Sloan's eyes flew wide open as the memory of the events that took place on DS9 flooded back to him. Oh, shit, he thought, am I dead? He sure as hell didn't feel dead, but then, how does one know what being dead feels like? He ran his hands over his face and down the length of his body before coming to two conclusions. First, he had a splitting headache, and second, he must be alive, since he was here (wherever here was) and cognitive. Besides, dead men don't get headaches, do they?

Clutching his head and painstakingly pulling himself to an upright position, Sloan surveyed the area immediately around him. First things first, he decided: find out where I am. Then how I got here. Then hunt down the son of a bitch that brought me here and beat the holy shit out of - -

Sloan's train of thought broke off as his mind finally processed what he was seeing. In the distance loomed a dark castle, around which monkeys appeared to be flying. He was, for the moment at least, sitting in a field of bright orange poppies, and he could remotely hear high-pitched voices singing. Something about the situation tickled the back of his brain, and for a split second, before it danced out of reach, he almost grasped the solution to his quandary.

"Computer, end program." The scenery remained unchanged. He sighed. Well, it was worth a venture, at any rate. "So I suppose this is actually happening," Sloan muttered speculatively. At last, the realization of where he was came loose and struck him between the eyes. Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of it sooner? Christ, I'm only stuck in a 500 year old childrens' story.

As the first Munchkin came into view, Sloan rolled his eyes. Great, he reflected, I'm dead and this is hell. Oddly, the idea didn't upset him as much as it probably should have. A sense of equanimity had overtaken him.

What was the Munchkin singing? He could nearly make it out, but not quite. Fine, he resolved, rising to his feet. Might as well play along with this ludicrous charade. "Hey, shorty!" Sloan called to the Munchkin. "You wouldn't happen to know the way to the Alpha Quadrant, would you?"

The Munchkin stopped immediately in front of Sloan and directed a wily gaze up at him. "Follow the black leather road!"

The black leather road? He shook his head in grudging amusement. This just gets more ridiculous by the second. "So, this black leather road leads back to the Alpha Quadrant?"

The Munchkin sighed, rolled his eyes, then kicked Sloan in the ankle.

"Hey, you little bastard!" Sloan exclaimed indignantly.

"Pay attention, Spy Boy."

Spy Boy?

"There is no Alpha Quadrant. There is only Oz. Understand? And we have a job for you." The Munchkin looked at him with expectant eyes.

"Yeah, and I suppose free will is irrelevant," Sloan groused under his breath.

"What?" The Munchkin demanded sharply.

"Nevermind."

Scowling, the Munchkin continued. "As I was saying, we have a job opening. Lately, there's been speculation that the wizard is going a little soft in the head. Now, seeing as how the wizard is also the Grand Inquisitor, we simply couldn't have that. He was impeached- -"

I wonder how you impeach a wizard, Sloan mused.

"- - and now the job is available. After reviewing your file, and after careful deliberation, we on the cow- -"

"The cow?" Sloan interrupted.

"The C. O. W. Commission Of Wizardry. We feel that you are the best suited for the position. Do you accept?"

Grand Inquisitor? Sloan considered for a moment, then allowed the ghost of a smile to steal across his features. Oh, what the hell. After all, there's no place like home. . . .

THE END