[MiSTing] Trouble of Dwarves (8/9)

[pieceoftheuniverse]

[Cambot pans back to reveal the three coming in to the SOL bridge. Tom
is ranting and raving; the other two are just nodding their heads in
acquiescence]

TOM: ... and another thing! Why is it that none of these main characters
has gotten so much as a scratch? Sure, Winston's in a coma, but
he's not exactly in any danger, is he? He's going to emerge from
this without so much as a single emotional scar! Heaven forfend any
of these guys actually -develop- as a chara--

[SOL suddenly shakes, a la Star Trek, sending everyone off balance. A
boom echoes throughout the bridge. There are a few tense seconds of
silence, and then the bridge shakes again, with an almost identical
boom]

JOEL: What was that?! Cambot, give me Rocket Number Nine!

[Scene changes to exterior view of the SOL, where we find none other
than the starship Voyager coming alongside. As we watch, Voyager fires
phasers at the SOL. Switch back to the SOL bridge]

CROW: Ack! It's Voyager!

[I believe I just said that]

TOM: You stay out of this!
CROW: We're being hailed!
JOEL: Put it up on the hexfield!

[The hexfield spirals open to reveal the bridge of the U.S.S. Voyager,
and, perhaps slightly more importantly, Captain Janeway is front and
center. She is accompanied by Commander Chakotay on her left and Neelix
on her right.]

JANEWAY: This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship
Voyager.

[Everyone seems to want to repeat me today]

JANEWAY: Surrender and you will be spared. Resist and you will be
destroyed.
JOEL: Now hold on just a minute! We have rights!
TOM: Yeah! You tell her, Joel!
CROW: That's right! In the meantime, Tom and I have some, er, business,
in the other room.
TOM: Right. Love to stick around and chat, but --

[As they've been talking, Crow and Tom begin backing off-stage. Suddenly
there's the renown transporter sound, and three Starfleet security
guards appear behind the 'bots. Tom runs into one of them, signals Crow,
and they begin inching their way back to Joel]

TOM: On the other hand, it can wait.
CROW: Sure. No problem.
JOEL: I'm touched, guys. Really.
JANEWAY: Enough of this. I have someone here who wants to meet you.
CROW: [hopefully] Seven of Nine?
JANEWAY: Don't be ridiculous.

[The captain signals off-screen -- or off-hex, as the case may be -- and
a somewhat handsome (if young and slightly nerdy) individual comes
forward to stand beside her]

JANEWAY: I would like you to meet ... Raymond Gower.
J&TB: Gahhhhh!
GOWER: Hi, guys!
JOEL: Um, hi, I guess.
TOM: [aside] Well, -this- is a bit awkward.
CROW: Hey, Ray-Ray! What's happening?
GOWER: [glowering] I don't like that nickname. In fact, I have issue
with what you've been saying about my fanfic as a whole.
JOEL: You've been watching?
GOWER: When Dr. Forrester said that he'd like to use my fanfic in an
experiment, I couldn't resist. It took a bit of convincing, but I
eventually got him to direct a text feed my way. But this is not
exactly what I expected.
JOEL: Look, Ray-Ray ... er, Mr Gower, I can explain everything. You see,
Dr. Forrester sends us these --
TOM: Wait a minute! Here we have a prime opportunity, and you're making
excuses!
JOEL: You can't be seriously considering --
TOM: Why not?
CROW: Years of frustrating directors and writers should not be vented
upon one man, for one.
TOM: Now you're starting to sound like Joel.
JOEL: But -- and god help me for saying this -- Crow's got a point,
Servo.
TOM: Enough! Ray-Ray, do you know what the problem is we have with this
'fic? It's unrealistic! Isn't it enough that Chakotay has only a
single brain cell to his name --
CHAKOTAY: Hey!
TOM: -- and that Janeway couldn't captain her way out of a paper bag?
JANEWAY: Hey!
CROW: [aside] Smooth, Servo. I think you've just declared war.
TOM: But no! You make impossibilities reality, and then rub our faces in
the fact that what you've done is a miraculous occurrence!
GOWER: Now hold on! I didn't come here to be lectured to on the values
of writing! What have you ever written? All you people do is slam
on other's accomplishments, then go and pat yourselves on the
back at the end of the day for having "survived" another bad
experience. But what about us, the fanfic writers, the producers,
the actors who you put down? What do we have to look forward to
but derision and insistence that we pick up a copy of Strunk &
White the next time we're at a bookstore?
CROW: It's a good investment!
GOWER: That's as well as may be, but that's no reason to attack me
personally! The story has a few flaws; I'll admit that. But those
can be worked out with *constructive criticism*, not the blatant
insults you throw at the screen!
JOEL: Guys, we're getting nowhere with this. Mr Gower, by no means
should you take anything we say personally. It's all in fun, and
it helps us enjoy our day just that much more. Sometimes we can
overreact, and that's only because we love good writing so much.
If you want my honest opinion, I think that with a little hard
work and a damn good editor, _Trouble of Dwarves_ could end up as
a very fine novel.
GOWER: I've worked plenty hard on this story! No less than thirty
revisions!
JOEL: And we can appreciate that. It shows, really. But instead of
taking anything we say as a personal insult -- even those that
seem, on the surface, to be just that and nothing more -- might I
suggest that you take it all as suggestions for improvement.
Writing, after all, is a constant endeavour, and is never truly
finished -- only abandoned.
GOWER: Well ... I guess I could see it that way. I suppose I ...
overreacted.
CROW: If I may: how did you get Voyager to pick you up and come over
here?
GOWER: Oh, it was simple. I just put the word out that I was looking to
have a word with you folks, and the Captain here was nice enough
to drop by.
TOM: Cool!
JANEWAY: I haven't forgotten that paper bag comment.
TOM: Ah.
JANEWAY: There was also a little matter about you three wanting to see
me dead, and repeating that desire several times.
CROW: Did we? I don't seem to remember that at all.
JOEL: We had this little accident, you see, with our reset button ...
JANEWAY: Oh, that happens all the time with us. I suppose I could manage
to forget that transgression ... *once*.
TOM: Thank you!
JANEWAY: Paper bag.
CHAKOTAY: Brain cell.
TOM: [backing away] Right-o.
JANEWAY: But if I hear that you three have those kinds of wishes again,
I'll be back -- and I won't need the excuse of a third-rate
fanfic writer to bring me here, either.
GOWER: Hey!
JANEWAY: Janeway out.

[The hexfield closes, the security team beams out, and Joel and the bots
heave a huge sigh of relief]

TOM: Hehe. Good footwork there, Joel.
CROW: I haven't seen backpedaling like that since the time we watched
the Ironman competition in reverse.
TOM: "It's all in fun." Hehehehe.
CROW: "Your hard work shows." Hahahahaha!
TOM: [giggling maniacally now] "Don't take it personally!"
CROW: [outright laughing] "Just suggesting improvement!"

[The bots continue laughing, with Joel looking a little embarrassed.
Finally the bots get over it, and pick themselves off the floor. Tom has
a handkerchief in one hand, still giggling a little bit.]

TOM: Hehehehe. Thanks, Joel. I needed that.
CROW: Hehe. [beat] Um, Joel?
JOEL: Yes?
CROW: You weren't actually ... serious, were you?

[pause]

TOM: Oh my god! He *was*!

[The bots burst out laughing again]

[Lights, siren, panic]

JOEL: Come on, you hyenas; we've got Gower Sign!

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

[As they are filing in ...]

CROW: I'm just saying that Joel's got a point. If Ray-Ray gets
published, that will lend a kind of credibility to his work, and
Dr. F won't touch it.
JOEL: Come on, guys. That's ridiculous.
TOM: Very true. Those books could become movies, and then Dr. F would
send -those- our way.
CROW: Colonel movies. [shudders] Now there is a spooky thought.
TOM: I know. I'm dreading the _Enterprise_ pilot already, and that's
quite enough for one day.
JOEL: You guys, you're not supposed to remember that stuff. You're going
to get people saying we have less continuity than _Voyager_.
CROW: Oh, come *on*, Joel. We have less continuity than the whole Star
Trek franchise, much less _Voyager_.

>Chakotay didn't know who had expressed the thought,

TOM: Well, at least we can rule him out.

>but as he watched secondary explosions turn the scarred and battered cube
>into a vaguely cube-shaped object

JOEL: Okay, guys: time to name three vaguely cube-shaped objects each!
TOM: A refrigerator!
CROW: A Volkswagen!
TOM: A stereo!
CROW: A television screen!
TOM: An ice cream truck!
CROW: A CD case!
JOEL: Very good, guys. RAMchips for both of you.

>with nearly fifty percent of its central mass blown out through a large
>hole on its side,

TOM: Yet again someone specializes in psychic ability without taking so
much as a glance at the sensors.

>he couldn't argue with it at all.

CROW: But that didn't stop him from beating it senseless!

>"Sir, the original ship is still in the area," Kala said

JOEL: At least someone has the sense not to be awed by their own power.

>moments before the rest of them were reminded of this by the the impact
>of a Borg cutting beam.

TOM: So if a butter knife slices butter, and a steak knife carves steak,
does a Borg cutting beam cut Borg?

>A beam fired from the ship that they had so successfully attacked only
>moments before.

CROW: It's nice to see a strong Borg every once in a while, even if it
is only a fleeting appearance.

>"Dammit!" Carver cried as his panel exploded infront of him.

JOEL: [Carver] Okay, who forgot to install the fuses this morning?

>"What do we have to do kill that thing?"

TOM: Talk to it. They'll die of boredom.

>"Get more torpedoes ready for transport," came Chakotay's matter-of-fact
>reply.

CROW: If -they- have a direct line of fire to -you-, doesn't that mean
-you- have a direct line of fire to -them-?
JOEL: You've used up your inflection quota for the week, I'm afraid.
CROW: May I borrow some of yours?
JOEL: Certainly.

>"On it, Captain," Kala barked

TOM: [Chakotay] Kala! Get off my shoe!

>as she began working her board, pushing the ship's crew to perform even
>further feats.

JOEL: So the crew is hardwired to the ship?
CROW: Maybe it's like that Age of Empires game you like so much.
JOEL: Now that would be interesting!

>Harry Kim, who had been watching the viewscreen with

TOM: ... drool hanging out of his mouth and a vacant look in his eyes
...

>the same awe that all of them felt,

ALL: [crew, chanting] Worship the Borg ... worship the Borg ... worship
the Borg ...

>suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes widening in growing horror.

CROW: [Kim] Wait a minute! I'm still in this fanfic!

>"Commander, There's a Kommodan ship moving in on our starboard flank!"

JOEL: If they've got cutting beams, too, that could be bad.
TOM: [Kommodan] Who wants dark meat?

>"Damn!" Chakotay exploded.

CROW: ... taking all of Voyager with him.
ALL: Hurrah!

>He had almost forgotten there was a third ship.

JOEL: Oh, I think it's safe to say he had forgotten entirely.

>The fact that this ship had slipped by Winston's ship meant that

TOM: ... they were great at simulating greased pigs.

>the Kommodans were far better at fighting in space than any of them had
>thought.

CROW: Yes, I thought the kamikaze move when all hope was lost was a
particularly clever move for a talented fighter.

>"Targeting phasers," Carver called from Tactical.
>
>Chakotay's order to fire stuck in his throat

JOEL: Quick! Someone give that man the Heimlich!

>when he saw the severely damaged Borg craft grab on to the Kommodan ship
>with another tractor beam.

TOM: And where is the other Borg ship during all this?
CROW: It's like a martial arts film: only one can attack at a time,
while the other ships stand around dancing.

>The Kommodans shields wouldn't protect them long and everyone knew it.

JOEL: And we should be worried about toilets for what reason, exactly?

>"Retarget phasers on that emitter."

TOM: Once again, being a "bigger person" wins out over common sense.
CROW: Any bets against the Kommodan ship and/or crew making it through
the battle unscathed from this point on? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

>Carver spared Chakotay only a surprised glance before following his
>orders.

JOEL: [Carver] You *do* realize this is the fiftieth time we've been in
this particular scenario, don't you, sir? Just thought you'd like
to know.

>"Fire!"

TOM: Sprinklers!
CROW: Stop, drop, and roll!
JOEL: Truck!

[pause]

CROW: Oh. I don't think that was supposed to be word association.

>Voyager's phasers would never have cut through the cube-ship's defences
>had they not fluctuated at just that moment.

TOM: So the phasers fluctuated?
JOEL: That's what the man said.

>A fluctuation matched by every system on both of the great vessels.

CROW: Voyager and the Borg?
JOEL: I think he was trying to say both *Borg* vessels.

>"Kommodan ship has been freed, Sir," Kala reported in a shocked voice

TOM: [Kala] Hey, we were actually successful at something! Someone
contact the nearest historian!

>as she began trying to assimilate the data pouring into Voyager's
>computers.

CROW: A moral lesson here: you can't fight the Borg without becoming
them.

>Data that, she saw with some surprise,

JOEL: ... had come all the way from the Enterprise.

>included a signal from the Kommodan ship.

TOM: [Kommodan] Thanks for saving us. Prepare to be destroyed.

>"Hail from the Kommodan ship, Sir."

ALL: HAIL!

>Chakotay was as surprised as his young operations officer, but

CROW: ... far less intelligent.

>he didn't let it show

TOM: The one benefit of being made out of deadwood: no emotions.

>as he gestured for her to put the aliens through to the main viewer.

JOEL: The aliens then burst out of the viewer's chest ...

>"This is the Federation starship Voyager."

CROW: I'm pretty sure they know that.

>"I am Colonel Creed," the diminutive alien replied.

TOM: Another colonel. I wonder if this means that the Colonel that
everyone's been talking about is a Kommodan?

>"I thank you for rescuing my ship from its imminent destruction.

JOEL: Naturally, the battle has paused while these two talk.

>A fate that it would have shared with our entire space-going fleet."

CROW: ... and yourself. While we're talking, the Borg have boarded your
vessel and have taken half the crew.

>"What!" Chakotay gasped, shocked that the numerous Kommodan vessels that
>they had seen could have been destroyed.

TOM: Well, this *is* the Borg we're talking about.
JOEL: Voyager's been able to fend off cubes by the hundreds; they're
just astonished that no one else has been similarly blessed.

>"Much as I wish it were different Commander, I must tell you that
>everything that I have told you is true.

CROW: Well, mostly true. There's a bit involving a llama and twenty
metric tons of feathers, but let's not get into that right now.

>When you escaped our trap,

TOM: ... using the ever-popular "run away and hide" maneuver ...

>the Borg Queen ordered the destruction of our entire space fleet

JOEL: How does he know it was the Queen? Maybe some of the Borg were
having a really bad day, and so they took it out on someone close
to them.
CROW: "Abusive Borg and Their Spouses," next on Sally Jesse Raphael!

>and all of the facilities that support it.

TOM: Which would amount to the entire planet, really.

>Every ship, every orbital platform,

CROW: What is an orbital platform?
JOEL: Well, I know what platform shoes are ... I suppose it's the same
principle.
CROW: Something to make the planet look taller?

>all of them were destroyed by the Borg

TOM: Well, except for the one ship you rescued.
CROW: And the three the Argonaut destroyed.

>and nearly five hundred thousand were assimilated....Most on that ship.

JOEL: How could he tell the cubes apart?
TOM: Fingerprints.

>So, not only do I have you to thank for my own freedom,

CROW: No one's making you, bud. Don't do us any favours.

>but also for the suffering that you ended for so many that I knew before
>this sad day."

TOM: Who says they were suffering?
JOEL: Except for the whole "one mind" thing, all the neat gadgets and
implants would be kinda nice.

>"I understand," Chakotay said softly,

CROW: Touching moment, isn't it?
TOM: Oh, yes, very.
CROW: Quite nice of the Borg to let them have this.
TOM: Quite. Of course, now -would- be the perfect time to attack ...
CROW: But that wouldn't be quite fair.
TOM: Considerate of them.
CROW: Very much so.

>knowing that the alien commander would have been far happier

JOEL: ... on a sunny beach with a margarita in his hand.

>had Kathryn and the others been assimilated, sparing his people in the
>process.

TOM: I'm trying to imagine a dwarf Borg, but the image just isn't
coming.
CROW: I can, and believe me: the whole Snow White storyline takes a very
strange turn.

>"I believe that you do," Creed replied,

JOEL: Dooby dooby do?

>not needing to say that much

TOM: Or, preferably, anything at all.

>as he wished that things could have been different for his people,

CROW: That they were slightly taller, maybe?

>death was by far the best thing that they could have hoped for...given
>current circumstances.

JOEL: Oh, I don't know; height isn't everything.
TOM: This from the tallest guy on the ship.

>"Captain, I think that you should have a look at this."

CROW: [Kala] I've figured out how to install Ultima Online! Now I never
have to leave my console!

>"What!" Chakotay demanded, furious that Kala would have interrupted his
>discussion with the alien commander.

JOEL: What with the battle waiting for them and everything, he should be
a little more understanding.

>"This." she said as the Kommodan face on the viewer was replaced by the
>almost incredible

TOM: Almost incredible.
CROW: It's incredible light!
JOEL: With half the calories of regular incredible ...
TOM: ... and half the fat!
CROW: I can't believe it's not incredible!

>sight of the two Borg ships fighting each other.

JOEL: [Borg Queen] If you two don't stop fighting, I'm turning this
assimilation right around!

>One was badly damaged, the other, totally unscathed.

TOM: So guess who wins?
CROW: Putting common sense aside ...
TOM: Always a wise precaution in this 'fic.
CROW: ... I'm going to say the badly damaged one.

>"Wow," Harry Kim said from the his station. "I never thought that I'd
>get to see that."

JOEL: You mean aside from "Unimatrix Zero, Part II"?

[pause]

TOM: We've been tolerant, Joel.
CROW: We've even admitted to our own knowledge of the Star Trek
universe.
TOM: But, well ...
BOTS: Fan boy! Faaaaaaaan boy!

>Chakotay had to admit that he couldn't have come up with this scenario
>either.

TOM: And yet, somehow, the author did.

>The question was, should they intervene or not?

CROW: Bets on them running away while the getting's good? Anyone?
JOEL: If you keep asking for bets that you know are against the author's
plans, you're never going to get any.
CROW: I'm not looking for sex, Joel; just money.

>If so, on which side

TOM: That depends. Who is on the left and who's on the right?

>or should they just try to cause as much trouble as they could?

CROW: Voyager, the Calvin & Hobbes of space.
JOEL: No. That gives them far too much credit.

>The decision was taken out of Chakotay's hands by Creed, who was determined
>to avenge his people's losses.

TOM: So he's firing on both ships?

>"Kommodans vectoring for the intact cube," Kala reported

CROW: Well, so much for common sense.

>just as a salvo of plasma bolts slashed through space.

JOEL: [news reporter] Galactic citizens were shocked today when dead
Borg were found in this local outhouse. Officials say a bloody
plasma bolt was found near the scene ...

>"Moderate damage to Borg ship," she reported,

TOM: Naturally. The Borg can't be harmed by their own weapons.
CROW: Why not?
TOM: The author said so.

>obviously surprised by what she had seen.

JOEL: [Kala] That's impossible ... no, wait, I'm in a fanfic. Sorry.

>"Any guess as to why?"

CROW: Divine intervention.

>"Borg defence fields seem to be fluctuating, Sir."
>
>"Why?"

TOM: [Kala] Plot hole, sir. It's pulling all the reality out of the
script.

>"I don't know, Captain."
>
>"Well, get on it and tell me when you know something." Chakotay snapped,

JOEL: I think he's in for a long wait.

>knowing as he did that Kala didn't deserve his anger.

CROW: Then who does?
TOM: I vote for Winston. It might be the final straw that kills him.

>"Aye, Sir." she replied, unable to hide the pain that his words had
>caused.

JOEL: [Kala] I'm going to tell Janeway on you! You were mean to me!

>Events on screen retook center stage,

TOM: Well, which is it? Screen or stage?

>denying Chakotay the chance to apologise for his unreasoning harshness.

CROW: Three days later, Kala came onto the bridge and shot everyone on
duty, then herself. Officials are calling it "Going Starfleet."

>As everyone watched in mute fascination,

JOEL: [sighs] Ah, peace and quiet.

>the Borg ships began blasting away at each other,

JOEL: Well, quiet, anyway.

>the Kommodan ship caught between them.

TOM: Any particular reason he went into the crossfire rather than, say,
attacking from a distance? Or off to the side?

>Though Crael tried hard,

CROW: Who's Crael?
JOEL: Got me. I thought the Kommodan Colonel was called "Creed."

>it was immediately obvious to Voyager's crew that he could not save his ship.

TOM: The backup tapes were full, and the program had crashed.

>The only question was which of the Borg craft would manage to capture it.

JOEL: It's like a really large game of "Hungry Hungry Hippos."

>Their unasked questions were answered far too quickly

CROW: Hey, the quicker the better.

>as the Borg quickly

TOM: Instantaneously!
JOEL: In no time!
CROW: Suddenly!
TOM: In a trice!
JOEL: At one fell swoop!
CROW: Abruptly!
TOM: Rapidly!
JOEL: Hastily!
CROW: Uno saltu!
TOM: Per saltum!
JOEL: Extempore!

>demonstrated their own abilities to accommodate enemy's.

CROW: [Borg] We have nothing but the finest accommodations. The pool is
over there, massages are available twenty-four hours a day, and
the assimilation chamber is to your right.

>"The Kommodans have been caught again by the damaged cube,"

TOM: They must really need to visit the little Borg's room.

>Carver observed. "Seem determined to be destroyed.

JOEL: Well, I'm sure they didn't get captured on purpose.

>Target the emitter, Sir?"
>
>Chakotay nodded an agreement, but was just as quickly reminded by Kala
>that Voyager was in just as much danger.

CROW: [Kala] You yelled at me, so I've set the self-destruct. No hard
feelings, okay?

>"We've been caught," she called, just as the ship rocked violently from
>a phasor blast from the cube.

TOM: The Borg have phasers?

>More sparks and smoke issued from consoles

JOEL: That's probably bad. You want to keep the smoke *inside* the
consoles.

>and the ship creaked ominously.

CROW: Just like a floorboard in a haunted house.

>"Shields are down!" She added. "Rerouting emergency power to shields."

TOM: A bit late for that, I think.

>"Warp power is down," Kim added.

JOEL: [referee] One, two, three, you're out!

>They waited for the next shot.

CROW: Luckily for them, it was a body shot.

>"They missed!" Carver shouted in jubilation as the beam lanced wide.
>"They've dropped the beam as well!"

TOM: Good thing they're not on a construction site.
JOEL: I bet they still get a reprimand, though.

>Trailing a rapidly increasing amont of wreckage,

CROW: So it's dissolving?
TOM: No chance of them staying crunchy in milk, then.

>the critically damaged cube holding the Kommodan ship began spinning rapidly.

JOEL: Look, it's the Icecapades!
CROW: Space.
JOEL: Spacecapades?

>The Kommodan vessel helplessly spinning with it, like a bolo shot being
>prepared for launch.

TOM: What's a bolo?
JOEL: A tank game for the Macintosh.

>They watched helplessly, no longer able to target the emitter

CROW: I bet the computer could hit it.
TOM: Just like buzzing womp-rats in the TC-13 back home!

>and come to the defence of the Kommodans,

JOEL: I don't think building de fence will help much.
TOM: He's British, Joel. I think he's allowed.

>whose vessel was slowly disintegrating under the terrible centrifugal
>force under which it its structure slowly collapsed.

CROW: Centrifugal force is a myth.
JOEL: So then what keeps things on earth?
CROW: Simple. The earth sucks.

>When the damaged Borg ship could spin no faster,

TOM: ... it spun slower.
JOEL: The overseers of the sweat shop won't like that.

>it suddenly switched off its few remaining tractor beams, hurling the
>Kommodan ship

CROW: ... through a conveniently-placed window.

>at several percent of the sped of light straight into its formerly
>healthier opponent

TOM: So it's a mass driver, then.
JOEL: They could have achieved a better effect by turning on the warp
drive.
CROW: But they would have to assimilate the crew to get to the engines.
TOM: I'm not seeing a problem, here.

>whose equally unreliable defences could not withstand the impact of more
>than half a million tons of metal and other material

CROW: ... like the flesh of several dozen crewmembers.
TOM: At those speeds? More like the puddles of goo of several dozen
ex-crew.
CROW: Would that make them ex-crew-ment?
JOEL: Crow!

>flung at it in this way.

TOM: If flung it another way, though, like underhanded, it would have
hit a home run.

>Doubtless, the failure of the Kommodan

JOEL: ... was to be expected.

>antimatter containment system contributed notably to the

CROW: ... master's thesis, and was mentioned in the acknowledgements.

>shattering explosion that utterly demolished a formerly imposing--if
>damaged--Borg cube.

TOM: It undergoes an explosion, and they don't know if it's damaged?
JOEL: They're not the brightest bunch.

>"They are firing again!" Kala added in the sudden confusion.
>
>Voyager rocked violently.

CROW: [singing] Rock, around, the clock tonight!

>"Light damage,

TOM: About twenty watts.

>there was no power in the shot."

JOEL: Then why did the ship shake?

>"It's almost as if they aren't sure what they want to do!" Kim voiced
>everybody's thoughts for them.

CROW: Wow. They're part of a collective, and they haven't even been
assimilated yet.
TOM: It's easy to voice the mob mind when it's total IQ is less than a
glass of water's.

>Another phasor beam shot out, it whisked harmlessly away.

JOEL: I use my whisk to beat eggs, but I suppose this is an emergency
situation.

>"What the hell is going on?" Chakotay exclaimed in exasperation.

CROW: ... voicing the thoughts of the readers ...
TOM: It's pretty bad if even the characters don't know what's happening.

>The enemy behaving erratically was more alarming than facing one that
>knew what they were doing.

JOEL: Well, sure. No one wants to fight a crazy man.
TOM: So you're saying the Borg forgot to take their medication?
CROW: What would you give the Borg, anyway? Anti-schitzophrenia pills?

>"Harry, back us back into the debris," Chakotay ordered

TOM: Or forward us forward into the future!
CROW: Or slide to the side to attempt to deride!

>coming to a decision.

JOEL: That's gotta be a first.

>"They must be upto something, I want to know what it is.

TOM: Or you could take the chance to get out of there.
CROW: What, and actually rescue Janeway?
TOM: Silly me.

>Carver, fire at will to cover our withdrawl."

JOEL: [Riker] I'm not even in this episode!

>
>
>
>"I have the sensors on line, Ma'am," Miller reported

CROW: If the sensors look like birds, would he have all his ducks in a
row?
JOEL: What is with you today?

>Ensign Abbott started at the sudden intrusion.

TOM: [Abbott] Knock first, would you?

>She had been in her own silent world of misery and loneliness for some
>minutes,

CROW: Nice of Miller to let her go on shore leave.

>as Miller had gone about his business trying to regain control of as
>much of the Argonaut as possible.

JOEL: Without a body, that's going to be a neat trick.

>"How is Lieutenant Paris?" She asked hopefully.

TOM: [Abbott] Is she dead yet? I'm kinda hungry.
JOEL: Tom!
TOM: Oh, you act as if cannibalism is a *bad* thing.

>"Still out cold, Ma'am," he answered apologetically.

CROW: So what is being out warm like?

>"I will need physical help to bring impulse on line, Ma'am.

TOM: Read as: "I need you to press two buttons on a console."

>There are a number of manifolds in Engineering that need to be
>replaced."

JOEL: And, naturally, there are plenty of spares.

>Abbott nodded slowly in understanding, the corporal was going to push
>her again.

CROW: Preferably off a cliff.

>"Can you find Voyager?" She asked.

TOM: [Miller] Yes; repeats are still running on UPN.

>"She's having a bit of a blowup with a couple of cubes," Miller
>described a moment later.

JOEL: Oh, if only that were literal.

>"She's lost shields and warp but otherwise ain't too badly hurt.

CROW: So the ship can barely move and can't defend itself, but that's
okay?

>There is a Kommodan ship out there as well, Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am."

TOM: Uh-oh. Looks like we went back in time again.
JOEL: Prepare for a re-telling of the battle we just went through.

>She smiled weakly at the apology,

CROW: ... as it tipped its hat and kissed her hand.

>they had failed to protect Voyager from the Kommodan fleet in its
>entirety.

TOM: And Voyager being outnumbered is funny to her.
JOEL: She's been hanging out with us too long.

>She wondered if the Corporal took it as great a personal failure as his
>Commanding Officer would.

CROW: So who exactly counts as his commanding officer? Winston?
TOM: Despite Winston being an ensign? Sure.

>She was quickly appraised of his opinion by his next words.

JOEL: [Abbott] I'll give you five dollars for those words, as long as
you don't speak them.

>"If you would go to engineering,

TOM: ... assuming the doors still work ...
CROW: I think we beat that horse into the ground.

>we can make amends and take those little buggers out, Miss?"

JOEL: Ewww!
BOTS: What?
JOEL: Never mind. If you don't know what a bugger is, I'm certainly not
going to tell you.

>Ensign Abbott would have found the relays Miller wanted replaced without
>his guidance.

TOM: [Abbott] Really, Corporal, were the neon signs absolutely
necessary?

>The access cover had been blown clean

CROW: The cover was made from glass?

>across engineering by the blast from the overload.

JOEL: We've said it before, and we'll say it again ...
ALL: Fuses!

>"This is going to take time," she sighed, looking carefully at the
>blackened remains.

CROW: Why is she looking so closely? They're burnt.
TOM: It must be one of those ink blot tests.
JOEL: I see ... a snowman.
TOM: Don't be ridiculous. That's obviously a scorpion.
CROW: All I see is a calendar.

>"We can short the terminals," declared Miller.

JOEL: I think they've already been shorted.

>"I can control the power good enough without 粗m."

TOM: If you don't need the terminals, then why repair them?

>"Sure?" she asked cautiously. "If we get hit then there will be no
>safety cut outs."

CROW: There are safety cut-outs?
JOEL: They must be made of paper.
TOM: Are they at least coupons?
CROW: Sure! Free burial with every redshirt!

>"I won't need no safety cut outs," Miller snapped,

JOEL: [Micky Dolenz] Safety cut out? We don't need no stinking safety
cut outs!

>irritation showing in the voice.

TOM: And, if you look really closely, you can see exploitation dancing
in the background.

>Abbott looked up with real alarm.

CROW: This is not a drill! Duck and cover!

>"You're going to ram them. Aren't you?"

JOEL: Well, it worked so well for the Kommodans ...

>"Gotta go sometime, Miss. There is a shuttle in a serviceable condition
>for you and the others."

TOM: Um, question?

>"There must be another way!" Abbott appealed.

TOM: But there is!
JOEL: Go ahead, Servo.
TOM: They could set the autopilot. They could tell the computer to set a
course and abandon ship. Miller could send the ship on its way and
then transfer to the shuttle's systems. They could make a copy of
Miller and put -that- on board the shuttle. They could --
JOEL: Okay, that's enough. Your head's starting to smoke again.

>Miller said nothing, if his holo-emitter had been working he would have
>shrugged the question off.

CROW: You could do that verbally, too.

>She sat and thought for a moment.

JOEL: Well, there's a first time for everything.

>Argonaut was too badly damaged to do more in battle,

TOM: On the other hand, it could hardly do less.

>it was now nothing more than a lifeboat for two seriously injured crew,
>one of whom would not recover in their current state, herself and a
>holographic corporal.

CROW: I counted five in that tally. Who's the other bloke?
JOEL: A message to all you kids out there: improper punctuation causes
pregnancy.
TOM: Forget pregnancy; this is full-blown spontaneous existence!

>It would be a lonely place.

CROW: ... for a day or two, until Voyager picked you up.

>She did not think she could stand that again, not after the last time.

JOEL: Miller's that bad, huh?

>Grimly she set about the rewiring Miller demanded.

TOM: If she gets beset by dwarves like before, I'm calling a time out.

>As she worked a germ of an idea came to her.

CROW: I've heard that ideas are like infections, but this is
preposterous.

>"Corporal Miller, can you identify the power source for the anomaly?"
>She asked.

TOM: God is not only asking the questions, but is female!
JOEL: I've always suspected as much.

>There was an interminable silence before he replied.

CROW: Empires rose and fell.
TOM: Six million television shows went on and off the air.
JOEL: Every word that was ever spoken was spoken again.
CROW: Vanna White got her own sitcom.
TOM: Now that's a little silly, even with an eternity to work with.

>"Aye, Ma'am. Dunno what is powering it though. Tain't normal anti-matter."

JOEL: It's peanutbutter-and-jelly anti-matter!
TOM: Better put that on anti-bread, or you'll get really sticky.

>"Could we get close enough to use the self-destruct and blow it up?"

CROW: Didn't they already try that with one of the derelicts?
TOM: Ah, but this time it'll work!
CROW: Why?
TOM: Author's prerogative.

>"I don't have access to the self-destruct system, Miss. It requires
>manual over-ride.

JOEL: Well, it just so happens that Abbott, here, has a body. Fully
functional and everything.
CROW: Fully functional? And how would you know that?
JOEL: Get your mind out of the recycling systems.

>I think Captain Bennett, the ships original Captain, modified the system."

TOM: Makes sense. Wouldn't want to set it off accidentally.
CROW: Like we've been wanting Chakotay to do since page one.

>"I can probably handle that," Abbott volunteered. "Get us in contact
>with Voyager."
>
>"Aye, Ma'am!"

CROW: Erm, why?
JOEL: Well, I thought by "manual override," they meant an actual lever
or button somewhere. But apparently they consider it "manual" if
it's in the computer, and she needs the access codes.
TOM: But Miller's in the computer!
JOEL: Yup.
TOM: And it's not manual if it's in a computer, because computers are
automations!
JOEL: Yup.
CROW: Plot hole?
JOEL: Yup.
TOM: More like a contrivance.

>There was silence for ten minutes then Miller suddenly exploded,
>"Gordon, bleedin' Bennett!

CROW: Would that be *Captain* Gordon Bennett?
TOM: Who?
CROW: The original captain of the Argonaut! Weren't you paying
attention?
TOM: I'm trying not to. Really, really trying.

>Would you Adam and Eve it!"

JOEL: This is one of those "coconut" comments again, isn't it?

>Abbott looked up sharply, she did not have a clue what the hologram
>actually meant,

JOEL: Well, at least we're not alone.

>but the tone was enough to portray a certain level of shock. "Corporal?"
>
>"Sorry, Ma'am," he responded

TOM: Yet another character apologizes for a mild invective.
CROW: Twenty-fourth-century society must be really harsh.

>recovering from his own surprise. "The Borg have taken out one of their
>own.

JOEL: This mild recap I think we can stand.

>Used the Kommodan ship like one of them bolass things the spicks use!"

JOEL: That, however, surpassed all understanding.
CROW: What's a bolass?
TOM: And that "s" word's a derogative, isn't it?
JOEL: A derogative meaning Irishman, I think. A bolass must be something
that spins an object around, then releases it.
CROW: Oh, you mean a particle accelerator.
JOEL: I suppose.

>"Have you got comms back with Voyager?" Abbott asked nervously,
>blanching at the image of the two ships colliding in her mind.

TOM: What's the problem? Two perceived enemies decking it out brings a
smile to *my* face.

>"As soon as you're ready, Miss," he agreed.
>
>"I'm ready now.

CROW: [Miller] Are you sure? You could comb your hair, put on some
clothes -- you know, make yourself presentable.

>Can you transport B'Elanna to the shuttle?

JOEL: [Abbott] But leave Winston here. He deserves to die.

>Then there is another little mod' I would like help with."

TOM: Oh, she wants to play Japanese games on an American system.
JOEL: Those little chips are cheap, but installation's a pain.

[Joel picks up Tom and they file out]

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