[MiSTing] Trouble of Dwarves (7/9)

[pieceoftheuniverse]

[Pan out to find Tom sitting behind a judge's bench that's propped up on
the table. Tom's wearing one of the English wigs that used to be common
in legal court, but have since fallen out of fashion. Joel and Crow are
similarly dressed. Tom somehow bangs the gavel (don't look too closely)]

TOM: Order! Order! I will have order!
JOEL: We've been perfectly silent up 'till now, Servo.
TOM: Oh. But I'll still have order!
JOEL: We'll try to behave ourselves.
TOM: Thank you. Now what is the case that you have before me?
CROW: This is the case of Ensign Winston vs. the Commonwealth of the
Satellite of Love. The charge is Idiocy in the first degree,
Instigation of Plot Holes in the first degree, and Conspiracy of
Favouritism in the First Degree.
TOM: I see. And how does the defendant plead?
JOEL: The defendant is not present, but I'm acting as counsel. The
defendant pleads not guilty.
TOM: Tough! Guilty!
JOEL: Servo!
TOM: Oh. I suppose that's no fun if I just rush this along. Very well,
then. Prosecutor Crow, present your case.
CROW: For Exhibit A, I present Winston's plan to create a rubble field
for the starship Voyager to hide in. Once he found out that
creating said field was impossible by blowing up large ships, he
decided that the best way to reach his ends was to blow up large
ships.
TOM: Thus negating the plot point, causing a plot hole, and being an
idiot. Continue.
CROW: Thank you, your honour. I now present Exhibit B, in which we see
that the plan worked, thus showing favoritism on the part of the
author.
TOM: Duly noted.
CROW: Now, Exhibit C, in which we see Ensign Winston given command of a
starship, despite there being a perfectly qualified higher-ranking
officer on board.
TOM: Which, I might add, nearly resulted in me losing my mind.
JOEL: Objection! You don't remember that!
TOM: Oh. Right. I hereby forget I said that.
CROW: And finally, Exhibit D, in which Winston rushes to meet the enemy,
rather than lying in wait and choosing his battlefield. This, your
honour, concludes my case.
TOM: That's it? Out of the entire story, you have only four pieces of
evidence?
CROW: I didn't want to run out of time before we got Fanfic Sign again.
TOM: Good thinking. Joel, your case?
JOEL: I must admit that I have no evidence to present.
TOM: I thought not. Okay, final arguments, you two. Prosecutor Crow, you
have the floor.
CROW: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury --
JOEL: Objection! There is no jury!
TOM: [bangs his gavel] There are no objections allowed during final
arguments! But he does have a point, Crow. I'm the sole judge in
this case.
CROW: Oh Wondrous Droid presiding over this case, my argument is simple:
Winston is a fool with an I.Q. that rivals Chakotay's, is clearly
a bumbling baffoon who deserves the rank of Ensign more so than
even Harry Kim, and who, for some unfathomable reason which I dare
not contemplate, is favoured by the author so that all he touches
is blessed. I ask that you extend the appropriate sentence for his
crimes, which is death. Thank you.
TOM: Well said, Crow. Joel?
JOEL: On-High 'Bot of All He Judges, my argument is equally simple:
Winston is obviously a favourite of the author, this we do not
dispute. That he is a simpleton, this we also do not argue -- or
at least my client lacks the brainpower to come up with an
appropriate response. And the creation of plot holes is the
natural progression of the preceding admitted crimes. But there is
one important point that you both seem to be missing.

[pause]

BOTS: Yes?!
JOEL: He's a favourite, and thus is too -cute- to die.
CROW: Damn!
TOM: Curse you, Joel! Curse you down to your organic ancestors!
JOEL: As opposed to my mechanical ones?
CROW: How could I not have seen it? Ray-Ray won't -allow- Winston to
die, no matter what happens!
TOM: Damn, damn, damn! [bangs gavel] Case dismissed!

[lights, sirens, general chaos]

JOEL: Time to go back in; we've got the sign of the Blessed One!

[ ... 6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... ]

[As Joel and the 'bots file in]

CROW: "The blessed one"?
TOM: Oh, he's right, Crow. And it seemed like such a perfect time, too,
with Winston on a collision course with another ship and all.
JOEL: Gotta agree with you there.

>
>
>
>The impact, when it came, was horrific.

CROW: But right up until then, it was a great party.

>The warship smashing through the starboard saucer section,

TOM: Did we just slip into present tense?
JOEL: Worse. I think this is past-future tense, in which things that
will have going to have been happening are going to will be have
been told in the telling.

>ripping much of it away, as well as the outer hull of the engineering section

CROW: Take your bets, take your bets, droids and humanoids. Will
B'Elanna live or die? Take your bets, take your bets!
JOEL: What are the odds?
CROW: Ten to one on her living, forty billion to one on her dying.
JOEL: Dang. Well, I'll take one on her living, then.
CROW: You sure?
JOEL: Well, yes!
CROW: Damn. Forget it, then.

>as it ploughed past, with a tearing of metal sound that could be distinctly
>heard through out the ship.

TOM: It did nothing to drown out Miller's gum-chewing and
mouth-smacking, however, which was far more annoying.

>Winston was thrown from the navigator's chair.

JOEL: Any particular reason?
CROW: Besides being a rag doll to toss about? Not really.

>The force of the impact was sufficient to send him crashing against the
>ceiling before he fell, spread-eagled to the floor.

TOM: Hey! He might just die after all!
CROW: [triumphantly] Yes! Judgement belongs to the 'bots!

>The ship continued to buck violently as the tremendous energy of the Kommodan
>ship's destruction demolished her shields,

JOEL: I thought the Kommodan ship didn't have shields anymore.
TOM: Try to keep up, Joel.

>literally melting the armour on the starboard side of her main
>hull.

CROW: As opposed to metaphorically melting the armour, which would only
be slightly better.
TOM: Or symbolically melting the armour, which would signify the loss of
hope coursing through Winston's veins.
CROW: ... if he weren't dead.
TOM: Yes. If that.

>The main shields weren't the only system lost

JOEL: So they've got secondary shields, then?

>as the sensors and navigational deflector also fell before the force of
>the Kommodans' final assault.

TOM: [evilly] So, where have those Borg got to?

>Miller's projection had been shut off, the holo-emitter broken when a strut
>fell, crushing the helm console.

CROW: Hey, an actual -reason- for Miller to disappear! Ray-Ray must have
written this on one of his good days!

>The program had been forced to take over the ship from inside her computers.

JOEL: Despite the physical separation mentioned before, which we're
hoping you've forgotten by now.

>His first action was to bring the ship to a halt,

TOM: ... as a sitting duck.

>to keep it from crashing into any of the millions of small but deadly
>objects that could destroy it as they could neither be avoided nor moved
>out of the way by the disfunctional navigational deflector.

CROW: Oh, so that's what that thing is for.
JOEL: What did you think it was?
CROW: A plot device. What else?
JOEL: I think it's still serving that function.

>His second was to assess the situation of the ship and its small crew, then
>the state of what was left of the Argonaut.

TOM: So he's going to check the situation of the ship, the Argonaut, and
it's crew, and then check the ship again?
CROW: That's what the man said.

>
>
>
>Abbott stirred, shocked by the enormous force that ripped through
>Argonaut's photon torpedo room.

JOEL: And Secondary Main Character #2 is revealed to be perfectly
healthy.
TOM: She must be the backup, in case Winston croaks.

>Though it was heavily protected, the force of the Kommodan ship's destruction
>had affected all of Argonaut's compartments to some degree.

CROW: [Abbott] Dang. The holodecks probably won't work now.

>Torpedo casings had been thrown about the room,

TOM: Her too, I bet.

>one crushing the console that she had been using to help fire the ship's
>weapons.

CROW: You mean with the one button she used to arm the torpedoes? Big
loss.

>The racks had been demolished, huge chunks of metal lay tangled with the
>forward torpedo launchers.

JOEL: A game of mechanical twister gone horribly wrong.

>There was no question in Abbott's mind that she was very lucky to be alive

TOM: With this story, it's one miraculous occasion after another.
CROW: Each and every one of these people should be dead ten times over.

>as she levered herself into a sitting position and looked around in stunned
>confusion.

JOEL: That looked mirrored by every reader of this story.

>Miller's voice broke through her dissarranged thoughts,

TOM: And the plot contrivance character is revealed not only to be in
perfect health, but telepathic as well.

>his report terrifying her in a way that she had never been before.

CROW: [Miller] You're the main character, now. I'm sorry, but it looks
like this is turning into a lemon.
JOEL & TOM: Gahhh!

>"Ms. Abbott," he said gently, voice as soft as her communicator would
>permit,

TOM: ... but her communicator was having a bad day, so his voice
shattered her eardrums.

>"I'm sorry to have to report this to you. But you're the only conscious
>member of the crew.

CROW: Damn.
TOM: What?
CROW: "Conscious." Not "alive." Just "conscious."
TOM: So Joel was right after all.
JOEL: Don't lose hope, guys. It's possible it's just B'Elanna.
CROW: Does that mean I owe you ten bucks?
JOEL: We'll talk about that later.

>I need orders if I'm to get repairs under way, Ma'am?"

TOM: Um, why?
CROW: Mindless automaton, apparently.

>She remained silent.

JOEL: [Abbott] If I don't speak, he'll think I'm out, too!

>"Miss?" Millers voice repeated. "You are the senior officer now. You've
>gotta take command."

[All groan]
TOM: So the ship was populated entirely by ensigns?
CROW: At the very least, all the people with actual command experience
are out like a light.

>"Um, do what you need to do."

JOEL: If he could do -that- he wouldn't have come to you for orders!

>she said, shocked by the realisation that she was now in command--

TOM: And doing a terrible job of it.

>even if temporarily. She knew that other questions needed to be asked, but
>her Star Fleet training could not compete with her rising terror.

CROW: Well, "Rising Terror" works better as a racing name, is all. She
just needs to come up with a catchier name than "Star Fleet
training."

>Fortunately, The Colonel had trained Miller well

TOM: So Miller shot Abbott and took command.

>and the corporal, knowing that he needed to act like a platoon sergeant now,

JOEL: Or just someone who knew what he was doing ...

>quietly began leading her through the steps that she would need to take.

CROW: [Miller] First, you need to bury Winston. He might not be dead,
but better safe than sorry ...

>"You'll be needin' to go to engineering to have a look at Lieutenant
>Paris and then up to the bridge to check in on the guv'nor."
>
>"Guv'nor?" she asked, dazed by all that she would have to do.

TOM: Oh, wow! Two whole things! How will she ever manage?!

>"Yes, Ma'am. Cap'n Winston." Miller told her.

CROW: I still insist that should be -Ensign- Winston.

>"Oh, right." she said, as she began to move toward engineering.

JOEL: So the doors still work?
TOM: Good question. The story's kinda skipping over that bit.

>When she got there, it took a few moments to find B'Elanna Paris,

CROW: ...'s pieces, which were scattered all over the room.

>who had been slammed against a bulkhead before coming to rest near the
>main engineering control board.

TOM: Which wasn't broken, of course, seeing as how they'll need that
later.

>Fortunately, her tough Klingon constitution had kept her alive,

JOEL: If I could speak Klingon, I would do a rousing recital of the U.S.
constitution here, but I'm not that much of a geek.
CROW: Oh, you'll always be a geek to us, Joel.
JOEL: Thanks, Crow, I ... hey!

>and the medical tricorder that Abbott found in a nearby first-aid kit

TOM: So the room got trashed, but the first-aid kit was right where they
left it?

>indicated that a concussion was probably the worst of Torres' injuries.

CROW: Well, aside from the broken arm and the cancerous growth, but
those were probably nothing.

>Use of the tissue regenerator in the kit was beyond Abbott's understanding
>of first aid,

JOEL: Isn't Star Trek first aid mostly just waving devices around the
injury?
TOM: Thus proving the inherent idiocy of this crew.
JOEL: I don't think we really needed more proof.

>so Miller suggested that she simply let the half-Klingon woman come around
>on her own.

CROW: [Miller] Internal bleeding in her brain? Ah, she'll get over it.

>Hopefully, Abbott thought grimly, Torres would recover in time to take charge
>and get them back to Voyager.

TOM: Or the Borg could come around first, thus eliminating their
problem.

>The first thing she saw when she got to the bridge was Winston's badly
>twisted body.

JOEL: [Abbott] He looks like a Twizzler! I *hate* Twizzlers!

>She didn't need the medical tricorder to show her that he was badly injured.

CROW: [Abbott] Well, he's dead. Time to curl up and cry now.

>She used it anyhow to get the full catalogue of damage.

TOM: She might need it for the scavenger hunt later.

>It appeared that he had multiple broken ribs, a punctured lung and damage
>to his spleen, liver and left kidney.

JOEL: It just looked that way, though. Actually, she had the tricorder
pointing at herself.

>The doctor would be able to handle these injuries

CROW: I think Winston would be happier if the doctor repaired them.

>but except for doing a little bit to repair his ribs and kidney, Abbott
>could do nothing

TOM: So she can't help B'Elanna with a bruise, but she can fix major
internal damage? How does -that- work?

>but stare at him in abject fear.

CROW: [Abbott] Hey, I recognize him! He used to beat me up and take my
lunch money!

>As it was, Miller had been forced to shock her into doing what she could for
>their injured captain.

TOM: [sfx] Bzzzt!
JOEL: [Miller] Now reconnect the nerves!
TOM: Bzzzt!
JOEL: Now give me twenty pushups!
TOM: Bzzzt!
JOEL: That one I did just because I could!

>A process requiring him to say and threaten things that, had the Colonel
>heard him, would have caused his CO to either hang him on the spot, or
>wipe his program from existence.

CROW: Seeing as how he doesn't breathe, hanging would be little more
than a minor annoyance.
TOM: Ah. Like this fanfic.
CROW: No. That's like comparing one of the inner circles of hell to a
walk in the park.

>With Winston as well cared for as could be,

JOEL: Or, more realistically, left to die on the cold floor ...

>their attention turned to the ship's condition.

TOM: Status: total loss.
CROW: But, of course, Star Trek technobabble comes to save the day.

>Repairs could be made to the sensors and main deflectors,

JOEL: By who?
TOM: Abbott, I guess, though her previous repairs brought her under
heavy fire.

>the warp power and impulse engines could be brought on line as well, if not
>at full power.

CROW: Just by pushing a few buttons, no doubt.
TOM: If only real life were so easy.

>The remains of the shields would serve as navigational deflectors.

JOEL: Didn't they just say main deflectors could be repaired?
TOM: I'm pretending I didn't see that.
JOEL: But it was all of two sentences ago!
TOM: This story is best taken in small, bite-sized, forgettable pieces.

>So, the loss of the navigational shields could be ignored--for now at least.

CROW: Especially with main deflectors repaired.
TOM: Not you too!

>It took Miller twenty long minutes of encouragement

JOEL: There's that magic number again.

>and cajoling to get Abbott through the process of repairing the sensors.

TOM: Have you noticed that life support hardly ever goes down, no matter
what damage the ships take?

>When Miller finally found that they did work,

CROW: [Miller] Whoops. Turns out you don't have to repair them, after
all!

>he allowed himself a few nanoseconds' pleasure

JOEL: Someone finally found the Captain's porn, then.
CROW: Figures it would be on the computer.

>at getting the skittish girl

TOM: Joel, what's a skitt?
JOEL: By context, it must be a small, mousy groundhog-like creature
frequently mistaken for a bear.
TOM: Well, that was certainly non-sequiter of you.

>through the steps that had been required to make it possible for him to get
>them back to Voyager with some margin of safety.

CROW: Dang it. How are we supposed to revel in Winston's death if he
comes that much closer to medical assistance?

>Uncomfortable though it might be, Abbott found herself sitting in
>Argonaut's centre seat.

TOM: [Abbott] What am I sitting on? Oh, *here's* the remote.

>Miller had dematerialised Winston's body

ALL: Whooooohoooo!
CROW: He's dead! He's been vaporized!
TOM: Take -that-, Mr The-author-won't-kill-a-main-character!
CROW: Ha ha!
TOM: Yippie!
JOEL: Or it's a plot device.

[pause]

CROW: Bother.
TOM: He's right, you know. Transporters.
CROW: So the sensors fail, the engines barely work, the shields and,
presumably, the weapons are down, but the transporters are still
functional?
TOM: It's just not fair.

>so that he wouldn't deteriorate any further.

TOM: I'm going to pretend that made sense, rather than be sure that it
flies in the face of conventional medicine.

>Fortunately, this also meant that she didn't have to be reminded of the older
>officer's critical condition

JOEL: Out of sight, out of mind.
CROW: Good. Maybe Miller will go insane, then.

>and the responsibility that she now had for getting him back to Voyager.

TOM: Or the responsibility to the readers to kill him off, once and for
all.

>Frightening though they might be,

CROW: As who might be?
JOEL: The Kommodans, I guess. The sentence isn't really clear.

>she knew that she was the only one who could get all of them back to Voyager

TOM: All of who, exactly?
JOEL: Well, there's Abbott, Winston, Miller, and B'Elanna.
TOM: And that's it?
JOEL: Pretty much.
TOM: If they can run a ship with all of four people on board, what is
Voyager doing with well over a hundred?
CROW: Cannon fodder.

>before the ship that was her home could be destroyed, its crew assimilated
>by the Borg.

JOEL: At this stage, that would be a blessing.

>The thought that she might actually have to take the ship into battle was
>paralysing.

TOM: All the better to aim at you, my dear.

>It was a good thirty minutes of contemplation and nothing happening,

CROW: Oh, I'm pretty sure that's been going on for well over thirty
pages now.

>before she managed to say in a small voice,

JOEL: [the Fly] Help me! Help me!

>"Corporal Miller, thank you. I couldn't cope without you.

TOM: Or walk without you ...
CROW: Or do basic tasks without you ...
JOEL: Or develop as a character without you ...
TOM: Or pilot the ship without you ...

>Why aren't you an officer? You must be as good as the Colonel?"

CROW: Better question: why isn't he in command? Surely a Corporal
outranks an Ensign?

>"No problems, Duck,"

JOEL: "Duck"?
TOM: Duck.
CROW: Goose!

[All three get up and chase after each other around the theatre seats,
finally sitting down in reverse order.]

CROW: Hey, this chair is comfy!

>he responded cheerily, his voice cracking with pride.

TOM: Or with static. It's hard to tell with computer programs.

>"Us NCO's run the Army, not officers.

CROW: What's an NCO?
JOEL: Non-Coporeal Officer?
TOM: New Carrot Odor?
CROW: Naked Cumquat Oil?

>Can't let 'em run amok, never know where we were."

TOM: Who knows where what is, letting who go where?
JOEL: I think that's precisely the point.

>"But the Colonel is an officer and he always knows where he is," she
>pointed out.

CROW: So ... officers don't know where they are?
TOM: No wonder these two hooked up with Voyager; it's like a one-eyed
man amongst the blind!

>"Nah!" Miller retorted. "He's not a proper officer. The Colonel is a
>sergeant, Duck.

JOEL: But a sergeant is a completely different rank, in a completely
different ranking structure!
TOM: So was the Colonel demoted?

>Once a sergeant, always a sergeant.

CROW: Even when promoted to admiral?
TOM: You'd think that would mean the upper ranks would be full of
sergeants.

>Why d'you think he always wants to be with the action? He's just gone soft
>with age."

JOEL: Well, that happens. Once you turn forty, your body starts getting
a bit pudgy.
TOM: That's a likely story.

>Despite herself and their precarious position,

CROW: ... she turned into a penguin.

>Llinos Abbott laughed at Millers solemn opinion.

TOM: So much for respecting another's opinion.

>Just the thought of the sometimes ferocious Colonel being 'soft' was
>preposterous.

JOEL: Little did she know that every night the Colonel would go to bed
with a teddy bear and cry himself to sleep.

>Had Miller not pushed her to accept the situation

CROW: As if she had much choice anyway.

>and do the best with it that she could, they would not have made it back
>in time

TOM: Ack! It's another time-travel story!

>to participate in what Chakotay would later call one of the strangest
>battles in Federation history.

JOEL: "Participate." Not "die."
CROW: And the redshirt count still stands at seven.

>
>
>
>Chakotay sat on Voyager's bridge,

TOM: I know he's a little overweight, but that's stretching it a bit.

>stunned by the sheer destructive forces that had been unleashed

CROW: With all these trans-spacial pets running around, you'd think the
galaxy would pass some leashing laws.

>in the anomaly when Argonauts carefully placed torpedoes detonated.

JOEL: As carefully placed as a rock through pane glass.

>As Winston had predicted, all subspace communications were out, and Voyager's
>sensors were temporarily blinded as well.

TOM: Naturally, this did little to impede their normal progress.

>The main view screen's representation of events, however, seemed to show that
>things weren't quite going as they had hoped.

CROW: [crewman] Hey, the nebulae is turning purple!
JOEL: [Chakotay] Drat! Now we clash!

>The tremendous explosion had thrown massive amounts of debris into the
>near-by space.

TOM: ... just to recap for you folks that may not have paid attention
earlier, when the ships exploded.

>Debris that increased as other ships exploded in response to the original
>event

CROW: Sympathetic explosions? That's a new one.

>or the impact of debris that it had generated. However, the debris wasn't
>going nearly as far or fast as it should have,

JOEL: That's probably due to the huge gravity well that you chose to
ignore earlier.

>and it almost seemed that space itself was twisting near the centre of the
>anomaly.

TOM: The anomaly's doing the twist!

>Without sensors, all that Kala could tell him was that things were, indeed,
>not going as they had hoped.

CROW: And a recap for all of you folks not paying attention two
sentences ago.

>"Bridge to engineering," Chakotay snapped,

JOEL: I would say "like a steel trap," but that gives more credit to his
mind than it deserves.

>hoping that Caerey could do something to straighten out this mess.

TOM: [Chakotay] I'd like you to alter the laws of physics and change the
force of gravity.
CROW: In Star Trek? Piece of cake.

>"Engineering, Caerey here."
>
>"Mr. Caerey, our plan isn't going as well as I'd hoped,

JOEL: And a third recap, for those of you falling asleep by now.

>and our sensors seem to have been knocked out temporarily.

TOM: Does that count as a fourth recap, or is it still part of the
third?
JOEL: Tough call.

>I need them fixed--yesterday."

CROW: Hey! It -is- a time-travel story!

>"We're on it Bridge." Caerey replied.

TOM: They're on what's bridge?
CROW: The anomaly's, apparently.

>Engineering was running smoothly and though he was sure it wouldn't remain so,
>Caerey was enjoying his temporary command.

JOEL: [Caerey] Now, if only I could kill B'Elanna ...

>Fortunately, the sensors had suffered nothing more than a minor overload

CROW: So what's the difference between a minor overload and major one?
TOM: Rank. Major Overload can order Minor Overload around.

>as a result of the explosion and their diagnostics would bring them back on
>line within moments.

JOEL: I wish that worked for me. Whenever I look at something to see
what's wrong, it usually stays that way until I fix it.

>
>
>
>The return of the long range sensors almost had Chakotay wishing that
>they had not.

TOM: No one brings the message "Ignorance is bliss" to true fruition
like Chakotay.

>The first thing noted was that there was a Kommadan ship

CROW: The second thing noted was that the Kommodans had replaced one of
their vowels in a move of subterfuge.

>drifting without power, then Kala was frantically redirecting them again to
>pick up the second warship.

JOEL: [Kala] That one's prettier! Look!

>"It's venting plasma, it's gonna blow!" Carver whispered in alarm.

TOM: We're not going to get a recap of the battle we just saw, are we?
CROW: Looks that way.

>"Argonaut is in their way, Sir!" Kala commented. "They won't get out of
>the way in time!"

ALL: [deadpan] Hurrah.

>In silence they watched the Argonaut roll

TOM: Hmm. A warrior, wrapped in a pastry. Interesting.
JOEL: Forget it, Tom. They've already invented something similar, called
"pigs in a blanket."
TOM: Curses!

>in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable collision. She did not make
>it, quite.

CROW: Quite?
JOEL: I think that means they almost made it.
CROW: But didn't.
JOEL: Quite.
TOM: Quite?
JOEL: That one meant "precisely."
TOM: So one word has multiple meanings, depending on context?
JOEL: Quite.

>They continued to watch and imagine the great tearing metal sounds,

CROW: You mean they couldn't hear them?
TOM: Space is a vacuum.
CROW: That's never stopped Star Trek before.

>as the Kommodan ship smashed into the underside of the saucer, then swing,

JOEL: Hey, like a pendulum!
TOM: One of the more destructive clocks in the galaxy.
CROW: And it only chimes once.

>taking a side swipe at the engineering section.

TOM: Ray-Ray must love this scene. I wouldn't be surprised if it showed
up again, assuming he got over a little thing like the laws of time
and space.

>It continued to swing until it disengaged

CROW: Thus kind of negating the idea of ramming the ship ...

>and span away before exploding in a inferno that had them shielding their
>eyes from the glare.

JOEL: Well, that should help add to the debris field.

>"Argonaut?" Chakotay whispered.

TOM: Well, I bet -now- he's glad he wasn't allowed on board.

>"All mains power is down, Sir. Comms are out," Kala responded

CROW: The commies are out! Run!
JOEL: Crow, the Soviet Union collapsed years ago.
CROW: There could still be commies.

>in a subdued voice and a brief hesitation. "Can't get any life readings, but
>that is no guarantee."

TOM: [Kala] They could still be alive. I'm sorry, sir.

>"I can get closer to pick up survivors?" Kim offered from the helm.

CROW: [Chakotay] Good idea, Harry. Security, throw this man out the
nearest airlock.

>Chakotay resisted the temptation.

JOEL: [Chakotay] No, wait; I can't run this ship by myself. Security,
put him back.

>"There is at least one Kommodan ship out there

TOM: Out of the three that Winston attacked, or is it a fourth?
CROW: More importantly, why don't they finish the Argonaut off?

>and a Borg cube," he said with a suddenly war weary shake of
>his head.

JOEL: He's tired, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

>"If we go now we'll lose even more."

CROW: Oh, just some redshirts. You'd think they'd notice by now that
none of them can suffer permanent damage.

>"Not what the Captain would do," Kim muttered.

TOM: True enough. She'd probably do something inane, like take a
shuttlecraft and try to bargain with the Kommodans for her
crewmembers.

>Chakotay pointedly ignored the comment

JOEL: [Chakotay] I can't hear you! Lalalalala! Not listening!

>and continued to watch as Argonaut continued to tumble, now out of control,
>hoping for some sign.

CROW: So Argonaut is looking for a sign?
TOM: Either that, or Chakotay is out of control.

>"A Borg ship has slowed to sub-light speed, sir." Kala said softly,

JOEL: [Kala] No need to panic. It's just the Borg.

>her words as loud as torpedo explosions on Voyager's silent bridge.

TOM: Really? Let's explode some there to compare!

>"Understood," Chakotay murmured, the ship's silence affecting him as
>deeply as it did the rest of the crew.

CROW: Which ship's silence? Argonaut or Voyager?

>He had decided that their best chance was to power down nearly every
>system aboard in hopes that the Borg wouldn't be able to find them.

JOEL: Oh, that'll work. While you're at it, close your eyes. If you
can't see them, they can't see you.

>With passive sensors, no shields, absolute minimum life support,
>no sub-space emissions and all outer areas of the ship evacuated and
>dark, Voyager was

TOM: ... a sitting duck.

>nearly as dead as the ships surrounding her.

CROW: With any luck, she will be.

>There was almost no hope that the tactic would work,

JOEL: So they were using this trick because ...?
TOM: Chakotay's a brain-dead simpleton.

>but if the Borg were careless, they might get lucky.

CROW: I would really rather not speculate on the Voyager crew's sex
life, thank you.

>The Borg, however, had seen similar tactics before

TOM: [Borg] Oh, look, they're trying to play hide-and-go-seek! They're
so cute before they're assimilated!

>and were not to be so deceived.

CROW: They were about to be lightly deceived, though, due to the
oncoming plot device.

>Had a random gravimetric pulse not shaken voyager at just the right moment,

JOEL: ... this fanfic would have ended pages ago.

>the powerful Borg landing parties might have taken the ship with barely a
>shot fired.

TOM: Well, that'll teach the Borg to try and attack a fanfic crew.

>Fortunately, the ship's movements were just enough to cause some of the
>enemy drones to beam into bulkheads or decking.

CROW: Due to a rather important law of physics that says no two pieces
of matter can occupy the same space at the same time, I imagine
this resulted in several rather large explosions.

>Needless to say, these drones would not function again.

JOEL: Not scattered across the quadrant like that, no.

>The rest, however, put up formidable resistance,

TOM: The Borg put up resistance?
CROW: They want to be here even less than we do.

>and even with the ship's shields up and fully modulated, several of Voyager's
>crew came close to being assimilated.

JOEL: So no casualties, then?
CROW: The redshirt count is becoming stagnant at seven.

>The bridge had not been attacked for some reason

TOM: [sarcastic] Hey, a plot hole covering up the bridge and most of the
main characters! What fantastic luck!

>and Chakotay could only thank his spirit guide for her intervention.

CROW: So spirit guide equals guardian angel?
JOEL: Someone has his belief structure twisted.

>Foolish though Kathryn might think religious beliefs,

TOM: [Janeway] Ha! I laugh in the face of your gods!
JOEL: This explains why she was captured by the Borg.

>Chakotay was equally sure that every day that they survived was another
>gift from the supernatural.

CROW: Or fanfic writers. Same difference.

>"Report!" Chakotay cried as damage reports and news of the battle to
>hold the ship poured into the regalvanised bridge.

TOM: So he's receiving reports, and he's asking for one? I always knew
he was a moron, but this defies description.

>"Bad, sir." Kala barked,

JOEL: Oh know! She's turning into a canine!

>the situation making her sound like Torres at her worst.

CROW: So her bark is worse than her bite?

>"Borg reported on several decks,

TOM: Nice of them to report in like that.
JOEL: I don't think that's what she meant.

>and though many were killed by beaming into bulkheads or damaged by a ten
>meter fall in the engineering spaces,

CROW: And why, exactly, do they have ten-meter falls in engineering?
TOM: Apparently to trap Borg.

>too many are still functional. Security thinks that they can be contained
>but it'll be a close thing."

JOEL: So the Borg ship transported its entire crew over to Voyager,
then?
TOM: Point. But that'll be good, because now they can take over the cube
and crash it like they did the Argonaut.

>"Understood," Chakotay acknowledged. "what about the defensive systems
>and ship's weapons?"
>
>"All at 100%," Kala reported.

CROW: Despite the Borg presence?
JOEL: Maybe because of it.

>"Very well....Navigation, plot course to put us on the the port side of
>our friends out there."

TOM: So the Borg haven't fired yet? Any particular reason?
CROW: They managed to assimilate the crew's idiocy.

>"Round to Port, Aye," Kim acknowledged.
>
>"Plotted and laid in, Captain."
>
>"Execute."

CROW: And so Harry gets it in the neck.

>Voyager moved toward the centre of the anomaly,

TOM: But they were supposed to go to the cube's port side!
JOEL: Shhh. Past sentences have nothing to do with current ones.

>impulse engines straining under the rapid series of manoeuvres that Kim
>and Carver were forcing her through.

CROW: Up and down?
TOM: Unlikely. Side to side, maybe.

>"Borg ship firing cutting beam," Kala warned.
>
>As Winston had predicted, the Borg weapon was only marginally affected
>by the flotsam surrounding Voyager.

JOEL: So Voyager was somehow able to make the debris orbit it instead of
the anomaly?
CROW: Thus defying not only the laws of physics, but most every other
law in the universe as well.

>Only moments after Kala's warning the ship shook violently as the Borg
>weapon tried to tear through her

TOM: Quite mean of the Borg to target Kala like that.

>shields and the superstructure they protected. Fortunately, the tractor

CROW: ... was right in the field where they left it.

>beam seemed unable to lock onto them through the rubble field

JOEL: Either that, or the Borg are playing with them like a cat does a
mouse.

>and so its shield-draining effects didn't come into play.

TOM: Tractor beams drain shields? I don't remember the Borg having that
ability.
JOEL: It's in a lot of the games, though.

>Of course, Chakotay mused darkly,

CROW: [Chakotay] Muhahahahahahahaha!

>Voyager couldn't fire for fear of clearing a path down which the
>Borg might fire before the Federation ship could move.

TOM: Unless the debris is forming a solid wall, they could just wait for
a clear shot. And the Borg could do the same.
JOEL: Torpedoes modified to work as depth charges could work, as well.
Or, better yet, mines.
TOM: Apparently this plan of Winston's wasn't very well thought out.

>Even if they could keep the shields up against the Borg tractor,

CROW: Gives new meaning to "plowing the fields," doesn't it?

>being held in place by it would leave them in a test of strength against
>the Borg weapons--a contest that Voyager would be unlikely to win.

TOM: Could be worse. It could be a test of mental prowess.
JOEL: I think the Borg have rules for not battling an unarmed foe.

>"Second Borg ship approaching from the general direction of Kommos,
>Sir," Kala snapped.

CROW: [Kala] This is all -your- fault, you and your stupid plans!

>Chakotay sighed as he watched the already demoralised bridge crew lose
>even more hope.

TOM: [Chakotay] How relaxing! And they're doing it in colour, too!

>Even he had to admit that the situation didn't seem good.

JOEL: And yet, with us secure in the knowledge that no main character is
going to die, drama fails to materialize.

>"Condition of the cube?" he demanded,

CROW: [Chakotay] Speak to me, underling!

>caught between the hope that Argonaut had been in a condition to intercept
>it

TOM: Despite the fact that you *saw* the Argonaut become a derelict
again?

>and the equally strong wish that it had not.
>
>"Pretty scratched up, sir."
>
>"Scratched up in what way?"

JOEL: Like in a cat fight, and the fur has gotten everywhere.

>"Serious damage to several sections of the ship....looks like damage
>from plasma weapons, sir."

CROW: As opposed to vein weapons, or aortae torpedoes, or lymph phasers?
JOEL: No one understands medical jokes anymore, Crow.

>"Interesting," Chakotay murmured.

TOM: That's "fascinating." If you're going to quote a Vulcan, do it
right.

>Either Obviously

JOEL: "Either Obviously"?
CROW: Nice name for a band.
JOEL: Not really, no.

>this ship had faced combat with part of the Kommodan fleet.

TOM: Which part?
CROW: All the left hands of the pilots.

>Federation weapons technology didn't leave that kind of damage.

JOEL: Federation weapons always cleaned up after their messes, and
apologized to the victims.

>"Helm, I want you to set a direct course for the new Borg ship,

TOM: New! Improved! Now with faster assimilation power!

>maximum velocity. Use the debris field for cover if you need to."

CROW: Or just smash into the debris on your way. We can't die, so what
does it matter?

>"Aye Sir." Kim and Carver responded in near-stereo.

JOEL: Where available.

>Moments later, Voyager was dodging and weaving through space,

TOM: Carver's been in the liquor cabinet again.

>avoiding debris and occasionally complete vessels

CROW: The vessels were only occasionally complete, and even then you
really had to focus to get the image just right.

>as it took an evasive course toward the new Borg ship.

JOEL: Evasiveness usually implies running -away- from something.

>Chakotay smacked his com badge, an idea forming

TOM: Most people smack their foreheads, but due to the lack of actual
brain matter his chest is probably more appropriate.

>as his ship dodged and weaved its way through space.

CROW: Just a recap for those of you with the attention span of a
demented bee.

>"Engineering, Caerey here."
>
>"Caerey," Chakotay acknowledge.

TOM: [Chakotay] Chakotay use big words, notice Caerey-man.
JOEL: There are quotes there.
TOM: Sure, ruin all my fun.

>"Would it be possible to transport a couple of torpedoes into the Borg ship?"

CROW: So what's wrong with actually *firing* them?
TOM: Aside from the debris in the way?
JOEL: We've discussed options for that. Mines, "depth" charges, guided
missiles, smart bombs; we've got that angle covered. But these
guys -love- transporting things into other things.
CROW: Which is interesting, considering they ignored the transporters
for the first half of the story.

>"I don't see why not," Caerey responded. "After all,

TOM: [Caerey] ... we're in a fanfic!

>we've transported people over there before.

CROW: Well, not that specific cube, maybe, but cubes in general.

>Realistically a torpedo would be a lot easier to beam over than a landing
>party."

JOEL: And why is that, exactly?
TOM: Less emotional attachment if the torpedo dies in transit.

>"Get on it, and be ready to energise in ...."
>
>"Three minutes," Kim responded to Chakotay's unspoken demand for
>information.

CROW: Next up: Chakotay has an unspoken demand for cheese puffs. Will
the crew respond appropriately?

>"I heard, Captain." Caerey said.

CROW: And Caerey delivers the cheese puffs! The crowd goes wild!
JOEL: You're in your own little world, aren't you?

>"Just have the things ready," Chakotay barked, mistrust of Caerey
>shaping his attitude toward the younger man.

TOM: And why does he mistrust Caerey?

>Kim and Carver continued their rapid manoeuvres,

JOEL: The Ensigns' interpretive dance thus stunned the Borg into
submission.
CROW: [Borg] No! Stop dancing! We'll leave, just stop dancing!

>Voyager's inertial dampeners occasionally strained by the violence

TOM: You always hear about violence on starships, but no one does
anything about it.

>of the twisting course that they had plotted. Fortunately, the larger Borg
>ship could not manoeuvre as easily.

JOEL: Perhaps if they maneuvered instead?

>It was better able to shrug off impacts with the dead ships in the area,

CROW: I've never seen a ship shrug before.
TOM: It's not pretty.

>but its size and inertia still worked against it.

JOEL: It's the Physics Revolt of Stardate 4011256.3!

>"One minute to transporter range," Kim announced.

CROW: If they make the two cubes run into each other ...
TOM: I'll join you in the airlock.
JOEL: I'll activate the release.

>"Engineering reports one torpedo ready, thirty seconds more and we'll
>have another." Kala reported from the Ops console.

TOM: So what were they doing for the other two minutes?

>Chakotay nodded, too busy watching the main viewer to acknowledge her
>verbally.

CROW: Even in the twenty-fourth century, television saps the minds of
its viewers.

>"Thirty seconds to transporter range,"
>
>"Where should we beam the torpedoes, sir?" Kala asked.

JOEL: Inside one of the Borg ships would be nice.

>"Get them as close to their main energy generation units as you can.

TOM: Which are, naturally, carefully marked.
CROW: What, you mean you didn't get your Borg cube schematic when we
came in?
TOM: No! Was I supposed to?

>Two won't be enough to take all of them out,

JOEL: But they're offering a two-for-one deal with a side order of
fries!

>but with secondary explosions we may be able to destroy the ship."

TOM: So that would be *one* cube gone. What about the other one?

>"Understood, Captain." Kala acknowledge, scanning the Borg cube to find
>the best places to put the weapons.

CROW: The Borg, knowing what she was looking for, put up a huge neon
sign saying "right here, baby!"

>"Fifteen seconds to transporter range, we're now within weapons' range
>for both Borg ships," Harry Kim reported nervously.
>
>As if his words were the signal that they had been waiting for,

JOEL: ... and just in case you didn't think that this story was
chock-full of contrivances galore ...

>the Borg ships opened up with tractor beams and cutting weapons.

TOM: Then they realized that -firing- might be better, and did that
instead.

>Even though Voyager had moved beyond the centre of the rapidly collapsing
>debris field,

CROW: It's collapsing?
JOEL: First I've heard of it. I thought it was supposed to spread out.

>there were still enough bits and pieces to cause a good deal of
>trouble for the Borg gunnery.

TOM: So they've got the accumulated experience of possibly thousands of
years of battle, yet they can't get a good shot because of a couple
specks of dust?
JOEL: I think you might be exaggerating just a little bit.
TOM: But anyone with half a brain would vaporize the debris in the way
first, then attack. Less muss, less fuss.
CROW: They must have assimilated one of the Voyager crew.
TOM: That would do it.

>However, Chakotay thought as the newly arrived Borg ship's tractor beam

JOEL: So which is newly arrived: the Borg, the ship, the tractor, or the
beam?
TOM: I vote for the beam.
CROW: I like tractors!

>caught his ship, difficulty was something that the Borg were uncommonly good
>at circumventing.

TOM: Finally! The Borg start showing some backbone!

>"Five, four, three, two, one....energizing," Kala's words rang like the
>chimes of doom

ALL: [chiming, while rocking back and forth] Doom ... doom ... doom ...
doom ... doom ...
JOEL: Hey, it's five o'clock!

>on voyager's silent bridge.

CROW: Their poker games, however, could get quite out of hand.

>How the Borg could be dumb enough not to defend against transporter weapons,
>Chakotay couldn't imagine.

TOM: That's it; just drive the impossibility of it all home.

>The incredible column of fire that suddenly burst forth from the side of
>the newly arrived Borg ship was proof enough that they were.

JOEL: Looks like that backbone the Borg were showing just snapped.

>"Incredible," someone breathed,

CROW: Yes, but not in the way you mean it.

>obviously unwilling to believe the fantastic effect of

TOM: ... a fanfic writer on a rampage?

>two photon torpedoes on their nearly indestructible enemy.

TOM: Same diff.
JOEL: Come on, guys, let's get out of here.

[Joel picks up Tom, and they file out]

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