[MiSTing] Trouble of Dwarves (9/9)

[pieceoftheuniverse]

[Cambot pans out to find Joel and the 'bots lined up behind the desk]

JOEL: So for this break I thought we'd do something a little different,
and come up with ways of easily identifying fanfic main
characters.
TOM: Preferably so the enemies know who to kill.
JOEL: Well, to be realistic, Servo, more like so the enemies won't waste
their time, and will kill randomly-placed background characters
instead.
CROW: Right. Because that redshirt count is getting awfully stale.
JOEL: Too true. Crow, would you like to go first?
CROW: Sure! Reading this 'fic has brought to mind that master of the
terrible fiction, Ratliff!
TOM & JOEL: Gahhh!
TOM: Don't *do* that!
CROW: So I've created this! [Crow pulls up a large headdress that would
rival most popes', and sets it heavily on the desk. The metal
creaks under the strain] It's made out of poly-composite lead, and
is an accessory to practically any outfit! Around the base is the
wearers' name: Marrissa Amber Flores Banana-Fana-Fo-Fada Picard!
JOEL: That was ... frightening, Crow.
CROW: It has the added bonus of crushing the wearer!
JOEL: Always an admirable goal. Tom?
TOM: I can't help but notice that whenever villains try to shoot any of
the heroes, they miss by a mile or only deliver glancing blows. So
I've created this fashionable and useful sweater [pulls out a
sweater from under the desk] with a bulls-eye on both sides! Now
not only can the villain take careful aim, but can improve his or
her shot in the process! Also available on T-shirts and baseball
caps!
JOEL: Very nice, Servo. Well, my invention is a simple take on the
age-old Catholic artistic process of putting a glowing circle
around Jesus' head. Nothing in real life can generate that kind of
halo, though, so instead I've taken a picture of Jesus I found in
storage, and cut out -His- head. [he pulls out a picture frame and
puts his head in the cut-out] See? Now I'm blessed, and everyone
knows they can't hurt me!
CROW: Well, until it's time for your crucifixion.
JOEL: We can always hope.
TOM: In an emergency, you can stand against a wall and hope to blend in.
JOEL: That's why I left the hook on the back.
CROW: Won't that tangle in your hair?
JOEL: [tries to pull off the frame, and can't] D'oh!

[lights, siren, general panic]

ALL: We've got fanfic sign!

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

[As they file into the theatre, Crow has a firm grip on Joel's frame]

CROW: Ready?
JOEL: As I'll ever be.
CROW: One, two, three ... [he pulls, and there's a terrible ripping
sound. Joel lets loose a scream, and the frame flies off to the
other end of the theatre]
JOEL: *Whew* Thanks, Crow.

>
>
>
>Ensign Abbott wriggled,

TOM: She's got ants in her pants!
JOEL: She's doing the Monster Mash!
CROW: It's a graveyard smash!

>trying to make herself comfortable in the Argonaut's command chair,

TOM: [chair designer] What's wrong? Are the spikes too much?

>it felt much too large for her slight frame,

JOEL: It's like when you're a little kid, and you try on your dad's
shoes.

>or was her tiny body too small for the post?

CROW: Hey! How did she know we were talking about crucifixion earlier?

>She wondered.

TOM: She marveled, she contemplated, she did everything but think.

>Either way, appearances would be important, if she were to persuade
>Commander Chakotay she could do what she was going to propose.

JOEL: [Abbott] But we -can- get married, sir! Forget that old hag
Janeway!

[The theatre shakes, accompanied by a resounding boom]

JOEL: Sorry! [aside] Touchy today, isn't she?

>He would have to think she was confident

CROW: Besides the fact that he knows her?

>and she knew she would not be able to do that dancing foot to foot with
>nerves.

TOM: At least that might be mildly entertaining.

>That only left her hands.

JOEL: So she put them to the right, instead.

>She gripped the arms tightly.

CROW: So she's huddled into the chair? Oh, -that- will inspire
confidence.

>"You can join Lieutenant Paris in the shuttle, Ma'am?" Miller offered
>quietly.

TOM: Winston must have gone AWOL.
JOEL: With cracked ribs and other assorted ailments?
TOM: Best way to get out of a war is to fake injury.
CROW: He must have faked smashing into the ceiling, too.

>"I'm pretty sure I can get there

JOEL: Well, one would hope he'd know where the shuttle is.

>and I'm less than certain Voyager will find the modified torpedoes?"

TOM: Modified torpedoes? When did they modify torpedoes?
CROW: They're probably going to start beaming them to targets again.

>"If you can't then we will be dead anyhow!" Abbott snapped

ALL: Hurrah!

>with the last of her courage. "Put Voyager on before I lose what courage
>I've got."

JOEL: Too late, it's already gone. Or weren't you paying attention to
the narrator?

>"Ma'am."
>
>Chakotay's worried features appeared upon the screen.

TOM: Ack! It's the man without a face!
CROW: Mel Gibson's not all that terrible.

>Behind him Llinos Abbott could see several terminals billowing smoke and
>fire.

JOEL: But not the plot-critical ones in front of him.

>The Borg had obviously found them again as they played chase through the
>rotting carcasses of dead ships.

TOM: Chase? Here I thought it was freeze tag!

>"It's good to see you are alive and well, Ensign," Chakotay opened.

CROW: Well, alive, anyway.

>"We are having a spot of trouble," he waved his arm expansively.

JOEL: That's like calling the Grand Canyon a small hole in the ground.

>"I suggest you try and get out, make what repairs you can and follow
>the direction of the Captain."

TOM: [Abbott] Well, okay, sir, but do you really think my getting
kidnapped by the Borg will help any?

>"Can't do that," Abbott breathed.

CROW: Oh, good, she's still breathing. We were worried for a minute.

>"I'm on my own with Corporal Miller.

JOEL: [Abbott] And that's a fate worse than death!

>We put Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Winston in a shuttle.

TOM: Finally Winston gets a mention.
JOEL: Interesting, though, that they had crewed the ship with all of
four people.

>Miller has programmed it to head out of the anomaly.

CROW: I thought they -were- out of the anomaly.
TOM: Warp eight isn't what it used to be.

>We launched it ten minutes ago. Winston will die if you can't catch them."

JOEL: In other words, no rush.

>Chakotay made to interrupt her, but Abbott lumbered on, her lip
>quivering with the control.

TOM: [Abbott] The power! I can make Chakotay shut up anytime I want!
This is great!

>"Please Sir. We think we can take out the Borg. But we need help."

CROW: [Chakotay] Okay. The men in white coats will be beaming right
over.

>There was a pause as Chakotay glanced at Tactical for confirmation.

JOEL: [Chakotay] It's true! You *do* need help!

>"What weapons do you have, Ensign?" Chakotay reasoned gently.

TOM: A couple sticks, a stone, and some great insults should it come
down to a battle of wits!

>"You have more torpedoes than we do. But yours won't dent the cube,

CROW: I think they're looking to destroy it, rather than dent it.

>even in its damaged condition. You haven't the power to fire your phasors,

JOEL: Why not?
TOM: Legislation. Congress voted her down.

>there is no Warp power or shields."

CROW: In reality, no. But this is Star Trek.

>"I have Argonaut and Corporal Miller," Abbott responded petulantly.

JOEL: [Indiana Jones] Only the petulant man will pass!

>"We are going to blow the anomaly up!"

TOM: [Abbott] And then a little to the side! And then up again! And then
a little more to the side!

>Chakotay's face puckered

CROW: Sour beer face!

>in horror at the implication of Abbott's suggestion, "You can't.."

JOEL: [Chakotay] Didn't you get the memo about Winston being the
author's favourite?

>He started to be immediately interrupted.

TOM: Fortunately, he was only interrupting himself, so no one noticed
the oddity.

>"Please, Sir!" Abbott was now imploring. "I don't want to be the only
>survivor if Voyager is lost and I can't repair this ship on my own!"

CROW: So her big plan is that instead of just Miller dying in a kamikaze
maneuver, she gets to go, too?
JOEL: Looks like it.
CROW: Just checking.

>On Voyager's bridge Chakotay looked around desperately for any form of
>help from the others.

TOM: One crewman tossed him a life preserver, another stood ready with a
first aid kit.

>There was none, all were engrossing themselves in their displays,

JOEL: [crew] Ignore the crazy woman! Ignore the crazy woman!

>all too aware of what the outcome was likely to be, which ever solution
>was taken.

CROW: Which, succinctly, is either mild death or well-done death.

>Finally he looked back at Abbott and took in the dishevelled and pale
>figure sat in the Captains chair.

TOM: Speaking of death, it looks like the Grim Reaper's taken command of
the ship.

>He could even see how white her knuckles were as they gripped the arms.

JOEL: No, that's bone. She was more injured than she let on.

>How small she looked, he decided,

CROW: Why, she's a Lilliputian!

>not only to occupy the chair, but to carry out the action she was proposing.

TOM: Fortunately, there's an action forklift in storage.

>"What do you need us to do?" He sighed.

JOEL: [Abbott] I need someone to witness my will ...

>"You have to lure the cube near enough to the centre to be affected by
>the explosion," Abbott explained,

CROW: How, exactly? What is catnip to the Borg?
TOM: Get them to assimilate a cat, you won't need a substitute.

>her voice now so quiet he had to strain to hear. "Corporal Miller reckons
>he can manage half impulse,

JOEL: [Southern] Well, I do declare!

>but it won't be enough to outrun them and we can barely manoeuvre.

CROW: So one of the outcomes of this plan, then, is that Abbott becomes
Borg?

>We should have a fully charged phasor bank

TOM: But Chakotay just said ... never mind.

>and a couple of torpedoes to keep them interested, if you can get them
>within 100 kilometres?"

JOEL: A hundred kilometers from what?
CROW: Well, a black hole would come in handy.

>"Do your plans include something for escape?" Chakotay asked, his voice
>now very gentle.

TOM: Sure! A week in Barbados, once you get back to Earth.

>Ensign Abbott nodded. "I've put a life support set in a torpedo.

JOEL: I hope she remembered to take out all the explosives.

>If there is time, I'll use that as a warp powered escape pod.

CROW: But torpedoes don't have a warp drive!
TOM: Perhaps another modification?
CROW: Sure! Why not? And while she's at it, she can install a holodeck
in case she gets bored, a replicator in case she gets hungry, and
then, if she aims just right, she can be home before Voyager!

>Corporal Miller has arranged the launch so that the acceleration doesn't
>kill me."

JOEL: The launch might not kill her, but if he forgets and aims her
towards the Borg cube by mistake ...

>"And Miller?"
>
>"Gotta remain until the ship explodes, Sir," Millers voice cut in.

TOM: For, just so we get this straight, no readily identified reason.

>"Can't get out the Doctors emitter is broke."

CROW: So the hyper-intelligent artificial life-form can't devise another
way to survive save walking out or being shot through a tube?

>"Give me a few minutes to think?"

JOEL: It's your first time; they'd best give you a couple hours.

>Chakotay found it

TOM: [Chakotay] Hey, I thought I lost that!

>was his turn to allow a note of pleading to enter his voice.

CROW: [Kim] Sir, you're sounding like me. Stop it.

>"We'll set course for the centre," Abbott announced.

JOEL: [Abbott] We're going ahead with this one way or another, and by
the time we're there it'll be too late to stop us.

>"It will take us thirty minutes anyhow."
>
>He face cut out.

ALL: Ouch!

>For an instant they were left with the distressing sight of the mortally
>injured Argonaut

TOM: If it's mortally injured, shouldn't it explode?

>slowly turning about, setting course,

CROW: I didn't know you could see a ship setting its course.

>before Carver snapped the view screen back to the

JOEL: ... future!

>Borg cube with a curt, "We've been spotted again, Sir."

TOM: Ick. I hate polka-dotted starships.

>"They've fixed their targeting," he added un-necessarily

CROW: And this is different from anyone else's comments how?

>as a beam slammed into Voyager and he was showered by more sparks.

JOEL: Strange. Whenever a -redshirt- mans a console that explodes, they
die. But he just shrugs it off.

>"Hull breach deck four."

TOM: He's very calm about it.
CROW: [Carver, deadpan] It looks like we're going to die. [monotone
scream]

>Chakotay came to a decision.

JOEL: Twice in one 'fic?!
TOM: [getting up from his seat] Excuse me ...
JOEL: Where do you think you're going?
TOM: I have a girl to call.
JOEL: Sit down. She was only speaking metaphorically, and I doubt
Lucifer's wearing a parka anyway.

[Tom sits back down]

>It was not an easy decision, but the only one available.

CROW: Most captains would ask for opinions at this point, but he's only
a commander.

>The Borg cube in its damaged state was still a match for Voyager

TOM: Hey, it's the Star Trek memory game!
JOEL: With matches like that, no one would win.

>and she was slowly being taken apart.

CROW: May require some assembly.
TOM: Batteries not included.
JOEL: Not suitable for life forms under five.

>"Take us on a course that will bring us within range of Argonaut," he
>announced heavily.

CROW: His words dropped to the floor, crawled to Carver, and wriggled
their way into his ear.

>"Chakotay to Argonaut."
>
>Llinos Abbott's face appeared upon the view screen

TOM: [Abbott] Didn't I just finish with you?

>as she looked up apologetically. "I'm trying to repair the holo-emitter,"
>she gabbled apologetically.

JOEL: "Gabbled"?
CROW: Bets against her fixing it? Anyone?
TOM: So, is she really apologetic, or does saying it twice negate the
emotion?

>"I'm hoping to see somebody human once more."

CROW: Well, she's wising up. She realizes that Chakotay isn't human.

>"Keep your comms open and we can talk?" Chakotay offered immediately,

TOM: [Chakotay] After all, it'd be a shame not to have your last words
to carve into your tombstone.

>swallowing hard on something that had got caught in his throat.

JOEL: [Chakotay] Damn replicated chicken bones ...

>"I'm bringing Voyager in as you asked.

CROW: [Chakotay] You'll waive the late fees, right?

>Just make sure you reach that escape pod."

TOM: Just reach it, mind. Don't actually get in or anything.
CROW: With all of the modifications she made to it, there'd be no room
for her.

>"I'll try Commander!" She promised. A brave little smile lit her face.

JOEL: Tragically, the fire spread to the rest of her body.

>She would be an attractive woman if she smiled more often, Chakotay
>decided in passing

TOM: He made a pass at her?
CROW: She's weak, she's vulnerable, she's going to die ... perfect
timing.
JOEL: Sicko.

>as she bent again,

CROW: ... and now we know what he's looking at.

>seemingly determined to keep working on the small mobile emitter.

JOEL: When, in reality, she was reprising her role in "Pinocchio."

>"Engineering I am going to want warp at a moments notice. When will it
>be ready?"

TOM: [Caerey] Five minutes sooner than the last time you asked.

>"Ten minutes, Sir. Provided we don't get hit again," Joe Caerey hissed.

CROW: Hit by snakes?

>He was not enjoying himself as much now.

JOEL: They must have moved all the female officers one deck up.

>A full third of his engineering team were now in sickbay,

TOM: ... participating in a "last rites" party.

>from injuries sustained as they battled with the incessant jury repairs

CROW: How do you repair a jury?
JOEL: Fill it with alternates, I suppose.

>to keep power flowing.

TOM: ... until it reached the Supreme Court, at which point it was out
of his hands.

>Another quarter

JOEL: Hey, he's rich!

>were linked with the damage control teams

CROW: ... by chains ...

>as they struggled with the

TOM: ... oars to keep the ship moving.
JOEL: I hope they at least have someone keeping the beat.
CROW: They did, but every time he said "stroke!" someone would collapse.

>evermore threatening damage to the ship.

JOEL: Well, stop threatening the ship, then. Seems simple enough.

>Now desperately short staffed

CROW: Even I don't want to go there.

>he was scurrying between consoles

TOM: Like a rat in a maze with no cheese.

>screaming at individuals to get them working on the next priority.

JOEL: It would probably help if he told them what that *was*, but that
was a minor detail.

>Kim tried his best to navigate between the activities of their Borg foe
>and the rubble,

CROW: The rubble had gotten bored, and had started a conga line.
TOM: Well, that would certainly be distracting.

>though it was not enough, the ship shuddered under repeated blows.

JOEL: Blow*hards*, you mean.

>Three blows in quick succession rendered the ship immobile and defenceless.

ALL: Hurrah!

>"Engineering, I need power!" Chakotay hissed

TOM: Being acting captain of the ship isn't enough?

>"I'm working on it," Caerey's voice snapped back. "I need more crew!

CROW: Sure thing! We'll just replicate some more!

>I've only got four left on their feet!"

JOEL: The others, for some strange reason, are walking on their hands.

>Chakotay grimaced, Caerey had reason to snap.

TOM: If Caerey were wound any tighter, he'd play music.

>"I'll find you some more," he promised quickly.

CROW: Look behind the refrigerator; everything lost gets there
eventually.

>"Harry, go down to Sickbay and the Mess, pick up

JOEL: ... the mess, and I want to see my face in that floor, mister!

>anybody in the category of walking wounded.

TOM: What about the walking dead?
CROW: That's either supposed to be "waking dead" or "living dead." I
can't decide which.
TOM: Well, "brain dead" already defines the crew ...

>Take them to Engineering. No matter what the Doctor says."

JOEL: [Doctor] But that man is missing half his skull!
TOM: [Kim] He can walk, can't he? Chakotay's orders.

>"We haven't time.

CROW: [Kim] The episode's due to end any minute, and I -hate- to be
continued!

>They are closing in!" Kim screamed, waving at the image of the Borg cube
>on the view screen.

JOEL: Very friendly of him, don't you think?

>"Do It!"

TOM: Nike.

>With a glare at the Commander, Kim rose slowly and strode to the lift.

CROW: For a guy who was worried all of ten seconds ago about imminent
death, he's very calm.

>
>
>
>"I think I can recharge two of the phasor banks, Ma'am?" Corporal Miller
>offered softly to Ensign Abbott

JOEL: I didn't know phaser banks were lined with down.

>as she watched in horrified silence as Voyager was systematically struck
>by Borg weapons.

TOM: Oh, well thank goodness there's at least a system to it.

>"We can take the heat off Voyager?"

CROW: Yup, but then you need to stay out of the kitchen.

>"But if we do we might not reach our detonation point," Abbott pleaded.

JOEL: You've already consigned yourself to die. What's the difference?

>"Nor will Voyager, Ma'am," Miller observed politely.

TOM: Hello? Voyager being pummelled to death! Act quickly!

>She nodded absently in agreement. "Then we had better go then," she
>added, remembering that the hologram could not see her.

CROW: If a hologram isn't a hologram in that it isn't hologrammatic, but
is still around, what does that make it?
JOEL: Ow.
TOM: Apparently, a headache.

>"I'll take the conn if you can handle weapons and power?"

CROW: The currently non-existant weapons and the smattering of power?
TOM: Perfect for the currently non-existant and yet slightly-there being
in the computer to deal with, then.

>Miller coughed nervously.

JOEL: He must have a virtual frog in his throat.
TOM: And remember, folks: "virtual" means "not really."

>"Power is not a problem," Miller admitted carefully. "We haven't got any
>control over it.

CROW: Absolute power runs amok?

>It is either there or not."

TOM: There!
CROW: Not!
TOM: There!
CROW: Not!
TOM: There!
CROW: Not!
TOM: There!
CROW: Not!
JOEL: Guys, guys: it's all that and more!
[pause]
BOTS: Huh?
JOEL: Got you to shut up, didn't it?

>"But you said.." Abbott protested.
>
>"I said I could handle it," Miller admitted. "I didn't say there was no
>control

TOM: This guy needs his dictionary revised.

>because, well, it didn't seem important to you at the time," he added
>hurriedly.

CROW: [Miller] You were fainting every five minutes, and scraping
Winston into the dustbin.

>"So all we have is directional control?" Abbott asked carefully,

JOEL: [Miller] No.
TOM: [Abbott] Life support?
JOEL: No.
TOM: Air?
JOEL: Seven minutes' worth.
TOM: Weapons?
JOEL: Sorry.
TOM: Engines?
JOEL: Smashed.
TOM: Replicators?
JOEL: Giving out some black goo.
TOM: Edible?
JOEL: No. It's Starbucks coffee.

>wishing fervently she had got a better report from the Corporal in the
>first place.

CROW: [stern teacher] I expect better work from you. See me after class.

>"Ma'am."
>
>She sighed deeply and took her seat at the pilots console. Where she
>discovered that the Corporal had been less than honest there as well.
>The ship could turn left, go down or forward.

TOM: Since direction in space is purely relative, they have complete
freedom of movement.
JOEL: Assuming she can roll the ship along the Z axis, that is.

>She sighed again.

CROW: And blew down the console.

>Corporal Miller had done an excellent job on giving her hope and courage.
>But to do it he had left her not knowing half of their real situation.

TOM: And thus robbed her of such in one fell swoop.

>She prodded the controls again, rolling Argonaut onto course.

JOEL: Hey, they *can* roll! So they'll be fine.
CROW: Damn.

>
>
>
>The Borg cube seemed to have lost interest in Voyager.

TOM: [child] Mom, I'm done with my toys! Can I have the boxes they came
in, please?

>From the bridge of Voyager

CROW: As opposed to, say, the bridge of the anomaly ...

>they had watched the giant cube spin gently infront of them in
>mystification.

JOEL: [Borg] Who *are* these people?
TOM: [Borg] I dunno, but I assimilated one of them and couldn't think
for two hours afterwards!

>For nearly twenty minutes it had sat there neither firing at them or
>beaming drones aboard.

JOEL: [Borg] Should we kill them?
TOM: [Borg] Well, the Queen wants them assimilated, but -I'm- not going
to touch them. -You- do it.

>"I don't think they have control, Sir?" Ensign Kala ventured.

CROW: Remote-controlled Borg?
TOM: New from Tyco! That's how you spell "RC"!

>For the entire time she had been bombarding the cube with every sensor
>system that still worked,

JOEL: In lieu of weapons, I suppose.
CROW: It's the deadly sensor sweep! Run!

>trying to find a chink

TOM: Hey now!
JOEL: That's the second derogatory term I've seen. I'm starting to have
serious doubts about the author's intelligence.
TOM: "Starting"?

>or a reason for its sudden reticence. Now she was scanning sub-space
>trying to pick up

CROW: A date for Valentine's Day.

>the tell-tale

JOEL: Heart?
TOM: Ewww. *I* wouldn't pick that up.

>signs of Borg transmissions.

CROW: [radio dj] This is KBORG: all assimilation, all the time. A big
"hello there" to all you wonderful life forms being turned into
cyborgs; this one goes out to you.

>"In fact, I don't think anybody is controlling it. I can't find any long
>range Borg signals."

JOEL: They must be broadcasting in shortwave.

>"You mean they've just died?" Chakotay demanded incredulously, looking
>over his shoulder.

TOM: [Chakotay] I can feel them behind me!

>"No, Sir!" She responded guardedly.

CROW: [Kala] No one shall pass!

>The drones seem to be perfectly healthy and they are scanning us periodically.

JOEL: Stuck in a loop, perhaps?
TOM: [Borg] Oh look, a ship! (bzzt) Oh look, a ship! (bzzt) Oh, look!

>It's just that they aren't talking to the Collective.

CROW: Do you think a group called the Collective only takes collect
calls?
JOEL: No wonder they're not talking. I wouldn't talk to them, either.

>It's as if they know they are supposed to be after us, but don't know what
>to do with us, now we are there for the taking?"

TOM: Or maybe you were caught ahead of schedule, and they're still
getting dressed.

>"Engineering to Bridge. Impulse is back on line," Caerey's voice
>interrupted the conversation.

CROW: http://www.impulse.com ?
JOEL: Get it now while it's available! Operators are standing by!

>"Working on shields."
>
>"Back us away," Chakotay issued the order quickly.

TOM: These folks are all rabbit and no tortoise.

>"We'll try and sneak away while they are wondering."

JOEL: I tried that when I was little, but I got caught with one foot out
the window.

>"They are targeting," Carver warned as Kim applied power.
>
>"All stop!" Chakotay demanded as quickly bringing things to a halt
>again.

CROW: Intense! Stopping! Action!

>There was now a situation of impasse.

TOM: As opposed to the rest of the 'fic, which was a situation of
boredom.

>If Voyager moved, or, he guessed, showed a build up of weapons the Borg
>would

JOEL: ... start up the Cold War all over again.

>undoubtedly fire on Voyager again. If she lay 'dead' then they would be
>ignored.

CROW: [the Muppets] Possums ... In ... Space ....!

>"Perhaps the Colonel has gotten to the Unimatrix?" Carver offered
>hopefully.
>
>In a galaxy of possible solutions, it was extreme.

TOM: That's putting it mildly. Feed the odds of that one into the
Improbability Drive, you could find the Ruler of the Universe.

>But just possibly the only one with any grain of sense to it

JOEL: I'll concede a single grain of sense exists in this 'fic --
TOM: -- somewhere --
JOEL: -- but not in that statement.

>Chakotay had to agree.

JOEL: Thank you. That's very big of you.

>"It doesn't help us though," he pointed out.

CROW: Put your finger down! That's not polite!
TOM: Pointing is usually done with the index finger, anyway.

>"Argonaut is approaching," Kala prompted. "Direct intercept course with
>the cube."

JOEL: Seeing as how the Borg aren't going anywhere, does that mean
they'll collide?

>"Tactical!" Chakotay snapped.
>
>"Llinoss what are you doing?" He demanded

TOM: Who?
CROW: Abbott's having a hell of a time getting her name straight in this
'fic. Hopefully they'll spell it right on her tombstone.

>as the crippled ship appeared upon the view screen, showing her smashed
>broadside to Voyager.

JOEL: [Argonaut] Look! Isn't it pretty?

>There was no reply.
>
>"She will pass between us and the cube, Sir," Carver observed.

TOM: Excuse my art, but:
Cube: _____________________
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
----------------------
Argonaut:
.
Voyager:
.
And my point is: so what?

>"We may be able to back away when she does?"

JOEL: And die with her?

>"She will also be blown to pieces!" Chakotay snapped.

CROW: So do the Borg only have one weapon left? 'Cause that's the only
way that could even have a chance of being successful.

>"Get a transport lock on Abbott."
>
>"Can't, Sir," Ensign Kala responded.

TOM: Revenge of the Catty Females of Voyager!
JOEL: If that spawns another "feline race" fanfic, I'm blaming you.

>"Transporters are non-functional."

CROW: Like that's ever stopped them before!

>They were left as helpless bystanders as the Argonaut sailed closer.

TOM: Jason waved hello as he battled off skeleton warriors ...

>The Borg cube seemed to ignore the ship. Until..
>
>At almost point blank range,

CROW: Which begs the question: what is point blank range?
JOEL: At the point at which it is impossible to miss.
CROW: So at -almost- point blank range?
JOEL: Depends on who you are. If you're the hero, you deliver a fatal
blow.
TOM: If you're a villain, your shot goes wide and might even hit one of
your own men.

>two of Argonauts phaser banks fired,

JOEL: [bank] I'm sorry, but we'll have to let you go.

>straight through the hole that marked the side of the giant cube.

TOM: ... and right out the other side.

>At the same time four torpedoes lanced out of her stern tubes,

CROW: ... to joust with the Black Knight.

>heading for the same target.

JOEL: Straight through the hoop; nothing but net!
[All cheer]

>Slowly she turned and headed for the centre of the anomaly again as
>explosions ripped through the cube.

TOM: [teacher] Argonaut, remember to use scissors next time, and leave
the explosives alone.

>Finally a second phaser beam lanced out.

CROW: From who or from where? No one knows.
JOEL: Borg don't have phasers.
CROW: That didn't stop them earlier.

>It struck an undamaged side and had little power,

TOM: So she used up all her power on two lousy shots?
JOEL: Conservation on limited resources must not be taught in the
Academy.

>but it obviously had the effect that the crew aboard Argonaut expected.

CROW: All two of them, you mean?

>The cube started to follow and fire at them. Two beams lanced out, both
>missed by a narrow margin.

TOM: And remember, folks: this is at almost point-blank range.

>"Argonaut brought down their targeting," Carver blurted.

JOEL: And slurred their vision with alcohol, apparently.

>"Severe power fluctuations. Secondary explosions on multiple decks."

CROW: The Borg don't have fuses, either.
TOM: You would think that one of the species on all those worlds ...

>"But it is still not dead," Chakotay hissed as another weak beam shot
>out.

JOEL: [Chakotay] Well, they're done for. Who's for tea?

>
>
>
>Weak beam or not, it was more than Argonauts weakened defences could
>stand.

TOM: So the ship blew up, then?
CROW: Too much to hope for, I think.
TOM: But he -said- ...

>Upon the bridge Abbott was showered by sparks

JOEL: Nothing like a nice relaxing shower of sparks.
CROW: Especially if you're covered in water at the time.

>as she wrestled with her rapidly diminishing controls.

TOM: [Abbott] "Do not wash in warm water." *Now* it tells me!

>"New breaches decks 14 to 18," Miller reported dispassionately.

CROW: Hey! I wonder if they've got the flared leg?
JOEL: "Breaches," not "britches."
CROW: Oh. Are they at least flaring?

>"I've lost phasers and we are venting plasma."

TOM: The Kommodans could fire it, but all these guys can do is vent it.

>"I think it is time you left, Ma'am," he added. "There is nothing left
>for you to do."

JOEL: Not that she was doing much, anyway, with her controls all
shrunken.

>"Not without you, Corporal," she refuted.

CROW: I've got it! Abbott is in love with Miller!
TOM: Well, that -would- explain why she wants to die with him ...
JOEL: Kind of a "Romeo and Juliet" type thing?
CROW: That's it exactly!
TOM: It's not as if she'd be the first to fall for a hologram.

>"I couldn't have done this without your help. The emitter is repaired, so
>we go together!"

CROW: It's that type of romantic hogwash that only solidifies my theory.

>The ship rocked again.

JOEL: If the ship's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'!

>"Lost a pylon, the one venting plasma," Miller reported with a little
>satisfaction, Argonaut was slightly less likely to explode.

TOM: From internal problems, anyway. There is still the Borg ...

>"Three hundred klicks to target. I think we can abandon ship
>now, Ma'am. I can't do anything either."

CROW: But what about ... but he said ...
JOEL: It's no use, Crow. Just let it go.
CROW: But I want to see someone -die-, here!

>"Come on then," Abbott sighed,

TOM: [Abbott] Dammit, I hate saving my own life ...

>getting up and staggering for the lift as the ship was again rocked.

CROW: I don't fully understand how or why the ship would rock, anyway.
If the line of fire was off to one side of the ship, wouldn't the
ship begin to roll in that direction?
JOEL: Conservation of momentum has nothing to do with Star Trek physics.

>It was a desperate race as she staggered down corridors, heading for the
>torpedo room and her makeshift escape pod.

TOM: Sadly, she had failed to realize that the several large doors with
the words "escape pod" stenciled on them did, in fact, lead to
escape pods.

>Every few minutes the ship was rocked as it was time and again targeted
>by the cube that was chasing.

CROW: ... for those of you thinking that it's Voyager who's trying to
kill one of their own.

>Twice her way was blocked as massive girders from the ships structure
>crashed through the ceiling in front of her,

JOEL: The ceiling's in front of her?
TOM: Well no wonder she's having problems. She should walk on the floor
like a normal person.

>making her scream in terror. Numbed with terror,

CROW: Which is it, then? She can't scream and be numbed at the same
time.
JOEL: Depends on the anesthetic, doesn't it?

>she barely noticed when she arrived,

TOM: [as if reading] You are approaching the escape pod ... you have
reached the escape pod ... you have passed the escape pod ...
CROW: ... Burma Shave.

>simply accepting the Corporals commands as he prepared her for launch.

JOEL: The guy without the body, you mean?

>Despite the Corporals changes in the launch sequence for her torpedo
>life pod, the launch was still horrific.

TOM: [Abbott] Hey! The holodeck doesn't work! And the replicator only
makes lukewarm coffee!

>Her feet felt as if they would be driven through her brain

JOEL: Well no wonder she's having trouble. She got in upside-down.

>as it accelerated hard from the tube and she screamed again, uncontrollably
>until blackness descended upon her.

CROW: And that concludes our documentary, "Life of a Tampon."
JOEL: *Crow*!

>
>
>
>"Get after that torpedo!" Chakotay fairly screamed

TOM: So either like a little girl, or like someone at a Renaissance
faire.

>as they saw the small ball of light appear from the back of Argonaut and
>swerve away.

CROW: Whoops. Left skid marks all over the universe again.

>"Where are the transporters?"

JOEL: In the transporter room?
TOM: That's a good place for them.

>Behind them Argonaut detonated as tonnes of antimatter met matter in an
>uncontrolled confluence.

CROW: "When Thesauruses Attack" will not be seen tonight, due to an
uncontrolled confluence.

>It was silent and dark explosion that bloomed further and brighter as
>nearby derelicts were caught in the influence and exploded in a fabulous
>display of pyrotechnics.

JOEL: Only know does the author realize he doesn't have to answer to the
budgeting team when requesting special effects.

>The Borg cube following the Argonaut so closely was the first.

TOM: Okay. What about the -other- Borg cube?

>The bloom extended towards the centre,

CROW: Center of what? Itself?

>finally catching the small planetoid that formed the centre.

JOEL: ... killing billions of simians that had only just learned
rudimentary language skills.

>It blew with the finality of the end of existence,

TOM: [sniffs] Poor little monkeys.

>the shockwaves travelling at the speed of light, not just in the physical universe, but through sub-space.

CROW: For no readily defined reason, but it *sounds* cool.

>Voyager travelling on the thresh hold of both was struck by both.

JOEL: Wise man says: he who sits on fence will be sore between.

>"Don't lose that torpedo!" Chakotay demanded again

TOM: Oh, come on. Ensigns are a dime a dozen.

>as Voyager bucked, twisted and span in the gravitational influences.

CROW: Intergalactic rodeo!

>For thirty seconds she was tossed and turned like a leaf, then all was
>silent again.

CROW: And she made it for the full thirty! Give her a hand!

>"I've got the torpedo, Sir!" Carver shook of his own alarm,

JOEL: [Carver] I've got to remember not to set that thing to "vibrate."

>then assured the commander. "Engine has died.

TOM: You mean the warp engine that no torpedo has? I would expect so.

>I can tractor it into the shuttle bay. Damage reports coming in."

CROW: Through the shuttle bay as well, or through regular channels?

>Chakotay allowed himself a grateful smile at the outwardly calm ensign.

JOEL: [Chakotay] Could I have some of what you're smoking?

>"Do it!" He said simply, "then get after the shuttle Argonaut launched."

TOM: Then get the house that Jack built, the old lady in her shoe, and
tell off the cow that went over the moon.

>Chakotay hotfooted it to the shuttle bay

CROW: The blacksmith had mistaken him for a horse ...

>as soon as Carver announced the torpedo was entering, fearful of what he
>would find.

JOEL: [Chakotay] I hope she remembered to bring the porn back with her!

>The shocks that had hit Voyager had done damage to the structure of the
>ship.

TOM: Whereas the shocks in a car prevent damage. Explain that to me.

>The effects on the torpedo survival pod could well have been catastrophic.

CROW: We can only hope. C'mon, eight!

>"She is alive, Commander," Lieutenant Caerey informed him.

CROW: *DAMN*!

>"Just about. She had this in her hand."

JOEL: [Chakotay] She remembered the porn! Woohooo! Hello, Miss
September!

>Silently he handed Chakotay the doctors holo-emitter. "Looks as though
>it is working.

[Tom boggles. Joel holds him down before he can say much of anything]

>The Doc 'll be pleased.

[Tom struggles a bit more; Joel's having a hard time holding him back]

>I'll get her moved upto sickbay."

CROW: Time to euthanize!

>Chakotay turned the emitter over, examining it carefully.

JOEL: [Chakotay] Oooo, pretty plothole!

>"Are you in there Corporal?" he asked, putting it onto a console.

CROW: If not, he's going to feel silly talking to himself.

>"Nah! Not anymore!," Corporal Millers voice almost crowed over the ships
>comms.

[Tom freaks, and smoke starts to spout from his head. Joel has to
wrestle him back down into his seat, where he begins to apply
restraints]

>"To bloody cramped in there. Where to now, Sir?"

TOM: To hell!

[Joel manages to shut him up just in time. Muffled invectives issue
forth]

JOEL: C'mon, Servo. Just a little while longer. It's almost over.

>Chakotay found his depression lift at the cheerful cockney banter. "I
>don't know where Starfleet regulations go in giving medals to
>holograms," he muttered. "But you and Abbott deserve one."

CROW: Abbott's a hologram?
TOM: Mmph mmm mmph hmm mhm mmmmph mmph mmmphmmph!
JOEL: What's that? [he pulls Tom's mouthpiece aside]
TOM: That's the only way she could have survived!

>"Perhaps the Colonel will give me me laurels?" Miller suggested
>hopefully.

CROW: He wants flowers?
JOEL: In a crown, no less.

>"Ain't never done nothing to qualify before."

TOM: ... for the mental ward!

>"Okay, perhaps he will. Now tell me why the anomaly went with such a
>bang?"

CROW: More interesting than chasing it around and around 'till it went
pop?

>"Dunno, Sir. Miss Abbott, she's a bright lady, Sir, she thought that it
>might be powered by a black hole of somesort, Sir," Miller babbled.

JOEL: More "sir"s in that sentence than in an episode of Peanuts.

>"We sort of gave it indigestion, Sir! Fed it more than it could cope
>with, Sir!"

CROW: So the black hole exploded?
JOEL: Or it just grew by twenty times, pulling in just about everything.
Voyager could be falling in now and not even know it.

>"I'll bounce that at astro-physics see if that makes sense," Chakotay
>promised.

TOM: It doesn't! Learn some basic principles of Einstein, you freak!

[Joel puts Tom's gag back on]

>"Now do something useful and find the Argonauts shuttle?"
>
>"Sir!"

CROW: I would still like to know in what language "sir" means "yes."

>
>
>
>B'Elanna and Winston were found, with Millers help, in their wrecked
>shuttle, some forty minutes later.

CROW: Forty minutes?! Winston's a dead man!
JOEL: Don't get your hopes up.
TOM: Mmmmph! Mmmmph mph mmmph mmmmph mmhp mmmph!
CROW: Good point, Servo.

>They were beamed quickly into sickbay and rapidly treated by the doctor.

JOEL: In his hurry, however, he managed to transpose some of the
slightly less vital organs.
CROW: [crewman] Hey, B'Elanna, is that your liver or are you just happy
to see me?

>"B'Elanna had come around and was laying quietly beside Llinoss Abbott
>as the ensign tried to explain her actions to her slightly cynical boss.

JOEL: [Abbott] So you see, the author -had- to knock you cold so I could
pretend to sacrifice myself. Forgive me?

>"And you thought it all up on your own, Ensign?" She enquired with a
>little incredulation.

CROW: Sort of like congratulations, but with a side of fries.

>"Not all of it," Abbott admitted.

JOEL: [Abbott] Well, okay, none of it.

>"Corporal Miller offered some and he made me do things I would never
>thought I was capable of."

CROW: [Abbott] That reminds me; if you'll excuse me, I have to purchase
some explicit photographs.

>"And a good job he did of it," Chakotay commented brightly as he sat
>between the two of them.

TOM: Mphmmmm mphm mphmmmph mphm.
JOEL: What's that? [he removes the mouthpiece again]
TOM: I said I think I'm okay now.
JOEL: I'll keep the fire extinguisher on standby, just in case.

>"Nearly as good as the Ensign in charge of the landing party. I've just
>finished his debriefing."

CROW: Landing party? When did they visit a planet?
TOM: I think he's referring to the takeover of the ship, but usually
those are away teams.
JOEL: Not to mention that B'Elanna should have been the officer in
charge ...

>"He has some very choice words to say about you, Ensign," he added.

TOM: [Chakotay] Especially about "groundhogs" and "mice." I don't think
he's fully recovered yet.

>"I am going to leave them in the log for the Captain to decide upon."

CROW: [Janeway] Misspelled ... misspelled ... misused ... boy, you think
he'd learn to use a spell checker ...

>"How about Tom and the Captain?" B'Elanna asked quickly.

TOM: I'm right here, and I'm sorry already!
JOEL: You should have said that when she was in front of you.
TOM: That was before my brain melted.

>"We picked up a signal from the Valoria ten minutes ago," Chakotay
>agreed.

CROW: "Agreed"? With what?
TOM: Segments of this 'fic smack of the Babelfish.

>"Tom and Vorik are safe.

JOEL: Vorik? Who's Vorik?
TOM: From context, it looks like Vorik's the new Captain.
ALL: Hurrah!

[The theatre shakes as a resounding boom is heard]

ALL: Sorry!

>Seems the Colonel decided to go to war and Kathryn and Tuvok went with
>him.

CROW: With another race in a completely unrelated story to be told
later.

>It adds a little more credence to Carvers suggestion that the Colonel
>may have done them some damage.

JOEL: But not much.
TOM: You could still put the odds of that in the Improbability Drive and
end up on a world made entirely of ice cream soda.
CROW: With root beer oceans?
TOM: Of course!

>We'll pick them up, when we have dropped off our prisoners.

CROW: ... out the nearest airlock.

>Komos was hit badly by the shocks from the anomaly. We don't know what
>is left for them, but we will have to take them back.

JOEL: ... to a smoking ruin of a world, ravaged by the Borg and then
annihilated by the shockwave.
TOM: Boy, I hope at least some of those saboteurs are women. They may
have to start from scratch.

>Just as soon as the ship is repaired enough to get there."

CROW: Weenies. At sublight it'd only take you a hundred years or so.

>"I'm on it," B'Elanna muttered struggling up.

TOM: That's some cough she's got there.

>"You will wait at least six hours," the Doctor announced, bustling up.

JOEL: Everyone's going up. There must be something wrong with the
gravity.

>"Winston is out of danger and will be up and about in a week.

CROW: *DAMN*!

>Ensign Abbott is fit and ready for action, though there may be a few after
>effects after being a hero, like an inflated head?"

TOM: That'll make her an easier target for the snipers, though, so
that's okay.

>"I don't want to be a hero," Abbott flustered, going bright red.

JOEL: That vein in her forehead is going to pop right out.
CROW: To say nothing of the one in her neck.

>"I was terrified I was going to lose everything again. It didn't seem
>to matter then!"

TOM: Or, as we see it, she didn't want to live without her one true
love, the holographic Corporal.

>"I know the feeling," Chakotay agreed,

ALL: [singing] I've got a feeling, a feeling deep inside ...

>getting up and offering a hand to the young ensign,

CROW: [Chakotay] Like it? It's Winston's. He won't need it.

>then wrapping a protective arm around her as she staggered.

JOEL: I can understand drinking to steady your nerves, but she went too
far.

>"I will need to debrief you so we will do that later.

TOM: Speaking of going too far!
CROW: Hey! That's my line!

>Until then take it easy?"
>
>
>
>Revision 31

JOEL: And that's it.
CROW: Thirty-one revisions.
TOM: And still enough plot holes to collapse a neutron star.

[Joel unclapses Tom's seat restraints, picks him up, and the three file
out of the theatre]

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

[Cambot pans out to reveal Joel standing off to stage right, with a
smoking jacket worn over his jumpsuit. He's attempting to remain very
prim and proper, as an English bloke would]

JOEL: Good day. Today on Mystery Science Theatre Masterpiece Three
Thousand, we would like to present: Voyager and the Seven Dwarves.
TOM: [pokes his head in from the side] The five-minute version! [ducks
out again]
JOEL: And now, on with the show! [he dashes off-screen]

[Crow shows up wearing a woman's wig over his head-net, and strikes a
dramatic pose, with his arm over his head like he's about to faint]

CROW: [falsetto, which he keeps throughout the sketch] Oh! My name is
Abbott, and I'm hated and reviled by everyone! Will no one accept
me for the hero that I really am?

[Tom comes in with a pickaxe over his shoulder, followed by six of his
identical copies]

TOMS: [singing] Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to sabotage we go ... [stops
singing] ho, what's this?
CROW: Oh my! Dwarves! What will I ever do?
TOM#4: Get her, men!

[The Toms rush Crow, as if to attack him, but appear to be rather poor
shots. Their pickaxes, now wielded as weapons, strike everyone and
everything -but- Crow, including each other, while Crow cowers in a
corner. As the battle is winding down to the last two or three surviving
Toms, Joel leaps in and strikes a superhero pose]

JOEL: Never fear! Winston is here!

[The Toms attack, but their pickaxes turn to dust the instant they
strike him. The Toms resort to hand-to-hand combat, but are easily
dispatched. Finally, the last Tom rushes Joel and collides with him,
finishing them both off in a puff of smoke]

CROW: Oh look! I am the last one standing, and so must be the hero of
the hour! Now I shall dance the happy dance, and everyone will
love me!

[Music starts up, Crow begins to dance, and soon Joel, Tom, and Gypsy
join with him. Their improvisation leads them to join hands and prance
about in a circle as the music plays. After a little bit, Joel leaves
the circle and comes up to Cambot]

JOEL: What do you think, sirs?

[Switch to Deep 13, where Dr Forrester is glaring at the screen as if it
has done him a terrible wrong]

DR F: Typical juvenile behaviour, Joel. I would say that I expect better
from you, but, well, I don't. One of these days you'll snap, just
like your little fire hydrant look-alike there, and then, THEN I
shall rule the world! Muhahahaha!

[As Dr Forrester is laughing, TV's Frank comes in (still with a bit of
chocolate on his face) carrying the MST3K reset button]

FRANK: Um, sir?
DR F: [stops laughing rather abruptly] Yes, Frank? What is it?
FRANK: I've fixed the button, sir. I've also shielded it so we -- I
mean, I -- won't have to repair it every time we press it.
DR F: [still not looking at him] Very good, Frank. Give it here.
FRANK: [places the button in Dr F's hands] Oh, and sir?
DR F: Yes, Frank?
FRANK: I'm sorry about calling your mother, sir.
DR F: We're not going to talk about that.
FRANK: No, sir. [Dr F starts fiddling with the console just below our
line of sight, as if installing the button in its proper place]
Oh, sir?
DR F: [exasperated] Yes, Frank?
FRANK: It will be nice when she comes and visits, won't it?
DR F: Push the button, Frank.

[Frank moves to push the button, but that's just what Dr Forrester has
been waiting for. He grabs Frank's head and begins beating it into the
console. One of the impacts hits the button, and ...]

\ | /
\ | /
\|/
----|---- FWOOSH!
/|\
/ | \
/ | \

Mystery Science Theater 3000 is copyright (c) Best Brains, Inc. Star
Trek: Voyager and Enterprise are copyrights and properties of Paramount
Studios and Viacom Entertainment. Star Wars is a licensed, copyright,
and property of LucasFilm and Twentieth Century Fox. Trouble of Dwarves
is solely Raymond Gower's creation, though he was nice enough to let me
tear it apart, and the movie rights are probably his (by the way, that
wasn't really him in that host segment. Couldn't you tell?). Trouble of
Dwarves is one part in an ever-growing series of the Colonel's
adventures, and can be found at thestoryboard.co.uk/voyager/colonel.htm.
The Last Starfighter and its ever-popular (if fictional) video game is
property of Lorimar Entertainment, a division of Universal Pictures.
Mentos is the freshmaker. Jerry Springer and Sally Jesse Raphael are
property, bought and paid for, of Lucifer and the assorted minions of
hell, now available in mint and cherry flavours. The United Paramount
Network is only available through legal channels, especially since
they're this close |---| to declaring bankruptcy. No harm, insult,
infringement, or paper bags were meant nor implied during the creation
of this MiSTing, though I'll probably get blamed for it anyway. For more
information on what MiSTing is and what you can do about it, you can
visit www.masemware.com/mst3k/faq.shtml for all the pertinent
information, and mostly likely some things you never imagined existed.

This has been a pieceoftheuniverse production.

>"No sense in being the coconuts in the shy."