MiSTed: "Baptism by Fire" 1/2
Michael R. Warner
from alt.startrek.creative. I think there's a plot buried in there somewhere,
but it's hard to tell...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
<Opening. SOL bridge. Gypsy is standing there alone.>
GYPSY: Oh! Hi! Welcome to the, uh, Satellite of Love. My name's Gypsy, and
I'll be your waitress tonight.
MIKE (whispering from offscreen): No, Gyps. "I'll be your hostess tonight."
GYPSY (turning to look at Mike): You're *what*?
MIKE (a little louder): "I'll be your hostess tonight"!
GYPSY: Really? But you're a *boy*!
<Mike, Crow, and Tom move onscreen>
TOM: I *knew* this wouldn't work.
GYPSY: Oh!
MIKE: Now, Tom. I thought Gypsy had a pretty good idea. She wanted a chance
to do more of the talking around here, and to give us a little bit of a
break. She just needs some more practice.
GYPSY: That's right! I just need some more-- Hey, look at that! <walks
off.>
MIKE: Uh... right. Well, anyway, welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Mike
Nelson, and this is Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot, my cybernetic
companions. Things have been pretty quiet around here lately--
<Loud, ominous chord>
ALL: *Too* quiet!
MIKE: --So we've been reading books. Lots and lots of books.
TOM: Yes.
CROW: Quite.
MIKE: In fact, I'm almost done reading volume two of Isaac Asimov's
autobiography, which we've been using for that extra bit of height
that Tom needs when he's sitting at the table.
TOM: Hey!
MIKE: Ha, ha! Just kidding. I'm also in the middle of a book on directed
energy beam weapons, just so the Mads don't catch us by surprise. So
what have you been reading, Tom?
TOM: I just finished _K is for Killer_ by Sue Grafton, and boy, is that
Kinsey Millhone a babe!
MIKE: Uh, okay, and what have *you* been reading, Crow?
CROW: Well...
TOM: Go on, Crow. What have *you* been reading?
CROW: Oh, all right. I just finished page three of the last issue of the
Fantastic Four.
MIKE (pause): That doesn't count, Crow.
TOM: Ew! Especially not with DeFalco writing it!
MIKE: Well, moving right along, here-- <Mads' light flashes> Oh, boy, Dr.
Doom and the Mole Man are calling. <hits button>
<Deep 13. Frank is standing in the foreground. Behind him, Dr. Forrester is
pushing a broom around.>
FRANK: Gee, hi, Mike! How's everybody up there? I hope you're all staying
warm.
<SOL. Everybody has that "huh?" sorta look on their faces>
MIKE: Well, thanks, Frank. What's going on?
CROW: Yeah, did you guys lace the water down there with acid again?
<Deep 13>
FRANK: Oh, no, this is just Switch Day at Deep 13. This is the day when
employees get to trade places with their bosses, in the hopes of
creating a closer, more nurturing environment. So today, I'm Dr.
Frank, and behind me is TV's Clay, cleaning Deep 13 from top to bottom.
Twice. <Rubs hands gleefully> Switch Day is going very well, if you
ask me. Excuse me a minute, guys. <Frank turns to shout at Dr. F.>
Hey! You worthless slab of sewer scudge! I saw you brush that dirt
under the rug! Now do it right, or you'll be using your *tongue* for
a broom! *After* I rip it out! HAHAHAHAHAAA!!! <Dr. F. begins to
sweep faster, and Frank turns back to the screen.> So, anyway, what's
new with you guys?
<SOL>
MIKE: Oh, uh, nothing, Frank. Really.
CROW: Yeah! Nothing at all, you might say.
TOM: Yup. El Zippola.
MIKE (to the 'bots): So what do you think? If Frank's in charge, should I ask
him to bring down the Satellite of Love?
CROW: I don't know, Mike. Today, he seems more likely to crash it into Utah.
TOM: Yeah, let's just get suck up and get the experiment over with. I'm
scared.
MIKE (sighs): Well, all right. <to Frank> Okay, Frank. What've you got for
us today?
<Deep 13>
FRANK: Oh, I'm glad you asked. Since I know you guys like reading fanfics--
TOM (on SOL): No.
FRANK: --And since you especially like the ones about Star Trek--
TOM: Oooh, no.
FRANK: And since Dr For- I mean, TV's Clay, only lets me read
alt.startrek.creative--
TOM: No!
FRANK: --And since he approved this particular fanfic as having the right
amount of, of... oh, what's the word...
DR. F (from background): EVIL!
FRANK: Right! The proper amount of evil! Anyway, I'm sending you a Next
Generation fanfic called "Baptism by Fire"!
DR. F: It's even a surprise crossover, to heighten the pain!
FRANK: Oh, just shut up and push the button.
<SOL>
TOM: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
<Lights, etc.>
ALL: We've got Usenet Siiiiignnnn!!!
<5.....4.....3.....2.....1>
> From: j...@cis.ksu.edu (Joseph F. Young)
MIKE: Now, just take it easy. Maybe this'll actually be enjoyable.
TOM: You enjoy it. I'm bitter.
> Subject:AUTOPOST: BaptismByFire.zip (part 01/01)
TOM (Ominous movie preview voice): "AUTOPOST"-- The post that *wouldn't*
*die*!
> Date: 20 May 1994 11:30:06 GMT
CROW: That really wasn't very funny, Servo.
TOM: Well...
> Message-ID:<jfy.76...@depot.cis.ksu.edu.cis.ksu.edu>
> This is an automated reposting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative
> archives.
ALL: AAAAAAHHH!!!
> This is archive file: story/tng/Mark_Kinney/BaptismByFire.zip
> Any comments, questions,
MIKE: ...Letter bombs...
TOM: ...Dead hamsters...
CROW: ...Unwashed underwear...
> etc. about the archives may be
> addressed to j...@cis.ksu.edu.
> =====================================CUT HERE===============================
CROW: Does this mean we don't have to read the rest?
MIKE: No, Crow.
CROW: Awwww...
> Exploding: story/tng/BaptismByFire
TOM: Ker-POW!!!
> Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!
MIKE: larry.ksu.ksu.ksu.edu!curly.ksu.ksu.edu!
TOM: Geshundheit!
> ux1.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!wupost!ukma!netnews.
> louisville.edu!wkuvx1!kinnema
TOM: Hai-KINNEMA!!!
> From: kin...@wkuvx1.bitnet (Mark Kinney, Attorney at Chaos)
CROW: Tuh-HUH!
MIKE: *This* is what happens when Trek fans attempt humor!
TOM: Or lawyers, I suppose.
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Baptism By Fire [REPOST:1-4]
TOM: So, uh, is that the title or is it what we're headed for?
CROW: Yup.
> Message-ID: <1992Sep28....@wkuvx1.bitnet>
> Date: 28 Sep 92 14:37:34 CDT
> Organization: Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green, KY
> Lines: 501
TOM: Why am I thinking of Rob Liefeld?
CROW: Ooooo, subtle, Servo.
>
> Okay, here's the whole unabridged version. I think I got most of the
> spelling errors in this one, too....
CROW: Well, *I'm* sure not holding my breath.
>
> For all who wanted it...
MIKE: And everybody else who was unfortunate enough to tune in...
>
> STAR TREK::Baptism By Fire [The Complete Version]
TOM (sarcastically): Oh, well, *I* sure feel lucky about *that*!
>
> "Captain's Log, Stardate 47123.1. We have just completed a
> replenishment stop at Starbase 2,
CROW: Replenishment of...
TOM: Food?
MIKE: Water?
CROW: Condoms?
MIKE: You're not getting off on the right foot, Crow.
> and are currently on our way to
> Fomalhaut, the last known location of the science vessel USS Bloch.
MIKE: Robert Bloch?
TOM: Bloch & tackle?
CROW: The building Blochs of Life?
TOM: McCloud?
> Contact was lost seven standard days ago, and we have been
MIKE: ... Sent this substandard fanfic as a cruel punishment...
> assigned to
> discover the reason why, and implement emergency measures should they
> become neccessary."
TOM: Well, that was certainly... succinct.
MIKE: ...And maybe do vague sorts of rescue stuff if they might be needed,
sort of, you know.
CROW: Yeah.
> Jean-Luc Picard flipped off
CROW: ... His first officer.
ALL: HEEEYYY!!!
> the recording device and swivelled his
> chair
TOM: Around and around in circles, until he got dizzy and felt sick.
CROW: Wheeeeee! Heyyy... uhm... whulp!
> to watch the stars in the window streak by.
MIKE: Hey, isn't streaking--
TOM: --Illegal?
MIKE: Hey! How'd you know what I was going to say?
TOM: I dunno. I just have this extreme sense of deja vu about this one.
It's almost as if this Joseph F. Young guy recycled a Ratliff or
something.
> The day had been long,
CROW: Almost as long as his--
MIKE: CROOOOW!
CROW: Uh, that's, um, only one "O"?
MIKE: I don't care! You're headed for a time out, here, if you don't clean
up your act!
CROW: So, uh, Mike, does that mean you'd send me to my room?
MIKE: Yeah! I sure-- Wait a minute... No!
CROW: Rats!
TOM: Geez, Mike. You're kinda jumpy today.
MIKE: No, I'm not! Here, take a look at-- Oh.
CROW: What?
MIKE: I'm three pages ahead in the script.
> and he found himself more easily distracted than usual. He almost didn't
> notice the door signal some time later.
TOM: Meanwhile, time passed. Civilizations rose and fell. "60 Minutes" was
cancelled. Dick Clark got old.
> "Come," he said when he finally noticed.
MIKE: Gee, is it me, or does Picard seem kind of addle-headed?
> The door slid open to reveal his visitor as
TOM: ... Morgana! The Kissing Bandit! She planted a juicy one on Picard's
lips and capered out of the ready room!
> Commander William
> Riker. Riker strode over to the Captain's desk.
CROW: He then kissed Picard, but much more reservedly than Morgana would have.
> "Sir, we're entering the Fomalhaut system."
>
TOM: Well, that was certainly... abrupt.
> On the bridge, Picard asked for a status report.
CROW: But everybody just laughed at him.
ALL: <laugh hysterically>
> "There appears to be no activity in the system," Lieutentant Worf
> announced from tactical.
TOM: Geez, it's the same thing with this plot.
> "The system is scattered with debris," added Commander Data.
MIKE: Well, I think we *know* he can add...
> "In
> addition, Fomalhaut itself seems to be unusually active, as sensors are
> detecting
CROW: Various nightclubs where it's just dancing the night away!
> pockets of plasma at varying distances from the surface of the
> star."
MIKE: Sorry, I gave at the office.
> "Any sign of the Bloch?" Picard asked.
CROW: As Counselor Troi would say, don't Bloch me out.
> "Captain, something is comeing out from behind one of the planets,"
> Worf said. "It appears to be a
MIKE: Giant plaster chicken!
> ship of some sort."
MIKE: Shaped like a giant chicken!
TOM: Let it go, Nelson.
> "I agree, Captain," Data said. "It appears to be a Miranda class
> starship."
MIKE: As evidenced by the large fruity hat sitting on the saucer section.
CROW: I'd sure like to read this author his rights...
TOM: Guys, this *really* seems familiar. I'm pretty sure we've read this
one before.
MIKE: Those rotten Mads! I wouldn't put it past 'em!
> "Visual," Picard commanded. Worf activated the viewscreen, which
> displayed the image of a Miranda class starship
TOM: Well, I'll be darned! He was *right*!
> slowly moving from behind
> one of Fomalhaut's three sattelites.
> "It appears to be adrift, sir," Data observed.
MIKE (As Picard): Really, Data? It appears to me to be a ship!
<assorted groans from Tom & Crow>
> It was now apparent that the ship was spiraling. The saucer was
> soon at such an angle to reveal the call number and name: NCC-14351 USS
> BLOCH.
MIKE: RoadBloch?
> "Troi?" Picard turned to his ship's counselor.
TOM (falsetto): What? Oh! I'm sorry, sir. Just give me time for my nails
to dry, and I'll...
> "I don't sense anything at all, Captain. Absolutely nothing."
CROW: I don't know. Do you suppose she means *absolutely* nothing?
> "Data?"
MIKE: Tired of Picard ambiguously barking out the names of the bridge crew,
Data leaps to his feet and dances a lively jig!
ALL: <Jump up and dance>
> "Sensors indicate that the Bloch has been subjected to extreme heat
> stress.
MIKE: Maybe the ship spent too much time out in the sun, or something.
> I detect no life forms on board."
CROW: Well, I'll be! Troi *does* know something!
> "On one of the planets, then?"
> "Checking... No, I detect no indication of life. However, sensors
> are detecting other derelects
TOM: Well, Ah dinna ken too mahch aboot that kahnd o' thing, y'knoo.
CROW: Yah, und I, alzo.
MIKE: No, no. It's *derelicts*, not *dialects*! You picked up on the
*wrong* misspelling!
TOM: Oh.
CROW: Uh, yeah.
> coming out from behind the blind zone behind
> the star," Data said.
TOM (Ominous movie preview voice): DON'T go to sleep! Don't even CLOSE your
EYES! YOU just might be entering the BLIND ZONE!
ALL: <insane, cackling laughter>
> "I detect them too," Worf verified. "Several unknown, one
> identified as a Romulan Bird of Prey-"
> "Bird of Prey!?" Riker interrupted. "Romulan!?
MIKE: My *job*?!? I'm supposed to *know* these things?!?
TOM: Yes, this episode is called "Riker Has No Clue"!
CROW: I thought that was *every* episode.
> Didn't they stop
> using those almost a century ago?"
TOM (tugging Mike's sleeve--sort of): But Mike... I've *seen* them used on
the show. I don't understand. What's going on?
MIKE: Easy, Tom. Joseph F. Young doesn't know what he's talking about.
CROW: I bet I know what the "F" stands for...
> "Indeed, Number One," Picard answered, not sure of what to make of
MIKE: The pile of Tinkertoys sitting in his lap.
> these developments. "Continue, Lieutenant."
> A more annoyed look than usual crossed Worf's face,
TOM: But... but... Worf didn't have any reason to get annoyed! Picard just
wanted him to do his job! I don't get it!
MIKE: Hush, child.
CROW: Hey, you're getting pretty good at that, Nelson.
MIKE: Thanks. I've been practicing.
> and then he
> continued. "One ship indicative of a First Federation craft, and one Orion
> design."
MIKE (Minnesota Old Lady): Ooo, yah, those Orion designs are such pretty
things, don't ya know.
TOM (same): Yah, I've got three of 'em up in my living room right now.
CROW (same): Such pretty things, ya know.
MIKE (same): Yah.
> "Hmm," Picard emitted.
MIKE: What, he's a radio, now?
CROW: You should have heard what *Riker* just emitted!
ALL: Eeeeewww!
> "It seems we're dealing with an interstellar
> Sargasso."
TOM: Yeah, that's just what I was thi-- What?
> Data looked at Picard with his "what are you talking about" look,
TOM: Huh?
MIKE: Just like that, Tom.
CROW: What's even better is Data's "What the freakin' blue blazes are you
talkin' about, ya chrome-headed starship jockey" look.
> and then made the connection.
MIKE: Oh, no! Run a level one diagnostic on Data! His connections are
coming loose!
> "Indeed sir, except that there is no
> overabundance of acquatic plant life in this-"
TOM: What the...
CROW: I think we've just boldly gone where noone has gone before.
MIKE: He's talking about sargasso, guys! You know, in the sea! He's talking
about... about...
TOM: About what, Mike?
CROW: Yes, Mike, what is he talking about?
MIKE: It's about chicken.
> "Data!"
MIKE (Picard): Your head just fell off!
TOM: <Shakes his head off> Oh, no!
> "Sorry sir."
CROW: ... Data's head said from the floor, as it was kicked around by the
rest of the bridge crew in an impromptu game of soccer.
<Mike replaces Tom's head>
TOM: Thanks, Mike.
> "What about the other ships?"
> "Sensors indicate heat stress similar to that indicated on the
> Bloch."
MIKE: I think they should send these ships out with sunscreen on, or at least
one of those floppy hats.
> Picard paced accross the bridge once.
CROW: Before falling to his knees and succumbing to the terrible boredom of
being stuck in this awful fanfic.
> "Number One, prepare an
> away team to go aboard the Bloch. I want to find out what happened to the
> crew."
MIKE: Uh... they... died?
> Riker signalled to Worf and Data,
TOM: Who then tagged up and stole second, respectively.
> and then tapped his communicator.
CROW: The communicator said, "Ow!"
> "Commander LaForge, Doctor Crusher, report to transporter room two."
MIKE: I hated those long reports in college.
>
> The transporter room of the Bloch was a shambles, and a seriously
> toasted shambles at that.
CROW: I just like to say shambles. Shambles, shambles, shambles.
TOM: "A seriously toasted shambles". I think we're dealing with the MTV
Generation School of Creative Writing, here.
> Exposed wiring from some of the melted polymer
> walls still smouldered. Amid all of this was a flash of blue light and the
> arrival of Riker's away team.
TOM (Riker): Ow! Hey! I can't see with all this danged blue light!
> Data immediately checked his tricorder, and verified no life on
> board the ship.
MIKE: I'm not entirely sure, but I think we've established the fact that
*everybody* on the *ship* is *dead*!
> "Okay," Riker said. "Geordi, Worf, check engineering and see if
> this ship can still go.
TOM (Riker): Geordi make ship go? Ship not work right. See if you can make
go.
> Data, Doctor, come with me."
> The first sight outside of the transporter room was the charred
> body of an Andorian.
CROW: Mmm, mmm. Time for pie!
>
> "There's a signal coming in from the Bloch captain," the ensign at
> tactical announced.
TOM: Which was an amazing thing, because the entire crew of the Bloch was
dead, including the captain.
MIKE: Gee, Scooby, ya think it's a ghost?
> "On screen."
> Commander Riker appeared in the foreground, with Beverly Crusher
> and Data
MIKE: Providing his backup lyrics as he performed Aretha Franklin's
"Respect".
> analyzing something in the background.
TOM: But nothing in particular. Just something.
> "Captain, the entire crew seems to have been burned to death,"
> Riker said.
CROW: More heat stress, eh?
> "Was there a fire?" Picard asked.
MIKE: Yes, and it appears that Counselor Troi's mother was stuck right in the
middle of it.
TOM: How baffling!
> "Data says that the damage on board was not consistent with a
> shipboard fire, just exposure to extreme heat in certain areas. Crusher
> says the crew was essentially... baked."
MIKE: Ergh.
CROW: Well, I'm in the mood for some pizza, how 'bout you guys?
> "Actually, Commander, the word 'broiled' would probably-" Data
> interrupted before being stopped by Doctor Crusher.
TOM: Once again, Young picks an inopportune time to inject a little humor at
Data's expense.
> Picard let loose a heavy breath.
MIKE: Better cut back on those onions.
> "Very well, Number One. How
> about engineering?"
TOM (Riker): Well, sir, it starts out okay, but by the fourth year, the
classes are just hellish.
> "LaForge says the engines are inoperable.
CROW: Guess he couldn't make it go.
> Would you believe the
> dilithium crystals are *melted*?"
MIKE: I find that hard to believe.
TOM: Oh. Well, wouldja believe they're charred to a crisp? Wouldja beleive
it? Charred to a crisp!
MIKE: I don't think so.
TOM: Oh. How about they're covered with spit and cigarrette ashes?
> Picard looked vaguely surprised,
MIKE (Picard): Good Lord, I'm bald!
> then shrugged it off, adding
> "Gather your team and beam back aboard, then. Engineering, lock tractor
> beam onto the Bloch."
MIKE: Bloched arteries?
> Counselor Troi approached the Captain.
CROW: She wrapped her silky arms around his neck and pulled him close...
> "Captain, I'm sensing a very strong anxiety," she said.
MIKE (Squeeky Picard): Anxiety? Here? I think it's me!
> "From the crew? The away team?"
TOM: Little bunny rabbits? Tax accountants?
MIKE: First graders? Hamsters?
CROW: Very small rocks?
> "No... I don't really know where it's coming from."
TOM (falsetto): Oh, no, it's coming from RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!
> "Captain, there's a plasma surge from the star heading our way,"
> the helmsman announced.
TOM: The Red Cross must be in town.
ALL: Run away! Run away!
> "Computer, locate the away team," Picard snapped.
CROW: Oh, sure. He snaps at the computer just because it's a machine.
> "The away team is in transporter room two," the female voice of the
> computer answered.
MIKE: The male voice, however, was still in bed.
> "Good. Helm, move us out of the way."
> Riker, Data, and Worf soon arrived back on the bridge, and resumed
MIKE: Singing!
TOM (sings): R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out it means to me...
ALL (singing): Sockit-too-me, Sockit-too-me, Sockit-too-me, Sockit-too-me...
> their stations. Worf almost immediatly barked,
TOM: That annoying version of "Jingle Bells".
CROW: I hate that.
> "Captain, another ship
> detected emerging from the blind zone."
MIKE: It's a good thing Geordi's not on the bridge, what with them tossing
around all of these blindness references.
> "It appears to be immoble, Captain," Data added.
CROW: Oh, no! It's Data's evil twin, Lore! Data would surely have known how
to spell "immobile"!
> "I would speculate
> that our movement caused us to discover it.
TOM: Well, that was certainly... profound.
MIKE: Good thing data's not speculating in the stock market.
> "Can you give me a visual?" Picard asked.
CROW: Data put up onto the viewscreen a large nude photo of Marina Sirtis!
TOM: The bridge crew cheered!
> The viewscreen shifted sights to the new contact, revealed to be a
> huge, irregularly surfaced, high-tech cube.
> "Raise shields, red alert!"
MIKE: Hoist the mainframe! Stow the mizzenmast! Batten down the hatches!
TOM: But the hatches are *already* battened down, sir.
MIKE: Well, batten 'em down again!
> Picard commanded as the Borg ship came
> into full view. Despite their obvious sighting,
MIKE: See what I mean about the blindness thing?
> though, the Borg ship made
> no move toward the Enterprise.
> "Data, could the Borg have done all this?" Riker asked.
TOM: Then, for that added touch of fun, he said, "Have Borg all done the
Data, could this?"
> "The damage the other ships were subjected to is inconsistant with
> Borg weapons technology,"
CROW (Data): But since the entire ship was wrapped in aluminum foil, it is hard
to tell.
TOM: You know, I think that *is* Lore. He spelled "inconsistent' wrong,
too.
> the android said. "Also, some of the derelects
MIKE: Yup. He's Lore, alright.
> clearly predate the Borg's presence in this area of the galaxy. In any
> event, sensors show that the Borg has sustained even greater damage than any
> of the other ships present."
> Captain Picard straightened his tunic and sat down in the command
> chair, clearly in deep thought.
MIKE: You know, one time I was at the bank, and a bank robber came in. Only
it wasn't a bank robber. He just wanted to take out a loan.
> This was interrupted by alarm klaxons and
> an earthquake-like shuddering.
CROW: Welcome to the Poseidon Adventure, the newest ride at Paramount's Kings
Island!
> "What's happening?" Picard said, almost yelling.
TOM (Riker): Theeey're shaaaking the caaameras agaaain, sirrr!
> "It's the plasma emmision we were evading," Data answered, tapping
> various buttons on his control console. "It seems to have followed us,
> sir."
> "Followed us?"
CROW (Data): Yeah, can we keep it?
> Picard asked, sharply cutting off the end of his
MIKE: Left pinky and chanting loudly in a desperate attempt to conjure forth
a spirit that would destroy this fanfic.
> question.
> "Captain," Worf announced. "The plasma burst is gathering and
> subjecting our rear shields to-"
CROW: A really big wedgie!
> Worf stopped when something on his
> console beeped.
MIKE (Worf): Well, wouldja lookit that!
TOM: It was only because he was using Windows.
> He checked, and then said
MIKE (Worf): Hmm. Just as I thought. The console beeped.
> "Rear shields breached, sir."
CROW: Today on Rolanda: When wedgies go too far!
> In the meantime, Data had switched the viewscreen to a visual of
MIKE: Pro wrestling's Main Event!
> the events, showing many points of light swirling about in back, playing
> against the shields in a bright blue glow, followed by a white flash and
> the light points rushing towards the Enterprise's warp nacelles.
TOM: Uhh... okay...
MIKE: Yeah, for some reason, I'm having a hard time visualizing that.
>
> In engineering, Commander Geordi LaForge was working to divert more
> power to the rear shield when he felt the shuddering that accompanied the
> shield collapse. We was about to report it when he
CROW: Noticed it was 10:15, time for his coffee break.
MIKE: Yes, Geordi is a Union member.
TOM: Nelson! Shhh! There might actually *be* some Union members out there!
You don't want to get 'em mad!
MIKE: Oh! Sorry!
> started reading extreme
> heat in the warp nacelles.
TOM: New on Fox's fall lineup! "Extreme Heat in the Warp Nacelles"! A
Federation starship crewed entirely by by buxom ladies wearing only
tiny swimsuits!
> The next thing he knew, the Jefferies Tube
> openings had what appeared to be fireflies pouring out of them,
CROW: Oh, like fireflies would be flying around in plasma.
> if
> fireflies had made a habit of flying about in plasma.
CROW: Hey!
> An ensign approaching from the rear areas inadvertantly walked into
> one of these things, before Geordi could warn him off.
MIKE: Doot-de-doo... Hmm, I wonder what this--BZZZZZZT!!!
TOM: *Why* don't they *look*?
> His uniform,
> despite being fire-resistant, immediately burst into flame. The fire
> control units began activating.
>
MIKE: What's with the abrupt scene changes in this thing? I feel like I'm in
some kind of artsy German film, only this isn't as fun.
> On the bridge, Worf was reading
CROW: The latest issue of "Incredible Hulk".
TOM: Y'know, that PAD guy's pretty good.
> off damage control reports from all
> over the ship.
> Deanna Troi looked increasingly uncomfortable, and approached the
> Captain.
TOM (small child): Can I go baffroom, mister cappin?
> "It's them," she said.
> "What?"
MIKE: Oh, no! The giant ants!
> "Those things," Troi pointed to the lights on the viewscreen.
> "They're the source of the anxiety."
CROW: Uh, I might not have been paying real close attention, but what is she
talking about? Are those lights on the screen those things that were
pouring out of the Jeffries tubes?
TOM: Don't worry about it, Crow. Just go with the flow.
MIKE: Well, that was very beatnik of you, Tom.
> "You mean they're alive!?"
> "That would be a reasonable hypothesis, considering their behavior,
> Captain," Data added.
TOM: Hmmph. An incredibly advanced piece of artificial intelligence
technology, and they only use him for *adding*?
> "Captain," Worf interrupted.
CROW: That one was pretty lame, Servo.
> "There are reports coming in from
> around the ship that our fire control units are ineffective against the
> creatures themselves."
> As those words finished leaving the Klingon's mouth,
MIKE: Cool! Just like those old cartoon segments on "The Electric Company"!
an array of
> the firefly like lights burst out from one of the turbolift shafts. It
> zipped toward the front of the bridge.
TOM: This guy's pretty heavy into that whole "action word" thing.
Worf pulled out his phaser and
CROW: Pointed it at his left temple, shouting, "I'm gonna do it, man, I am,
and you can't stop me!"
> fired at it, managing nothing better than shooting through it and burning
> an irregular black line into the wall.
MIKE: Pretty good name for a band, don't you think? The Irregular Black
Lines?
TOM (DJ voice): And here's the new tune by The Irregular Black Lines, a punk
remake of that '60's classic that they like to call "Yummy, Yummy,
Yummy, I've Got Hell in a Handbasket"!
In the meantime, the thing was
> catching the bridge carpeting on fire, and fire control units were putting
> the fires out just as fast.
CROW: Fire was everywhere, as it happens to be when things catch on fire.
However, just as they had heard, the force
> fields did nothing to whatever this creature was.
CROW: It's obviously a plot contrivance.
MIKE: I think you're right.
> Data, meanwhile, had opened a compartment at the foot of the
> viewscreen, and pulled out an old style fire extinguisher.
MIKE: Uh, check please! C'mon, guys. I'm having trouble faking an interest
in all this.
<1.....2.....3.....4.....5>
MIKE: Whew! Was it just me, or was it really getting warm in there? Anyway,
guys, I figured since we're taking a little break, I'd show you what
I've cooked up for the next invention exchange.
TOM: Cool!
CROW: Yeah, whatever.
MIKE: Um, okay. <He reaches down to the floor and picks up a large jar full
of bright yellow pin-points of light. It's an obvious cheap special
effect, but everyone reacts with amazement.> I call them "Fireflies"!
CROW: Uh, Nelson? You might not know this, but fireflies already exist.
Kids've been putting them in jars for years!
MIKE: Yes, but can *those* fireflies do *this*? <Wads a piece of newspaper
into a ball, quickly removes the cover and tosses the paper wad in,
screwing the lid back on tightly. The paper instantly bursts into
flame.>
TOM: Whoa!
CROW: Hey, cool!
TOM: Dr. F'll *love* it!
MIKE: Yeah, I hope so. I figured this would appeal to his fundamentally
destructive side. I just hope-- <Gypsy enters hurriedly.>
GYPSY: Hey, everybody! I just woke up from a nap, and looked out a porthole,
and I saw Richard Basehart! He was just floating along-- <Gypsy
knocks the jar off the table with a cheezy canned crashing sound.>
Oh! Sorry!
MIKE: Uh, oh.
TOM: Uh... Mike? <One of the Fireflies lands on Tom, and he bursts into
flame.> AAAAAAHHH!!!
<Small flames appear everywhere. Everybody starts yelling. As Mike is
smothering Tom out with a blanket, the lights and bells and sirens and
whatever go off.>
EVERYONE: AAAAAAAHHH!!! Fanfic Sign!!!
MAGIC VOICE: You're in luck. Commercial sign in five seconds... four...
three...
<Everybody stops yelling, but looks annoyed and impatient. Mike hits the
commercial button.>
<To be continued...>
DISCLAIMER:
The characters and events related to Mystery Science Theater 3000 that I so
shamelessly used in this post are the property of Best Brains, Inc., and my
use of them is solely for fun and not for any sort of personal gain, which is
only logical, since if I was getting paid, this would have been done long ago.
The characters and other assorted stuff related to Star Trek: The Next
Generation are owned by Paramount Pictures, which Joseph Young *should* have
said at the end of *his* story, but didn't. Finally, this post is not meant as
a personal attack against the aforementioned Mr. Young, since I don't even
*know* the guy. This is all just meant in good fun.
> "I detect them too," Worf verified. "Several unknown, one
> identified as a Romulan Bird of Prey-"
> "Bird of Prey!?" Riker interrupted. "Romulan!?