NEW MiSTING: The Field Trip [STNG, Marrissa, Ratliff] [PG] [3/8]
MBlackw415
[SoL - Mike & the bots are gathered around the console. The
bridge is dark, save for a framed picture, illuminated by a
single spotlight, of a faceless mannequin dressed in a Starfleet
uniform. Gypsy has a black veil over her eye, Mike is wearing a
black jumpsuit, and Crow is in his suit with his "hair" slicked
back. Tom, dressed in a black robe, steps up to the podium.]
Tom : Friends, Romans, Countrymen. We are gathered here today to
join this man and this wom- D'oh! No, wait.
Crow: Um, Tom?
Tom : Yeah?
Crow: I think we've already done this one.
Tom : Really? Are you sure?
Mike: Yeah. Crow's right. We've done this one before. Remember?
We end up singing "Gloriosky, Stephen Ratliff".
Tom : Oh yeah. Now I remember. Well, what then?
Mike: Hang on, I've got an idea.
[Mike coughs and begins to speak again.]
Mike: Hi folks. Well, we *were* all set to have ourselves a
good time right about now, a little bright and cheerful
moment to help get us through the rest of the fanfic.
We had a mariachi band lined up, there was going to be
singing, dancing and laughter... but then we had to sit
through one of the most unrelentingly depressing chapters
that Ratliff ever wrote, and now we just can't get in the
mood to celebrate.
Tom : [glumly] Thanks a *lot*, Ratliff.
Crow: Er, Mike?
Mike: So, at the last minute and at great expense, we decided to set up
our own little memorial service so we can work through our own
feelings about the deaths of Ensign Throwaway and Lt. Allen.
Crow: Er, Mike? [Mike stops talking.] We've done this one too. We
end up tossing ashes out the Satellite. Then we find out that
Ratliff's dead. Remember?
Mike: Oh, that's right. [pause] Well, we have to do something.
Crow: I think Servo and I can whip something up. Mike, could you go
over there?
Mike: Oh sure.
[Mike walks over to a chair in front of the command console. We see the
shadowy forms of the bots moving about. After a moment or two, only one
silhouette remains.]
Crow: Great. Okay, lights!
[The lights go on and we see Crow standing behind the control console.
He stares pensively off into the distance. After a moment, Servo
enters, wearing a brunette wig.]
Tom: Honey, do you have a busy day planned today?
[Crow doesn't turn to look at Tom. He speaks in a distracted manner.]
Crow: No, I just have to ferry some kids to the Daystrom Institute on
Archer IV. It should be a piece of Rigellian star-cake.
Tom: Well, take care. Remember to stay away from the Spican spice wine.
It gives you hives. And avoid any alien races wearing ribbons
and... [pause] Throwaway? Are you okay?
Crow: Hmm? Oh yes. I was just thinking.
Tom: What about?
[Crow continues to stare off into the distance. All is silent for a
moment, then he speaks.]
Crow: Do you know what today is? Back on Earth?
[Tom shakes his head 'no.']
Crow: It's Sunday. When I was a kid, every Sunday, my Dad would take
all of us out for a drive on Sunday. He never told us where we
were going. He just had us point in a direction, and off we'd go.
[Crow continues to stare for a moment longer, then turns to look at
Tom.]
Crow: Why, you're all dressed up!
[Tom's voice is on the verge of breaking.]
Tom: Of course I am. It's Sunday. People dress up on Sunday.
[Crow and Tom, both crying, rush to embrace each other. This proves to
be a bit difficult due to their lack of functioning limbs, but they
fake it well. As they embrace, Gypsy, dressed in an environment suit,
enters.]
Gypsy: And so, it begins.
[The bots ignore her.]
Gypsy: Understanding is a three-edged sword.
[The bots squirm uncomfortably about.]
Gypsy: If you go to Francis Cole'ma'dum, you will die.
Tom: Gypsy!
Crow: Aw, you just ruined the entire scene!
[Mike stands and walks over to the bots.]
Mike: It's okay, guys. I don't think that you could have gone much
further with that one anyway. [The lights begin to flash.]
But it doesn't matter, because we've got Ratliff sign!
[Mike hits the light, the bots rush about. The door sequence again.]
Gypsy: Ratliff has always been here.
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .]
[The three enter.]
Mike: I don't think I'll ever understand that sketch.
Tom: You'll have to watch for at least a few seasons
to understand, Mike.
>From: srat...@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
>Subject: NEW TNG The Field Trip 3/9
>Date: 14 Nov 1998 00:00:00 GMT
>Message-ID: <72kng5$g...@newslink.runet.edu>
>Organization: Radford University
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>
>
>Title: The Field Trip
>Author: Stephen Ratliff (srat...@runet.edu)
>Series: TNG Marrissa Stories
>Parts: NEW 3/9
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>101374
Tom: Hey, a lottery!
Mike: You guys sure have recovered from the psychological trauma
of the last chapter.
Crow: We cleaned out our short-term emotional memory banks,
heightened our threshold of depression, and thought happy
thoughts.
Tom: And we had a few motor oil daiquiris.
>Chapter Two
>
Mike: Well?
Crow: Why not?
All : Your Sister is a Werewolf!
> In the Cabin of the Shuttle April, Shayna noticed the crew's
>death and swore.
Mike: [Shayna] Felgercarb! Shazbot! Mebs! Grozit!
Crow: [Shayna] I will avenge Lt. Throwaway's death! I swear!
Tom: [Shayna] I did not have sexual relations with that woman!
> Clara fainted.
Mike: Her corset was too tight.
> The boys were silent,
Crow: They were extras.
> their eyes
>staring blankly at the two officers slumped over the console.
Tom: Oh my God! You killed Lt. Throwaway!
Crow: You bastards!
Mike: Say hi to Chris Gleason for us, Throwie!
> "We are going to die," Jay moaned.
> "No, you are not," Marrissa said, calmly yet loudly.
Mike: [Marrissa] Well not *immediately*. At the angle we're
approaching, most likely we will be thrown from the shuttle
on impact, leaving us paralyzed and easy prey for scavengers.
>"Jay what was the name of the game that the teacher took from you
>last week?"
Tom: [Jay] "Tomb Raider CXXVI", with special holographic Lara
Croft plug-in.
> "Shuttle Disasters, Why?" Jay replied.
Tom: Last week, on Plot Contrivance Playhouse...
Mike: I bet next week, they'll be caught playing Time Travel
Paradoxes.
Crow: Nah. Ratliff doesn't write Voyager stuff.
> "Take the helm," Marrissa said. "I saw your high score,
>and I know you can land us safely.
All: WHAT?!?
Mike: That's like saying being good at "Mortal Kombat" qualifies you
to be an assassin!
Crow: Or saying that the CIA recruits its agents by seeing who's got
the high score on "Spy Hunter."
> Alexander from what I have
>over heard you discussing with Jay, I think you would make a good
>copilot for him.
Mike: [Alexander] But all we ever talk about is the sociopolitical
problems of the new theocracy of Roozleplook IV, and the size
of Counselor Troi's br-
Tom: [Marrissa] Are you arguing with me!??
Mike: [Alexander] Gulp! No, ma'am!
Tom: [Marrissa] Good! Now get up there! [mumbling] 'Cause I'm
not going to be the one going through that windshield.
> Now snap to it."
Mike [Alexander, with adolescent "breaking" voice]: Ummm...snapping
right away, sir!
Tom: Ladies and gentlemen, the "shy" Marrissa.
> Jay and Alex took off for the
>cockpit.
Tom: Unfortunately, they were stuck in a holding pattern before they
could land.
> "Shayna stop swearing, it's unladylike.
Tom: [Marrissa] ...you bitch.
> Try to revive
>Clara."
>
Mike: And try to increase the power!
[Crow makes R2-D2 noises]
Mike: Hey, that's good!
> In the cockpit, Jay and Alexander pushed the dead bodies
>aside and took the controls.
Crow: [Jay] Ewwwww, there's blood and EVERYTHING!
> "We've entered the atmosphere. Alex
>try to level us off," Jay ordered.
Mike: [Alexander] Sorry, I left my belt sander on the Enterprise.
> "I'll try to steer us down
>safely."
> "Angle of decent, cut to 60 degrees,"
Tom: Angle of indecent, cut all the way down to the navel.
> Alexander said. "6
>thousand meters."
Tom: [Alexander] We are successfully continuing to drop like
a rock!
> "Try to cut it to 30 by 3 thousand," Jay said as Marrissa
>and Shayna entered the cockpit and removed Lt. Allen.
Mike: [Marrissa] Sorry to intrude, but we just want to start dinner.
Care to claim any part of him?
Crow: [sniffling] Not funny, Mike. He was such a nice man...
> "3 thousand meters, angle of decent 28 degrees," Alexander
>said.
Crow: [Marrissa] Alexander! Conform to orthodox moral
standards! Now!
> "Level us off at 15 hundred and begin looking for a landing
>site," Jay said. Marrissa and Shayna returned to the cockpit to
>remove Ensign Throwaway.
[The bots sniff]
Crow: Goodbye Ensign Throwaway!Tom: You were always our favorite!
Mike: Thank goodness for the Hefty Cinch-Saks.
Crow: Mike!
Mike: [Shayna] We'll save him for tomorrow's luau!
Tom: Mike, you may wish to stop it.
Crow: Or else we might forget to turn the oxygen on tonight.
> "Any suggestions for a landing site, Captain?"
Tom: Um, the ground?
> "Some place with a water source and burn-able vegetation
>nearby, Trp["
All: <stunned silence>
Crow: What... the... *hell*...
Tom: "Trp[?"
Mike: How... but...
Crow: I mean, the... and...
Mike: The closest actual word from that possible keyboard combination
is "gel."
Tom: "Trp[?!"
Crow: How did he manage to flub so badly? Even Ratliff couldn't
misspell that badly. Hell, blind lemurs couldn't misspell that
badly!
Mike: Maybe his cat walked on the keyboard.
Tom: [growing hysterical] "TRP[?!?!"
Mike: [hugging Tom tightly] Shh! Calm down, honey. It'll all be over
in about six chapters.
Tom: [muffled, whimpering] Trp[...
> Marrissa said. "Shayna you take the feet this
>time."
Tom: I guess this means he's been de-feeted, heheheh!
Crow: Uck!
Tom: Better than being disarmed, though. *snicker*
Mike: Cut it out, Tom!
Tom: C'mon, Mike, don't be like Throwaway and lose your head.
BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!
Crow: Servo, I'm going to concentrate on Ratliff to block you out,
okay? That's what it's come to.
> As they began moving the Ensign back into the cabin she
>continued.
Crow: [hopefully] She continued? Throwaway came back to life and
changed his sex?
> "By the way Jay, when did I become Captain to you?"
Mike: [Jay] When you shoved that phaser up my nostril and seized
power.
> "When you took command a few moments ago." Jay replied.
> "That makes me captain?" Marrissa asked.
Tom: I see now why Marrissa got along with President Clinton.
> "The commander of any vessel has the right to be called
>Captain," Jay replied.
Mike: Ok, from now on, I insists you guys call me Captain Mike.
[pause]
Bots: [snicker!] Good one, Nelson!
> "Alex height and angle of decent?"
Mike: [Alexander] I'm about 130 cm and I don't think that I'm
bawdy at all. Why do you ask?
> "1613, 10 degrees," Alexander replied.
Mike: So they fell about 5000 feet and pitched upwards 50 degrees
in 7 seconds... That's about 71.5 feet per second, 7 degrees
per second... 1613 feet left... aw pootertoots, they're going
to level out with 20 seconds to spare!
> "I will have to take command more often. That's one title I
>like," Marrissa said.
[All gasp in mock surprise]
Mike: That's it! That's the spot where all the trouble began!
Tom: Trust Jay to accidentally cause the heat death of the universe.
> "Please land us as so as you find a spot.
Mike: [Jay] Those are the things marked with an X, right?
>It's easier to spot an moving shuttle than a hunk of metal on a
>planet."
Mike [Jay]: Yeah, but a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.
> "Now changing coarse,
Tom: Becoming silky smoo...
Mike: Don't, Tom. Ratliff obviously intended that one. It could
be a trap.
> bearing 256," Jay said. "I'm bringing
>us down."
>
Crow: Just having Jay around would bring anyone down.
Tom: Boy, it's a good thing that Jay was paying attention in
Comp Fun class. After all, if he hadn't, then he wouldn't
be able to use those really advanced computers that run
the shuttle.
Mike: Yep, good thing he studied.
> The shuttle did not have a good landing. It was controlled,
>somewhat, but that was all that could be said about it.
Mike: [Confused author] So...ummm...I'll just move along then.
> Jay
>bounced the shuttle, once, twice,
Crow: o/~ Three times a la-dy... o/~
> before making a long slide on
>the beach.
Tom: [Sports announcer] And the call at the plate - SAFE! SAFE!
CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN!
> The Shuttle came to rest with it's front end slightly
>tipped into a shallow stream.
Mike: Hey, you can lead a shuttlecraft to water *and* make it drink!
> A splash of water came up, as they
>stopped.
>
Mike: I think I've seen this before...
Crow: Yep. "Planet of the Apes."
Tom: "Generations."
Crow: "Ringworld."
Tom: "Dukes of Hazzard."
> The cabin was quiet after the landing. The children looked
>unharmed, if a little shaken.
Tom: Not stirred.
Crow: It's a Ratliff story. Nothing is stirring.
> "Clara, hand me my tricorder,"
>Marrissa said. Clara handed Marrissa the instrument and Marrissa
>scanned though the wall of the shuttle.
Tom: [Marrissa] Okay, the atmosphere is mostly titanium with a
lot of wires and things and--oh, poop. I forgot the depth
thingy again.
> "The atmosphere is breathable in fact it's almost perfect
>outside. Open the door."
Mike: [Monotone] Gosh. I sure hope that this planet is able to
sustain life.
Crow: [Monotone] Yes, it sure would be a stroke of luck if the
planet that they've landed on just happens to be one
of the small handful in the universe that can sustain human
life.
Tom: [Monotone] I sure hope that they're that lucky.
> Shayna hit the code and the rear of the shuttle opened up.
>Outside the sky was a clear blue.
Tom: Shh! The sky has those colored Accuview lenses in!
> The beach was of yellow sand.
Crow: So their mysterious alien planet turns out to be Maui?
>Off the beach there a lot of purple leafed trees.
Tom: Yes, but can they see the forest through the trees?
> In fact it was
>a regular forest of purple.
Mike: It's Julius Caesar's garden!
Crow: Or the planet's been using Chlorophyll Light.
> The ground cover was as thin bladed
>grass greenish blue in color.
Tom: [overwrought]: I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the
journey-work of the stars, and the pismire is equally perfect,
and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren...
Mike: [interrupting] Give it a rest, Tom.
> Beyond the clear blue lake were
>purple tree covered mountains.
Mike: So, they've landed on the Clown Planet then.
Crow: Ratliff must have one of those "Songs of America"
CDs.
Tom : Yep. We'll be seeing bombs bursting in air and Johnny
marching home again soon.
> Clara and Shayna stood admiring
>the view.
Crow: Chicks do seem to like that show.
> "I hate to interrupt you,
Crow: [Marrissa] But I haven't given any orders for two
whole minutes.
> but we better get ready to move
>away from here," Marrissa said.
Tom: [Marrissa] I've set the shuttle to self-destruct in 10 seconds.
> "Unless you want to be captured.
Mike: Hey, anything to avoid staying on the same planet with
Marrissa until the rescue party comes.
>Jay, find the communicators and distribute them. Alexander the
>phasers.
Tom: [Marrissa] Alexander the phasers...Robert the tricorders...
Johnny the communicators...get to it, dammit!
> Clara, I want 3 days meals for each of us in backpacks.
Mike: Jack, you're in charge of hunting and gathering. Piggy,
you take care of the conch.
>Shayna ready all the booby trapping material you can find.
Mike: [Shayna] So I should get out the motion-sensitive bras then?
Crow: Say, if I could trap those, I'd never leave the woods!
> I
>want the shuttle trapped to annoy the guys who fired on us but
>with stuff we can remove without harming ourselves."
Tom: [Marrissa]: And since they're experienced soldiers with months
of training, there's no possible way they could find out how
to disarm crude booby-traps designed and built by 10-year-olds.
Crow: "Annoying" booby traps, huh? I believe this is the beginning of our
collision course with wackiness!!
> "What will you be doing Captain?" Jay asked.
Mike: [Marrissa] Bossing around the lot of you pathetic wimps,
naturally.
> "Getting out the survival gear, " Marrissa replied. "You'll
>want something to sleep on tonight."
Mike: So, were they planning on sleeping in midair before?
> "What about Lt. Allen and the co-pilot?" Jay asked.
Tom: [Marrissa] Hmmm...I guess if we put some blankets on
top of them, it could work...might be a bit uncomfortable,
of course...
Crow: That's THROWAWAY! How could you forget the man that made
such a sweeping impact on your life!
> "Put them in body bags and hide them in the woods," Marrissa
>said.
Mike: Body bags: standard Federation equipment issue.
Tom: Considering how many ensigns they go through normally, I'm not
surprised!
> "That is yours and Alex's next job. Thank you for
>volunteering, Jay."
>
Crow [as Jay, sarcastically]: Thank *you* for demeaning me, Marrissa.
Tom [as Marrissa, angrily]: What was that?
Crow [sullenly]: Nothing.
> An hour later, the children gathered in front of the
>shuttle.
Mike: [Marrissa] Jay! Get out here!
Crow: [Jay] But I'm not finished watching this Joe Bob Briggs
MonsterVision Marathon!
> They all were loaded up with backpacks filled with the
>shuttle's survival gear. Jay and Alex each had a phaser rifle.
Mike: They've got official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot
range model phaser rifles!
>The girls all had a regular phaser.
Mike: Paging Doctor Freud...
Tom: Actually, they're just "Barbie Dream Phasers".
> Each of them had a
>tricorder, and a hand light attached to their waists.
Tom: [TTTO "Willie and the Hand Jive"] Hand light, hand light, hand
light, do that crazy hand light...
Crow: You know, Voyager was written after "Enterprized" was first
out there... do you think...?
Mike: Please, no, Crow, let us NOT head down that train of thought!
> A set of
>four regular lantern style lights were tied to the outside of
>Marrissa's bundle.
Crow: [Jay] Here Marrissa, let me make sure that you're really
well lit. We wouldn't want for anyone to not be able to
shoot at... er, see you.
> Despite the majority of the group's
>inexperience, the bundles were well balanced, the result of much
>fixing on Marrissa's part.
Tom: At least, based on Marrissa's ideas of well-balanced.
Mike: [Marrissa] I can't help you carry the hibachi, Jay! I've got
this Q-tip to carry!
Crow: [Marrissa] I had mastered bundle balancing by the time I
left my crib...not to brag, of course...
> "In order to avoid capture we will be finding a new
>shelter," Marrissa began.
Mike: [Marrissa] Let's try the homeless shelter down the street.
> The detailed survey of this planet
>tells me that this stream's source is a cave about three miles
>from here. We will shelter there."
Crow: Marrissa in Middle Earth?
Mike: NO!!!
> The five children then picked up their bags and headed
>upstream into the forest.
>
Tom: Marrissa! Jay Gordon! Alexander! Shayna! Clara! in - "The Edge"!
>--
>Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University.
>srat...@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/
>
Crow: We are the archives who say "Nu"!
>"Put down the pencil. Put down the pencil, Mr. Russell."
> -- Dr. Wychoff, DS9's Shadows and Symbols
Tom: Put it down and back away slowly, Nipsey...
>From: srat...@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
>Subject: NEW TNG The Field Trip 4/9 [G] (Marrissa Stories)
>Date: 20 Nov 1998 00:00:00 GMT
Tom: Gross Marrissa Tonnage.
Mike: Ooh, ouch.
>Message-ID: <734fmu$m...@newslink.runet.edu>
>Organization: Radford University
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>
>
>Title: The Field Trip
>Author: Stephen Ratliff (srat...@runet.edu)
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Parts: NEW 4/9
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>
>Warning: This chapter will cause you to get Disney Tunes stuck in
>your head.
All : Uh oh.
Crow: Mike? He's not going to have them sing again, is he?
Tom: o/~ What ain't he got? You know darn well! o/~
Crow: NOOOOOOO!
Mike: There, there. I'm sure it's just an idle threat.
> All tunes in this chapter are properity of Disney.
>
Mike: [Kirk] The Federation, of course, has three famous
animation studios ... Disney, Warner, and Xanthbad
of Rigel VII.
>101374
Tom: Ratliff sees fanfics as a series of ones and zeroes. And
threes. And sevens and fours. Can I do that one over?