MiSTed - "Royal & Prime Directives" (Marrissa Stories) 8/8
Bill Livingston
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>From: Stephen Ratliff <ste...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Royal and Prime Directives 16/18 (Marrissa Stories)
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MIKE: That was 7 of 9's original designation, until they, uh, rounded
her off. So to speak.
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>
>Title: Royal and Prime Directives
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen at trekiverse dot org
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Part: NEW 16/18
>Rating: [PG]
>Summary: The crew of Enterprise-E investigates a planet where a
>starship Captain crashed 20 years ago has been ruling a small nation
>
CROW: So would that make him Captain or King?
MIKE: Yes.
>Chapter Fifteen:
>Through our Hope and Despair
>
> The deep gold rinnebeast was quite accustom to the King's rushing
>through the streets of Odyssey.
MIKE: However, it wasn't accustomed to him doing so naked.
> The strong legs of the lizard easily
>propelled the King around the corner and through the alley
TOM: And over the river and through the woods...
> and he sought
>the quickest route to the Cloister of the Overflowing Cup.
CROW: Too bad he missed the I-44 cutoff.
> The dull grey walls of the Cloister quickly came into view, next to
>the higher cream colored walls of the City. A detachment of Royal Guards
>stood out front of the main entrance, and they parted as the King's
>distinctive beast road up to the door.
TOM: [Guard] Hope he doesn't plow his lizard into the crowd again.
> A solider grabbed the King's rinnebeast's reigns as the King came
>to a stop in front of the main gate. "Where is my son?" the King asked.
> "He's in the central courtyard engaged in a duel with Lord Henry,"
>the solider said,
MIKE: [Guard] Yeah, I was gonna protect him, but I got busy. Sorry.
> barely finishing the sentence before the King had
>dismounted and rushed into the Cloister.
>
> Clang.
CROW: Clang! Clang! Went the Trolley!
> Clash.
MIKE: o/` Shout weeee don't like it - Rock Ellosia! Rock Ellosia! o/`
> Shing.
TOM: Shing, dammit, SHING!
> Brittany watched her brother fight Lord
>Henry. Avery was darting around the courtyard,
MIKE: Looking for a convenient hole to hide in.
> so far unable to get inside
>Lord Henry's guard. It was clear that Lord Henry was putting lots of power
>behind each of his blows, as most of them were tilting Avery's sword as
>they impacted.
TOM: Isn't a sword *supposed* to tilt when you duel?
> It was a battle of brawn and age verses
CROW: Yes, the book of Ratliff, Chapter 16, verses 5 through 11.
> speed and youth. Brittany
>had watched many fights with that match during her training as a squire.
MIKE: With her good friends Ariel and Ookla the Mok.
>In fact, most of her training sparring had been that way, as her tutors in
>the sword had advanced her beyond the level of most of her fellow squires.
TOM: All the big sixth grade girls picked on her after she got moved up
straight from 3rd grade.
>If Avery could survive the first ten minutes or so of Lord Henry's hard
>pressed attack, and keep moving without getting hit -
MIKE: Then he would need to survive the *next* ten minutes. Good plan.
> Behind her, Brittany heard her father approaching. Quickly she
>turned, and headed to intercept her father.
TOM: Good thing he can't pass worth a dang inside the red zone.
> A bellowing mad father would
>not help her brother win this fight.
>
CROW: Yeah, no one needs two-to-one odds in their favor.
> Above the sanctuary in the choir loft, Marrissa found Lieutenant
>Calgary.
MIKE: I thought he was under a rock in Canada.
CROW: Right now I wish I was.
> He was laying out on his back, arms limply at his side. His pain
>filled eyes were focused on the star studded ceiling above, as he almost
>silently whispered.
TOM: [Calgary, whispering] The clowns - the clowns are coming to get me.
> Marrissa was almost within reach when she heard what he was
>whispering. "Saint Perpetua and Saint Felicity..."
MIKE: He's asking for the latest Joan Osborne album?
> Marrissa supposed
>that the Litany of the Saints was something that could keep one's mind
>off pain,
CROW: So remember, if you ever have *your* limbs cruelly ripped from their
sockets, reciting random lists of facts will relieve the excruciating
pain!
> but had no idea that Calgary knew it.
TOM: Or that *anyone* would, for that matter.
MIKE: Well, be fair - it's not like there seems to be any religion left
in the 24th century.
CROW: Unless you're Bajoran.
> She lightly touched him
>to get Calgary's attention.
TOM: Bad touch.
> "Lieutenant, we're going to get you out of here," Marrissa said
>softly, motioning to two sailors who had accompanied her with a streacher.
CROW: A stretched bleacher?
>"Gentlemen, be very careful. We've got a carriage out front to take him to
>the harbor."
> "Angels..." Calgary whispered
TOM: [Calgary] Finally won the Series! I see Gene Autry smiling!
> "I think the pain has made him delusional," Marrissa commented, as
>Calgary was carried out of the room.
>
> Avery dodged another of Lord Henry's hard strikes.
MIKE: The Taft-Hartley act was doing its job.
> King Richard
>could tell that Lord Henry put lots of power behind each of his strikes.
>So far, Avery hadn't been able to do more than dodge.
TOM: But he was saving up to get a Chrysler.
> Another strike, and
>Avery spun out of it, allowing Lord Henry's sword to pass him by.
MIKE: Pass by. Pierce him through the heart. Same thing, really.
> At least that had been the intention. However, Lord Henry reversed
>the stroke, and caught Avery on his back, just above the bottom of his
>ribs.
CROW: o/` Henry's Princely-Back Ribs! o/`
TOM: [Basso] o/` Barbecue sauce o/`
> The cut was not big, as Avery had already been spinning away from
>him, but it was first blood to Lord Henry.
MIKE: Sylvester Stallone *IS* Lord Henry *IN* "Ellosia: First Blood, Act II"!
> King Richard let out a gasp at the appearance of blood on his son's
>tunic, but his son did not seem to be affected by it.
TOM: Okay, so first he won't lift a finger to save his dying wife, and now
he's just gonna sit back and let his kid get disemboweled by some
asshat traitor! What kind of king *is* this guy?!?
CROW: Richard is a low-key, hands-off kind of monarch.
> With a quick turn,
>Avery parried Lord Henry's latest thrust, letting the sword go by as he
>turned.
MIKE: Because that move worked so well just now.
> Clang.
TOM: Oops. The plot just hit bottom.
> The sword hit the well in the middle of the court yard.
>With another clash,
CROW: We miss you, Joe. <sniff>
> Henry and Avery were engaged in battle again.
>
TOM: [Avery, grunting] Unh! Will you- ah- be my- oof- wife?
CROW: [Henry, ditto] He- gaah- asked me! Err! He- oh- asked me!
> As soon as Calgary was taken out of view, down into the cabins
>under the quarterdeck, the transporter chief locked on. He materialized in
>the transporter room
CROW: Wasn't he already there?
TOM: Who?
CROW: He.
TOM: "He"? "He" Who?
CROW: Huh?
TOM: Which he?
CROW: He who was there - was he there?
TOM: What?
CROW: Huh?
MIKE: Guys? The Ratliff story is now officially *less* irritating than
you two.
> along with the two men carrying the improvised
>stretcher,
CROW: [Clive] A thousand points to Josie for singing so beautifully,
and one point to Greg because that's all he deserves.
> and Marrissa.
TOM: It'd probably go better if they didn't have to carry Marrissa too.
CROW: Privileges of rank, don't ya know.
> "Chief, beam Calgary to Sickbay," Marrissa ordered, stepping off
>the platform.
MIKE: [Chief] "Clumsy" Calgary did it again, huh?
> "Aye sir," the transport chief said, as Marrissa turned to the
>other person waiting in the room.
CROW: Hey wait a minute, couldn't they have just beamed him directly
to Sickbay? Jeez, do I gotta think of everything around here?
> "Ready to take back command for a while?" Jean-Luc Picard said.
TOM: Then Marrissa and Jean-Luc had a good laugh at the absurd question.
> "I can, but shouldn't Riker and Data do that since the trial is
>over?" Marrissa asked.
MIKE: Or couldn't Picard do it?
CROW: He's too busy rehearsing for his one-man all-Klingon presentation
of "A Christmas Carol".
> "I do have homework to do."
MIKE: Thus the inherent dichotomy at last is made clear.
> "Commander Riker has already left for the surface," Jean-Luc said.
>"He and Counselor Troi are taking some of their accumulated leave.
CROW: It's the kind of leave that doesn't involve clothes.
>Data's cat is sick.
[All laugh]
CROW: And what a well thought-out reason that is.
MIKE: "Dear Captain Picard. Data's cat is sick, and he needs to be excused
from command activities today. Signed, Data's mother."
TOM: He's been granted leave under Starfleet's "Annoying Whiny Android"
program.
> If you're really worried about your homework, you can do it
>in the ready room. We just really need someone on standby."
TOM: [Paul Harvey] For NEWS!!
> "Data's cat is sick?" Marrissa asked.
TOM: See?! Even *Marrissa* can't believe it!
MIKE: We can laugh, but Picard bought it.
> "Yes, and he's activated his emotion chip," Jean-Luc said. "I'd
>stay away from his quarters and Sickbay.
MIKE: [Picard] He keeps hitting on Nurse Ogawa, then crying himself to
sleep when she turns him down.
> How are events progressing in
>Odyssey?"
TOM: The two guys are locked out, and the "Blue Danube Waltz" is cranked up.
> "The heir to the throne is fighting Lord Henry at the Cloister of
>the Overflowing Cup," Marrissa said. "I expect that King Richard is either
>there or on his way.
CROW: [Marrissa] He said something about getting turned into a hawk, though
so he might be a tad late.
> We found Lieutenant Calgary in the loft of the
>Sanctuary there."
CROW: Do these people do anything besides updates?
> "The Cloister is on the West side of Odyssey next to the Arm
>Gates?" Jean-Luc inquired, stepping towards the platform.
MIKE: It's Stephen Ratliff's Jean-Luc Picard's "West Side Next to
the Arm Gates Story"!
TOM: o/` Ellosia - I just grabbed the crown in Ellosia. o/`
> "Yes, it's rather hard to miss," Marrissa said,
TOM: [Marrissa] Unless you're an idiot.
> as her father stood
>on the platform.
> "You have the ship, Marrissa," Jean-Luc said. "I'll check your
>homework when I get back.
TOM: [Marrissa] But daaad...
CROW: [Picard] No buts. The old math was good enough for me, it's good
enough for you too.
> Chief, energize."
>
> Lord Henry's tunic was soaked as he continued to engage the younger
>and still going strong Prince.
CROW: Gyah! Even when he doesn't mean, to, Ratliff's prose is turning
turgidly provocative!
> "Lord Henry is getting tired, isn't he,"
>Brittany pointed out to her father.
MIKE: Well, so are we.
TOM: Yeah, if we have to suck it up, he's got to, too!
> "Lord Henry has too much weight," King Richard opinioned
MIKE: Aah, he's King Richard *Simmons*.
CROW: [Richard Simmons] C'mon, girls, put those hips and thighs into your
swordplay! Melt the pounds off while you skewer your opponent!
> as Lord
>Henry continued to deliver blows to Avery's sword. "It's good for putting
>power behind the blows, but that doesn't help when your opponent is moving
>like Avery does.
TOM: Like a spastic ostrich wearing lead boots.
> He gives and changes Henry's approach too much."
MIKE: Well why don't YOU do it then, Mister Smart-Guy-Pants?!?
> Some quick foot work by Avery pulled him out of Lord Henry's attack
>for a moment, nearly getting behind Lord Henry's guard.
CROW: Sloppy mistakes like that won't get Lord Henry to the NBA finals.
> "I've got to spar
>with Avery some time," Brittany said, wincing as Lord Henry barely missed
>her bother
TOM: [Pooh] Oh, bother!
> in the follow up. "It looks like he's improved since I left for
>Arm."
MIKE: [Brittany] At the very least, he's no longer throwing his sword down
and sprinting off with a high-pitched shriek.
> "It's the endurance that is helping him, not the hour he spends on
>most days practicing," the King said,
CROW: Well then, why bother practicing?! Geesh!
MIKE: The king is practicing the ancient art of parent fu.
> smiling as his son went on the
>offensive, actually causing Lord Henry to back up.
TOM: Wow! Lord Henry got back!
> "He usually takes a
>ride out to the fields near Bluepor every morning, then after putting his
>rinnebeast in the stables takes a jog the long way to breakfast.
CROW: Because the only thing more obnoxious than a snotty, pampered royal
brat is a *sweaty*, snotty, pampered royal brat.
> I'm
>pretty sure he goes around the outer edge of at least two decks. Oh, that's
>got to hurt."
MIKE: It's the Royal Edition of "Sportscenter".
> Avery's offensive had paid off with a deep cut on Lord Henry's
>non-sword arm.
TOM: Aquaman, no!
> Though it was starting to bleed rather bad, Lord Henry
>still fought on, with a renewed offensive, though his sword was a little
>lower the before.
>
CROW: [Henry] Gaah! He cut the arm that I don't have my sword in! Now the
arm I have my sword in hurts! How did he find out my weakness?
> Captain Jean-Luc Picard strolled through the streets of Odyssey
>searching for the Cloister of the Overflowing Cup and King Richard.
MIKE: And he was going to check every bar and strip club in town to find
it if he had to!
>He'd heard the story of the Cloister's origin in a miracle, a cup of
>blessed wine that never ran out.
CROW: Ahh, big deal! O'Leary's Pub has a Bottomless Cup of Blessed Wine
and All-You-Can-Eat Chicken Strip Basket for $4.99 every Friday.
TOM: Isn't "Cloister" a Pokemon?
MIKE: Probably.
> It did not seem likely to Jean-Luc, but Marrissa
>had found the story to be fascinating, telling him all about the miracle
>and the Cloister that grew up around it.
TOM: Soon, Picard was fast asleep.
> The Cloister had originally been for that of contemplative order,
>who still resided in a section of the buildings. However one day, after a
>great storm, the abbot at the time
CROW: HEEEEEY ABBOOOOOOOOOTT!!!
> had offered the use of the Cloister's
>Sanctuary for first communion. However the wine supply had been low, and
>the abbot considered forgoing the wine for the girls among them.
TOM: Abbott Smooth makes his move, heh heh heh.
> So the
>girls were lined up last. When the girls came, the cup was still full,
>when the girls were done, the cup started to overflow.
MIKE: There's enough symbolism in that last sentence to put a dozen psych
majors through grad school.
> That night, reflecting over the day, the abbot decided to start the
>first school in the kingdom for girls of all classes.
TOM: I once knew an ab bot. Annoying chap - kept flexing all his
overdeveloped processors trying to impress all the femdroids.
CROW: That's nothing, I once met an AbFabBot - all it did was chain smoke
and obsess about LaCroix armor plates.
> Not many nobles had
>ever attended. In fact, Princess Brittany had been the first member of the
>Royal family to even occasionally attend the classes.
TOM: The rest of 'em had been content being drooling idiots.
> Every year since,
>the monks took in at least two-dozen girls for the five-year program of
>reading, writing, and arithmetic.
MIKE: [Redneck] Wow! Them gurls gets a fith-grade edgy-cashun!
> With the glowing terms that Marrissa had talked about it will
>reading the planetary briefing,
TOM: Hah! Marrissa makes Riker do her homework for her!
> Jean-Luc had expected a large and stately
>building.
CROW: If it's Wayne Manor, I'm leaving now.
> Not a somewhat dilapidated collection of gray stone buildings.
>Nor did he even think to start looking on the very edge of the city. After
>all, this was a center of learning.
MIKE: Let Parliament prorate the education budget enough times and this is
what happens.
> Though in reflection, Jean-Luc thought
>as he walked up to knock on the main door, cloisters were not generally the
>best looking buildings in town.
> A tired monk answered the door.
CROW: Tony Shaloub's been up all night, obsessively straightening the nunnery.
> "I'm looking for King Richard,"
>Jean-Luc said. The monk gestured outwardly.
TOM: Because gesturing inwardly would be physically unlikely, not to
mention quite painful.
> "He's already left?" The
>monk nodded.
>
TOM: And yet another scene ends with a tense, dramatic climax. Sometimes.
However, this scene contained neither tension, nor drama. It might
have a climax, depending on how much of whatever you've taken.
> The cut on Lord Henry's arm and his increasing fatigue were taking
>it's toll.
CROW: Seventy-five cents per mile.
> His sword wasn't quite as high in it's attacks. Avery had
>slowed to match Henry, now it was time to pushing that to his advantage.
TOM: So he got even slower.
>With a hard swipe high, he moved in as Lord Henry reached to block high. A
>second strike, lower caught Lord Henry right behind his wrist, cutting to
>the bone.
MIKE: Say, how long has this battle scene gone on?
CROW: At least a chapter or two, I think.
MIKE: Wow. That's impressive - Stevie's Starship battle usually don't
last more than a paragraph or two.
TOM: Say what you will - Ratliff likes his extremes.
> As Lord Henry's sword began to fall, Avery reversed his stroke,
>digging a wide cut from Henry's right breast up to his neck, where it ended
>in a spurt of blood. Avery backed off and let Lord Henry fall to the
>ground.
TOM: There being no place else to fall.
CROW: I love a good action scene! I wish we were watching one now.
> For a moment Avery watched Lord Henry on the ground, as the last
>convulsions of life left him. He kept his bloodstained sword at the ready
>for several minutes before lowering it and breaking eye contact with his
>foe.
CROW: So apparently, the Ellosians haven't quite hit on the concept of
"Call 9-1-1" yet.
> With a deep breath he turned where he knew his sister was waiting.
TOM: [Avery] You're next, ya little brat!
> Standing beside his sister was his father with the biggest grin
>he'd ever seen. "You're back!" Avery exclaimed, dropping his sword and
>rushing over to his father, the King.
MIKE: Who quickly gutted him with a swipe from his short sword.
TOM: [King] *Never* let your guard down, kid!
> "Good job, Avery," the King said as he embraced his son. "I was a
>little worried at first, but you did quite well.
CROW: [King] I woulda rushed in and saved you, but y'know - prime directive
and all that.
> I didn't even see that
>final move coming."
> "I was slowing down to match Lord Henry's speed. Then I sped up
>suddenly and he wasn't ready," Avery said, standing back to look at his
>father. "Are you back for god now?"
MIKE: [King] Yeah, I'm giving Him a lift to the Pearly Gates. You
wanna go with?
> "Yes, Avery, I am," the King said, placing his arm around his son
>and daughter. "I'll have a little more to do, but you've shown me that I
>can delegate more to you.
TOM: [King] Job's all yours. I'm taking Duchesses Viki and Niki and
heading for the beach! Ciao, kid!
> Now, I've heard from various sources that the
>meat pie at the Golden Rinnebeast is fit for a King. Let's go test that."
MIKE: Okay guys, remember: Golden Rinnebeast Meat Pies = Good. Got it?
CROW: Wait, I'm confused. Meat pies at the Golden Rinnebeast are...?
MIKE: Good.
CROW: Oh! I get it now!
>
>--
>Stephen Ratliff
>
>
>"To hell with crack, heroin, whiskey, tobacco. Writing is far and away
>the single most addictive thing in the universe, IMHO." ~ Greywolf
>
TOM: You know, when I die, I think I'm going to have that as my epitaph.
MIKE: What, Greywolf's quote?
TOM: No, this entire story.
MIKE: That's it. I'm not paying for your tombstone.
>Path: sn-us!sn-xit-06!sn-xit-04!supernews.com!newsfeed.news2me.com!
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>not-for-mail
>From: Stephen Ratliff <ste...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Royal and Prime Directives 17/18 (Marrissa Stories)
>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office
>Message-ID: <bs7srusvp1aahdk88...@4ax.com>
>X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572
MIKE: Fort Agent, Wisconsin! Home to the Longest Paper Clip Chain in
America!
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>Date: Tue, 29 Oct 2002 04:48:56 GMT
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>(Mon, 28 Oct 2002 20:48:56 PST)
>NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 28 Oct 2002 20:48:56 PST
TOM: Wait, he posted it at 4:48 AM on the 29th *and* at 20:48 PM
on the 28th?!? What's the deal?
MIKE: I think that's just the time difference between Roanoke & London.
TOM: Oh.
CROW: You sound disappointed.
TOM: Ah, I was just hoping Stephen had access to a time machine or
something equally cool.
MIKE: Why?
CROW: Because second-hand coolness is as close as Servo'll ever get.
TOM: Why I oughta...
MIKE: Guys? Can we settle it *after* Pearl finishes torturing us?
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:161585
>
>Title: Royal and Prime Directives
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen at trekiverse dot org
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Part: NEW 17/18
>Rating: [PG]
>Summary: The crew of Enterprise-E investigates a planet where a
>starship Captain crashed 20 years ago has been ruling a small nation
>
>Chapter Sixteen:
>Your Final Orders
>
TOM: And hurry it up - the kitchen closes in 15 minutes!
> Jean-Luc returned to the Golden Rinnebeast to check himself out,
MIKE: [Picard] Hey, check me out! Heh. I am one foxy bald admiral!
>and pick up his equipment. As he approached, he noticed the royal guards
>standing outside. He approached and asked the lead guard, "May I assume
>that King Richard is inside?"
TOM: Aye! He's back from the Crusades!
> "His Majesty is enjoying a family dinner," the guard said.
CROW: Doh! So much for post-coup attempt security!
MIKE: [Guard] C'mon, I'll take you to him. Hey, that looks kinda heavy -
want me to carry it for you?
> "Inform the King that Captain Picard has a message for him,"
>Jean-Luc said. "Is there a problem with me accessing my room?"
> "No, I will walk you to the staircase before taking your message to
>the King," the lead guard said.
>
TOM: [Guard] And then maybe we could go to the movies sometime.
> Three minutes later, Captain Picard's packing was interrupted with
>a knock on his door. "The King would like you to join him for the
>remainder of his dinner."
>
CROW: You're just in time to pick the scraps from His Royal Platter.
TOM: [grumbling] He'll probably order the freaking meat pie.
> Jean-Luc Picard entered the private dinning room to find the King
>sitting with his son on his left and daughter on his right.
MIKE: They'd all gorged themselves senseless on meat pies!
> "Jean-Luc,
>have a seat," the King said, motioning to a seat across from him. "Would
>you like something to eat? Your daughter told mine that the meat pie here
>was excellent and she was definitely right.
ALL: [dully] As usual.
> Madame, put Jean-Luc on my bill."
[Crow makes a quacking noise]
> "Who can refuse the Golden Rinnebeast's meat pies?" Jean-Luc said.
TOM: Since Tony Soprano bought them out? *Nobody*!
>"If it wasn't for the fact that she's married to the owner, I'd suggest you
>steal the cook for the palace."
MIKE: King Richard *IS* Pierce Brosnan *AS* Steve McQueen *IN* "The Thomas
Meat Pie Affair"!
> "At the very least, I'll arrange for regular delivery - though
>things tend to get cold by the time it reaches my table," the King said.
MIKE: Sheesh, he's the king and he *still* always gets served last.
TOM: Probably because the cooks get confused by his complicated orders,
like "No lettuce", "No tomato", or "I don't want fries with that".
>"I assume we need to talk?"
CROW: Well, it *is* a basic communication skill.
> "Yes," Jean-Luc said. "And I'll have a large slice of that pie,
>Madame."
> As the pie was placed in front of Jean-Luc, the King said, "That
>will be all, Madame. Tell the guard that we do not wish to be disturbed."
MIKE: Any further.
> The cook left quickly. Only after the cook was gone did Jean-Luc
>speak up. "Are you sure you want your children in on this?"
TOM: [King] Hey, if *I* go down, *they* go down!
> "In this world, they've become two and three on my chain of
>command, and I know the folly of not letting my command team not know my
>orders," the King said.
CROW: The whole "Guess What I Want Done Now" program was a dismal failure.
> "Plus, they're Federation Citizens,
TOM: [scoffs] On what grounds? They've never been to the frickin'
Federation in their entire lives!
CROW: Daddy's a starship captain and mommy's a starship doctor.
TOM: And they deserted their posts to become ROYALTY! Try again,
Perry Mason!
> the Prime
>Directive's restrictions on what we can tell them doesn't apply. I doubt
>my orders are classified enough to have other previsions apply."
TOM: Post-visions, though, may occur. Consult your ophthalmologist.
> "They aren't," Jean-Luc said. "Given your situation it might be
>advisable to give your children the line officer's field training course
>though."
MIKE: [Picard] Someday, they may want to crash a starship into a planet
of their own, you know.
> "We have field training for that now?" the King said.
CROW: Yes. All you need is a field.
> "Yes, it's how my daughter managed to get her rank," Jean-Luc said.
TOM: Well, along with intimidation, blackmail and sheer outright bribery.
>"She's actually never attended the Academy, save for a couple Security
>Seminars."
MIKE: Admiral Tony Robbins!
> "The short blond who helped out Avery?" the King asked. Jean-Luc
>nodded. "Excellent officer. How old is she again?"
CROW: [King] Cause, you know my wife just died so I'm in the market again...
> "Thirteen, almost fourteen," Jean-Luc said.
TOM: Just in case you need a fresh dose of the absurd to wash out any
last vestiges of normalcy.
> "And you made her your Chief of Security... Jean-Luc, they must
>think you're crazy," the King said.
MIKE: [Picard] Well, confidentially - I *AM* CRAZY! HOOHOOHOOHOO!
BLAHBLAHBLAH!! AHOOOOOGGA!!!
> "Some did, but not many after Starbase 72's Security Competition,"
>Jean-Luc said.
> "How well did the Enterprise do," the King said.
TOM: [Picard] We blew the rest of Starfleet away! Literally!
> "We won four out of the nine events, and came in second on two
>more," Jean-Luc replied. "She came in second the individual bladed weapons
>contest with bat'leth."
CROW: Third with a mayonnaise spreader.
> "So, she's good with a sword," Avery interrupted. "Brittany would
>probably find her a challenge."
> "And yourself?" the King asked his son.
MIKE: [Avery] Oh, she'd wipe the floor with me, no problem.
> "Brittany beats me, unless she's in a dress," Avery admitted.
CROW: She's the best naked swordsgirl in all of Ellosia!
> "Should I arrange a challenge before we leave?" Jean-Luc asked.
MIKE: Yes, let's have all the major characters try to kill each other.
TOM: All joking aside, you may have an idea.
MIKE: Did I sound like I was joking?
> "I could use the practice," Brittany said. "I just know I'm going
>to be stuck too much in court while I'm in Odyssey."
CROW: [Brittany] The destruction of property lawsuits alone will have me
tied up for years!
> "I'll order her down then," Jean-Luc said. "Richard, I've arranged
>for the starship Sir Edward Pellew
MIKE: The USS Sir Edward Pellew - winner of the "Longest Starship Name"
award of 2378.
> to assist you in removing any of the
>advanced technology that can be removed.
TOM: [Picard] We'll be starting with your fillings, so eat up while you can.
> There is nothing we can or should
>do to the Odyssey's hull or space frame, of course.
CROW: I dunno, a little coat of Turtle Wax wouldn't hurt.
> Our projections say it
>will take a couple of years to do it properly and without the notice of the
>general population."
MIKE: They'll have one officer who spends the next two years outside the
castle yelling "Look!" and pointing the other way.
> "That's just about what I figured," the King said. "The Computer
>Cores alone will take a year, with the reinforcement we'll need as they're
>removed."
CROW: Boy, it's tough to get new memory chips out there.
> "For the moment, you'll report to me," Jean-Luc said. "Commander
>Lozano of the Pellew will report to you,
MIKE: [Picard] And for some reason, we all report to Missy Elliot.
> and is assigned to the project for
>the duration."
> "How long will you be in the sector?" the King said.
CROW: [King] You wanna come by Sunday and watch the game?
> "Another two months," Jean-Luc said. "They're giving the
>Enterprise a thorough shakedown cruise. Afterwards, we'll be doing the
>three on one off Neutral Zone rotation.
TOM: It's the phattest new dance groove in the quadrant!
> Even when we're on that, your
>chain of command will go through me after the sector commander. Any
>questions, Richard?"
MIKE: [King] Yeah, could you repeat all that, I missed it.
> "How often do you want reports?" the King asked.
> "Every three weeks," Jean-Luc said, finishing off his meat pie.
CROW: [Picard] I love bossing kings around! It's fun! BWAHAHAHAH!!!
>"You're right, this is good."
>
TOM: Meanwhile, the malevolent entity in the meat pies slowly takes
over their minds!
> Admiral Jean-Luc Picard exited his ready room a couple days later
>to find all of his Command Crew on duty for the first time since the
>mission began.
MIKE: Thank God they finally got Riker sobered up.
> He approached his seat as he said, "Number One, Counselor,
>I assume our business with the Odyssey is concluded?"
TOM: [HAL] Daisy, Daisy, give me yoooour answeeeerrrrrr doooooooooo...
> "Aye, sir," Riker replied. "Thanks for the shore leave."
> "You're welcome, Number One," Jean-Luc said. "Marrissa, may I hope
>your challenge with Princess Brittany went well?"
CROW: A Dance-Dance Revolution challenge?
> "You could, but you'd be wrong," Marrissa said. "She beat me,
>rather resoundingly."
[Stunned silence]
TOM: Marrissa - lost?
MIKE: I suddenly feel a cool draft you know where.
CROW: Be still my stricken heart!
> "So much for your perfect record," Riker said.
> "My record has never been perfect," Marrissa replied.
TOM: [Marrissa] Though the heads of all those who defeat me always
mysteriously end up miles from their bodies.
> "Dad sees to
>that. Though at the moment I do have need of some cannon fodder.
MIKE: As opposed to canon fodder.
TOM: That's what they use in the "Enterprise" Script Room.
>Starboard Aft Gym after shift perhaps, Commander?"
CROW: o/` Mister Riker - Cannon Fodder! Here he is at - Camp Granada! o/`
> "I'm afraid I've got some paper work to handle," Riker said. "The
>day-to-day commander for the last week apparently created an update report
>and evaluation for every shift she served.
MIKE: Darn her for being efficient and conscientious, anyway!
> Captain, perhaps you can take
>her on."
> "Darn, foiled by my own hard work," Marrissa smiled.
CROW: [Marrissa] More people to be "handled" later.
> "I guess I'll
>be finishing up the Security Department Personnel Evaluations, or doing my
>school work tonight."
TOM: Let's see, the fitness of people who carry large phasers and guard
the ship's command crew, or the Smoot-Hawley Tariff. Hmmmm...
> "School work first, young lady," Jean-Luc said,
TOM: Oh. Well, cancel the previous riff, then.
> staring directly at
>his adopted daughter.
MIKE: Oh, that's dangerous.
CROW: Yeah, staring directly at Marrissa can fry your retinas.
> "The evaluations aren't due for another ten days.
>Then we'll talk about using my first officer for cannon fodder."
MIKE: [Picard] I want to use him first.
> "Aye sir," Marrissa responded. "Incoming request for projected
>rendezvous time from the Starship Hood."
TOM: Yo yo yo! It's Stizzarships from da hood!
> "Well, it seems that Captain DeSoto is wishes to see us, Number
>One," Jean-Luc said.
MIKE: [Riker] Shoot! Tell him I'm not here - I owe him money!
> "Ensign Sachs,
CROW: Mistake your wife for a hat!
> set a course for the Beta Hydra system, warp seven,"
>Riker ordered.
> "Course set and laid in, sir," the girl at the helm. "Projected
>rendezvous with Starship Hood is nine hours."
TOM: [Sachs] Including an hour stopover at the Earl Grey Tea farms on
Lipton V.
MIKE: [Picard] Excellent work, Sachs! Consider yourself promoted!
> "Engage."
>
[All hum the TNG fade out theme]
> The King peered through the telescope that the astronomer had set
>up in the Royal Gardens.
MIKE: He had a great view into the bedroom of the Baroness next door.
> Through it he could see the Starship Enterprise,
>looking for all like a toy hung from the heavens.
TOM: Then he realized he was looking into the window of Toys'R'Us.
> He watched for a moment
>as it rotated, and went off into warp.
CROW: Wow, that's a pretty powerful 14th century telescope he's got there.
> "Astronomer, I see nothing,"
MIKE: [Schultz] I see nossing, nooooossing!
> the King said, turning to look at his
>children "Did either of you see this object before I arrived?"
TOM: [Brittany] Like, tcha! It was the starship thingy, dahd!
CROW: [Avery] You gotta excuse the old man - starting to forget things.
> "No, Father," Brittany said. "And don't bother asking Avery, he
>was paying too much attention to Hayley."
MIKE: [Avery] What were you saying, Brittany?
> "I can never pay too much attention to Hayley," Avery said, with
>his arm around the girl he was to marry in two days.
TOM: Oh good, she has him under her thumb already.
> "Astronomer, I admire your efforts to map the stars, but next time,
>I'd prefer to see stars, planets, and nebulae," the King said.
CROW: [Astronomer] But sire, a giant comet - heading right for us!!
MIKE: [King] No no, *just* stars, planets and nebulae! Comets bore me.
>"I understand that there is a rather nice nebula that can be see towards
>the south west this time of year with the aid of a telescope."
TOM: [King] Like, say, the one we have right here!
> "Father, you have a message from the Fleet," Brittany said, looking
>up to indicate the stars.
CROW: Rear Admiral J Lo is calling with a bootygram.
> "Perhaps you should read it while the Astronomer
>finds your nebula."
> The King took the parchment from his daughter. "I'll say one thing
>for Jean-Luc, he chooses good paper,"
MIKE: [King] It's so soft! And it's even 2-ply!
> he said as he unfolded the note.
>"The Pellew will be here tomorrow.
CROW: They're sending a romantic skunk?
TOM: [Pepe LePew] Eet ees love, non?
> Perhaps we better settle some of our
>other issues before she arrives."
> "Like what, Father?" Avery asked.
MIKE: [King] Our share of the syndication rights.
> "Who to we give the Dukedom of Fasstime two,
CROW: Fast Times II: Spicoli's Revenge!
> and who do we have
>take charge of the Army," the King said.
CROW: How about Pauly Shore? He's in the army now.
MIKE: Eww, bad!
TOM: Ten points off for bad pun. And fifty more points for referencing
Pauly Shore.
> "Grandfather Avtra can handle the Army," Hayley said.
> "Your Grandfather is one of the Dukes, I can't leave him in command
>of all the divisions ...
TOM: No, wait, foul! Back it up!
MIKE: What now?
TOM: If the king and queen were *both* starship officers, how can one of
the local Dukes possibly be the kid's grandfather?
CROW: Umm, honorary title?
TOM: Fat Chance! I call do-over!
MIKE: So you *want* to read this whole thing again?
TOM: [hastily] I withdraw my call.
> one of them is supposed to be reporting directly
>to me," the King said.
> "How about having that division report to Lord Sidney at the
>Admiralty while you search for a successor?" Brittany suggested.
MIKE: Yes, let's have the army report to the navy. That won't cause any
problems with the chain of command.
> "That won't work," Avery said. "I'd suggest either Colonel James
>Dunsen, or Colonel Daniel FitzAvtra."
> "Hmmm... Brittany, have the Colonels report to me as soon as
>possible," the King said.
TOM: Like Colonel Kira Nerys.
MIKE: And Colonel Sherman T. Potter.
CROW: And Colonel Tom Parker.
> "Lord Sidney will be heading all our Armed
>Forces.
MIKE: I hope it's Sidney Poitier.
TOM: They call me - GENERAL Tibbs!
> Avery, let him know Hayley, can you arrange for your grandfather
>to meet me discretely when he comes into town. Who are our candidates for
>the Fasstime Dukedom?
CROW: Baron AlGore, Lord Dubya, and some commoner guy named Nader.
> "That's my study," Brittany said. "The Fasstime line is very thin.
TOM: [Brittany] We think it's a lack of protein or something.
>For the last six generations they've just had a single heir. Duke Loniel's
>father was legally a bastard, at that.
MIKE: His father is Doug Herzog?
CROW: Maybe it's Jamie Kellner.
TOM: Or even Bill Maher.
> If we go out seven generations,
TOM: We'll probably see Captain Archer.
>I've found a link to the Earl of Arlipor whose head Avery had chopped off
>a couple days ago,
CROW: [Avery] Oops.
TOM: Oh, *good one*, Avery!
> which I guess makes young Virgil a possibility. The
>best one, however would be the case of Lord Henry's own illegitimate
>offspring, in particular his twins with the Countess of Dunsen on the Sea.
TOM: And her fresh, tasty cans of tuna,
>The red hair pretty much told us that It's his instead of the Late Earl
>Drake's."
CROW: By that logic, Nicole Kidman and Carrot Top are practically twins.
MIKE: You ought to be shot just for suggesting that.
> "What about the illegitimate problem?" Avery said.
CROW: Well if it's an illegitimate problem, it's not really a problem, is it?
> "In Fasstime? You have to be kidding. A declaration of heredity
>from the Bishop of Dunsen on the River and that's solved," Brittany said.
>"The Bishop is in town too."
ALL: It's Da Bishop!
MIKE: Don't do it, Vic! Don't name 'im da heir!
TOM: *Voom!*
MIKE: *snap* We was too late!
> "That still leaves us with a minor child as Duke," the King said.
CROW: They should get a major child. At least one with an IMDb entry.
> "The Countess, and one of the Dukes, plus someone from here, and
>you've got a good core Regency council," Avery said.
MIKE: Plus, it's the basis for a really funny bar joke.
> "Duke Nolan did a
>good job with Duchess Desiree fifteen years ago."
TOM: Take that how you will, folks.
> "We'll give that to council for discussion," the King said, looking
>at the Astronomer.
MIKE: Who's just killed Kid Dinosaur. Bad timing there.
> "Let's see if he's got the McAllister C-5 Nebula in
>view."
>
TOM: [Richard Harris] For one brief, stupid moment...
>--
>Stephen Ratliff
>
>
>"To hell with crack, heroin, whiskey, tobacco. Writing is far and away
>the single most addictive thing in the universe, IMHO." ~ Greywolf
>
CROW: At this point, I'm not entirely sure, but I think that writing may be
far and away the single most addictive thing in the universe.
MIKE: Well what about crack and heroin?
TOM: Or whiskey and tobacco?
CROW: Fuhgeddaboutit!
>Path: sn-us!sn-xit-01!sn-xit-04!supernews.com!newsfeed.news2me.com!
>newsfeed2.earthlink.net!newsfeed.earthlink.net!
>stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!newsread1.prod.itd.earthlink.net.POSTED!
>not-for-mail
>From: Stephen Ratliff <ste...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Royal and Prime Directives 18/18 (Marrissa Stories)
MIKE: Hang on, guys, we're in the home stretch.
[Ragged cheering]
CROW: Ah, he could still slip in another chapter midway through this one.
>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office
>Message-ID: <fa8sru8qrhhvtths5...@4ax.com>
>X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572
>MIME-Version: 1.0
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
>Lines: 93
>Date: Tue, 29 Oct 2002 04:51:37 GMT
>NNTP-Posting-Host: 63.188.161.23
TOM: Live, from Studio City, it's "The 63.188.161.23 Show", with
your host, the lovely 63.188.161.23!
>X-Complaints-To: ab...@earthlink.net
>X-Trace: newsread1.prod.itd.earthlink.net 1035867097 63.188.161.23
>(Mon, 28 Oct 2002 20:51:37 PST)
>NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 28 Oct 2002 20:51:37 PST
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:161587
>
>Title: Royal and Prime Directives
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen at trekiverse dot org
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Part: NEW 18/18
CROW: Let's just go. The story's over. Let's go. [goes offscreen]
MIKE: Uh, Crow?
CROW: [O.S.] Nope. It's 18 of 18. We're done. Buhbye.
MIKE: I think we have to actually read it before it counts.
CROW: [O.S.] Fine. [Comes back and sits in his seat] Spoilsport.
>Rating: [PG]
>Summary: The crew of Enterprise-E investigates a planet where a
>starship Captain crashed 20 years ago has been ruling a small nation
>
CROW: Grand Fenwick?
>Epilogue
>
> Prince Avery stood on the balcony overlooking the historic old
>capital of Ellosia.
TOM: The one they ground beneath their hull?
MIKE: Well, he didn't say it was a *tall* balcony.
> It was not often that he visited old Verifor Castle.
>He was in the city representing his father in the installation of
>Archbishop Xavier as Patriarch of Ellosia.
CROW: Cyclops and Storm were hooking him up to Cerbero now.
MIKE: [Picard] Hmmm, handsome chap - looks quite familiar, actually.
> Tradition said the King
>couldn't be in town.
MIKE: It was the same weekend as the Galactic Amway Convention.
> He'd hoped that his sister would get this job, but he
>was the heir, and plus the newly knighted Sir Brittany was on her
>honeymoon.
TOM: So which is more disturbing - the fact that they made a 13-year old
girl a knight, or that she married her first lover, who just happens
to be a sailor about twice her age?
CROW: Six and pick 'em.
> "Why the scowl, Prince?" said the soft voice of Duchess Desiree.
> Prince Avery turned to discover his mother-in-law standing beside
>him, dressed in full Ducal Regalia.
MIKE: And almost asphyxiated himself trying to stifle his laugh.
> "I didn't want this assignment, and I
>wish Hayley could have come with me," he said shortly.
TOM: Oh, whine whine whine! You're crown prince, kid - enjoy it!
> "But she's
>suffering from morning sickness.
CROW: Sex just automatically results in pregnancy in Steve's universe,
doesn't it?
> She can't stand riding, and can't keep
>anything down until late in the afternoon."
MIKE: It's just side effects from finding out she's married to this guy.
> "I was just like that when I was having her. I didn't have that
>with my other children though. I must remember to stop by to see her while
>she's still suffering." Desiree said.
CROW: [Desiree] I do so enjoy - the suffering!
> Then seeing Avery's worried look, she
>continued. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal."
> "Where is the young Duke of Fasstime?" Avery asked.
TOM: Heading to his class with Ray Walston.
> "Last I saw of young Lionel, he was running away from his sister
>and Lea," Desiree said. "Who would have thought that a Duke would be
>afraid of spiders?"
MIKE: Yeah, after all, they're just icky, hairy, venomous, eight-legged
horrors that can paralyze or kill with a single bite from their
dripping fangs and -
TOM: YAAAAAHHH!!!! [ducks under seat]
MIKE: Tom?
CROW: There are *no* spiders, Servo, he was just talking about them.
TOM: [peeks up] Heh! I'm not scared. I was just looking for..
> "Isn't there a spider in the Fasstime coat of arms?" Avery
>recalled.
TOM: YAAAAAHHH!!!! [ducks back under seat]
CROW: Oh come on up, ya big babybot!
MIKE: We promise, no more spider talk.
> "Yes," Desiree said. "How is your sister doing?"
TOM: [emerging] Heh. Okay, we're safe. No rhinoceroses under the seats.
MIKE: [blandly] Of course not.
> "She's taking a cruise with her new husband, and generally trying
>to stay out of the lime light after the outcry that followed her
>knighting," Avery said.
CROW: Ah, no big deal. She's just the latest in a long line of eccentric
royals.
> "Then she'll be Father's representative in the
>Fasstime Regency Council for a while."
MIKE: Then he plans on making her Attorney General.
> "I'm glad I didn't draw the short straw on that one," Desiree said.
>"Murdock gets that job this time."
TOM: Well, at least he has B.A. and Face to help him.
> "The Duke of Avtra gets to work with a regency council who's most
>powerful members are both female ... this could be fun to watch," Avery
>said.
MIKE: [Avery] In fact, I may sell tickets and popcorn.
> "But only from a distance," Desiree said.
TOM: Duchess Desiree's being played by Bette Midler.
CROW: At least it's not Barbra Streisand.
> "I do not envy your
>sister. It's cold out here."
TOM: o/` It's getting cold out here! So put on all your clothes! o/`
> "Perhaps we should go inside."
>
CROW: [Avery] So have I ever told you what a foxy mother-in-law you are?
> Lieutenant Calgary entered the ship's bar in the company of his
>friends,
TOM: Lieutenant Hudson's Bay and Ensign Medicine Hat.
> having just been released from sickbay. His walk was still a
>little wobbly, from the stretching he'd received from Lord Henry's rack,
>causing him to stumble every once in a while, but he refused all help.
MIKE: On the bright side, he's now one of the few people who can refer to
Manute Bol as "Shorty".
> As he entered, he spotted Lieutenant Picard sitting in the corner
>next to the three-dimensional chess set.
CROW: Possessed by an indescribable rage, the abandoned and tortured
officer flung himself at her scrawny, wringable neck.
> She was out of uniform, which
>Calgary had never seen before,
TOM: If you don't count the time they spent "exploring" the clock tower.
> dressed in a green jumpsuit.
TOM: Uh oh! I think Mike has a fan!
MIKE: Aw shucks! It's not so bad being trendy. Everyone who looks like me
is my friend!
> The young girl
>was idly playing with a black knight, while drinking something red.
MIKE: Tonight's choice was AB Positive.
> The
>chess set appeared to be set at the end of a game, the white king tipped
>over.
TOM: And the White Castle all cluttered with empty Slider boxes.
> "Excuse me, Mark," Calgary said to his companions, "but I need to
>talk to Lieutenant Picard."
CROW: [Calgary] And by "talk" I mean "beat to a bloody pulp".
> Calgary walked towards Marrissa's seat,
>stumbling on the step as he reached her.
> Instantly, Marrissa was up, preventing him from falling. Calgary,
>waved her away, and stood up.
MIKE: [Calgary] Don't touch me, vile strumpet!
> "I believe I owe you an apology, and
>thanks."
[All sigh]
MIKE: I knew it. I knew this would happen.
TOM: [Marrissa] You forgot your undying devotion and the "All hail
Marrissa", but please continue.
CROW: [Calgary] I apologize for doubting your godhood, mistress, just
don't have me tortured again!
> Marrissa sat down, and motioned the chair across from her. Calgary
>gratefully sat down.
> "You rescued me, and for that I'm grateful for that," Calgary said.
TOM: This sentence brought to you by the Council for Redundancy Council.
>"You aren't incompetent, like I had said before."
CROW: Well, y'know, except for the part where she lost you and then forgot
about you.
TOM: [sighing] Here we go, we're reaching the Marrissa boot-kissing quota.
> "Thank you," Marrissa said softly, her eyes looking directly into
>Calgary's.
CROW: Obey! Obey! Obey!
> Calgary looked away, towards his friends at the bar.
TOM: [Friend] Dude, Cal's whipped big-time!
MIKE: [Friend] Yep, he's joined the Jay Gordon Emasculation Society!
> "I still
>don't think you're command or security chief material, or even worthy of
>the rank, but that's not my call."
CROW: His call is face-masking. Fifteen yard penalty, automatic first down!
> "Some days, I don't think I am," Marrissa replied. "Care for a
>game of chess?"
TOM: How about a lovely game of Thermo-Nuclear Warfare?
> "No, I don't play, but Mark over there is quite into it," Calgary
>said. "I'll ask if he'll play you, if you'd like."
MIKE: [Mark] Hey, don't pull me into your little psycho-drama, pal!
> "Thanks," Marrissa said, before Calgary hobbled off towards his
>friends. For a while stared out at the on rushing stars, until a tall
>auburn haired engineer slid into the seat across from her.
CROW: Commander Conan O'Brien makes his move!
TOM: o/` In the yeaaaar two thousaaaand! o/`
> "I understand you need someone to play against?" the engineer
>asked.
> Marrissa smiled and asked, "white or black?"
CROW: I'm Egyptian actually.
> The engineer picked
>up the black king, and they began setting up their respective sides.
> From across the room, Commander Riker watched his Captain's
>daughter,
TOM: Then he belched and spilled his Schlitz all over Guinan's robes.
> and smiled, as he picked up his trombone, and favored the room
>with some of his beloved jazz.
MIKE: Wait, no. Not "favored" - what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah!
"Tortured"!
>--
>Stephen Ratliff
>
>
>"To hell with crack, heroin, whiskey, tobacco. Writing is far and away
>the single most addictive thing in the universe, IMHO." ~ Greywolf
>
TOM: My only friends, we have reached the end.
CROW: Is that it? Are we done?
MIKE: If we move fast enough.
TOM: Well don't just stand there, Nelson, beat feet!
[All exit]
O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]
CROW: Wow! That has to be the longest Marrissa story we've ever had to
sit through!
TOM: Not to mention the royalest.
MIKE: And hey, did it strike you that Stephen seems to have been watching
a lot of "Perry Mason" reruns lately?
CROW: Whattaya mean, "lately"?
TOM: Yeah, every few stories, he throws in a court martial or a crime
scene of some kind.
MIKE: True - remember poor Jellico in "The Walls of Jellico"?
TOM: Yeah, and Ro's obviously rigged trial in "Premier Marks-a-Lot"?
CROW: Or even the time-traveling scofflaws in "Time Sp-" - uh, "Athena
Prospects"?
MIKE: It'd almost make a TV series by itself.
TOM: Yeah, "Law & Order - Special Marrissa Unit"!
CROW: [L&O narrator] In the Starfleet justice system, the Federation is
represented by two separate yet equally important people: Marrissa,
who instigates crime, and Marrissa, who persecutes the offenders.
These are their stories.
TOM: *chungchung*
MIKE: Hey, don't be giving Dick Wolf any more...
[Mike is interrupted as the SOL experiences a small jolt]
CROW: Hey, did you feel that?
MIKE: Yeah, I did.
TOM: Me too. Wonder what's...
MAGIC VOICE: Attention, crew of the Satellite of Love, we have experienced
a minor impact event with another ship.
MIKE: Really?!? Wow! Hey, Cambot, get us Rocket # 9.
[The viewpoint switches to the outside, which shows the SOL in space
next to what is obvious a Revel model of a Star Trek ship - only with
Cinderella's-Castle type spires on the saucer.]
[Bridge]
MAGIC VOICE: The other ship is hailing us, Mike.
MIKE: Oh. Well, put it on the Hexfield, and let's chat.
[The hexfield opens to reveal Bill Corbett, resplendent in a TNG-era
standard Starfleet uniform, with the addition of a purple silk sash, fur-
lined cape, and a truly, spectacularly cheesy crown]
MAN: Greetings, primitive native beings. I am Captain Richard York of
the USS Odyssey, and you must be what's left of the crew of this
tragically unfortunate vessel.
MIKE: Uh, yeah. Hi. I'm Mike Nelson, and this is Crow and Tom. We seem
to have had a little fender bender, but I don't think...
YORK: I'm truly, truly sorry for all this. I feel a terrible burden and
responsibility for what my horrific (yet unintended) actions have
wrought.
TOM: Oh hey, it's no biggie. I bet you can't even see the scratch.
YORK: Please, I appreciate your attempts to soothe my guilt, but I can see
only one way to undo what I've done. I have no choice but to declare
myself your new captain.
CROW: Oh, sure, I - huh?
MIKE: Um, look, first - no one was hurt okay? We're all fine and dan-
YORK: Please - I know *you* don't want to be captain. You'd rather devote
your energy to your highly important naps, not to mention the
critical consumption of Cheez-Its.
MIKE: Wuh - well yeah, kinda, yeah.
YORK: And you, golden one, would have no chance to finish all those back
issues of "Justice League" that have been just piling up.
CROW: I gotta admit, that's true.
YORK: And as for you, Duke Servo, the time and effort you've spent on your
underwear collection would all be for naught.
TOM: It would?
YORK: Absolutely!
TOM: Huh. Okay.
YORK: So you can see, that since you don't want to be captain, and I do -
uh, that is, I feel the responsibility for it, I *should* be your
new captain.
[Mike & the bots huddle for a few seconds]
MIKE: Well, I'm sold. How about you guys?
CROW: Absolutely.
TOM: No doubt at all.
MIKE: So we'll just be in our rooms while you carry on with the experiments.
YORK: Excellent! [calls offscreen] Hey, Harlie, chalk up another one,
haha! Now we can [pause] - uh, wait, "experiments"?
TOM: Yeah, no big deal. Just every so often, some nutty nut girl who's
nuts will send us a rotten movie to watch.
CROW: Or some lame fan fiction to read.
MIKE: Oh, and some really bizarre rants to muddle through.
YORK: Really?!?
MIKE: Yeah, like Roger Corman films, or Coleman Francis films, or stuff
starring Joe Don Baker or Robert Z'Dar.
YORK: Did you - did you say Joe Don *Baker*?
CROW: Yeah. Oh, and how about that one net advertisement she sent us for
that so-called "Agent Action" thing?! Or all that James Cameron
conspiracy rubbish?!? Hoo, that really stunk up the place!
TOM: Oh, and how about all that Daria / Sailor Moon stuff?
YORK: Huh?
MIKE: And who can forget the Eye or Argon, and its intrepid hero, Grignr,
he of the mighty thews?
YORK: Wait now...
CROW: And of course all those durn Marrissa stories.
YORK: Muhmuhmuhmuhmarrissa?!
TOM: Oh, but I'm sure you'll do just fine.
MIKE: Yeah, hang in there, Cap'n York. We're right behind you!
CROW: Somewhere.
YORK: Hahaha. Oh, say, golly, look at the time. I gotta run.
MIKE: But, wait, what about being captain and all?
YORK: Later, okay? In fact, you're obviously in lots better shape than I
thought. Look, uh, I'll call you guys tomorrow with the insurance
info, 'kay? Buhbye! [Calling Offscreen] HARLIE! FIRE UP THE
ENGINES!! THEY KNOW MARRISSA!!!
[The hexfield closes - quickly!]
CROW: Woooo! Boy, he was easy to fish out!
MIKE: Yep - never saw it coming.
TOM: Hey, should we give out the info now?
MIKE: Yeah, let's. *ahem* To join the MiSTing Authors Dibs List, send an
e-mail to "majo...@pinky.wtower.com" with the message "subscribe
dibslist" in the message body. Don't forget to read the FAQ at
"http://www.masemware.com/mst3k/faq.shtml", don't work blue, and no
seizing control of hick feudal planets.
TOM: Yeah, especially if you're a bag of anvils like ol' York!
ALL: Hahahahaha...
CROW: Um, hey guys? You *do* realize we just talked some guy out of
getting us off of theater duty, right?
[The laughter quickly fades to uncertain grimaces and mewling as the lights
flash, taking us back to...]
[CF - Pearl stands shaking her head in disgust at Bobo, who is laid out
on a couch, moaning and clutching his quite distended belly]
BOBO: I can't believe I ate the whole thing!
PEARL: Trust me, gorillabrains, you ate all 29 pies!
BOBO: Oooooh, catfish meringue, why do you betray me so?
PEARL: Learn your limitations, ya great ape! [turns to face camera] As for
*you*, you loutheads-in-waiting, you may have survived this one...
OBSERVER: [rushing in from stage left] Madame!
PEARL: Later, pasty! Like I said, you may have survived this, but mark my
words, I'm not through with you loser yet - not by a long shot!
OBSERVER: Madame, *please*!
PEARL: I'll break you yet, Nelson! You and yer little pals too!
OBSERVER: Madame!!
PEARL: And when I do, ooooh, I'll throw a big evil party! And I won't even
invite that snotty Dr. Helen - or her goofball lab assis-
OBSERVER: Pearl!!
PEARL: WHAT?!?!?
OBSERVER: I hate to interrupt you in the middle of one of your insane
rants, but - look! [points out window]
[The sound of something going really fast, heading this way, starts
building to a crescendo]
PEARL: I don't see anything. Well, except for that one little starship
that seems to be - heading - right - *this* way?
BOBO: Ooooh, ask him if he's got any Tums.
PEARL: And what's that banner say?
OBSERVER: "Ellosia or Bust".
PEARL: Mm-hm. Well. [pause] RUUUUUUN!!!!
[Pearl & Brain Guy exist, post-haste and we fade out, only to hear the
noise of a tremendous impact. There is a slight pause, and then...]
BOBO: *Urrrrrrp!* Oh, thank you! I feel *much* better now!
**************************************************************
"ROYAL AND PRIME DIRECTIVES" BY: Stephen Ratliff
MiSTING BY: Bill Livingston (Editor), Matt Blackwell (Fashion Critic),
Freezer (Food & Recipes), Doug Gale (Weather Forecasting), Joseph
Nebus (Crosswords), Phantom (Comics Page), Michael Pullman (Classi-
fied Ads), Chris Ratcliff (Lifestyles) and Dalty Smilth (Dear Abby).
MiSTING DIBS LIST MAINTAINED BY: Michael Neylon
WATCH BY: Seiko
DAYS GO BY: And still I think of you
BALLISTIC: Ecks vs. Sever
SPECIAL GUEST STARS: Bill Corbett as Fidel Castro, Paul Chapin as Sean
"Spicoli" Penn, Edward Norton as Stephen Ratliff, and Bill Corbett
(again) as Captain Richard York
THANKS: To MiSTies, MuSTies, RATMMers, the teachers of America, Former
Treasury Secretary Albert Gallatin, the inventor of the retractable
dog leash, and a mysterious woman in a red dress & trenchcoat known
only as "Marta".
SPECIAL THANKS: To Dalty Smilth and Joseph Nebus for host seg inspiration.
"Star Trek: TNG" and all associated characters and situations are
trademark of and (c) Paramount. All rights reserved. All clones of
major characters will be confiscated and made over into villains for
major motion picture releases (Look for "Star Trek: Evil Goateed Geordi"
in theaters soon, followed by "Star Trek: Troi with a Bad Hairdo" and
"Star Trek: Dark Throwaway").
Marrissa Amber Flores Picard is not exactly trademark of or (c) Stephen
Ratliff, but this version is his own iteration of the original character,
and we respect that.
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" trademark of and (c) Best Brains, Inc. All
rights reserved. As elusive as Robert Denby!
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks
held by others is intended or should be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s) are or
should be implied. All characters in this work are fictional, and any
resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Trust me, it's better this way.
Goosio!
Keep circulating the posts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> "No, sir. I have found no evidence of a plot yet,"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
bil...@hiwaay.net http://home.hiwaay.net/~billfl
"If you're dumb, surround yourself with smart people. And if you're smart,
surround yourself with smart people who disagree with you."
Isaac Jaffee (Robert Guillaume), "Sports Night"