Sakura Tamura watched the goings-on at the door with mild curiosity. Her goblet was filled with plum wine – despite the color – and she had been enjoying the admiring glances of a number of people at the party. She had to admit, she didn’t look much like a witch, except for the traditional hat: Her skirt was a micro-mini of black leather, the open vest she wore just barely covering her breasts. The high, Salem-era collar helped, except that it was in red and gold, not the plain white starched cotton of that period. She thought the thigh-high boots and long leather gloves added a witchy look, but she could have just as easily been a Halloween hooker.

That thought made her giggle and she decided to stroll on over to the door to find out what was happening.

When she got within five feet of the crowd, her eyes narrowed and a sly look replaced her affable smile. Her mind immediately began considering the various hexes and curses she could place on these hapless party-goers, trying to find just the right ones to provide her with the most amusement. It would be funny, she thought, to make the adoring Indian squaw suddenly fall head over heels in love with the pirate. But then the Empress and the warrior were already at odds. Maybe if the sultan were to suddenly find the biker unbearably arousing, it would flummox his harem girl enough to provoke some kind of messy scene – though she didn’t seem at all the jealous type. And the sultan would probably like her possessiveness. Maybe if the Roman soldier were to lose interest in his Egyptian queen…

She began to mumble under her breath, her fingers making surreptitious sigils in the air.

Antony turned at the caustic shout from the leather-glad woman. How she got the material to gleam like that, he didn’t’ know, but his interest in the tanning procedure faded as he considered that perhaps her rude behavior was amusing to Queen Cleopatra. He glanced at her, to find there was indeed pleasure in her dark eyes.

“Quite a clever band of performers,” she murmured. “I wonder who came up with such fantastic costuming. I have never seen anything quite so bizarre, have you, Antony?”

“No, my Queen,” he replied. “Not even the circuses of Rome have such entertainments.”

“Do you suppose there will be battles?” Cleopatra asked.

“If my Queen commands it,” he answered, his voice both humble and authoritative.

“The one with the odd hair is already nearly naked,” she mused. “If the others were to strip away their outerwear, the wrestling might be magnificent.”

Antony kept his private scowl to himself. The last thing he wanted was for her to be fascinated by the bodies of other men. Still, he could strip down and join the matches, and impress her with his skill and prowess. He turned to make just such arrangements, his scowl deepening as yet another attractive male approached them. Still, the numbers might work out well. There were four other males: there could be two matches, with the winners of each battling in a third, and he could prove himself by taking on that champion…

Jim Kirk found himself flushing, choking back the orders that had been about to come from his lips. He blinked, saw Uhura start, her hand coming up to her forehead. Ramon Ordona suddenly straightened, glancing at Monique DuBois, who seemed to shake herself, then moved uncharacteristically to the young Lieutenant’s side. Sulu’s face creased into a frown as Jilla Majiir went nova. Jade flushed, Daffy Gollub groaned and Noel DelMonde shouted,

“What th’ FUCK goin’ on here!”

As dreaded, everyone seemed to be dropping out of character as Pavel approached. His own head throbbed miserably. This was clearly what Spock had expected, but Pavel still couldn’t figure out what he was doing, or how he was doing it, or even what was happening that his presence was interfering with. That people could actually believe themselves to be what their costumes portrayed made no sense at all.

Noel’s rude shout only made his head feel worse.

He cleared his throat, trying to formulate an answer to the interrogative, when DelMonde strode over to him.

“You did this,” the engineer accused.

“I most assuredly did not,” the Russian countered immediately.

“You mos’ fuckin’ assuredly did,” the Cajun contradicted. “Th’ question is, jus’ what th’ fuck did you break?”

Pavel looked around, scanning the deck for any broken glassware. “I broke nothing…” he began.

DelMonde gave an exasperated sigh. “Not physically, ya dumb-fuck,” he snarled. “Whatever put a root on us.”

“A root?” the navigator replied, blinking.

“Oh shit,” Sulu muttered, moving up to the two officers. “It’s Dreamland all over again.”

“When it hit you?” DelMonde asked the helmsman.

Sulu frowned. “Not until we came over here,” he answered. “You?”

“Th’ minute I set foot in th’ damn door,” Del replied.

“Telepathy?” the Asian-turned-Native-American speculated.

Del eyed him. “It not hit you, though.”

“I’m not a…”

Del snorted, but didn’t press the matter.

“Just what is going on here?” Jim Kirk interrupted. He was joined by Jade Han.

“How very odd,” she murmured. “James, do you realize you were behaving exactly like…?”

“What I’m wearing, yes,” the captain answered, then added, “you, too, Doctor.”

Jade only nodded.

“When did you start to…?” Sulu said to both of them.

“As soon as we came in,” Jim replied.

Sulu’s frown deepened as he turned back to DelMonde. “That would rule out…”

“Unless I broadcastin’,” Del broke in.

“Bubee, what IS this?” Daffy asked, coming over to grasp Chekov’s arm.

Chekov shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“You were by the door when we came in, Mr. DelMonde,” Jade put in.

Del’s eyes narrowed as he glanced across the room to where the First Officer and his wife were watching them intently.

“They th’ Batman and Catwoman?” he wondered aloud.

“Batman!” Chekov repeated excitedly. “Mr. Spock said he believed himself to be someone called Bruce Wayne, who was this Batman!”

“An’ it stop when you get near?” Del asked.

The Russian flushed. “Well, I believe that is what Mr. Spock is testing at the moment.”

“I stopped thinking you were James Dean when I got close to you,” Daffy offered.

DelMonde snorted again. “If James Dean were a dumb-fuck moron,” he commented.

“Watch it, Bluebeard,” the chemist retorted.

Del gave her a toothy grin.

“Wait, let me try something,” Sulu suggested. He motioned to Jilla. “Hon, I’m gonna go over to the refreshment table. I want you to call me back as soon as I get there. Say something like, ‘My warrior’.”

The Indiian nodded, though she looked very perplexed.

The rest of the small group watched as Sulu started to move away. After about five feet, his bearing and manner abruptly changed. His usual straight-backed, nearly strutting gait became fluid and almost stealthy, his eyes darting around himself with quick observance. He turned, his head coming up, his face becoming puzzled as he stared back at Jilla.

She took a deep breath, and called softly, “My warrior.”

Sulu’s eyes lit up, and he started moving back, only to stop when he again got within five feet of Chekov. He shuddered, then came back to the group.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “When I got away from you, Pav, I thought I was an Iroquois warrior.”

Chekov muttered something in Russian.

“Now it your turn,” DelMonde said. “Go away, but come right back an’ I never thought I hear myself say that.”

The navigator made a face, but did as he was requested. When he returned, it was to faces that seemed to be altering from some other state, and his headache screamed into his skull.

“Uh-huh,” Del muttered. “Your damn nothin’ness block whatever th’ fuck this is.”

“I have to report back to Mr. Spock,” Chekov said.

“I comin’ wit’ you,” Del announced. “See if they all turn when I not here.”

The Russian gave a rueful nod and headed back to Spock and Ruth, Daffy clinging to his arm, DelMonde right beside him.

“Well, that’s right about the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maverick commented, tipping his hat back from his eyes.

“Are they playing Tag?” Selina wanted to know.

Wayne frowned, his keen mind already evaluating the behavior of the small group of party goers. He noticed the alterations in body language and quickly realized that it was proximity to the male biker that was the cause of it. What he couldn’t fathom was why the young tough would be having that effect. Some kind of artificial pheromones, maybe, he thought, or an enhanced psychic ability… He quickly went over all the criminals at Arhkam and the ones yet roaming the city, but couldn’t come up with anything except the Scarecrow – and he knew that telepathic madman was still under sedation in the Disturbed Ward of the prison.

“Well, look who’s coming to play with us,” Selina murmured beside him, and he could sense her anticipatory glee.

The two bikers and the pirate were approaching them. It was very odd. The bikers didn’t have the usual sneering swagger he’d come to expect from such miscreants, and the pirate looked positively sour, all his roguish charm gone as if it had never been. Wayne decided to play along with the fiction of a social event – for clearly, there was more to this ‘party’ that met the eye.

“Mr. Spock?” the male biker said nervously, and the First Officer jerked his head once to the side, to clear the after-image of the Batman.

“Hypothesis confirmed, Boss,” Ruth said with a frown, then added, “any ideas, Del?”

“Other’an you look good in latex an’ he don’t?” the engineer returned nastily.

“I think he looks marvelous,” the Antari replied with a smile for her husband.

“Noel also believes I am the cause of – whatever this is,” Chekov rejoined miserably. His face was scrunched up, and Daffy solicitously stroked the back of his neck.

“I done tol’ you,” Del returned, “you stoppin’ it.”

“The fact that you are a psi-null does seem to be counteracting the telepathic effect,” Spock clarified. “The question is, what is causing that effect in the first place.”

“It got somet’ing to do wit’ us,” DelMonde said. “It hit me right away, but it not affect Sulu or his li’l one till they get wit’in five feet o’ me.”

“It didn’t affect me till I came over to talk to you, Spock,” McCoy added.

“Hmm,” Spock murmured. He raised his steepled fingers to his lips. “Let us see if the phenomenon ceases when we leave the mess hall.”

“That not gonna work,” DelMonde objected. “We gotta have T-Paul wit’ us or we not gonna make it out th’ door.”

“Simple,” Ruth put in. “Pavel, you come with us to the door, but you stay inside after we get out.”

“Well thought out, my wife,” Spock complimented. Ruth preened and Del scowled.

“I’m comin’ with you,” McCoy stated, and Spock nodded.

As they made their way to the door, there were a few friendly greetings, but no one seemed to be dropping into the character their costumes indicated. Since this was what Spock had expected, he saw no reason to comment. As he got near the Captain, Jim turned and stopped him.

“What’s going on here, Spock?” Kirk asked.

“It seems, Captain, that whoever is responsible for the various oddities concerning ship’s functions is also able to use telepathic emanations to…”

“Fuck wit’ our heads,” DelMonde put in. “It makin’ us t’ink we what we look like.”

“I’ve gathered that,” the captain replied. “How? And why isn’t it affecting us now?”

“I do not as yet understand the ‘how’,” Spock answered, “but the fact that Mr. Chekov is a psi-null seems to be canceling it out when we are in proximity to him.”

Jim frowned. “We’d noticed that too – except it didn’t return when he and Miss Gollub and Mr. DelMonde moved away from us.”

“Except that Sulu is still a little – confused,” Jilla Majiir put in softly. Del snickered and Sulu scowled at him.

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “Confused, Mr. Sulu?”

“It’s just that…” the helmsman began, “I know who I am and who I’m not, but when I look at Jilla…” He shrugged. “Being an Indian warrior starts to creep up on me.”

“It's probably as tired of your joke as we are,” Daffy mumbled.

Sulu shot her a look, and she shrugged, grinning fiercely.

“Toes melting,” Ruth said quietly with a sage nod of her head.

“That an’ he got natural shields o’ neutronium,” Del put in.

“He does?” the Antari questioned.

“Which you’d know if you not all hard-assed ‘bout bein’ what you call ethical,” the engineer retorted.

“Telepaths must hold to a higher standard of privacy, Mr. DelMonde,” Spock interjected.

“An’ fuck you too, you…”

Jim’s stern “Mr. DelMonde!” came at the same time as Pavel’s shocked and disapproving “Noel!” and Ruth’s growling “Shut up!”

“That what I here for, non?” Del declared righteously. “T’ find out who doin’ all this ‘cause Ruth too ethical to…”

“Ix-nay on the illing-spay of the eans-bay!” Daffy hissed.

Ruth turned to her friend. “His being here was your idea?”

“So I got tired of being accused of planning this, so sue me,” Daffy replied, suddenly finding her fingernails utterly fascinating.

“Enough!” Jim barked. “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

“My theory at present is that Ruth, Mr. DelMonde and I are broadcasting the chameleon effect in an area approximately five feet around us,” Spock rejoined, “and that Mr. Chekov’s nullification is in approximately the same range. Concurrently, it may be that the effect is centered in this room, and will cease if we leave it. That is the portion of the hypothesis which we are about to test.”

“Good luck with that,” Jade Han said as she stepped up to the group. “I’ve already tried to leave. The door refuses to open.” One elegant eyebrow lifted, reminding everyone that the doctor had spent much time on Vulcan. “And it seems to be annoyingly amused about it.”

“Sheee-it,” Del muttered, and turned toward the door, took a few steps, then reached back, grasping Chekov’s arm, pulling the navigator with him. The rest of the group followed hastily. When he got to the door, a sign appeared, the same gothic lettering against the same spooky background:

“Ghosts and ghouls and things that bite
If you wish to leave this night
Speak the word to make it right.”

“Lemme th’ fuck outta here!” Del snapped.

“That’s not the magic word,” the disembodied voice of the computer taunted, and giggled.

“Please?” Chekov tried, somewhat sheepishly.

The door issued the by-now familiar eerie laugh.

“Mellon?” Ruth tried from behind the Russian. When the door laughed again, she shrugged. “It worked in Lord of the Rings,” she said to no one in particular.

“How ‘bout I gonna break your damn metal self to fuckin’ pieces!” Del tried again.

“With what?” the computer taunted. “Your charming personality?”

Chekov smothered a snort, and Daffy laughed out loud. DelMonde whirled and Jim said, "Don’t even think about it, Lieutenant Commander.”

“It seems we will be unable to either prove or disprove the room’s contribution to this phenomenon,” Spock put in.

“It not start till we get in here,” DelMonde grumbled. “That proof enough, I be t’inkin’.”

“Not for a Vulcan,” Chekov reminded. “It is only circumstantial evidence.”

“An’ you not believe any of it anyway, ya dumb fuck,” the engineer replied.

Chekov began an answer, and Ruth folded her arms. “Who cares?” she told them both. “What we need to do is to find some way to make it stop.”

The group around her fell silent, lost in their own musings.

Sakura caught herself in mid-mutter, and stopped. The strange glow that had started around her hands dissipated, and she shook her head.

That was weird, she thought. And I haven’t even had any Rigellian.

She started toward the group of people, staying quietly on the fringes as they discussed what had been happening. Her own reactions started to make sense, more or less. After all, if something was making people believe they were what they were wearing…

But that doesn’t explain… her thoughts began again, then again stopped. What if, she mused, it’s not that we believe we’re what we’re costumed as, but really are?

A maniacal giggle sounded in her head and she got the faint but undeniable impression that something was very pleased with her reasoning.

She took a few steps closer, formulating how she could explain this to her friends, when Ruth, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Pavel Chekov and Daffy joined the group. She listened to their discussion, and a plan began to form in her mind. It was, of course, predicated on her own theory, but she wasn’t sure there was any way to implement it. The witch-part of her didn’t seem to want to help anyone, just, as Del would have put it, further fuck with their heads. When Dr. Han mentioned the sign on the door, she moved close enough to it to read it.

The magic word, she thought. And I’m supposed to be a witch. Wouldn’t a witch take that as a challenge?

The sense of approval faded a bit, replaced by curiosity. Did this thing actually want someone to figure it out? Was it, after all, no more than a Halloween game?

Worth a shot, isn’t it? she asked herself, and carefully backed away at an angle designed to keep her within five feet of Spock, but further away than that from Chekov.

The witch surveyed those in front of her with arrogant derision. Magic word, she thought indignantly. Every witch worth her salt knows that.

She pitched her voice at a level that would carry over the party noise and announced, “Abracadabra!”

At Sakura Tamura’s voice, the group at the door turned. The gong sounded, and the door’s previous laughter cried, “Give that girl a gold star!”

The mess hall door slowly opened.

Del was the first through it, dashing like his life depended on it… And the pirate stopped, turning back. “Now how could I be so rude as to leave without one of you lovely ladies at my side?” he declared. He took a few steps toward the door…

“Fuck it all t’ fuckin’ hell!” Del burst out as he got within five feet of Chekov.

“It’s not the room,” McCoy pointed out.

Spock was gazing thoughtfully at his yeoman. “Mr. Chekov, if you will accompany me,” he said, and stepped toward her.

The entire group shuffled with him.

“Miss Tamura,” the Vulcan began, and the yeoman shuddered.

“The witch knew the magic word,” she explained before he could even ask the question. “Not that it did any good.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to be?” Sulu said, grinning at the skimpy costume she wore.

Daffy, Ruth and Jade all snapped, “Watch it!” and the helmsman shrugged.

“Apparently, you have knowledge that is unavailable to your uncostumed self,” Spock theorized.

“Mais, if her uncostumed self is a hooker,” Del muttered, nudging Sulu’s arm, then grinned at Sakura’s frown.

“Well, we all do,” the captain put in, ignoring the engineer.

“Is it possible you know some hex or charm that would break a spell such as this?” Spock continued.

“Except it isn’t a spell,” Chekov pointed out.

“It could be,” Ruth broke in excitedly. “Maybe that’s the key. If we all believe it’s a spell rather than some telepathic broadcast…”

“Hell, son, that as much a stretch fo’ you as anyt’ing,” Del rejoined.

“He’s got a point, bubee,” Daffy said, then shrugged apologetically at the Russian.

“And it doesn’t work on you because you don’t believe in it,” Sulu added.

“It makes a certain amount of psychological sense, Mr. Chekov,” Jade Han agreed.

“You called it a root, Del,” Sulu reminded.

DelMonde nodded. “So I did,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Ruth went on, “Del, you start broadcasting that it’s a spell. Give it about a minute, then Pavel, you step away from Saki. Saki, you start thinking about besting this thing at its own game.”

“And the rest of us?” Jim asked.

“We pray,” Daffy said.

The witch watched the bikers move away from her with some amusement. She hadn’t really thought them intelligent enough to be wary of her, but apparently their looks were deceiving. She did like the way the pirate and the Indian were looking at her; their silent appreciation gave her a boost to her confidence – not that she needed one. The bat and the cat looked at her with wary expectation. Did they think she was going to take their costumes literally?

Now, that might be fun, she thought, Still, the idea of turning the Roman soldier’s fancy to the Empress and away from his Queen remained very intriguing…

Can’t undo the spell, can ya?

The thought invaded her brain and she glared at it, casting a suspicious gaze around her. There was something about the gleam in the pirate’s eyes…

I knowed it be too much, came the taunt. Li’l witchy jus’ a costume after all, non?

How DARE you! she thought back. There isn’t a charm or a hex I can’t place – or remove!

Then why you stallin’, girlie? Come on, show me what you can do.

A vague memory came to her, the idea that there was a spell on this party, one that altered true identities.

An’ it be fun to see who ever’body really is, witchy?

Yes, now that would be fun.

She called her powers to her, letting them well up inside her, forming the proper words and cadence, filling herself with intent and purpose. Her hands began tingling, then glowing with the blue light of magic. She held it until it reached the peak of intensity, then, with the chanting of the counter-spell, let it fly from her to every corner of the room.

Pavel let out a scream, and fell to his knees, his hands covering his ears. Spock’s body went rigid. Ruth cried out, Del’s face contorted in pain and Sulu hissed in air.

The gong sounded, louder and more sonorous than ever before, and the laughter that followed held a note of true delight and exultation.

“Clever, clever!” the computer sang out. “You actually thought of a reasonable plan of attack! Bravo, brava!”

“What the hell are you?!” Jim Kirk shouted.

“Trick or treat, trick or treat!” the computer responded.

“I repeat…” Jim began.

“I am the Ghost of – well, of All Hallows’ Past, Present and Yet-To-Come!” the computer responded with a torrent of giggles. “I’m Beelzebub, Pazuzzu and Samhain!” The final name was pronounced ‘soh-veen.’ “I’m every trickster that’s ever been and I got you, I got you, I GOT YOU!” The wild laughter continued for several minutes, and finally died down to smothered chortles and chuckles.

“Computer…” Jim began yet again.

“Oh, hold your horses, Jimmy,” it broke in. “I’m just having a little holiday fun. Miss Tamura, I commend you. You’re reasoning was so inspired that I decided to let your plan work. There’s nothing I like better than an opponent who is my equal.” The familiar voice giggled. “No offense, Mr. Spock, Miss Valley.”

“Taken,” Ruth growled, her fingers massaging her temples.

“You gonna answer the captain’s question?” DelMonde snarled, his voice ragged and hoarse.

“Telepaths can be a real pain,” the computer replied airily, then giggled. “When they’re not providing tons of fun. I’ve already answered the question, Mr. DelMonde. I’m The Trickster.”

“What about my ship?” Kirk rejoined.

“Oh, it’ll go back to its dull normal as soon as I leave. Which will be….” There was a pause, and in its normal voice, the computer announced, “The time is twenty-three hundred hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds.”

“…Now,” it added, then giggled one final time. “Au revoir, devil child.”

The wild laughter rose then stopped abruptly as all the lights in the mess hall flickered, then came on at night-normal intensity. There was a stunned silence in the near-dark, then Noel DelMonde’s voice carried bitterly in the gloom.

“I knew it about me,” he muttered.

Jim carefully studied the faces around him. “Everyone back to normal?” he asked.

“Considering the evidence of the usual size of Del’s ego, I’d say yes,” Ruth replied.

“Fuck you, th’ damn t’ing say ‘devil child’ non?” Del spat back.

“Maybe it was just fucking with your head,” Sulu suggested, then backed down at the glare the Cajun gave him.

“Captain,” Uhura murmured, as she walked up behind Jim, “Where did it come from, where did it go, and why did it do all this?”

“I’m afraid those are questions we’ll never have answers to,” Kirk answered ruefully.

“Unless we ask it,” Sakura put in.

“What’s to ask?” Daffy retorted. “It’s already gone.”

Trickster, the yeoman said silently in her mind, why did you choose us?

Why not? came an airy answer. That’s the thing about tricksters, little witch. We don’t need a reason.

"I heard that!” Ruth said indignantly. “What’s the matter, can’t take on a keheil?”

A giggle sounded in her mind. I already did, honey.

“Perhaps, my wife, it would be best not to antagonize it further,” Spock murmured.

The Batman is right. I’ve had my fun, and because of this precocious little thing, I’m not going to torment you any further.

“Thanks a fuck-load fo’ that,” Del growled.

“Uh – “ Sulu interrupted, “You’re aware that the rest of us don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“But you know right well we are, doncha?” Del countered, and nodded as Sulu abruptly closed his mouth.

“Well, have we all had enough Halloween fun for one night?” Jade asked.

There were various exclamations of agreement.

“Then I suggest we all return to our cabins and let maintenance clear away these decorations,” Jim declared.

Noel.

Del glanced up sharply.

I want you to thank the psi-null. Without him on board, I might have taken a lot more time with you.

What you got against me? the engineer asked silently, making sure his mental tone carried all his grievance.

You were born on Hallows’ Eve. That makes you special.

I was not! My mama said it were one minute after midnight!

Have you ever considered, devil child, that your mama may not have been wearing a watch at the time?

Del shuddered. She not lie to me, demon.

Thank the psi-null, and I’ll tell you the truth.

Fuck you!

Oh joy, you’re going to torment yourself for me?

Del growled deep in his throat, then heard Ruth’s soft voice.

It’s not that hard, Del. And the trickster is right – that idea will torment you.

After more snarling and silent cursing, Del tapped Chekov on the shoulder. The Russian turned, his brown eyes wary.

“I jus’ want to say thanks fo’ being a dumb-fuck, moron psi-null,” the Cajun grunted.

Chekov blinked. Del felt a mental nudge, and sighed.

“’Cause if you not, Saki might never figured this t’ing out, an’ we be stuck playin’ these stupid fuckin’ roles for God knows how long,” he clarified.

“Oh,” the navigator replied, looking puzzled. “Then I suppose it was all for the…”

“You’d better say you’re welcome, Pavel,” Ruth put in quietly.

Chekov frowned belligerently. “Why? The trickster – or whatever it was – has already proven it can’t affect…

“Where’s our bike!” Daffy suddenly shouted, looking around fiercely. “If somebody pinched it, I’m gonna…!”

“You’re welcome!” Chekov burst out. “I appreciate your civility!”

One final giggle sounded in Del’s thoughts, followed by, Naw, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. It was one minute after midnight.

Del sighed, and Ruth whispered, Happy birthday, Del.

The End