "I have to meet someone."
     "When did you arrange that?" Jamal asked suspiciously.  Jake had never
been out of his sight.
     "Before we met."
     "Well, it's your skin," the boy said sourly.  "Go if you have to go."
     Jake got up and hesitated.
     "You don't know your way back, do you?"
     "No."
     "Where do I find these mothafucka strays?" the boy complained as he
rolled his eyes.  "All right, com'on, but if there's any Disruptors up and
about, you're on your own."
     "Fair enough."
     They headed for the intersection where they had first met, detouring
around several Disruptor groups on their way.  Finding their path blocked
by still a third group, they decided it was going to be too dangerous.
They returned to Jamal's home.
     Jake's third day was the same as the previous two.  The lack of any
substantial food, the shear boredom of roaming about the bombed out city
all day, and the nerve-racking tension of keeping watch for Klan or
Disruptors took its toll on both boys.
     "This is fucking useless," Jamal cursed, slumping down in the street
and tossing a chuck of concrete at the building across from him.
     "Yeah," agreed Jake, slumping down beside him.
     "You know the kid we saved the other night?"
     "Yeah?"
     "We shouldn't have."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Should have let the mothafuckas hang him.  Would have saved the
brother from either being bored to death or starved to death."
     "You can't be serious."
     "Fuck I can't."
     "But as long as you're alive there's hope."
     "Hope?  For what?  For a slice of dry bread?  That some psycho
mothafucka don't off you?"
     Jake knew there was no convincing Jamal, and he had to admit himself,
the future on this world looked bleak.  They continued to rummage about the
ruins in silence.  Several hours later they spotted someone coming down the
street.  It was another black boy, around their age, and evidently someone
Jamal knew.
     "You hear the news?" Jamal's friend asked after introductions.
     "No, what news?"
     "Yarilians are up to some of their diabolical tricks again."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Been sending some sort of beam down.  Causes a person to disappear
and show up on their ship."
     "Yeah?" both boys asked eagerly, but for different reasons.
     "They got some ugly alien working the beam.  Hear he has huge ears and
is orange in colour, sharp pointy teeth, and huge boney head."
     "Nog!"
     "What?" Jamal and his friend asked together.
     "Ah, well, I've heard of those aliens before.  They're, ah, called the
Nog.  Where is this happening?"
     "Ninth and North Farish."
     Jake looked at Jamal.  "That's where we met," Jamal explained.
     "Want to check it out?" Jamal's friend asked.
     "Why not?" Jamal responded with a shrug.
     They headed over there, but Jake knew nothing would happen until
midnight.  Jamal's friend eventually got bored and left.  Jamal would have
left too, but Jake insisted they stay.  Half an hour later the Klan
arrived.  It soon became evident they were sticking around, probably for
the same reason the two teens were.  Jake wanted to wait and see what
happened at midnight, but even as attractive as that idea was, he agreed it
was too dangerous to stay any longer.  He reluctantly returned to Jamal's
home.
     When they woke up the fourth morning, they both had woods, and being
young, they decided they might as well do something about it.  They lay
there on Jamal's bed in reverse directions, head to groin.  As Jake
snuggled closer, he inhaled Jamal's raw, musky fragrance.  Four nights had
gone by, and neither of them had bathed.  They hadn't even washed their
hands.  For Jake, Jamal's natural odour was a real turn on.  He nuzzled his
nose between the eighteen- year-old's legs and inhaled deeply.  There was
no aroma more arousing than that of a man's sweaty balls, and Jamal's
pendant sac was warm and damp from a night's sleep.
     At the same time Jake felt Jamal's breath on his own genitals.  A hand
slipped about his stiff cock and held it at the base, and then he felt a
hot, moist tongue run up the shaft to the knob.  That was so hot.  The
tongue repeated its action, running from the fingers holding the base of
his cock up to the tip.  Over and over Jamal licked him, and soon his
glands began to pour out his pre-cum.  Jamal readily flicked up the first
droplet of clear pre-cum with his tongue, and Jake readily produced another
droplet.
     Jake slipped his mouth over Jamal's balls and sucked on them gently.
Jamal's cock twitched.  Jake sucked harder, and ran his tongue over the
coarse skin.  As he saw the clear droplet of pre-cum ooze out of Jamal's
twitching cock, Jake immediately slipped his mouth off the teenager's balls
and flicked up the sweet offering with his tongue.  Another clear droplet
formed in the empty space.  Jake eagerly licked it up, and then slipped his
thick lips over the boy's knob.  He sucked on the thick, black tube gently,
as if it was straw, and he was rewarded with another droplet of the boy's
delicious fluid.
     At the same time he felt Jamal's mouth encircle his knob and begin to
suck and he also rewarded the boy with a droplet of his clear juice.  After
a minute, he felt Jamal's lips slowly begin to descend his thick, hot pole.
Slowly Jamal's mouth enveloped his cock, the top quarter, half, and finally
three-quarters.  Jamal began to work his mouth up and down Jake's
eight-inch shaft, squeezing his cock as tight as he could with his lips.
It was delightful to feel Jamal's mouth sucking on his most private and
most valued organ.
     And so the two boys lay there, each sucking the throbbing black prick
of the other.  They delighted in the unique taste of cock, the musky
fragrance of a man's balls, and most of all, the pleasure that comes from
pleasuring another boy, and being pleasured by him.
  Their stiff cocks throbbed with their hot teenage blood, and then grew
numb as they approached their orgasms.  They sucked harder and deeper as
they felt their nuts tighten and their cum begin to rise up the core of
their dicks.  Simultaneously they shot their loads, their tight nuts
pumping out their thick cream.  As each boy felt his cum squirting out his
dick, he at the same time felt his partner's creamy load shoot into his
mouth.  It was impossible to tell which brought the greatest pleasure.
     The two boys lay there for a long time before making any effort to get
out of bed.  When they finally did, they sat up and kissed.  It was a kiss
of love.
     "So, another day of scrounging?" Jake asked.
     "Yeah," said Jamal dryly.  "What else?"
     They headed over to a different part of town, an area Jamal had not
yet searched.  After several hours of picking through the rubble and
checking the burnt out buildings, Jake found a small jewellery case with
several earrings and a necklace.
     "Fantastic!  That will get us at least a month of food supplies from
the Disruptors for sure!" Jamal announced excitedly.  Realizing what he'd
said, he paused, and corrected, "that is, it will get you probably two
months of food supplies."
     "Hey," responded Jake, "this is yours."
     "You don't ."
     "Consider it my bed and breakfast payment."
     "You mean no more sex?" Jamal asked with mock sadness.
     "Well," Jake said with a smile, "on second thought maybe I will keep
this."
     Returning to Jamal's in high spirits, they were surprised and pleased
to find the boy they had rescued and his mother waiting for them.  They
were both grinning like Cheshire cats.
     "We have something for you," the boy said excitedly.
     "You do?"
     Reaching into one of the huge pockets in his baggy pants, he pulled
out a can.  The label said "Campbell's Cream of Mushroom".  The boy handed
it to Jamal.  "We found four of them, in a house over on eighteenth avenue.
This one is for the two of you."
     "Ah, well, thanks, but it ."
     "It is too generous of you," Jake interrupted, taking the can.
"Thanks."
     The boy glanced up at his mother and they both smiled.  "Well," she
said, "we had better get back to our place before it gets dark.  We just
had to bring this over to you."
     "Thanks again," Jake replied, giving Jamal a glance that clearly was
telling him to be quiet.
     They waited until the two had left, and then entered the house.  "Why
did you accept that?" Jamal asked.  "We don't need it, not now.  And they
do."
     "Did you see the look on their faces?" Jake asked.  "They were so
pleased to be able to give it to us.  I couldn't disappoint them."
     "Yeah," Jamal said after thinking about it.  "You're right."
     "Besides, we can always share the food we're going to get with them."
     Jake opened the can while Jamal found a pot.  They savoured the aroma
of the cooking soup, and then each spoon of the best meal they'd had since
Jake's arrival.  They licked their spoons, and their bowls, clean.
Afterwards they sat in silence for a long time.
     "What are you thinking?" Jake asked finally.
     "What we've become," Jamal said solemnly.  "How a simple can of soup
is viewed as a precious gift and tastes like a gourmet meal."
     Jake knew what he meant, and didn't know what to say.  He sat, waiting
for the inevitable bitter statement and expression of despair.
     "We have to do something about it."
     "Yeah?" Jake asked in surprise.
     "Yeah.  We need to do something about those mothafuckas that are
screwing up our lives."
     "The Klan and the Disruptors."
     "Who else?" Jamal asked.  "We gotta form a resistance cell and fight
back."
     "Right!" Jake agreed, wondering why the change in attitude.
     "Our ancestors survived slavery, segregation, the civil rights
movement, urban renewal . .  .  and we're going to survive the Yarilian
Invasion."
     "Way to talk!"
     It was brave talk, but both boys knew that it would not be an easy
thing to do.  As midnight approached, they headed for the intersection of
Ninth Avenue and North Farish Street.  This time there was nobody around.
They hid in the shadows and watched, and at precisely midnight the air
shimmered, the sign of a transporter beam.  Jake leapt to his feet, but
before he could step forward a cat ran across the alley and directly into
the beam.  The cat faded and disappeared, only to quickly reappear, much to
its annoyance and to Jamal's surprise.  Jake began to walk toward the beam,
but it suddenly faded away.  He waited but it did not reappear.  Nog had
given up already, or he'd been interrupted in the transporter room.  The
two of them headed back to Jamal's in silence.
     "So," Jamal began, as they arrived back at his home.  "What do you
make of what we saw?"
     "Strange," Jake observed.
     "You know what it is, don't you," Jamal said, making it a statement,
not a question.
     "Yeah," Jake said after a moment.
     "Nobody just gets up and walks toward a thing like that without
knowing what it will do to him.  Just who are you, and where are you from?"
     Jake thought for a moment, and then taking a deep breath, decided to
be honest with the youth who had become his new friend.  He confessed he
was not from New Orleans, but from a space station light years away, and
from a different time.  He did not mention the possibility they might even
be from different alternative universes.  That aspect of physics he barely
understood himself, and his tale had to sound bizarre enough as it was.
     How much of his tale Jamal bought Jake was not sure.  He said nothing
after Jake had finished speaking.  However, the next morning when they made
love, Jake sensed that Jamal knew it would be their last time.
     That day they contacted some of the people Jamal knew to talk about
the possibility of forming a resistance cell, using the money they could
get from the jewels Jake had found.  Everyone they talked to was in
agreement, and the more they talked the more excited Jamal got about the
idea.  That night they went to the intersection of Ninth and North Farish
Street an hour early.
     "So, you're really going to form this resistance cell," Jake observed.
     "Yeah."
     "So what made you decide?"
     "The visit by the boy we saved, and his mother.  The look on their
faces when they shared their find with us.  The joy, and the hope.  It got
me thinking how much more we could do if we banded together."
     "That's great."
     "Being with you these past five days has had a lot to do with it too.
Before you arrived, I was feeling sorry for myself, almost ready to get
myself caught and killed just to get it over with.  Then you arrived, and
these past five days you've helped me remember the heritage we have and we
should fight for.  You gave me a reason to continue living."  The boy
paused, and then continued with a smile, "and you've given me something to
look forward to each morning.  You got a great ass, and you can give the
best head of any boy I've ever known."
     "Hey, you got a great ass yourself, and who could resist that tube you
got dangling between your legs?" Jake responded, returning the smile.  They
embraced and kissed.  "I'm glad you're going to fight back," Jake said as
he stared over at the brick wall.  "But I, ah, well, I feel guilty leaving
you so sudden like this."
     "Hey, your friends must be missing you from that place you're from.
And I know you're anxious to get back, and on with your life."
     "Yeah, I am," Jake responded.  "Just wish I could help you more.  It's
going to be a tough battle."
     "Yeah, but if you're from the future, we're evidently going to win."
     "Wish there was someway I could swing the odds to your side," Jake
observed.  "And that I wasn't leaving you with an empty bed at night."
     "Well," Jamal said, "I wouldn't worry about the first.  Like I told
you, we've lived here as free men since 1860.  It's going to take more than
a few ignorant Klansmen and dopehead Disruptors to destroy us.  And as for
the second, I'll miss you for sure, but there's a friend who's been wanting
to get close.  I've been putting him off, thinking there was no future, but
you've changed that."
     "Fickle," Jake teased.  "Your lover one day, dropped the next."
     "I'll never forget you," Jamal replied, drawing Jake close.  "You
weren't the first to have my ass, and you won't be the last, but you sure
were one hot mothafucka."
     Before they could get teary-eyed on each other, the air shimmered.
They embraced for one last, long, hot kiss, and Jake quickly stepped
forward and into the beam.  As he turned around, his muscles were beginning
to tingle and the image of Jamal was becoming blurred.
     Seconds later Jamal was staring at the empty space before the
crumbling brick wall.  Jake was nowhere to be seen. The eighteen-year-old
boy said a prayer for the mothafucka, then headed home.  There was a
resistance cell waiting for him to form.