MSTed: Stephen Ratliff's "Falling Into Command". (2/6)

[JAREK]

>Star Trek
>The Next Generation

TOM SERVO: Or something vaguely resembling it.

>Falling Into Command

CROW: HELP!!! I've fallen into command AND I CAN'T GET UP!!!
MIKE: I wonder if Command cushions your fall....

>A Marrissa Story
>by Stephen Ratliff (srat...@runet.edu)

CROW: Stephen Ratliff... cranking out quality fanfics since 1993!

>Sequal to A New Generation

TOM SERVO: But some fanfics are more sequal than others.
MIKE: Spellchecker still not working, I see....

>This Story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
>incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used
>fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
>living or dead, is entirely coincidental

TOM SERVO: For which we're truly thankful.

>Star Trek is property of Paramount Pictures, a ViaCom company.
>The story is property of Stephen B. Ratliff, Copyright 1996.

CROW: Yeah, Ratliff's got a *big* problem with people wanting to plagiarize
his work....
MIKE: Well, there was Generations 2 by Anne-Lise Pasch...
CROW: Thanks, Mike. I worked long and hard to forget that one....

>Notice (courtesy of Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)
>
>Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be
>prosecuted;

TOM SERVO: Motive: to bring pain and loathing to the Internet.

> persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished;

MIKE: Moral: you don't need any actual talent to write a series of Star Trek
fanfics.

>persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

CROW: Plot? In a RATLIFF story? You're kidding, right?

> By order of the Author.
>
>This story is dedicated to:
>
> My Uncle George Ohlin, who has a pool,

MIKE: ... and he doesn't throw me into it with 50 pound weights strapped to
my ankles TOO often.

> and
>
> The Teachers of Cave Spring Elementry

CROW: Cuz thay lerned me to spel REEL GUUD.

> especially,
> Mrs. Wimmer, Kindergarden;
> Mrs. Price, Kindergarden;
> Mrs. Kilbane, 1st grade;
> Mrs. McCall, 2nd grade;
> Mrs. Carroll, 3rd grade;
> Mrs. Fullen, 4th grade;
> Mrs. Staley, 5th grade;
> and Mrs. Marchanko, Learning Disablities.

TOM SERVO: Try not to blame these people for the story you're about to read.
I'm sure they did their best....

> Prologue

MIKE: ... vs. anti-logue, this week on Crossfire!
TOM SERVO: Looks more like an Amateurlogue to me....

> Even with the early victory of then Captain Marrissa Picard,

CROW: Oh great... it's only the first line of the story, and already
Marrissa the Wonder Goddess has covered herself in glory! I'm
hurting already....

> the
>war of Romulan Desolution did not begin well for the Federation.

TOM SERVO [as sports announcer]: But for Marrissa and her Federation, there
would come... another day.

> The
>Romulan Cloaking device was the bane of the early days of the war.

MIKE: Sure, no reason for the Federation to break the Treaty of Algeron and
make their *own* fleet of cloaking ships, just because they're at *war*
with the Romulans....

>Soon it would be countered, but early on it was deadly.

CROW: Later on they forgot to change the batteries.

> Successful Romulan strikes to the heart of the Federation drove
>fear into the hearts of it's population. The heroism and bravery of
>the new generation gave them hope, but until they fell into command,
>confidence wasn't to return.

MIKE: Yes, everyone in the Federation waits breathlessly in anticipation of
being saved by a group of pimply-faced adolescents.
TOM SERVO: And when they fell into command, the panic REALLY started!

> This is the story of the early days of the war of Romulan
>Desolution and how the new generation fell into command ...

MIKE: So is this the Next New Generation or the New Next Generation?
CROW: Maybe it's the Pepsi Generation.
TOM SERVO: And is Desolution better or worse than Dissolution?

> Chapter One

MIKE: Audience zero.

> "You're on my turf now." The phase echoed in Marrissa's mind. The
>Commander of the Romulan forces she was facing had said that when

TOM SERVO: ... he adjusted his leather jacket and waved his switchblade under
her nose.

>Marrissa's fleet had arrived at the Romulan Starbase Five.

CROW: Located between Romulan Starbases Four and Six.

> It
>certainly looked like Admiral Saavik Jeric's turf.

MIKE: Savvy Jerk? Looks like Stephen had trouble making up a name again....
TOM SERVO: Wait a minute... isn't "Saavik" a Vulcan name?
MIKE: Tom, if Ratliff made movies, right now we'd be seeing a Vulcan starbase
with the word "Vulcan" crossed out and "Romulan" scrawled over it with
a felt-tip pen.

> Marrissa's forty
>vessels were being harassed at every turn.

CROW: Lecherous old freighters kept trying to put their hands up under their
skirts and catch them under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. It
was disgusting.
MIKE: And the Romulans kept ringing their doorbells and running away after
tee-peeing the warp nacelles.

> Her two fighter divisions
>were having better success, but not much. Attacking Romulan Starbases
>was not something that Marrissa had a lot of experience doing,

TOM SERVO: ... but when has that ever stopped her before?

> this was
>not her turf.

MIKE: Thank you. I think we've already established that this was Savvy
Jerk's turf.

>
> "The Wellington reports the Romulans keep making runs on his upper
>forward shields,"

ALL: EWWWWWWW!!!
CROW: Too much Ex-lax!

> Commander Jay Gordon said from his seat next to
>Marrissa. "They're down to 20 percent."

TOM SERVO: When it hits 10, sell! And then buy pork bellies.

> "Tell your father to invert his ship," Marrissa replied.
> "Invert?" Jay inquired.

CROW: Geez, you're second-in-command, and you're stumped by a word like
"invert"?

> "Turn it upside down," Rear Admiral Marrissa Picard answered. "It
>really makes no difference which way is up to us."

TOM SERVO: So in a way it's upside down already, so why the hell are you
wasting your time with this?!

> "Aye, sir," her husband grinned and typed a response to the
>Wellington.

MIKE: Subspace radio was inoperative, so they had to make do with teletype.

> "In fact, conn, lets do that ourselves," Marrissa ordered.
>"Nothing like the unexpected to give your enemy pause."

CROW [as Romulan commander]: Oh my GOD! THEY'RE TURNING THEIR SHIPS UPSIDE
DOWN!!! *RUN FOR YOUR LIVES*!!!

> "Captain, I'm getting no response from the Wellington," Jay
>announced, worry evident in his voice.

MIKE [as Jay]: No response from the readers, either.

> "Put the Wellington on screen," Picard ordered.
> An Ambassador class starship appeared, a Romulan scout pealing
>away,

TOM SERVO: Peals of laughter erupt from the readers as Ratliff searches for a
new proofreader....

> it's hull shaved across the bottom.

CROW [shocked]: Are they allowed to SHOW that?

> The Wellington had a gash
>across the top of her saucer, right down the middle.

MIKE: Now they had a racing stripe.

> The bridge was
>gone, and several decks below were open to space.

CROW: They're gonna need a lot of bondo!
TOM SERVO: That's what you get for putting your control center in such an
exposed area... might as well paint a bull's-eye on that thing!

> On the bridge of the Enterprise, Marrissa had a few words for it,

CROW [as Marrissa]: Oh well... better them than us!

>"Time to change the venue. Gather us together again. Kathy, have the
>fighters return. Alex, do we have a nebula nearby."

MIKE [as Alex Trebek]: Sorry, that wasn't presented as a question. How much
did you wager?
TOM SERVO: Sure, go hide in a nebula... that plot device hasn't been abused
NEARLY enough in Trek stories yet!

> "Yes, at 170 mark twenty, distance 1.34 parsecs," the Klingon at
>Ops responded. "FGC-47."
> "Ah, Clara's friend's house," Marrissa remarked.

CROW: The whole nebula? That's one BIG house!

>
> Meanwhile in the Wellington's main engineering, things were about
>to improve.

MIKE: Storywise, they couldn't get much worse....
TOM SERVO: Maybe the Kid's Crew are all getting hauled off to daycare where
they belong?

> Jacquelynn Christine Gordon was

CROW: ... about to break out the really good hash she scored on Rigel IV.

> the Kid's Crew Captain on
>the Wellington. Her father, the Captain, though a lot of her.

TOM SERVO: ... because his daughter always seemed to get the high-quality
toot.

> During a
>battle she was posted in Main Engineering as a back up commander in
>event of a bridge failure.

MIKE: Never mind that all the senior engineers had four years at the Academy
and years of experience in the Fleet....

> Normal she would be second in line in
>Engineering for command,

CROW: Normal?
TOM SERVO: Maybe it's Abby Normal from Young Frankenstein....
MIKE [as game show contestant]: I'll take "Words That Look Out Of Place In A
Ratliff Fanfic" for $200, Alex.

> but the Chief Engineer had been injured as a
>result of a coolant leak.

MIKE: His attempts to make a matter-antimatter bong ending tragically...

> It didn't surprise Lynn, as she was called,
>when the computer announced. "Command transferred to Main Engineering,
>Jacquelynn Gordon now in command."

TOM SERVO: It doesn't surprise us either, I'm sorry to say....

> What it announced next, however made
>her stomach tie itself into knots. "Bridge and deck two destroyed, hull
>breach on decks 3,4, and 5."

CROW: Quick! Get the duct tape!

> Fortunately, Lynn was not one to dwell on the personal consequences
>of that statement once she got command, as both her mother and father
>were on that bridge.

TOM SERVO: Far be it from *any* Kid's Crew member to feel remorse over the
deaths of others....

> "Send damage control teams to seal off the
>effected areas.

CROW [as Lynn]: We've got to seal up those plot holes before we lose our
whole audience!

> Spick, helm is being transferred to your station.

TOM SERVO: Yo, Steve! What's with the racial slur?
MIKE [as Lynn]: Wop, take us to warp eight! Chink, damage report! Wetback,
take evasive action!

>French, you have tactical.

CROW [as French]: Ah, oui, I have that thing....

> Computer change master status display to
>Main Viewscreen, forward view."

ALL [singing]: Fooooorward vieeeeew... *Fooooorward vieeeew*... Foooorwaaaard
VIEEEEEW!... FOOOOOORWAAAAAAARD VIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW!!!

> Lynn Gordon shot off in rapid fire.
>Then noticing the shocked faces of the crew,

MIKE: ... as helpless engineers died under the withering hail of phaser fire.

> no her crew now, she
>continued. "You heard the Computer, I'm in command now.

TOM SERVO [as Lynn]: I'm the god! I'M THE GOD!!!

> Now snap to
>it."

ALL: [snap their fingers repeatedly]
CROW [as Lynn]: Do it, or no more milk and cookies after lunch for you!

> Immediately the crew snapped

MIKE: ... under the strain of being pushed around by a rugrat.

> to the bidding of their new adolescent
>commander. Some actually preferred to be under her command. Lynn was
>known to have a much more easy going style of command than her strict
>father.

CROW: She let the crew stay up late having pillow fights and watching
subspace TV.
MIKE: Who needs discipline on a military vessel anyway?

> "Message from the Enterprise, Mrs. Gordon," a Engineer who had
>taken up the duties of Operations.

TOM SERVO: [imitates sound of an arrow hitting its target]
CROW [as Eric Idle]: Message for you, sir...
MIKE: So who's she married to? Jerry Lee Lewis?

> "What is it? and it's Lynn, I'm only twelve," the young
>acting-Captain replied.

MIKE: Yes, I'm your El Supremo Ruler of Everything... but call me Lynn,
because I'm only twelve.
TOM SERVO: I think Junior Achievement has gone a bit too far this time....

> "They are requesting our status," he replied.
> "I'll respond," Lynn said. "Spick make us look dead.

CROW [as Spick]: Right. Hey everybody! Fall out of your chairs on count of
three! One... two...
MIKE [as Lynn]: And when you're done with that, make us sit up and beg.

> Wellington
>to Enterprise."

TOM SERVO [as Enterprise]: Sorry, we didn't order any beef over here.

> "Enterprise," her older brother Jay's voice came worried. "What
>happened Wellington?"

CROW [as Lynn]: Got caught in a Ratliff plot twist. Made a real mess.

> "The scout sheared off our bridge," Lynn replied. "Jacquelynn
>Gordon now in command. What are your orders?"

MIKE [as Jay]: We'll have 450 Quarter Pounders, 300 Big Macs, 750 fries...

> "Move up behind and below the Enterprise, Lynn," Jay responded.
>"We'll cover your bridge problem until you can

TOM SERVO [as Jay]: ... find a witch and build a new bridge out of her.

> rig some shielding
>there."
> "Actually Jay, I've got an idea," Lynn announced. "They're are
>quite a bit of ships between me and you. If you can chase one over
>here, I'll play dead until you arrive."

MIKE: And if anyone can understand how this paragraph makes any sense
whatsoever, please drop us a line. Thank you.

> There was a pause as Jay discussed Lynn's plan with his wife and
>commanding officer. Then he returned, "Agreed, we'll be over there in
>five minutes. Enterprise out."

CROW: It's so embarrassing when your wife makes you check with her before you
can go anywhere....

> Chapter Two

ALL: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!!!
TOM SERVO: Are we ever going to get tired of that joke?
MIKE: I doubt it....

> Captain Deanna Riker was enjoying her tour of Utopia Planate Ship
>Yards orbiting Mars.

TOM SERVO: Vast empty space and soulless equipment comforted her somehow.
MIKE [as John Cleese]: And now for something completely different...

> She was due to assume command of a starship
>sometime soon.

CROW: Even though she was over fourteen.

> She didn't know which, but felt comfortable in the
>knowledge that Star Fleet wouldn't give her anything she couldn't
>handle.

MIKE: Deanna always placed her faith in mindless bureaucracy.

> She suspected that she'd get either a Intrepid class or one of
>the new Farragut class transport ships.

CROW: Actually, she'd probably get the flagship of the HugeGut class, the USS
Montgomery Scott.

> One thing was for certain, she
>wasn't getting one of the ship's of the line. Only experienced Captains
>got Ambassador, Galaxy, Nebula, or Nova Class Starships.

TOM SERVO: Experienced captains or pushy, bratty twelve-year olds.
Whichever.

> Of course that didn't stop her from coveting one of them,

MIKE: Now, now... thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's starship....

> as she
>overlooked the ship yard.

CROW [as Deanna]: Hmm... I could have sworn there was a shipyard here. Maybe
I'm overlooking something....

> There were a dozen Nebula Class starships, in
>various states of construction, close by.

MIKE: The construction workers stopped their two-hour long coffee break to
shout lewd remarks at Deanna as she passed by.

> A couple Sovereign Class
>starships where off to the right, the Kirk

CROW: ... which had a very fake-looking top covering, weighed far more than
standard and was hitting on a Nebula class ship.

> and the Harriman.

TOM SERVO: ... which wouldn't be ready for service until next Tuesday.

> Off to the
>left was a half a dozen Ambassador Class starships. Those where not
>what Deanna was looking at, no her eyes were on the biggest ship in the
>yard, the Nova Class starship Yorktown. Riker sighed.

CROW [as Deanna, excited]: Oh, what I wouldn't give to refuel with one of
*those*....

> "Beautiful ship isn't she," a voice said from behind her.

MIKE [as Deanna]: YAAAHH!! Don't scare me like that!

> Deanna turned to greet the Commander of the yards, "Yes she is,
>Commander McIvery," she said to the young red-head.

TOM SERVO [singing]: Ebony and McIvery...

> "Adrian, please," Commander McIvey said.

CROW [as Deanna]: Stop calling me Adrian!
MIKE: A kid'll eat McIvey too. Wouldn't you?

> "I despise ranks."

TOM SERVO: She joined Starfleet, but she hates ranks. Huh.

> The two stood a while looking out at the ivory skin of the nearly
>complete starship. The long warp engines were still off line, their
>lights dark, but otherwise the Yorktown stood proud, her lights bright,
>her registry dark on the white hull. NCC-80100 USS Yorktown.

MIKE: You realize this is Scotty's idea of a peep show!

> "Care for a tour of the Yorktown, Captain?" Adrian McIvery asked.

CROW [as Deanna]: That's the oldest pick-up line in the book, sir.
TOM SERVO [as McIvery]: Not much going on right now, we're just getting our
butts handed to us by the Romulans....

> "If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Deanna Riker accepted.

MIKE [as McIvery]: Actually, it will be. I was just asking to be polite.

> "No trouble at all," McIvery replied. "I have to do my weekly tour
>today anyway."

CROW [as McIvery]: So this plot point fits right into my busy schedule.

> "How much longer until she's commissioned," Troi-Riker asked,

TOM SERVO: Oh, NOW she gets the hyphenated name!

> as
>they walked to the shuttle bay of the Yard's Main Office.
> "A week from today," McIvery responded. "At least with the launch
>of this one, I knew the name a month before hand."

MIKE [as McIvery]: Yeah, after they named the last one the USS Barney The
Dinosaur I made the committee PROMISE they would let me
know in advance....

> "Thank the Fleet Admiral's son Nicholas for that one," Riker said.

CROW: Great. This disease has spread to the upper echelons now.
TOM SERVO: Like the beetles from "Conspiracy".

>"He noticed that all the aircraft carrier's names that the old United
>States used in World War II were available.

MIKE [as McIvery]: The Americans had let the copyrights expire years ago.
TOM SERVO: I get the distinct feeling that Ratliff is a patriotic American
who thinks that everybody else in the world should be too.

> So he suggested the naming
>scheme for the class after the name Enterprise was chosen for the last,
>and you know how that naming commission likes schemes."

MIKE: So nobody over fourteen had any better ideas?

> "I know, we've just ran out of state names for the Ambassador class
>with the Hawaii set for commissioning in two weeks."

CROW: You want names?! I'll give you names! How about "Hopeless Drivel",
"Grotesque Plotting" and "Unbelievable Dialogue"?!?
TOM SERVO: Those must be from the new Fanfic class.

>
> The Enterprise and the other ships under Rear Admiral Marrissa
>Picard's command drifted silently in nebula FGC-47,

MIKE: So... how they dealt with the Romulans and got to the nebula
remains a mystery, huh?
CROW: Too exciting for words, I guess...

> confident that the
>life forms inhabiting the cloud would leave them alone, for the most
>part.

MIKE: Because these life forms have taste.
TOM SERVO: After all, who wants to deal with Marrissa if they don't have to?

> In the Enterprise's observation lounge, Marrissa, Commander Jay
>Gordon, and Lieutenant Commander Clara Sutter were going over the status
>of the fleet.

CROW: Which pretty much resembled a box of Lincoln Logs scattered around a
dog kennel by a hyperactive five year old...

> Lieutenant Commander Clara Sutter-Rozhenko was reporting
>the engineering status of the fleet, a task which she worked as an
>intermediary for Marrissa. Commander Jay Gordon was sitting glum to his
>wife's right, going though the motions of duty.

MIKE: Which is pretty much what he did in private with his wife anyway...

> "We lost the Lionheart," Clara began with the worse. "The Gorkon's
>port nacelle is off-line, but Captain Dax reports that it should be back
>on line sometime later today.

TOM SERVO [as Clara]: In the meantime, with only one nacelle operational, the
ship is going round and round in a big circle.

> The Johnson is suffering from an
>intermittent loss

ALL: *snicker*

> of her port shields.

CROW: Oh.
MIKE: I could use a little port myself right now....

> The Clinton needs a new weapons
>fire control unit,

TOM SERVO [as Clara]: ... so go shake down some contributions from some
corrupt Indonesian bigwigs to pay for it.
CROW [as Clara]: The ship also has an annoying habit of suddenly veering to
the right....

> temporary repairs expected to be completed tomorrow.
>And of course, the Wellington is lacking a bridge and deck two."

MIKE: If this list is "Worst First", shouldn't that last item be a little
higher up?

> "What about our status, Clara?" Marrissa asked.

CROW [as Clara]: Some dickweed stuffed a Tickle Me Elmo doll into the plasma
converter. It's giving us no end of trouble.

> "Some minor repairs, a dozen of our fighters will require major
>work, and two dozen some minor work," Clara informed. "In general, if
>it isn't fixed by the end of the next shift, I'll be most dissatisfied
>with my crew."

TOM SERVO [as Clara]: Heads are gonna roll. Literally.

> "I'll bet," Marrissa smiled. "Jay, personnel situation?"

MIKE [as Jay]: We don't have any personnel. I lost them all in a poker game.

> "The Wellington has lost her command crew, my little sister
>Jacquelynn is in command at present," Jay droned. "We have most of the
>crew of the Lionheart, but the command crew went down with the ship."

CROW: Lucky devils.

> "Speaking of the Wellington, what happens to your younger siblings,
>now that your parents are gone?" Clara asked.

TOM SERVO [as Jay]: Oh, the usual Ratliff tomfoolery... they'll all kill a
bunch of Romulans and get promoted to the rank of Lord
High Admiral or some such nonsense.

> Jay looked like he was
>about to cry. "Sorry if the subject bothers you."

MIKE [as Jay]: No, that's okay... I *love* being reminded of personal tragedy
while the Romulans are kicking our butts and I'm hiding out in
a nebula haunted by bizarre ethereal life forms!

> "I'm afraid Jacquelynn and Jeffery are going to be joining the ever
>increasing Captain's Quarters," Marrissa stated. "How I'm going to deal
>with the Jacqueline/lynn problem, I have no idea."

TOM SERVO: Her fleet's been trashed by the Romulans, and now Marrissa's
worried about names. That's what I call getting your priorities
straight!

> "Easy, same way I do," Jay replied in a monotone.

MIKE [deep voice]: DO WHAT *I* DO....

> "Your sister is
>Jackie, mine is Lynn. That's the least of our worries."

CROW: Yeah, that clears that up. Now we're SO much less confused!

> "Yes, but it's nice to worry about something simple for a change,"
>Marrissa replied.

MIKE: Hey, that's no way to talk about Jay's sister!

> "Now, you agree that we are going to have to send the
>Wellington back to a space dock."

TOM SERVO: Oh, like they're SO near one!

> "Agreed," Clara confirmed.
> "Jay, I'm appointing you acting Captain of the Wellington,"
>Marrissa ordered. "Tomorrow at 1200 hours, the Wellington, the Clinton,
>and the Undaunted will depart for Earth.

CROW [as Marrissa]: Ignore the Romulans when you leave.
MIKE: Meanwhile, the readers will depart for a better story. Those that can,
anyway...
TOM SERVO: And Ratliff, as usual, is going nowhere.

> You'll have the coded
>dispatches and a new code sheet

CROW: What, no secret decoder ring?

> for delivery to Star Fleet Command for
>communicating with this fleet, and be in command of the detachment."
> "Are you sure that's wise, after all you are close ..." Jay began.
> "I've got two more months to go, Jay," Marrissa snapped.

MIKE: Oh, thank you so much for reminding me that she's pregnant, Ratliff. I
didn't have nearly enough repulsive thoughts in my head up to that
point....

> "I expect
>you back in half that. The Hawaii will be joining our fleet soon.
>Hitch a ride back on her.

TOM SERVO [as Marrissa]: Have Ensign Ford Prefect give you a standard-issue
Electronic Thumb.

> Now, go relieve your little sister

ALL: EWWWWWWW!!!

> and tell
>her that she and her little brother are expected on the Enterprise in an
>hour. Oh and have our Romulan Advisor report in here."

CROW [as Marrissa]: And send in anybody else who would have been really
useful before that battle we just had....

> "Aye, Aye, Mara," Jay replied, snapping to attention and exiting
>the room.

TOM SERVO: Well, I guess we know who wears the unflatteringly tight velour
pants in THIS marriage!

> "Is he seeing Martin?" Clara asked, as the seemingly emotionless
>First Officer left the room.

MIKE [as Marrissa]: Yeah, that's why he keeps saying "WHASSUP?!?" all the
time....

> "Yes, he's seeing our mischievous Ship's Counselor," Marrissa
>replied.

CROW [as Marrissa]: He's such a scamp!

> "Do you want to take bets on whether or not Martin will object to
>Jay commanding the Wellington?" Clara asked.

TOM SERVO: I want to take bets on whether or not the readers will object to
this boring dialogue!

> "Object, he all ready has," Marrissa replied.

MIKE [as Clara]: Thanks for telling me, but my name's not Object.

> "I knew I was going
>to have to send the Wellington back as soon as I saw that bridge, or
>rather were the Wellington's bridge use to be

CROW [as commercial announcer]: If you're not completely satisfied with the
structural integrity of this ship, just send
back the undestroyed portion for a full
refund!

> and apparently Martin did
>as well."
> "He's been around you too long," Clara remarked.

TOM SERVO: Haven't we all?

> "That may be so, but he couldn't find me a workable alternative,"
>Marrissa responded. "After all, you're out, because Doctor Johnson
>doesn't want you to budge from this ship. Alex is out because you'd
>kill me if I sent him."

ALL: Send him! Send him! Send him!

> "You better not send him any where," Clara grumbled.
> "Like I said, you'd kill me," Marrissa continued.

ALL: SEND HIM! SEND HIM! SEND HIM!

> "And Shayna just
>doesn't have enough command experience."

MIKE: Yeah, she's only been an officer since she was eight years old or so.

> "You left her in command of the bridge," Clara noted.

TOM SERVO [as Marrissa]: So THAT'S why we've been hearing explosions for the
past half hour!

> Marrissa looked over to the bridge observation windows, pretending
>to check the statement. Lieutenant Shayna Sachs' head was visable in the
>command chair, the rest of her body being hid by the chair.

CROW: Thanks Ratliff! Never would have guessed where the rest of her body
could've been....

> "So I did.
>Imagine that," Marrissa replied.

MIKE [singing]: Imagine there's no Ratliff... It's easy if you try....

> Clara smiled as the port side door opened reveling the First
>Fleet's Romulan advisor.

TOM SERVO [as game show announcer]: It's your NEW ROMULAN ADVISOR!
MIKE & CROW: [applause noises]

> She was wearing a civilian tunic of light blue
>with darker blue highlights. Her blond hair came down to her shoulders,
>held in place with a beret, and still cut in a severe bang. "Sela Yarr
>reporting as ordered, sir."

MIKE [as Sela]: And I still have too many R's in my name.

> "Come sit down, Sela," Marrissa requested. "How are the elvan
>sprits today?"

TOM SERVO [as Sela]: Oh, the wooden ship poles are just fine, thanks for
asking.

> She used the ship's crew's pet name for Sela's three
>daughters. Their long blond hair and pointed ears had led to the
>nickname. None of them where objecting.

CROW: Because they were planning sweet, sweet revenge in secret.

> "My daughters are driving me nuts as usual," Sela sighed.

TOM SERVO: We hear you, Sela. Ratliff's kids have been having the same
effect on us!

> "You
>wouldn't care to have Jackie invite them over? It would be good
>practice."

MIKE: She's always wanted to practice on moving targets....

> Sela's now thirteen year old triplets were very bored on the
>Enterprise, as they were confined to quarters when the Enterprise was at
>red or yellow alert.

CROW: Thirteen? Heck, they're old enough to be admirals here!

> As the Enterprise had been at that state for the
>past three days, they jumped at the entrance of someone new and
>proceeded to annoy the hell out of them.

MIKE: So they fit right in with the rest of the crew.

> "No thank you, I'm sure Jay's siblings will be enough," Marrissa
>stated. "We really should do something about the Enterprise's sudden
>increase in children."

TOM SERVO: How about contraception?
CROW: I've got a Modest Proposal....

> "What about a kid's crew?" Clara asked.

[stunned silence]
CROW: Oh, dear God, NO!!!

> Marrissa stared at Clara, and then broke out laughing.

MIKE [as Marrissa]: That's the most *RIDICULOUS* thing I *ever* heard! Staff
a starship with a bunch of kids?! What kind of idiot
would do something like THAT? Hey, wait a minute....

> "Why didn't
>I think of that?" Marrissa asked.

TOM SERVO: Because it's too evil, even for you?
CROW: Hey, look at the bright side... now Marrissa will get a chance to find
out what it's like to be outranked and bossed around by pre-teens!

> "Too close to the problem," Sela remarked.

MIKE: Too CLOSE?! She *IS* the problem!

> "That might be it," Marrissa said. "Now lets see if we can figure
>out what our opponent is trying to do."

CROW: Now this is just a stab in the dark, but I think they're trying to win
the war.

>
> Two dozen Lieutenant Commanders, Five dozen Lieutenants, and
>several score of additional personnel

TOM SERVO [singing]: ... and a partridge in a pear tree!

> were waiting at the Star Fleet
>Museum orbiting Uranus for a pick up.

MIKE [as Butthead]: Uhhuhuhuhuh... you said "Uranus".
CROW: Hey, Servo! Is there a ring around Uranus? [snicker]
TOM SERVO: CROW!!! Mike, he's doing it again!
MIKE: All right, knock it off, Crow.

> They had been there for a day,
>and were getting bored. Why Star Fleet had told them to wait there was
>beyond them. After all, who would pick up personnel at a museum, and who
>would need 400 people?

CROW: We don't know, but since it's Stephen "Lousy Plots R Us" Ratliff
running the show, you can guess the reason will be pretty lame.
TOM SERVO: [edges over to Mike] Speaking of needing a pickup, Mike...
MIKE: [picks up Tom] No problem, partner. Let's get out of here....

[They all exit the theater]


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


[The bridge of the SOL is simply littered with baby dolls of various sizes,
all dressed in Starfleet uniforms and diapers. Mike and Crow are running
around, shouting out orders.]

MIKE: Timmy! I want that antimatter fixed by 1600, or you'll go to bed
without supper!

CROW: And where do you think you're going, Lieutenant Angela? Can't you
see that repairing the shields and plotting a new course to that
nebula is more important than a little thing like a soiled diaper?
Huh? Well, you should have gone before we left!

[Mike and Crow continue to bark out commands, while the dolls (at least,
those so designed) start to cry.]

CROW: Crying? CRYING?! You can't cry! There's no crying in Starfleet!

MIKE: You wanted to be treated like adults; you ACT like adults!

CROW: When the Romulans attack, are you just going to cry? Let me tell
you something, the Romulans don't CARE about your personal problems!

MIKE: YOU! You sniveling maggot! Drop and give me TWENTY! No? NO???
Well, you just bought yourself FIFTY, little mister!

CROW: Straighten up RIGHT NOW or you'll go straight to your room withOUT
any Kobayashi Maru practice!

[Tom suddenly pops out in the extreme foreground, right in front of Cambot.
Commercial sign lights start blinking.]

TOM SERVO: Think about it, won't you?

[Commercials. James Garner speaks out for Nicotrol while wearing a sweater
that hides the patches covering every inch of his arms and torso.]

[Continued in Part 3]