[MiSTing] Trouble of Dwarves (5/9)

[pieceoftheuniverse]

[Back on the bridge of the SOL, chaos reigns. Circuit boards are
everywhere, floor panels are open to reveal sensitive areas of the ship,
and there is a large quantity of sports equipment scattered about. Joel
pokes his head out of one of the floor panels; Crow and Tom are on
either side of the opening]

JOEL: I don't get it. It's not down there, either.
CROW: Where is it? It's gotta be somewhere! I still can't get that image
out of my head!
TOM: Maybe Gypsy knows.
JOEL: Good idea. Gypsy!

[Gypsy comes in from stage left wearing a construction helmet on her
head and a tool belt cinched about her ... er, waist-thingy. Pipe. Tube.
Whatever. Just don't ask how she gets her tools]

GYPSY: It's not in the control room either, guys!
JOEL: Gypsy, do you remember where we put the MST3k Reset Button?
GYPSY: Reset button? I thought you guys were looking for the *rest*
button!
J&TB: Gypsy!
GYPSY: Well, you guys looked tired out. I thought it might help.
TOM: We're tired out from this fanfic, and the image currently dancing
around in our heads -- thanks to -CROW- here!
CROW: I said I was sorry!
JOEL: So do you know where the Reset Button is, Gypsy? It's our only
hope.
GYPSY: Sure! That's the button TV's Frank presses at the end of an
experiment. It's down in Deep 13.
TOM: Deep 13?
CROW: I could have sworn it was up here.
GYPSY: Not this. It used special parts that Dr. F doesn't want me to
have.
JOEL: Well, there's nothing else to do than to call down, I guess. [He
pulls himself out of the floor and gets back behind the desk. The
'bots follow him up]
TOM: But don't tell him what we want it for!
CROW: Yeah! If he thinks he's got us over a barrel, he'll never give it
to us!
JOEL: Um, sirs?

[Switch to Deep 13, where Dr. Forrester appears to be engulfed in his
own machine. The occasional *tink tink* and *bang* lets us know that,
sadly, he's not being eaten alive, but rather is affecting some repairs
to the Friplicator. At the sound of Joel's voice, he finds his way out
of the machine and, still trailing a wire or two, moves to the monitor]

DR F: What is it? Can't you see I'm rather busy here?

[Switch back to the SOL]

JOEL: Sorry, sir. We were wondering if you were done repairing the MST3k
Reset button yet?

[Switch]

DR F: Oh, that old thing. I gave it to Frank to repair ages ago. Of
course, Frank's dead now, and I won't be able to revive him for
some time yet. So it'll just have to wait.

[Switch]

CROW: Frank's dead?
TOM: Again?
CROW: Poor little guy.
JOEL: Um, sir, it's rather important. As you can see, there's this
-huge- mess here in the SOL, and --

[Switch]

DR F: My god! So there is! What have you done to my beautiful satellite?

[Switch]

TOM: [aside] Maybe you shouldn't have put us up here in the first place,
numnut.
JOEL: [aside] Shhh! [to Dr. F] Well, um, you see ...
CROW: Aliens!
JOEL: Aliens?
TOM: Aliens!
JOEL: Right! Aliens! Aliens boarded the satellite, and tried to
disassemble it to ... to ...
TOM: -- to take it back to their homeworld!
CROW: Right! It turns out they worship all things dog-boned-shaped, and
wouldn't you know, here we are, just sitting in space, ripe for
the taking!
TOM: Or at least that's what they thought!
CROW: Yeah! We showed -them- a thing or two!

[Joel starts getting into the spirit of the lie, and begins acting tough
and manly. He puts up his fists as if about to enter a boxing ring, and
gives a few punches to the air. The bots join him ... well, Crow tries,
but his arms don't work like that. Tom just does half-spins in the
general direction of the monitor in what he believes to be a threatening
manner, but looks more like one of the hippos in _Fantasia_.]

JOEL: They took one look at us and went screaming like little girls in
the other direction!
CROW: But not before ripping up the floorboards and tearing out
circuitry!
TOM: Right! First they did terrible damage to the ship, and -then- they
got a good look at us!
JOEL: Because we were in the theatre!
CROW: That's right! We would have spared the satellite, if not for your
experiment!
TOM: And Gypsy couldn't take on a hoard of aliens on her own!
JOEL: Leaving a poor defenseless 'bot up here to fend off an entire
platoon --
CROW: -- army --
JOEL: Right, army, of hostile aliens who want to tear apart the ship and
put it on display in some kind of weird alien museum!
TOM: Shame on you!
CROW: And all you have to do ...
TOM: ... just a little thing, really ...
JOEL: ... is to go find the MST3k Reset Button, and press it!
CROW: As hard as you can!
TOM: But not too hard!
JOEL: Because we might need it later!

[Switch]

DR F: Alright! Alright! Enough already! I'll do anything, just as long
as it shuts you up!

[He stomps off to stage-right, and returns a few seconds later with a
little hand-held device with a very inviting bright red button on top.
On the side is inscribed "MST3k" and, in tiny, itsy-bitsy little letters
underneath, reads "Do Not Push Until Experiment Ends."]

DR F: Apparently Frank never got around to fixing it like I told him to.
So you'll just have to make the repairs yourself. [He sends the
device through the umbilicus] Remind me to kill him later for
that, after I resurrect him.

[Switch. Joel has the reset button in hand]

JOEL: Thanks, Dr. F. [he hits the red button to terminate the
connection, and then tries pushing the Reset Button] Dang.
CROW: We already know it doesn't work, Joel; he just told us!
JOEL: I thought he might have pushed it wrong or something.
TOM: Joel, I think you need to lie down for a minute. You just made as
much sense as this fanfic.
JOEL: No, no; I'm fine. [He picks up a screwdriver from the floor and
starts taking the cover off of the device] Besides, we need to
hurry up and fix this thing before --

[Fanfic sign lights up; chaos, flashing lights, shaking Cambot]

ALL: Oh no!
JOEL: No time, guys; we'll have to take this with us into the theatre!

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

[Joel and the 'bots file in.]

JOEL: Hey, I think I got it!
BOTS: Press it! Press it!

[Joel makes a big show out of pressing the button, and there's a flash
of light. The MST3k Reset Button disappears]

CROW: Huh? What happened?
TOM: Hey! We're in the theatre!
JOEL: Forrester's pulled a fast one on us!
CROW: I don't even remember coming in here!

>
>
>

TOM: ... well, story? Anytime!

>A tremendous clang reverberated around Argonaut's vast engine room.

CROW: Quasimodo must be hard up for work these days.

>Even though the ship had been fairly easy to restart,

JOEL: There's a big button on the warp core saying "Power."

>fifty years of inaction had caused parts of the structure to deteriorate.

CROW: Insert Viagra joke here.

>With gravity fully restored, pieces of conduit and other parts of the ship's
>structure had begun falling to the decks.

TOM: So it was zero-g before?
JOEL: No ... from what I remember, it was about one-third-g.
CROW: So then wouldn't pieces just fall slower?
TOM: Hey, come to think of it, I remember this story, but not much else.
CROW: Me too.
JOEL: Do you guys remember riffing it?
TOM: There's a faint memory of being in here, reading it ... but ... not
much else.
CROW: It's almost like someone hit a reset button on our memory or
something.
JOEL: Huh. Weird. We'll have to ask Dr. F about it.

>Needless to say, the rain of old structural members

CROW: [singing, as Sinatra] Siiiinging, in the rain, just siiiiinging in
the rain; what a woooonderful feeel --
TOM: [sfx] *THUNK*
JOEL: If the Animaniacs wrote musicals, ladies and gentlemen.

>had done nothing to maintain B'Elanna Paris' formerly sunny disposition.

TOM: What with the clouds releasing engine parts, sure, I could see
that.
JOEL: Although the idea of her being "sunny" is an image that refuses to
materialize.

>"Wildman!"

CROW: [singing] ... I think I love you.
JOEL: That's "wild -thing-."

>she screamed, wishing fervently that she had been able to send Caerey
>on this damnable landing party.

TOM: So they're being burned and tortured?
CROW: I think it's more like they're in a handbasket.
TOM: The whole crew's a basket case.

>"Yes, Lieutenant!" Samantha Wildman's voice rang out from somewhere
>behind the main energiser.

JOEL: ... which was powering the giant rabbit in the warp core.
CROW: [announcer] Argonaut! It keeps going and going and going and going
...

>"Go see about that conduit,

TOM: What conduit?
JOEL: The one that hit the deck, I suppose.
TOM: But how did she know it was a conduit? There are supposedly parts
falling all over the ship!
CROW: Maybe we just narrowly missed a stroke of luck, and it landed
right beside her.
TOM: Well ... damn. Ray-Ray shouldn't play with our hopes like that.

>and then get Miller to tell you if there are any other parts of the ship that
>need repairs before you're beamed back to Voyager."

JOEL: If pieces of the ship are falling to the floor, I'd say the whole
vessel could use a refit.

>"Yes Ma'am," Wildman chimed,

TOM: [sfx] Ding-Dong!

>barely able to conceal the relief that she felt at the reprieve from dealing
>with her commander's increasingly short temper.

CROW: Quick, someone hand her a phaser rifle so she can pass out again!

>As she worked, Samantha Wildman thought long and hard about their
>situation.

JOEL: Crow?
CROW: Yes?
JOEL: No.
CROW: Right.

>They were incredibly lucky to find a Federation ship that was well
>supplied with spare parts.

TOM: [Wildman] Why, we must be in a fanfic! Nothing can go wrong!
JOEL: Plot Contrivance #383, submitted for your approval.
TOM: I have this strange urge to fill out a bingo card.
CROW: Now that's just odd.

>Argonaut's limited self-repairing capability was going a long way toward
>ensuring its battle-worthiness.

CROW: So if a fifty-six-year-old ship has automatic repair capability,
what was the whole point of Abbott making repairs earlier on a
more technologically advanced ship?
JOEL: Shhh. If you don't look at the plot holes, they can't get you.

>Even if they won the upcoming battle against the Kommodans.

TOM: He he.
CROW: Do we even know what these guys look like?
JOEL: Diminutive size, toilet-brush hair.

>and The Borg, there was no way to crew it over the long term.

CROW: Why not?
TOM: Continuity. It's the only way any author can jump right in and
start writing adventures for the crew without having to worry about
a new addition that'll have to be edited in later.
CROW: But I thought only Ray-Ray wrote Colonel stories.
TOM: That doesn't stop him from hitting the big reset button at the end
of the 'fic, though.

>It would have to be left behind, no matter the fact that a second ship
>would go a long way toward ensuring their ultimate return to The
>Alpha Quadrant.

TOM: Erm, how, exactly?
JOEL: Maybe for every added warp nacelle, there's an increase in speed.
CROW: Well, hell; just strap on four or five of those babies, and
they'll be home in two days!

>A return that seemed in doubt now that the Captain and Colonel were
>missing.

TOM: Ah, just leave 'em behind.
CROW: We won't mind. Really.
TOM: You guys would be home by now if you'd stop dropping out of warp
every six seconds.

>The Captain had led them through nearly six years of the hardest space
>faring that any Federation crew had endured.

JOEL: Of course, in doing so, she basically tossed the rulebook in the
bin, but we'll ignore that for now.

>She had found ways to overcome every problem they faced,

TOM: ... even if the solution flew in the face of logic ...

>and had come out of each situation with an increased measure of respect
>from everyone aboard Voyager.

CROW: [crew, whisper] Don't mess with Janeway, or else she'll get Prime
Directive on your ass!

>Then, suddenly, two years ago, a strange man with stranger values had
>come aboard and turned the ship upside down.

TOM: Who's that then?
JOEL: Whoever it is, he's strong enough to flip over a starship.
TOM: Superman?

>Now both of the people that Samantha Wildman trusted to get them home
>were missing, and probably assimilated by the Borg.

CROW: Only if we're really lucky.

>Unbelievable stroke of luck though Argonaut might be,

JOEL: You know, if Ray-Ray doesn't stop pointing out how impossible the
Argonaut's existence is, he's not going to make the story very
believable.
TOM: Joel, this is a Voyager fanfic. -Voyager-. Brought to you by the
same folks who want to get a pitiful little ship and it's
dim-witted crew across seventy thousand light-years in seven years.
The same writers who saw reruns of _Gilligan's Island_ and imagined
a crossover with _Lost in Space_. Believability went right out the
window with the pilot episode.
JOEL: Still entertaining, though.
TOM: Well, sure.
CROW: Just leave your brain at the door.

>Wildman wondered whether it would be enough to see them through the
>battle that would soon break upon them all.

TOM: A battle break?
CROW: [soldier] Whoops, time for tea! Hold on a minute, would you? It's
so hard to hold this cup properly with a phaser rifle -- say,
would you mind holding this for me? Thanks.

>
>
>
>
>With ten hours before the Kommodans. and Borg were to arrive,

JOEL: You know, he keeps putting that period after "Kommodans."
TOM: Joel, I really don't want to have that particular mental image with
me right now.
JOEL: Wha -- oh. Sorry. Forget I said anything.
CROW: And you say -I'm- crass.

>Chakotay could only sit, board and

CROW: [Chakotay] Hey, anyone want to play Monopoly with me?

>increasingly frustrated,

TOM: [Chakotay] Winston, did you find the Captain's porn collection yet?

>on Voyager's bridge. Winston and Paris had felt that their commander
>should not board the old ship,

JOEL: [Winston] We don't like you, sir. You're brain-dead and ugly to
boot.

>and had made their unwillingness to let him inspect it more than
>clear in their last conference call.

CROW: [B'Elanna] Go away already! Creep.

>Chakotay's frown deepened at the memory of the conversation.

TOM: [Chakotay] I'll show them! I won't let them save the day in their
decrepit old vessel! So there!

>"I'm sorry Captain, but I have to advise against your coming aboard at
>this time," Winston said, his image dominating Voyager's bridge.

JOEL: [Winston, booming voice] Bow before me, puny mortal! For I am
Captain, though you outrank me!

>"We've only barely gotten the ship running, and even though the main
>viewer's working now, there are still a lot of secondary systems that we
>need to put together.

TOM: Interesting list of priorities. So next up should be what, exactly?
Weapons? Life support?
CROW: Just as long as they can see through the main viewer. Heaven
forbid they work by sensors alone.

>Not only that, but as we generate more power, the anomaly seems to be
>increasing its own activity as well."

JOEL: What activity is that?
TOM: Erm ... being a big, magnetic swirl of stuff?
JOEL: Ooooo. Scary.

>"I see,"

CROW: ... said the blind man.

>Chakotay sighed, frustrated.
>
>"B'Elanna, do you have any idea why the anomaly's status has changed?"

TOM: Possibly because of the large amount of technobabble in the
immediate area.
JOEL: Not to mention that plot contrivances are natural gravity wells.

>"Nothing for sure," her angry voice snapped from wherever she was
>working. "After all, I've been a bit busy trying to put together this
>fifty year old ship.

CROW: So have they actually ascertained that the ship has been floating
here for fifty-odd years, or are they just assuming?
JOEL: It's all assumption so far. The ship could have gotten there
yesterday and this crew would -still- have difficulty.

>She'll be ready for you when you need her, but there's way too much for
>me to deal with in her guts

ALL: Ewwwwwww!

>to worry about what's going inside that anomaly."

TOM: Shouldn't she have said "this anomaly," seeing as how they're
inside it?
JOEL: We'll do grammar and proper tense flames later, when we need to
roast marshmallows.

>"Understood," Chakotay barked, borrowing from Janeway's bag of tricks
>where dealing with B'Elanna was concerned.

CROW: Which apparently consists of ignoring whatever she says until
she's in a more responsive mood.

>"I'll look forward to hearing that Argonaut is in top shape," he said,
>knowing fully well that she wouldn't be able to get it there.

TOM: Rub it in a little harder, Chakotay. I don't think she feels inept
yet.

>He was equally sure that B'Elanna would focus on the challenge that he
>had just given her to the exclusion of her frustration over the older
>ship's decay.

JOEL: Where did Chakotay learn to command? By mail-order?

>A focus that would also allow her to get more done rather than worrying
>over the things, such as her missing husband's fate, that she couldn't
>control.

CROW: Say ... where -is- Tom?
TOM: I'm right here!
JOEL: Not you, Tom, the other Tom!
TOM: There's another me?
CROW: No, the Tom on Voyager.
TOM: I'm not getting anywhere near that ship!
JOEL: You're not on Voyager.
TOM: And I'd like to keep it that way!
CROW: So where's Tom?
TOM: [shaking now] I'm right here!
JOEL: It's a good thing Tom's not in this story, or this might get
confusing.
TOM: But I'm *right here*!
CROW: Of course you are, Tom, but Tom isn't.
TOM: Aaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhh!

>"Aye Sir," came her reply, nearly drowned out by the sound of the phaser
>torch that she was using.

JOEL: ... to burn the effigy of Chakotay she had made out of spare
parts.

>"I'll leave you to her tender mercies Captain," Chakotay said, small
>grin creasing his features.

TOM: [Chakotay] Try not to lord it over her that I chose you over her
when I selected a commanding officer for the ship.
CROW: [Chakotay] Despite the fact that she's better than you in almost
every way.

>"Very good, sir." Winston said straight-faced, not daring to look at
>Abbott who had been able to overhear the entire exchange.

JOEL: Or else what? They'd burst out laughing?
CROW: [Winston & Abbott as little kids, singsong] We're in control!
We're in control! We're in control!

>"I'll report in as soon as we have anything for you."

TOM: [Chakotay] Oh, look, they sent me a present! Why, it's a torpedo
casing with a little clock running backwards! How sweet!

>"Very well," Chakotay acceded, knowing that there was still far too much
>to be done to bring Argonaut back to anything approaching full
>functionality.

CROW: So, when the battle comes, the Argonaut is just going to sit
there, doing nothing?
TOM: And thus get blasted out of the sky.
CROW: Oh, good. So things are looking up.

>The problem was, Chakotay reflected darkly, that the conversation had
>occurred nearly three hours previously and so far no further word from
>Argonaut.

TOM: The crew had finally realized that life support probably should
have been first priority.

>If Winston didn't call in soon, he'd have to call himself.

JOEL: [Chakotay] No! Not the hailing frequency! Anything but that!

>If for no other reason than to remind Argonaut's captain to get some
>sleep.

CROW: [motherly] Okay, kids, it's bedtime! Stop messing around with the
starship and get to sleep!
JOEL & TOM: [kids] Awww, mom, but we've got a battle in the morning!
CROW: You can kill the Borg and clean the toilets when you wake up. Now,
bed!

>
>
>
>
>"Ens- I mean, Captain Winston, I have a scan of the ships surrounding
>us." Abbott finally reported.

JOEL: Brace yourselves, guys. Plot contrivances, homing in!

>"What can you tell me," he asked, moving from the centre seat to stand
>beside her at the science console.

TOM: [Abbott] For one, take your hand off my posterior, sir.

>"There is a diverse set of ships, running from small star fighter or
>shuttle class vessels up to enormous container ships far larger than
>anything we have had contact with.

CROW: Hey, look: it's the Death Star!
JOEL: That's one crossover we don't need.

>The materials used in their construction are equally varied." She reported,
>voice barely above a whisper.

TOM: [Abbott] Try to be quiet; they're so cute when they're derelicts.

>Though her report had been delivered somewhat tentatively, Winston could
>see that working in a field that she was familiar with was a source of
>comfort to her.

CROW: Okay, so then what exactly -is- airponics?
JOEL: Apparently, it has something to do with staring at defunct
machinery floating in space.
CROW: So she's a junk collector, then?

>The fact that she had not flinched away from him when he took station at
>her side was strong evidence of this.

TOM: Either that, or his cologne was working.

>He made a mental note to tell Captain Janeway of Abbott's obvious
>pleasure at working in familiar territory

CROW: Well, tough. The Federation is light-years away.

>in hopes that she would get more chances to work in the Astrometrics
>and metallurgy laboratories.

TOM: But isn't changing lead into gold kinda passe for folks who have
replicators?
JOEL: That's -alchemy-.

>Seven might object,

CROW: If seven people are going to object, then why put her in that kind
of situation?

>but if the young woman could make a stronger contribution to the ship,
>he would do everything in his power to see that she got the chance.

TOM: For a price, if ya know what I mean.

>Of course, before any of this could happen, they had to find a way to
>beat the Borg and Kommodan forces that were only a few hours away.

JOEL: By hiding in a gas cloud and flirting with each other.
CROW: Typical Star Trek episode so far.

>After that, they would have to find and possibly rescue their missing
>crew.

TOM: Or just find them, wave hello, and then get back on the road home.

>Of course, with any luck, the Colonel would have taken care of this by
>the time Voyager caught up with him.

CROW: With the wrench, in the billiard room.

>For now, all he could do was get a report on the composition of those
>wrecks.

JOEL: ... edit them, and submit them to his publisher by noon today.

>Hopefully some of them would be useful for the strategy that he had worked
>out with Chakotay.

TOM: Which they had better get started on now if they want the rubble
field to be of any considerable size.

>"Are any of the larger vessels located near the outer edge of the
>anomaly?"
>
>"No, sir." she replied after a few moments' work with the sensors.

JOEL: This is because of the rarely-known "Chip Phenomenon," which makes
all the big chips sink to the bottom of a bag, and all the little
bits rise to the top.
CROW: You've got that backwards, Joel. Whenever I open up a bag of
chips, the big ones are always on top.
JOEL: Oh. Then this must be the "Can of Planter's Mixed Nuts
Phenomenon," which makes all the peanuts hide so that you can only
select all the icky nuts before you taste your first peanut.
TOM: What does that have to do with this?
JOEL: Nothing, but it took our minds off the fanfic for a minute. Let's
just enjoy the moment.

>"As with any gravitational source, massive objects are drawn toward the
>centre of this anomaly more quickly than smaller ships like Argonaut.

JOEL: See? I told you that my version of the Chip Phenomenon was right!
TOM: Joel, consider your source: a fanfic writer who has done little or
no research.
CROW: According to this theory, every planet should have dropped into
the sun by now.
TOM: Except Pluto, because it's so small.
JOEL: We'll just have to get a bag of chips and see about that!

>Ships have to either produce power or have a lot of inertial momentum to
>keep themselves from falling in, and since these ships are drifting and
>have little power, all are moving toward the centre at various speeds.

CROW: So it's like the Indy 500, but slow.
TOM: Shouldn't they have ships impacting against each other on a regular
basis, then?
CROW: Not to mention some spectacular crash scenes.

>Many of the ships have collected around the object that seems to be
>responsible for the effect. In fact, if it weren't for the shield that
>seems to protect it, a fairly large number of ships would have crashed
>into it directly."

JOEL: Shouldn't the ships just have smashed against the shield?
TOM: Details, details. Then that would mean they wouldn't have the fun
of blowing stuff up, because they would already have a debris
field.

>Winston nodded, not surprised by what he had heard, but frustrated by it
>all the same.

CROW: [Winston] I want things to go smash!

>"Do you think that a torpedo strike against one of those ships would be
>enough to break it up and spread its remains throughout the region?"

JOEL: Ah, the constant Voyager solution: blow it up 'till things feel
better.

>"No, Sir! The strength of the gravitational forces in the area seem to
>be growing, possibly as a response to the power generated by Argonaut
>and Voyager.

TOM: So wouldn't they notice that energy is been bled from the ships?
CROW: This crew?
TOM: Point.

>At this point, the field is too strong for a torpedo explosion to overcome."

JOEL: Entropy vs. Gravity, the constant struggle.
CROW: ... today, on WWF!

>"Blast!"

TOM: No, that's the one thing you -can't- do.

>Winston exploded,

CROW: ... taking the Argonaut with him.
ALL: [deadpan] Hurrah.

>unconsciously using

JOEL: First Chakotay, now Winston. Can no one keep awake in this 'fic?
TOM: They must be reading it. I know I've dozed off a couple times.

>one of The Colonel's signatory ways of expressing frustration.

CROW: But it was copyrighted, so they were in for a long legal battle.

>Abbott jumped, obviously frightened by his vehemence.

TOM: [Abbott] Oh my! You used a five-letter invective! I didn't even
know they had those!

>"Sorry, Ensign," Winston muttered,

JOEL: So "blast" is a terrible word in the future, and people who use it
are shunned from society?
CROW: Wow. I wonder what would happen if someone said "fuck" or
"Belgium."
JOEL: Hey!
CROW: Sorry. I'll never mention the waffle country again.
JOEL: That's better.

>stamping back toward the centre seat.

TOM: ... using the "animal print" stamp he found at the dollar store.

>He had to find a way to get around this problem, for without it, their
>strategy for blunting the Kommodans' numerical advantage might be in
>serious danger.

JOEL: Um ... blow up the smaller ships?
CROW: Nah, that's too easy. Not even a single word of technobabble.

>Fortunately, he'd had an excellent teacher

TOM ... and a ne'er-do-well teacher's pet ...

>and it didn't take long for the lessons on creativity that the Colonel had
>drilled into his shipmates

CROW: Now that's what I would like to see!
JOEL: [crewman/Bond] Do you expect me to talk?
TOM: [Colonel] No, redshirt; I expect you to die!

>on the Dog Watch to take hold.

JOEL: So once they're in the cargo hold, then what?
CROW: Open the cargo bay doors, of course.

>Within moments he had an idea.

TOM: A member of the Voyager Crew?!

>A dangerous one to be sure,

CROW: Hey, more dangerous the better.
JOEL: You do realize that there's little chance Ray-Ray's going to kill
off any of the main characters?
CROW: I know, but I'll take anything that increases the redshirt count.
TOM: What are we up to?
CROW: Seven so far.

>but one that he thought would probably work.

JOEL: "Blow up the smaller ships"?
CROW: I've told you; too easy.
TOM: But what they -could- do is transport people to the other ships,
and have them do kamikaze runs on the Kommodans!
CROW: Yes! And then they could have trouble transporting them off before
the ships collided, thus increasing redshirt count!

>All he needed do now was to check it with 'his' chief engineer.

TOM: Right after "her" nap.
JOEL: So we're not sure of anyone's gender anymore?
TOM: Hey, I'm just taking my cues from the 'fic.

>"Winston to Paris," he snapped, tapping his com-badge as he spoke.

CROW: So all she got out of that transmission was her last name.
TOM: I hate it when caller I.D. is blocked like that.

>"Paris here," her sleep-thickened voice responded some moments later.

TOM: Hey, she *was* taking a nap!
JOEL: Way to go, Tom!

[They high-five. Well, low-five, really, since Tom's hand won't move]

>"Sorry Ms. Paris," he apologised, only now realising that she was
>probably getting the first sleep that she had seen

CROW: You can see sleep?
TOM: Sure! We see Joel sleep all the time.
[Pause]
JOEL: I'm locking my bedroom door from here on out.

>since the Kommodans' attack nearly two days earlier.

TOM: I'm having trouble with the timeline.
JOEL: That happens.
TOM: So, they were attacked by the toilet-heads from within while also
being attacked from without.
CROW: Right.
TOM: So they turned tail and ran into a cloud, somehow gaining a
ten-hour head start.
JOEL: Right.
TOM: So how does ten hours turn into two days?
CROW: Relativity.
TOM: In a Star Trek 'fic?
JOEL: Well, Ray-Ray's already introduced the concept of toilets;
realistic universal physics was only a step away.
CROW: Of course, that means that in another couple pages, their warp
drive won't work.
JOEL: Or pretty much anything else, really.

>"Too late for that," she mumbled, voice barely audible on Argonaut's
>bridge.

TOM: Turn up the volume!
CROW: Bring on the funk!
JOEL: Get down with your jiggy self!

>Now that you've got me up, you might as well tell me what you
>wanted," she prompted.

CROW: [Winston] Well, I was wondering: with your husband gone and
possibly assimilated, would you consider dating?

>"Oh, Right." Winston replied, trying to recollect his thoughts.

TOM: [Winston] Aw, who spilled my brain out onto the floor? This'll take
-hours- to clean up ...

>"Ensign Abbott has just finished a scan of the

JOEL: ... 'fic, and she can't find any way for us to get out. I'm sorry.
CROW: We'll be passing out suicide capsules in the morning.

>ships that have been trapped here, and tells me that the really big ones
>are too close to the centre of the anomaly to be chopped into rubble

TOM: It slices! It dices! It chops and cuts and explodes starships with
ease!

>and easily spread around the region.

CROW: Like applebutter on toast.
JOEL: Mmmmm, applebutter. Could I have that on a bagel, instead?

>I'm wondering if you can have a look at her data and tell me
>if we could beam some photon torpedoes into their main energisers?"

[Pause]
[Slightly longer pause]
ALL: [incredulous] Huh?!
JOEL: What did he just say?
TOM: Well, you've got to hand it to him: that's definitely creative.
CROW: Of course, there are several million other ways to get the effect
he wants without going through all the trouble of blasting the
hell out of those ships...
JOEL: Not to mention that the gravity well these guys are trapped in
might -still- capture all the pieces -anyway-...
TOM: And that there seem to be plenty of smaller ships that could
generate just as large a debris field with a little bit more to
blow up.
CROW: But he is the author's pet creation, so he's virtually infallible,
no matter what he does.
JOEL: I've given up on this 'fic making any sense. Now my quest is just
to get through it.

>"Voyager would have a better chance

TOM: What about the Argonaut?
JOEL: After his last idea, I think we can let Winston die.

>if we can get an explosion big enough to either destroy the anomaly

CROW: Voyager: Destroying the universe, one piece at a time.

>or at least give us the rubble field that we'll need to hide her in while
>she fights any Kommodans.

TOM: So they idea behind the rubble field is to mess up weapon tracking,
right? Won't it have the same effect on Voyager?
JOEL: Voyager is special.
TOM: You can say that again. But that doesn't answer my question.

>that get past us," he explained.

CROW: So they -are- going to put the weaker ship on the front lines.
JOEL: Common sense has not only left them, but has started browsing the
classifieds looking for employment.

>"Sure, no problem." Paris said, voice sharpening with interest as she
>spoke.

TOM: [B'Elanna] So we're going to die, you say? Right after exerting
more effort than necessary? Let me draw up my will ...

>"I'm on duty in about an hour, and will get on it right away.

JOEL: Does that mean she's going in early, or she's going in on time?
CROW: Yes.

>How are the other repairs going?"
>
>"Just fine." Winston told her.

TOM: [Winston] We've only suffered three hull breaches in the last hour,
and we're down to only two asphyxiations per minute.

>"Lt. Caerey has taken over for Ms. Wildman

CROW: But just a page ago B'Elanna was cursing Caerey's absence!
TOM: Plus, wasn't he the one shot and passed out in Engineering?
JOEL: Well, so much for continuity.

>and we've got the main energisers,

TOM: So what's an energiser, anyway?
JOEL: A battery company.
TOM: Isn't that what the warp core is for?
CROW: To beat people up, then charge for it? I hope not.

>weapons and shields back to full capability.

JOEL: Still no one notices that life support needs maintenance.
TOM: They're already suffering from lack of oxygen to the brain. Pure
vacuum couldn't hurt them.

>I'll get him on the transporters now that they'll be necessary, and we'll
>get the replicators up just in case."
>
>"In case of what?" Paris demanded.

CROW: In case the previous captain of the Argonaut comes looking for his
porn.

>"In case we need them should Argonaut be the only ship to survive."

JOEL: You mean despite being the weaker of the two, and the one not
under the cover of the debris field? Sure.

>"Oh," she replied, obviously chastened by the thought of losing the ship
>that had become her home.

TOM: In other words, trying not to break out into a cheer.

>"Well, in that case, I suppose that I should let you go so you can get
>him started."

JOEL: I had a car like that. It took forever to warm up enough before I
could take it anywhere.

>"Probably so," Winston concurred.

CROW: With mind-bending dialogue like this, it's a wonder there isn't a
larger fanbase for this stuff.

>"Have Voyager beam you to the phaser control room when you're ready,

TOM: How tragic.
JOEL: Hmm?
TOM: B'Elanna's apparently lost the use of her legs.

>we'll need to test-fire the weapons to make sure that everything is
>working, and you're the best-qualified person to supervise.

CROW: She's also the best qualified person to command the ship, but
don't let that stop you.

>The weapons scanners should be more than enough to let you check into
>any ships that you think we can blow up."

TOM: Why would they want to check into ships before they blow them up?
JOEL: Maybe they're actually being considerate, and want to be sure no
one's on board the vessels first.
TOM: Shouldn't they have done that before they started taking over one
of the derelicts?
JOEL: Being the voice of reason will get you nowhere, fast.

>"OK, out," she said, cutting the connection with some of the gruffness
>that she had lost since her marriage to Tom Paris.

CROW: [B'Elanna] Oh, -here's- my gruffness. I thought I had lost this!

>
>
>
>
>With only a few hours before they would be thrown into the thick of
>battle, Chakotay was pleased by the reports coming from Argonaut.

TOM: [Chakotay] Let's see ... crew dead ... lethal doses of radiation
... warp core about to overload ...
JOEL: Tom!
TOM: You're right, you're right. That would please -me- more than him.

>The old Excelsior class ship was coming back to life

JOEL: [Frankenstein] It's alive! It's aliiiiiiiiiive!

>and he knew that B'Elanna Paris was taking pleasure in her work.

CROW: I'm not touching that one. Some things we just don't want to
imagine.

>She had handled the possibility that her husband had been captured by the
>Borg far better than he had hoped.

TOM: [B'Elanna] Wooohooo!

>Possibly the fit of rage during the battle against the Kommodan

JOEL: [video game] You have been recruited by the Star League to defend
Rylos against Zur and the Kommodan armada.

>boarders in Engineering

CROW: I hate it when the hotels get full and they start putting guests
in the engine room.

>was what she had needed to avoid sinking into depression.

TOM: So she's over her husband already, and we don't even know if he's
dead or not.
CROW: Twenty bucks says he gets assimilated and/or dies, and Winston
steps in to "console" her.
TOM: You've got a bet.

>Winston was pushing the small engineering crew that he had been given
>very hard.

ALL: [Wicked Witch's peons] Oh-ee-oh, ohhhhhhhhhhh-oh.

>All knew that they would have to give their best if the Voyagers would live
>to see another day.

JOEL: "The Voyagers"? Did they form a football team when we weren't
looking?
ALL: Go Packers!

>They had far too little time until the Kommodan fleet arrived.

CROW: I know a constipation joke goes here, but I just can't think of
one.
JOEL: That's okay. There's going to be plenty of opportunity.

>There would be only a few minutes to dispatch it before the Borg came.

TOM: Ack! This isn't turning into a lemon, is it?

>Happily,

JOEL: That isn't a word I would use to describe imminent battle and
possible destruction, but this *is* Voyager we're talking about.

>the crew was working harder than ever before, and both ships
>would be ready.

CROW: And if they weren't, it would at least be the quickest slaughter
on record.

>Chakotay knew that he needed sleep

TOM: Yes! Brilliance once again blesses the fearless leader!
CROW: His IQ raises one point for a grand total of two.

>in order to be prepared for what would come, and had ordered that all
>crew get at least four hours' rest before they went into battle.

JOEL: Of course, the enemy was going to stop by in about ten minutes,
but perhaps they'd just want tea.

>He needed to get a report from Argonaut as to its latest progress before
>he could rest himself.

TOM: [Chakotay] Hmph. They exploded. Well, time for bed.

>As soon as this was done, he would take his four hours' rest

CROW: This sentence brought to you by the Department of Redundancy
Department.

>and see that Winston did too.

JOEL: Did not!
TOM: Did too!
JOEL: Did not!
TOM: Did too!

>While they rested, B'Elanna would be in charge of both ships.

CROW: How does -that- work, exactly?
JOEL: She must be omnipotent.
TOM: Suddenly, Chakotay's request for ten hours to repair the Argonaut
seems gratuitous.
CROW: Not to mention the addition of five other crewmen to help her.

>Almost as if called by his spirit guide,

JOEL: Ha, ha! 'Cause, see, he's got Native American roots, and -all-
Native Americans have spirit guides.
TOM: Except, of course, for the Cherokee, the Navajo, the Sioux ...

>Winston's voice interrupted his musings

CROW: [Chakotay] No! Now I've lost my train of thought, and I'll never
get back on track!

>before they could turn to the horrid possibilities that awaited them if,
>for any number of reasons, they lost.

JOEL: Besides the obvious, you mean?
TOM: Being ineffective hasn't killed them so far. No reason for it to
start now.

>"Argonaut to Chakotay," Winston's voice rang clear and strong from his
>quarters' speakers.

CROW: [Winston, booming] I am your god. Bow to me!

>"Chakotay here." he said warily,

JOEL: [Chakotay] You're going to hurt me, aren't you?

>only now realising just how tired he was.

TOM: Yes, lack of sleep makes people tired. Next up: the Earth is round.

>"All is well here, Captain." Winston reported, voice obviously pleased
>with the tremendous progress that his small crew was making.

CROW: [Chakotay] How are things going over there?
JOEL: [Winston] Just fine, sir. [whip crack] No problems at all. [whip
crack].

>"All weapons test as ready to fire, and we've got a few candidates for
>operation trash box."

TOM: Right after Operation: Sign Your Will and just before Operation:
Die Screaming in Battle.

>"Good." Chakotay said. "When will you blow them up?"

CROW: [Winston] Sir, I've told you this before: the replicator won't
make blow-up dolls of Janeway.

>"About twenty minutes before the Kommodans arrive.

JOEL: Twenty minutes again! What is it with this number?
TOM: Doesn't Ray-Ray know that the magic Star Trek number has always
been forty-seven?

>That should give the rubble field enough time to spread without letting it
>get too thin.

CROW: But won't it also be spreading during the battle?
JOEL: The laws of physics get suspended during any intense battle.
CROW: Neat trick.

>As soon as the anomaly is disrupted by the blast,

TOM: But hasn't the anomaly been absorbing energy from the ships? And
won't an explosion give even more to draw from?
CROW: There are plot holes in this story big enough to pilot an
Excelsior-class starship through.
TOM: Oh, well, that explains the Argonaut's existence, then.

>we'll head out to take on the Kommodans, while you wait here and nail any
>that get through, sir."

JOEL: So they've traded their phasers in for nail guns?
TOM: That's a little like trading trinkets for Manhattan, isn't it?

>"Fine," Chakotay agreed, knowing that Voyager's smaller and more
>manoeuvrable form was best for working the tight spaces that would be
>created by the destruction of the old wrecks.

CROW: Because we know that worked so well in the pilot episode.

>There was one thing about the forthcoming operation that he didn't like,
>however. "What will you do if the Borg arrive before you're done with
>the Kommodans?"

JOEL: Die.
TOM: Hey, things are looking up!

>"Ms. Paris and I talked about this after you mentioned it earlier,
>Captain.

CROW: [Winston] Well, she talked. I just tuned her out and nodded a lot.

>She's pretty sure that the Borg'll ignore us in favour of getting at Voyager.

JOEL: Why is that, exactly?
CROW: It's prettier.
TOM: [Borg] Oooo, shiny!

>This should allow us to deal with the Kommodans. and keep the Borg
>off of our backs."

CROW: Piggy-backing Borg, the bane of the Delta Quadrant.

>"Miller hasn't been able to help us figure out a way to modulate the
>shields effectively,

TOM: ... making the whole "bringing him aboard" idea sort of a waste.

>and even though ours are more powerful than Voyager's,

JOEL: So an old-tech ship is stronger than Voyager?
TOM: My head hurts.

>it still looks like The Borg will cut through us like a knife through
>butter.

CROW: That's *hot* knife through butter. If you're going to use a
cliche, at least get it right.

>On the other hand, our stronger conventional shielding and heavier
>phasers will give us a better chance against the Kommodans.

JOEL: So the smart thing for the toilets to do is to wait for the Borg
to reinforce them.
TOM: So we can bet that's the one thing they -won't- do.

>We should be able to keep them busy enough to let you stay in the rubble
>field until the Borg get here. After that, we'll just have to 'praise
>god and pass the ammunition',

CROW: Ah, the field cry of the Crusades.

>I suppose?"
>
>"Well, Its not a great plan," Chakotay opined,

TOM: No kidding. We've come up with ten alternates while waiting for you
to come around and explain yours.

>"but its the best one that we've got. Make sure that your people get some
>rest before you begin things."

JOEL: I thought it was always "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we
die."
CROW: Now it's "sleep, dream, and have nightmares, for in four hours we
die."

>"Be sure to rest as well, Captain. After all, You've ultimately got the
>harder job.

TOM: Waiting in a dust cloud while another ship takes all the risk?

>You have to explain all this to Captain Janeway, when we finish!"

CROW: I hear she gets really angry when the paint's been scratched.

>"Understood," Chakotay concurred with a grin, "I'm off for about five
>hours' sleep now.

JOEL: How long do they have before the battle, anyway?
TOM: Three hours, but they're hoping to sleep through it.

>Hopefully that'll be enough to see us through whatever comes next."
>
>"It'd better be, Sir," Winston agreed. "Argonaut out."
>
>"Voyager out," Chakotay confirmed.

CROW: Crow out.
JOEL: Joel out.
TOM: Servo out.

[Joel picks up Tom, and they file ... well, out]

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