MSTed: "Treklander II", parts 4-7
Petrea E. Mitchell
[MSTH theme plays, and the lights come up. Jack Perkins's head is ban-
daged.]
PERKINS: Hello, and welcome back to John F. Moore III's stirring sequel,
"Treklander II". In our last episode, Ambassador Duncan MacLeod
came to the Deep Space Nine on an unknown diplomatic mission,
bringing with him his girlfriend Julia and his sidekick Richie.
Before they even arrive, suspicion begins to cloud around them.
Someone from the same star system as them has been talking to
Quark. Something is clearly afoot! What was discussed in those
mysterious transmissions, and what has Bashir discovered in his
detective work? The plot thickens as we continue "Treklander
II".
[roll theme 1.1]
[Clocks fall forward and spring back. Remember, it's the *long* hand you
want to move!]
>
[Joel and the 'bots enter, with a couple mutters of "ow".]
> Part 4
SERVO: And thus did the Red Sea "part 4" Moses. [all snicker]
CROW: Good one, Servo.
>
> Duncan and Julia sat in the balcony of Quark's
JOEL: Of Quark's *what*?
> while Richie entertained
> himself at the gambling tables.
CROW: That's it, Rich. Spend all the credits you don't have. Isn't it
great to be immortal?
> They ignored the Ferengi proprietor
JOEL: As so many patrons did.
> as
> he approached the table.
> "Good evening, folks. I'm your host, Quark. Can I get you
> anything?"
SERVO: Uh... a plot? This is already part FOUR and the only thing that's
even HAPPENED is that Bashir is going around sticking his nose
where it doesn't belong. Why can't we get some ACTION? Is that too
much to ASK? [breaks down, sobbing]
> "A little peace and quiet," Duncan said as he sipped his drink.
ALL: [trombone-like] Waamp waamp waamp waaaah!
> Julia
> barely hid her giggle.
SERVO: You know, I wish I was like her.
CROW: Huh?
SERVO: Easily amused.
CROW: Oh.
> Quark ignored Duncan's crack.
CROW: And probably for the best. Immortal butt cleavage isn't to be trif-
led with.
> "I hear you've just come from the Clari
> system.
JOEL: They've been on DS9 for ten minutes, and everyone knows where they
came from?
SERVO: Man, is this station ever ripe for a cineplex.
> Wonderful place. Haven't been there myself but I know several
> traders who pass through the area frequently..."
CROW: Judas Iscariot, Benedict Arnold...
JOEL: Traders. He said traders.
> Suddenly
SERVO: A conversation broke out.
JOEL: John F. Moore's so good at padding out the story with violent,
meaningless *dialogue*.
> Duncan's wrist unit started beeping.
JOEL: Sorry, guys, it's my wittiness monitor. I've exceeded my quota for
today.
> He turned to Quark.
CROW: *He* was Odo all the time!
> "Do
> you have access to the security monitors?"
> "Well, I might, if the price is--"
JOEL: Hey, guys, Quark is Bob Barker!
'BOTS: [awed "oh"s]
> Duncan grabbed Quark by the lapels and pulled him close.
SERVO: John! Marsha!
> "Take me to
> them...*now*!
CROW: Or I'll use **double** asterisks!
SERVO: Okay, okay! Geez... ya miss a dose of Prozac?
> You'll get your money upon reciept of the use of the
> monitor."
SERVO: Why, what a complicated prepositional phrase!
JOEL: He must have read _Getting to Yes_.
> Quark smiled uneasily as Duncan released him. "Well, why didn't you
> say so in the first place? Right this way."
SERVO: No, that way left. Right, *this* way.
JOEL: Me doctor, you patient.
CROW: Who's on first?
> Duncan motioned for Julia to stay put
SERVO: [as Julia] Fine. I didn't want to go with you, anyway.
[quietly] Dickweed.
> as Quark led him into the tavern's
> office.
CROW: So, now, is this taking place when Sam's just the bartender, or
does he own the bar? And if he owns the bar, is this before or af-
ter it burned down? Is Rebecca already a character on the show, and
if so, is she involved with Sam or Robin or that plumber, or is she
still obsessed with Mr. Drake? I'm confused.
SERVO: Crow, I think you're way past confused.
> Julia didn't notice as a nearby table reformed silently into Odo.
JOEL: Table, do you believe your time in jail has reformed you?
> She nearly jumped out of her skin when Odo spoke behind her.
CROW: [as Odo] Boo!
> "Quark
> seems to have taken quite an interest in Ambassador MacLeod."
SERVO: I hear he's planning to ask him to the junior prom.
JOEL: [Minnewegian voice] Ooh, he's such a heartbreaker, that one.
> As Julia caught her breath,
SERVO: Thereby retiring the side and ending the inning...
> he continued. "Strange that the yours is
CROW: "The yours"? Is that the shuttle's name?
JOEL: It's certainly original.
> the only ship from that area and Quark recieved a message from that
> same
> system.
SERVO: Thank you, Mr. Circumstantial Evidence.
JOEL: Why is he so obsessed with that? It's like some kind of weird Jim
Garrison/grassy knoll thing.
CROW: Oswald was framed!
SERVO: Oh, shut up.
> Julia spun to face the changeling security officer.
CROW: She spun a fraction too quickly and began to gain momentum, whir-
ling like a top through Quark's bar, damaging chairs, spilling
drinks, and upsetting customers. A long and ugly lawsuit followed.
> "The only
> transmission we made was to alert the station we were coming for a
> brief
> stopover. I have no idea who else would...oh no..."
SERVO: No, you silly, strange woman! His name is "Odo"!
> Odo peered suspiciously at her. "Something you'd like to share, ms.
> Cathaway?"
JOEL: <shudder> That brought back memories.
> "Only that you may have a great deal more trouble than you bargained
> for..."
CROW: And at only half the price, in our third annual going-out-of-busi-
ness sale!
SERVO: Say, guys, when was the last scene that didn't end with an ellip-
sis?
JOEL: I think it was back in part 2.
>
> Quark took Duncan to his private console and tapped in the security
> codes he procured.
SERVO: 1-2-3-4? That's the same combination I have on my luggage!
CROW: Where does Quark *get* all this stuff?! Is there a drugstore-
slash-classified information shop on the station?
> Odo was good, damn him, but not infallible.
JOEL: I think ol' Johnny's getting a touch too involved in the world of
Deep Space Nine if he's cursing a fictional character.
> Quark
> had access to all of Odo's systems except his personal files,
SERVO: Which were far too twisted and demented, even for Quark.
> despite
> Odo's constant upgrades, but could only read, not alter.
ALL: Awww.
JOEL: This is almost as sad as a special episode of "Full House".
> This had proven
> very useful on many occasions,
CROW: As a risque party trick.
> to see just what Odo had on him and his
> "associates."
SERVO: Or what Odo would *like* to have on them.
JOEL: [as Quark] "Peanut butter and jelly"?! Odo, you are one *sick*
mammajamma!
> He brought up the observation subdirectory.
SERVO: From childhood. He was a good parent, doting and warm, except
when he flew into those alcoholic rages.
> "I want to see my shuttle," MacLeod said.
JOEL: [evil voice] Is that it, Ambassador? Is that really what you want?
CROW: [as Quark] Then go look out the window, it's docked right there!
Ha ha, little Ferengi joke.
> Entering the proper commands, Quark proudly showed MacLeod the
> inside
> of his vessel.
SERVO: Either our minds are in the gutter, or Prince John is king of
neat-o double entendres.
JOEL: I'd go with the gutter theory.
> It was empty.
[All gasp in shock.]
CROW: Oh. It's supposed to be empty.
JOEL: Just like MacLeod's head.
SERVO: Good ol' John F. Moore, layin' on the suspense with a toothpick.
> "Can you replay a display?"
JOEL: [MacLeod] Right away without delay to my dismay?
CROW: Nope. We can make ships with warp engines but we can't make the
pretty pictures move on the little screens.
> "Anything Odo can do, I can do
SERVO: With a sillier voice.
> from here," Quark stated proudly.
JOEL: Okay, let's see *you* turn into a table and back!
> "Show this area ten minutes ago, about the time you approached the
> table."
CROW: Okay... well, here you are, and here I am approaching the table,
and-- oh! You mean the area in the *ship*! You should really be
clearer next time.
> Quark complied.
JOEL: But stopped on a linker error.
SERVO: No, *complied*.
> The ship now showed a dark-skinned man in a Starfleet
> Sciences garb poking around the ship,
CROW: Testing to see if it was ticklish?
> until he accesssed the shuttle's
> computer. Studying it momentarily, he left.
SERVO: Knowing there'd be a quiz later.
> "Who is that?" Duncan asked.
JOEL: Oh, that's little Timmy looking for his poor dog Lassie.
> "That's the station medical officer, Julian Bashir. Why would he be
> interested--"
CROW: Why does Quark--
SERVO: Always speak in--
JOEL: Fragmented sentences?
> "Thanks for your help," Duncan said, leaving a half bar of
JOEL: Grimy Coast deodorant soap on the motel shower floor where the next
occupant would almost surely slip and fall. In all his centuries as
an Immortal, Duncan MacLeod had learned surprisingly little about
common courtesy.
> Latinum on
> Quark's desk.
> "Anytime..." Quark purred, eyeing the bar.
CROW: Quark *really* needs to get out more often.
>
> Dax stopped Duncan as he and his companions exited Quark's.
SERVO: Dax must be the new crossing guard.
> "Duncan...? Is that really you?"
JOEL: [as Dax] The nauseating odor is familiar, but I have to be sure.
> "I'm sorry Lieutenant...Dax is it?"
SERVO: No, just "Dax".
> "Duncan, it's *me!* Dax! Don't you remember?"
CROW: [as Duncan] Shh! Not in front of my new girlfriend, for Pete's
sakes!
> "I've never met you before in my life--"
ALL: Liar! Liar! Liar!
> "Remember before the pirate attack on the Tylok fifty years ago?
> Remember how we were going to check out that waitress who I thought was
> eyeing me, but it turrns out was eyeing your female companion?"
CROW: Now, wait a minute! Duncan told Julia back in "Treklander" that he
hadn't had a girlfriend since what's-her-name died back in the
twentieth century!
JOEL: That Duncan's one smooooth operator.
> Duncan's eyes widened. "Kurzon? Is that you?"
SERVO: Oh, of COURSE he remembers. I mean, it was ONLY fifty years ago.
He's ONLY lived for almost a millenium. Why SHOULDN'T he remember
one particular ship voyage? Makes PERFECT sense!
JOEL: I think I know a little 'bot who needs a severe sarcasm sequencer
overhaul.
> "I *knew* it!
CROW: Diet Dr. Pepper *does* taste more like regular Dr. Pepper!
> What happened to you? You should be an old man by now!"
SERVO: Jadzia Dax, folks, mistress of tact.
> "I think we *both* have some explaining to do *Kurzon,*" Duncan
> smirked,
CROW: A smirk that Zaphod wanted to hit with a brick.
JOEL: And this time, Zaphod hit it.
> "but first I have some business to attend to with your doctor.
CROW: [as MacLeod] I'm sure the milky discharge is just a minor thing,
but it's best to be safe. You know how it is.
> Maybe we could meet for dinner. If you'll excuse me..."
SERVO: [as Dax] I tried that fifty years ago, and I couldn't bring my-
self to do it.
> Dax nodded.
JOEL: Off. The fast-paced, heart-pounding action was starting to get to
her.
> As the trio left, Julia turned to Dax and said, "By the
> way, you may want to ask your security officer to keep an eye open for
SERVO: [almost whispering] The dwarf!
> a
> dark-skinned man with a thick accent of Earth Hispanic origin."
JOEL: He's our token minority-- we want to know where he is when the
NAACP visits.
>
> Dr. Bashir returned to Sickbay only to be grabbed and shoved against
> the
> wall.
CROW: Physical abuse being what he had come for, he then left.
> When his mind oriented on what happened, he saw MacLeod glaring at
> him with his assistants on either side.
SERVO: Whose assistants, and whose sides?
CROW: Who *cares*?
> "Hello, Doctor," MacLeod said. "Care to tell me why you were poking
> around my shuttle?"
JOEL: Only if you'll release the grip you have on my spleen.
> Bashir was strangely calm.
SERVO: Yeah, emotions have been running rampant so far. Don't know how he
can contain himself.
> "Hello, MacLeod. I was wondering when you
> were going to show.
JOEL: Show what?
'BOTS: Ewww!
> You could've knocked, you know."
SERVO: [as MacLeod] I know, but I had three aces and three jacks and I
figured I might as well just go for straight gin.
> "Duncan," Cathaway asked, "what's going on?"
CROW: Geez, I sure hope *someone* knows.
> "He expected us," Richie blurted. "Oh no...don't tell me he's..."
JOEL: He's...
CROW: He's...
SERVO: He's WHAT? Why can't anyone finish a sentence around here?
> With his free hand, Macleod rolled up Bashir's left sleeve to reveal
> the
> tattoo on the inside of his forearm.
JOEL: [as Duncan] Hey, what a gyp! That's from a Cracker Jack box!
> He the released Bashir and stormed
> out of Sickbay, followed by his companions: one confused, the other
> irritated.
SERVO: He went to go track down his own box of Cracker Jacks.
>
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:9265
CROW: Too yella to sign yer name, eh, Mr. F. Moore III?
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!ihnp4.ucsd.edu!library.ucla.edu!
> europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.umbc.edu!eff!news.kei.com!travelers.mail.
> cornell.edu!newsstand.
JOEL: Move along here! Whaddya think this is, a library.ucla.edu?
> cit.cornell.edu!news.graphics.cornell.edu!ghost.dsi.unimi.it!
> univ-lyon1.fr!news.imag.fr!ciril.fr!muller!julienas!EU.net!uunet!mozz.
> unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
SERVO: Wow. This fanfic went all the way to France and back to get to
us.
CROW: And it still sucks.
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander II, part 5
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 62
SERVO: Yeesh. About 62 too many.
> Message-ID: <2vetpp$j...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> There can be only one...These are the voyages...
SERVO: All right, when we read that, are we supposed to hear them said
simultaneously, or one after another? Clarify, Prince John!
CLARIFY!
JOEL: Tom... it's okay.
>
CROW: Anyway, it's Clari *III*, Servo. Heh.
SERVO: [grumbles]
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
CROW: Would anyone else take credit?
> Part 5
>
> Duncan and Dax sat at Quark's laughing about old times. After a
> while,
> the old times ran out, and they sat quiet for a while.
> After a while, Duncan couldn't take the quiet.
SERVO: After a while, Duncan couldn't take the mindless repetition.
CROW: After a while, Duncan couldn't take the mindless repetition.
JOEL: After a while, Duncan couldn't take the mindless repetition.
SERVO: Heh.
JOEL: Good one.
> "All right, you first.
> What happened to you? How'd you get so..."
JOEL: *Hot*?
CROW: Ah-*hem*!
> Dax smiled her whimsical smile that Duncan thought looked better on
JOEL: A musk ox.
> her
> than it did on Kurzon. "I'm
SERVO: --really a gross-looking slug.
> a Trill.
CROW: "I found my Trill.. on Blueberry Hill.."
SERVO: That's short for Tricia McMill.
> This is my current host body. I'm
> surprised you didn't know, Duncan."
JOEL: She has really high expectations.
> Duncan looked sheepish.
ALL: <baa>
> "You never really told me much about your
> people."
JOEL: Except that you'd have them call my people.
> "All right," Dax said with a piercing stare,
CROW: Do you think it's more of a Hawkeye piercing stare or a piercing
Brosnan stare? Heh heh.
SERVO: C'mon, Joel, let me kill him just once!
> "your turn. Why is it you
> don't seem to have aged a day since I first met you?"
CROW: [as MacLeod as Tupperware saleswoman] I sleep in Foreverware!
Keeps things fresh forever!
> "Because," a voice said from behind Duncan,
JOEL: Or was that from Duncan's behind?
SERVO: Hmm.
> "he's immortal.
CROW: And the truly stupid don't age.
> He was
> born on Earth, in the Highlands of Scotland, eight hundred years ago."
JOEL: In a castle...
SERVO: In a room...
CROW: In a bed.
JOEL: The Life Story of Duncan MacLeod, edited for brevity.
> Both recognized the voice as Julian Bashir as he joined the pair.
SERVO: [as Duncan] Excuse *me*, but this table is *occupied*.
> "Julian," Dax said, "how did you..."
CROW: Become non-corporeal and fade to just a voice?
> "Doctor," Duncan said, irritated, "the lieutenant and I are *trying*
JOEL: Very trying.
> to
> have a pleasant conversation.
SERVO: Pleasant, if I may ask, to whom?
> Besides, don't you think it's a *little*
> rude to be spreading secrets in a public place?"
CROW: Not to mention unsanitary. Don't they have some kind of seat
covers or something?
> He then turned to Dax.
SERVO: Odo!
> "He's a member of a society called
CROW: The Ten?
JOEL: No more Pat Conroy novels at bedtime for you, mister.
> the Watchers.
CROW: Hey, that was a really neat book! See, there's this guy with no
life and a really smart golden retriever, and--
JOEL: Ah, Crow, I think you've got the wrong Watchers.
> They're trying to keep
> tabs on my kind.
SERVO: Sometimes they try to keep Pepsis on us.
> I've dealt with them on many occasions.
CROW: Five card draw, jokers wild... ante up.
> We have a kind
> of arrangement.
SERVO: [classical music station DJ's voice] And now, the "Odor of an Im-
mortal" in its entirety, arranged by Duncan MacLeod and the Wat-
chers.
> I run their errands and
CROW: They give me a nickel!
> don't tell any Immortals about
> their existance, and they give me whatever information they can on
> whoever
> they see as a threat."
SERVO: [as Duncan] So far, all I've found out is that they're afraid of
spiders.
> "Actually," Julian said, "I'm more or a member of the Watchers' inner
> circle.
CROW: [matter-of-factly] I'm too sexy for my cat.
> You see, the Watchers don't just keep an eye on you...they
> gather
JOEL: Acorns and store them in the hollow of a tree for the winter.
They're funny that way.
> their information and give it to us. We then go through the
> information to learn more about the Immortals: what they are, why
> they
> are, and where they come from."
SERVO: Where they want to be in five years. Why they like to wear angora
sweaters.
CROW: Oh, boy... "the Watchers"? And Bashir in the inner circle?
Moore's really pegged the goofy meter this time.
> Dax looked dumbfoundedly at her friends
SERVO: [singing] What would you do if I sang out of tune?
> as Duncan glared at Julian.
> "And why are you telling me this?
JOEL: Because I don't have anyone else to talk to, and "Family Matters"
isn't on for another twenty minutes.
> You can't tell me that the Watchers
> chose you and took you into their so-called inner circle, just so you
> could brag about it to every Immortal you see.
ALL: The Watchers chose me and took me into their so-called inner circle
just so I could brag about it to every Immortal I see.
> You wanted me to find out
> about you, didn't you? Why? And why do it in front of someone who
> isn't
> involved in my struggle?
SERVO: And where the hell is my end quote?
> Julian excused himself from the table.
CROW: The table, finding him unacceptably arrogant, refused to excuse
him.
> "I'll answer those questions
> later, MacLeod...in
JOEL: The double bonus round!
> my quarters at 1200 hours with your friends.
SERVO: Or whoever those other weird people that are always around you
are.
> In the
> meantime, you should tell Judzia about yourself,
CROW: And explain why no one in this story knows how to spell her name.
> tell your friends about
> me,
SERVO: What's there to know? You're a hornball Starfleet doctor trapped
in a big space bubble that watches over a weird astronomical ab-
erration, and it just so happens you hang out with the Watchers.
End of story!
> and get some rest."
JOEL: Wait, in that order or-- uh--
>
> Judzia followed Duncan as he stormed back to his quarters.
ALL: [various "boom"s and other thunderlike noises]
> Richie and
> Julia were waiting for them.
CROW: With very big sticks. They had stayed out past curfew.
> "Your message said it was urgent Mac...what's up?"
SERVO: Everything not nailed down, since the gravitational system went
nutsy.
> "I got a little visit from Bashir today..."
CROW: [as Duncan] Ah, nothin' big. Just beat the crap out of him and he
invited us to his room for a slumber party later.
> "Hold it Duncan," Julia said, "should we be talking in front of..."
JOEL: Albert Goldman and Kitty Kelley?
SERVO: Might not be such a good idea.
> "You mean all three of you are Immortal?" Dax gaped.
CROW: There's no fooling Dax, is there?
> "She knows?" Richie groaned.
SERVO: She does *now*, Boy Blunder.
> "She doesn't know everything,
JOEL: That's an understatement.
> but she does know.
SERVO: --that deep down in her heart she could *never* be as cool as us.
> Bashir thought it
> necessary to tell her about me, and we're all supposed to be at his
> quarters tomorrow, so we need to have a long talk..."
CROW: [finally snapping] WHAT ELSE DO YOU THINK YOU'VE BEEN DOING
THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE STORY???!!
SERVO: Crow? Calm down, buddy.
CROW: But, but, it's just not, it's just so... [blubbers incoherently]
JOEL: I'd better get him out of the theater.
SERVO: Okay. I want to stay and watch the .sig.
[Joel puts his arm around Crow, and the two of them leave.]
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
[Joel returns.]
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask how!
JOEL: ["stupid" voice] What if you don't know how to swim?
> "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More
SERVO: Don't put words in my mouth, O Prince. C'mon, let's get out of
here.
>
...o...1...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL Bridge. Crow is inconsolable.]
JOEL: Hey, Crow, take it easy. It's just a fanfic.
CROW: But, but it's just... we start out with Duncan and his henchmen
and they just *talk*. And then Quark and Odo *talk*. And then Dun-
can and Dax *talk*. And then Duncan and Quark *talk*, and then...
and then...
JOEL: Look at it this way, it's not _Crash of the Moons_.
SERVO: And it's not _Radar Secret Service_.
JOEL: Radar who?
SERVO: Uh, never mind.
CROW: [sniffles] If only there would be an action scene!
[With that, sirens and alarms and flashing lights suddenly start going
off.]
SERVO: Huh?
CROW: What the Sam Hill is going on?
MAGIC VOICE: Warning. Satellite's reactor has reached overload status.
Critical mass in thirty seconds.
JOEL: Critical mass?! Oh, no! This cute little sketch is going to be the
end of all of us!
SERVO: [rushing around] Aaah! Whaddawedo! Whaddawedo!
MAGIC VOICE: Critical mass in fifteen seconds.
[Amidst general panic and chaos, Gypsy glides in.]
GYPSY: Hi, guys! What's all the commotion?
JOEL: Gypsy, the satellite's reactor is going to explode!
GYPSY: Oh, maybe it has to do with this thing I found in the power room.
[Onto the table, she deposits a large gadget she had been carrying in
her mouth. The gadget has lots of vacuum tubes and flashing lights and
says PLOT DEVICE 220 VOLTS in big letters on the side.]
SERVO: The Plot Device is overheating!
MAGIC VOICE: Critical mass in ten seconds.
CROW: Joel, you'll have to defuse it!
SERVO: Yeah, I'd help, but, you know, my arms...
JOEL: All right, I'll do it.
[He removes the cover of the Plot Device, revealing a rat's nest of
wires. Servo and Crow crowd around, offering unconstructive sugges-
tions.]
MAGIC VOICE: Critical mass in five... four... three... two...
JOEL: Okay, now, red is positive and black is negative, right?
MAGIC VOICE: Critical mass now.
SERVO: Just pull *anything*!!
JOEL: Okay!!
[He pulls a wire and the gadget explodes. When the screen comes down
from white again, everyone is covered with black soot and smoldering a
bit-- in other words, the usual post-explosion trauma.]
JOEL: [coughing] Well, I think this little adventure has taught us all a
valuable lesson.
CROW: It sure did, Joel. Even if there is an action scene in a story, it
can still turn out to be...
SERVO: Go on, say it...
ALL: ...a big bomb.
SERVO: [heavily] Yeah.
[The commercial sign light flashes.]
JOEL: We'll be right back.
[Servo falls over and hits the button.]
[Day 263 of the Dwarf-Tossing Strike: Big, burly out-of work dwarf-tos-
sers are throwing Cabbage Patch Kids around. They're bored! It's *fun-
ny*!]
>
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:9366
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!howland.reston.ans.net!
> swrinde!news.dell.com!tadpole.com!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!
> jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
SERVO: Alt.get-a-life, talk.boredom...
> Subject: Treklander II, part 6
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 141
JOEL: Oooh, this one's gonna hurt.
> Message-ID: <30gpml$r...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> There can be only one...These are the voyages...
CROW: ...and did I tell you about how I was there at the dawn of the
third age of mankind?
JOEL: Yes, dear, you did.
CROW: Okay, just checking.
>
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
CROW: Judgement Day.
SERVO: We only wish.
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
> Part 6
ALL: <deep sigh>
>
> Bashir waited impatiently in his quarters.
JOEL: [as Bashir] Thirty minutes or less-- hah!
> He had taken a big gamble:
CROW: Boxers instead of briefs.
> first by blatantly revealing the Watchers to MacLeod,
SERVO: If this succeeded, he would next reveal another Dean R. Koontz
novel to MacLeod.
> second by revealing
> the Watchers' true intentions, third by revealing the Watchers to
> Judzia,
CROW: [Monty Python Spanish Inquisition voice] Fourth, by revealing
*himself* to Jadzia. Four big gambles. Five, sorry, *five* big
gambles...
> who could ruin his career as a Starfleet officer by revealing his role
> in
JOEL: Tailhook.
> the Watchers to Sisco, and there was always the danger of Odo or one
> of
> Quark's toadies listening in...
'BOTS: <ribbit> <ribbit>
JOEL: A good, decisive piece of punctuation! Is that too much to ask
for?
> The door chimed.
SERVO: [as Bashir] Shut up, door, I'm agonizing!
> "Enter."
CROW: Depending on what keyboard you use, it may be "Return."
> In walked the three Immortals and Judzia.
JOEL: Following close behind were Torgo and the weird, wild wives of Ma-
nos, the Master! Aah!
> "Glad you decided to come, MacLeod."
> "We didn't have much of a choice Bashir," MacLeod said dryly.
SERVO: New Immortal Dry. Same price as regular Immortals, with half the
taste.
> "If we
> hadn't come to you, you would have made life difficult for us until we
> did. I know how you Watchers work.
CROW: [creepy voice] And I like to watch.
> What Immortal do you want me to hunt
> down *this* time?"
JOEL: Oh, maybe Dick Clark.
SERVO: Jim Varney. BOY do I wish that guy would go away.
> When Cathaway and Judzia looked at MacLeod,
CROW: They looked away again instantly. Yech.
> he answered, his gaze not
> wavering from Julian's.
JOEL: Because when you're in love, you don't think of anything else.
> "The Watchers are supposed to simply observe the
> Immortals, not interfering in their quest for the Prize. Some believe
> we're evil and try to kill us, but not many.
SERVO: The rest just try to kill us.
> Therefore, in order to main-
> tain
CROW: These killer bods.
> their non-interference policy, they come to Immortals who know about
> them, like myself and Richie, who they give information to conserning
> an
> Immortal who doesn't live up to society's standards of decency."
JOEL: [as Bashir] What he said.
> "You could hardly blame us," Julian responded. "An Immortal who
> would
> use the power the Prize is reported to maintain for evil purposes
> would be
> Humanity's downfall...especially now that Humanity has reached into
> space."
SERVO: And reached back out again after having its hand slapped.
> "Julian," Judzia said, breaking the ages-old argument,
CROW: Less filling!
SERVO: Tastes great!
CROW: Less filling!
SERVO: Tastes great!
JOEL: Okay, okay.
> "do you want
> Duncan or his friends to commit murder?"
SERVO: No, just suicide.
> "Hopefully not," Julian said as he went over to a panel and pressed
> a
> button.
CROW: The fish shot out of the dispenser and into a hole in the wall. He
next tried hanging up his towel on the coathook...
> A slight high-pitched throbbing whine permeated the room.
JOEL: Uh-oh, I hit the "Disable Life Support" button.
SERVO: They soon realized it was only Bashir's normal speaking voice.
> "White noise," he explained,
CROW: Like John Denver and Michael Bolton?
> "so that any listening devices won't be able
> to hear us. Computer, open file Bashir-nine-Alpha"
JOEL: Oops, wrong file. Uh, Dax, I honestly don't know where this pic-
ture came from...
> The computer screen chirped and the intercom stated,
SERVO: Will the following people please see me after school...
> *File open*
JOEL: *Mind closed*
CROW: *Mouth open*
SERVO: *Drool released*
> "Execute program."
> The lights dimmed and a holoprojector clicked on as Julian spoke,
SERVO: [Minnewegian voice] And this is the slides of our trip to Central
Iowa.
JOEL: [ditto] Oo, yah, not ten miles across the border we saw this silo.
CROW: [ditto] Here's the other side of the silo. There's so much nature
here.
JOEL: We took the men to Des Moines and all just had a lovely time.
SERVO: [normal voice again] The Iowa sketch, ladies and gentlemen.
> "This
> is the assembled knowledge of the Watchers.
CROW: [as Bashir] I hope you're taking notes; there'll be a short quiz
later.
> Much of it is speculation,
JOEL: And the rest is outright falsehood.
> but is accurate based on the information we have amassed over the
> millenia."
SERVO: We think.
> The program began as Bashir spoke...
CROW: Making it impossible to understand either of them.
SERVO: Cool.
>
> `Many ages ago, centuries before mankind recorded their history,
JOEL: Yes recorded their first album.
> Earth
> was visited by a race of beings from far away.'
CROW: Menudo!
> A hazy shape that could
> be a spaceship approached a large gathering of humans.
SERVO: Oh no, it's a drive-by Uplift!
> `These visitors spoke of two gifts. The first was the gift of Life
> Eternal to these chosen Humans,
JOEL: Jehovah's Witnesses from outer space?
> which the beings called Quickening.
SERVO: And which the humans called a contrived plot.
> The
> other gift was even greater powers to the one who could discover it.'
CROW: And Johnson Smith Co. flocked to search for it.
> A
> ray blanketed the Humans
JOEL: Ray Charles?
CROW: Sugar Ray Leonard?
SERVO: Ray-Ban brand sunglasses?
> and the shape sped away.
> `No one knew what this second gift was, but they knew that whoever
> dis-
> covered it would be the most powerful being in the land. It was
> referred
> to as The Prize, since it had to be won.
SERVO: They were referred to as Morons, since they were.
> Among these first Immortals were
> several groups who travelled the world together.
CROW: Hey, the first world tour!
JOEL: The Immortals-- Live At Budokan.
> One group settled in
> Egypt, another in Greece, another in South America...and because of
> their
> agelessness--'
CROW: They lived a really really long time.
> ("The ancient gods!" Richie said.
SERVO: I say you could talk?
> Julian nodded and continued.)
CROW: [as Bashir] Who's giving the lesson, dickweed?
> `They were indeed revered as gods. Others decided to try to live
> among
> Humanity, such as MacLeod's kinsman's mentor Ramirez.
JOEL: First to find your way through the maze of posessives wins The
Prize!
> Still others tried
> to subjugate Humanity into assisting them in finding the Prize, such
> as
> the Kurgan and Darius before he was converted to Christanity.
SERVO: And another well-intended sentence is wrecked on the shoals of
John F. Moore's keyboard.
> (Richie and MacLeod listened intently, as they knew these names,
> but
> Cathaway sat waiting for Julian to get to the point...much like
> listening
> to Data but without the interrupt protocol)
CROW: Or being trapped in a satellite orbiting Earth, forced to read
"Treklander II".
> `What the Immortals didn't know
JOEL: Didn't hurt them.
> was that portions of the planet, as well
> as several others, were infused by the beings as siphons for their
> power.
> Humans felt the energy within and thought it to be Holy Ground.
CROW: But it was actually more like alien Gatorade.
> The power
> of the lands infused caused released Quickening to be dispersed ather
> than captured.'
JOEL: Easy on the participles, John.
>
> "Computer, end program."
CROW: Lemme try that. Computer, end fanfic.
JOEL: Nope.
CROW: Damn.
> "What causes Immortals to lose their Quickening?" Judzia asked.
SERVO: Slowening, what else?
> Julain replied,
JOEL: [Bashir] Hang on while I untangle my vowels.
> "Quickening is lost when an
> Immortal dies. There are only who ways an Immortal may die:
> decapitation
> and disintegration.
CROW: [Monty Python mode] Oh, and pointed sticks. Oops, *three* ways.
Decapitation, disintegration, pointed sticks, wearing stripes with
plaid-- Four, *four* ways... I'll come in again.
> In the case of disintegration the Quickening is
> dispersed,
SERVO: [Marvin the Martian voice] Being disintegrated makes me very an-
gry. Very angry, indeed!
> but in the case of decapitation, if the Immortal's killer is
> also Immortal,
JOEL: Then things just get really complicated to explain. I won't bore
you with detail.
SERVO: Boy, would it be nice if John F. Moore said that once in a while.
> most of the victim's Quickening and knowledges are
> transferred to the killer."
CROW: Well, what about his bank accounts?
> "What do you mean, *most*?" Richie asked.
SERVO: Most, adv. 1) greatest in quantity, extent, or degree. 2) to the
greatest or highest degree. 3) the majority of.
CROW: Thank you, Mr. Thomas Webster.
SERVO: Anytime, Crow T. Loser.
> "You notice that during a Quickening transfer there are eletrical
> discharges?
JOEL: Considering one of the people involved is dead and the other one
gloating... no.
> This Quickening is dispersed and lost to the killer. In the
> case of Holy Ground, all Quickening is dispersed."
SERVO: Stupid Holy Ground.
> "What happens to the lost Quickening?" Cathaway asked.
CROW: It's put in a cardboard box with a lot of old mittens and umbrel-
las until someone claims it.
JOEL: Aren't they Immortals? Shouldn't they know this stuff already?
> "Well, the Quickening floats through the ether until it discovers an
> unborn child.
SERVO: Then it says, "Hey, an unborn child!" and continues on its way.
> The fetus is then infused with the Quickening.
CROW: Hold it! If Immortals don't age, how could an unborn child be an
Immortal?!
JOEL: Shh. Don't break the magic spell that Prince John's cast over us.
> Since it
> doesn't take muck Quickening,
CROW: That's Quickening from an Immortal killed in a swamp.
JOEL: Oh.
> a slain ancient Immortal or an Immortal
> whose Quickening was lost can create several dozen new Immortals."
JOEL: So, Duncan, why don't you go make some new Immortals?
> "Therefore the Prize--"
> "Is *not* the result of being the final Immortal,
SERVO: You tool.
> since that would never
> happen. Even if somehow only two Immortals remained, the killing of
> the
> second would create new Immortals."
JOEL: Sounds like some kind of twisted pyramid scheme.
> "Then," MacLeod asked, "what *is* the Prize?"
SERVO: [announcer voice] A braaaaand new car!
CROW & JOEL: [cheering crowd noises]
> "The Watchers aren't sure, but the key would likely be on the
> beings'
> home planet, wouldn't you say?"
CROW: I think they'd leave it under the doormat.
> "And where is that?"
> "Well," Julian said, "I would venture to guess it's not in the Alpha
> Quadrent, since most of it has been explored and there's little,
> if any,
SERVO: Intelligent life.
> records of beings visiting Earth, at least not for that purpose. But
> it
> would seem that these being wanted to be found someday, so would leave
> a
> way to be found..."
CROW: A trail of breadcrumbs!
> "The wormhole?!" Judzia exclaimed. "You think these...beings came
> from
> the Gamma Quadrent?"
JOEL: There goes the goofy meter again!
> "I'm almost certain. I'm currently asking the Watchers for all
> information that might contain a star chart of some kind that I might
> be
> able to glean some information from.
SERVO: You know, it's funny how we never thought of doing this before.
> I hope to have the information
> within the next few days if it exists."
JOEL: If it doesn't, then it'll take a little longer.
> "Julian," Judzia asked, "why did you ask *me* here? I'm by no means
> Immortal!"
CROW: [Bashir] No, but you're hot.
> "No, but you're a scientist. I would think you'd relish the chance
> of
> a millenia-old secret to be discovered.
SERVO: She's a scientist, not an archaeologist, you twit!
> Besides, *someone* has to secure
> a runabout for this."
> "What's wrong with our shuttle?" Cathaway asked, insulted.
JOEL: Well, to be honest, MacLeod was in it for too long and we haven't
put in an air freshener yet.
> "Nothing, but I doubt Commander Sisco would allow one of his senior
> officers into the Gamma Quadrent in a civilian craft."
SERVO: Ah, true... but *Sisko* might.
> "*Assuming* we go along!" MacLeod sneered.
CROW: Er, just when did you sign on as one of the senior officers?
JOEL: Hey, when you assume it makes an ass of "u" and "me"!
> "The choice is yours," Julian smiled.
CROW: Pepsi... or Coke Classic.
> "Although I'm sure each of you
> would relish the thought of obtaining the Prize.
SERVO: Great, Bashir... just stir up a pot of distrust and dissent.
> I'll be in touch."
CROW: Literally.
> The Immortals left.
JOEL: Poof, they were gone.
> When they were gone, Judzia asked Julian, "how
> certain are you the beings are there?"
SERVO: [as Bashir] Fairly certain-- a guy named John Winston told me.
> "You must promise not to tell anyone, not even MacLeod?" Judzia
> gave
> her word.
CROW: So what's her word?
JOEL: "Slightly".
> "I recieved the information I needed a week before MacLeod and
> his friends arrived. Remember that quick trip through the Wormhole I
> made last week?
SERVO: Oh, yeah, now that it's suddenly part of the story, I do remem-
ber.
JOEL: Hey, what would you rather have-- a one-liner or another flash-
back scene?
SERVO: Point taken.
> That was to get a bearing from the information I
> recieved. I even have the planet's name."
JOEL: [as Dax] Hey, you told me you were going through to go pick up
sleazy women of unknown races, you stinking liar!
> "Why didn't you tell them?
CROW: [as Bashir] Uh... I forgot.
> "I want them to come of their own free will.
JOEL: [cheesy Transvlyanian accent] Enter freely, and of your own
will...
> If they think that it may
> be a wild goose chase, they'll search within themselves as to whether
> they want to believe me."
CROW: Oh, this is going to turn into a ripoff of that TNG episode where
they tracked down a formula that gave them an alien answering ma-
chine!
> "But if you told them," Jusdzia countered,
JOEL: Wow, her name is collecting more and more misspellings with every
paragraph!
> "you'd have three willing
> participants."
SERVO: And friends for life! Huzzah!
> "Who might decide to go without me if they decided they didn't need
> me. This way, they have a reason to keep me around...and safe."
ALL: [chicken noises]
> Judzia sighed. "Can you tell *me* the name of the planet?"
> "The natives called it...Zeist."
SERVO: But we just call it "goofy". Would that Highlander II had never
been filmed. Oh, Highlander, we hardly knew ye... [sobs]
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
CROW: He must be a COBOL programmer.
JOEL: No, it'd start in column 7 if he was.
CROW: Okay, then-- a really bad COBOL programmer.
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "I'll Be Mellow When I'm Dead" -- "Weird Al" Yankovic
SERVO: Feel free to mellow out soon.
>
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:9422
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!howland.reston.
> ans.net!gatech!newsfeed.pitt.edu!
JOEL: I knew it. These fanfics are coming from the pit of black despair.
> uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander II, part 7
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 76
> Message-ID: <310iul$c...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> There can be only one...
CROW: Or two or three or four! Make up your mind!
> These are the voyages...
>
> T R E K L A N D E R I I
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
> Part 7
>
> "No," Commander Sisco yelled at his officers, "absolutely out of the
> question!"
JOEL: There will be *no* donkey basketball, and that's that!
> "But Benjamin," Judzia pleaded, "we're talking about a world that
> had
> contact with ancient Earth."
SERVO: I have a strange feeling that their visit started out as kind of
a joke.
> Julian chimed in.
CROW: Just like a grandfather clock, only not as well-built.
> "It's an opportunity to explore a race that crossed
> entire quadrants possibly
JOEL: Slightly.
> before we discovered fire."
> "I will not have members of my senior staff traipsing around
> unexplored
SERVO: Slightly.
> planets that could have hidden traps."
JOEL: Oh, fine! We'll send some ensigns and let *them* get blown up.
CROW: Carrying on the Star Trek tradition.
> The pair left Ops, dejected.
SERVO: Let's go ask Mom. Maybe *she'll* let us go.
> No one noticed the wrench by Chief
> O'Brian's station suddenly disappear; nor did they notice the rat get
> onto the lift with Julian and Judzia.
JOEL: Nor did they notice the rat's death twitches as the poison kicked
in.
> Odo assumed his usual form next to the pair.
> "Odo," Julian said, "you startled me! Why the secrecy?"
CROW: [as Bashir] I thought you were a disgruntled fan!
> "I found out about your meeting with Ambassador MacLeod, Doctor,"
> the
> Security Officer began.
JOEL: Y'know, Odo sure is nosy for someone without a nose.
> "When I checked your room, I could see but all I
> got on audio was static. I just hope Quark doesn't find out how you
> accomplished that...
> "Naturally, I became concerned,
SERVO: As any egomaniacal, dicatatorial, paranoid alien head of security
would.
> so I've been following you, trying to
> find out what you were up to."
CROW: Well, I'm currently engineering the complete and utter destruc-
tion of the Alpha Quadrant. Wanna help?
> "I assume," Bashir said drily,
JOEL: Man, everyone needs a *drink* in this fanfic.
> "that you've found out enough."
> "I know you're going to the Gamma Quadrant to find information about
> a
> race that may have created the Wormhole.
CROW: I thought we were looking for The Prize.
> Naturally, I am interested
> in
> such an endeavor to say the least."
> "I think we can include you in our little group," Dax grinned,
> "provided you can get us off the station..."
SERVO: Sure. I think Deep Space Nine can get along without its chief se-
curity officer, its chief medical officer, and its chief scien-
tist for a few weeks, particularily considering none of them have
deputies or anything. I don't see a problem with that!
>
> Quark's was fairly slow...
CROW: That's funny, Quark himself is fairly slow, too!
> it was in the middle of Alpha Shift, after all
> ...when a dark-skinned man sauntered in.
JOEL: Table for one mysterious stranger, please.
> "May, may I help you?" Rahm said,
SERVO: I, I think you can.
JOEL: Could, could you get me a drink?
> falling over himself to serve this
> new face to the bar.
SERVO: Bar, enjoy this new face, fresh out of the oven. Whoops, tripped
over myself there.
> "Yes, I wish to see your boss," the man said with a slight accent.
CROW: Sorry, we're not hiring guys who saunter right now.
JOEL: He couldn't tone down his accent for six hundred years, and sud-
denly it's gone in a week?
SERVO: It's an improvement-- don't question it.
> "My...my brother is busy with inven--"
SERVO: Invention exchange?
> Rahm was suddenly grabbed by the lapels and pulled toward the man.
JOEL: Excuse me while I kiss this guy!
> Rahm froze as he started at the man's bloodshot eyes.
CROW: Wait a sec. He froze as he started? Boy. Indecisive.
SERVO: You could use some Visine, pal.
> "I *said* I wish to see your boss...now!"
JOEL: Heh-- well, if you put it that way...
> Rahm fell to the floor as the man let him go, and scrambled toward
> the
> back room of the bar. A few moments later, Quark entered the bar
SERVO: --finding nobody outside, because as we just read, the man scram-
bled toward the back room of the bar.
JOEL: Oh, you pedant.
> with
> Rahm in tow.
SERVO: It's the handy-dandy portable tractor beam, great for all house-
hold needs.
> "I'm Quark," Quark said in an irritated tone, "May I help you or do
> you
> happen to like bullying the help?"
JOEL: Does it have to be one or the other?
CROW: You can't bully my staff! Only I can bully my staff!
> "I am Marin. We talked a while back."
ALL: <groan>
> Quark's eyes lit up brighter than Latinum under a twin-sun noon sky.
JOEL: The famed Moore gift for simile.
> "Yes, I remember. How may I assist you?"
> "I'm looking for an old friend who might be here...named MacLeod."
CROW: I'm sorry, Mr. MacLeod is back on the Love Boat.
>
> "Can we trust him Mac?"
ALL: Aaaah!
SERVO: [dripping sarcasm] Nice transition there, Moore.
> "You and I both know that the Watchers follow their own priorities,
> not
> ours. We can't trust any of them?"
JOEL: Why is Duncan asking the questions?
> "But Duncan, he's Starfleet!"
CROW: [falsetto] And he's a senior!
> "You're telling me," Duncan said, looking her square in the eye,
> "that
> in the entire history of Starfleet, no officer or crewman has ever
> broken
> their Starfleet oath?"
JOEL: Well, not on record, anyway.
> "OK, you've made your point," Julia admitted. "But what if he's on
> the
> level? What if this Zeist is the key to the Prize?"
> "Then we're all in danger, because if there can be only one--"
> The room fell silent.
CROW: C'mon, somebody finish the catch phrase.
> "I don't know about you guys," Richie said, "but I have to know."
SERVO: Curiosity killed the cat, Richie... go ahead.
> "Count me in too," Julia said. "Duncan?"
JOEL: [as Duncan] Is that my name?
> Duncan just sat there. "I can't. I've always feared I'd have to
> face
> you in mortal combat, Richie.
JOEL: So I call dibs on Sub-Zero.
> I can't go knowing it's a possibility."
CROW: I have to go knowing it's a certainty.
> Richie nodded. "I understand, Mac. We'll see you when we get
> back."
SERVO: Maybe. Muahahahahahaha!
> Richie and Julia left to meet with Bashir, and Duncan suddenly felt
> very alone.
CROW: [exasperated] Possibly because he *was*?
> --
JOEL: T.F. Eccles, posting from the account of--
> **********************************************************************
> *******
SERVO: A maze of stars my cage...
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "I'll Be Mellow When I'm Dead" -- "Weird Al" Yankovic
CROW: [starting to panic again] Joel, I think I'm going to be mellow!
SERVO: Let's get out of here while we can.
>
...o...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL Bridge. Joel and the 'bots gather 'round the counter.]
JOEL: So, guys, what do you think The Prize is?
SERVO: Maybe it's the key to decrypting Elgar's "Enigma Variations".
CROW: [Don Pardo voice] A year's supply of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francis-
co treat! What do you think?
JOEL: I dunno... a Charlie Brown trading card?
[Servo shakes his head.]
JOEL: Or maybe the Colonel's secret recipe of 11 herbs and spices.
CROW: Sampo?
SERVO: You know, I think it's just a brass ring and a bird whistle. It's
the principle of the whole thing that really counts.
JOEL: Well, why don't we ask our viewers at home?
SERVO: [sarcastic] Sure, why not? I'm sure this is keeping *them* awake
at night.
JOEL: [to camera] If you think you know what The Prize is, e-mail your
suggestions to pr...@mvp.com with the subject line "What is The
Prize?".
CROW: Hey, how come 2 Mad Crew is having their e-mail sent care of an
address in Oregon?
JOEL: I think they got chased off of Delphi again. [to camera again]
Once we find out what The Prize *is*--
SERVO: Assuming we survive that long.
JOEL: We'll read some entries on the air and see what people guessed.
CROW: Public humiliation! I love it!
[The Mads light flashes; Joel and the 'bots all speak at once.]
CROW: Uh-oh, Ren and Stimpy are howling in our direction.
SERVO: Hey, Ben and Jerry are calling.
JOEL: Oh, Phil and Ed want to convene.
CROW: Pete and Pete!
SERVO: Professor Herman Horne and Strudelmeyer!
GYPSY: [off-camera] The Walrus and the Carpenter!
JOEL: Ha ha, we do have fun. What do you think, sirs? [hits button]
[Deep 13. Only Dr. Forrester is visible; he's still wearing the porkpie
hat.]
DR. F: Oh, the pain has only just begun, Mighty Max!
[He begins to laugh diabolically, but is cut short when Frank comes bar-
relling in and knocks him down. Frank grins moronically to the camera,
and flashes a roll of Mystos. The expression on his face shifts to utter
terror as Dr. F's hands, clawed with rage, reach up to grab his shirt
and begin pulling him down...]
FRANK: [barely audible] Poopie!
\ | /
\ | /
---0---
/ | \
/ | \
<fwshhh>
[MSTH set, and Perkins is still there, bandaged but amiable.]
PERKINS: What is the Prize? Perhaps it represents the lofty ideal that
mankind has striven for throughout the ages. Or perhaps it's
one of those things, like love or happiness, that we can't
really find until we stop looking so hard and relax a little.
[He chuckles for no reason at all.] Perhaps we'll find out on
the next Mystery Science Theater Hour. Good night.
[Lights down; music up. Perkins starts fidgeting with his head bandage.]
MSTed by Steve Brinich <ste...@access.digex.net>,
Jason Cohen <in absentia>,
Jim Gould <jgo...@walnut.holli.com>,
Petrea Mitchell <pr...@mvp.com>, (The Editor of Fate)
Mark Sachs <sa...@crayola.cse.psu.edu>,
& Tom Salyers <ab...@freenet.hsc.colorado.edu>
Host segments by Petrea Mitchell & Mark Sachs
[The bandage comes loose, and Perkins tries to wrap it back around his
head.]
Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, merchandise,
and EMFs all copyright 1994 Best Brains, Inc. This MSTing not endorsed,
authorized, or supported by anybody. Not intended as a personal attack
on John F. Moore III, but as whatever is nearest to that and still pro-
tected under the First Amendment. "Treklander II" reproduced by permis-
sion of the author. This article may be freely distributed as long as
this paragraph remains intact. If you recognized all the silly nicknames
in the last segment, get yourself a life IMMEDIATELY.
[The bandage situation has reached a crisis stage. Perkins gathers up
the loose part, wraps it firmly around his head, and ties it with a
great big bow.]
If you'd like to MSTify some deserving piece, contact <misties-request
@jg.cso.uiuc.edu> to join the "dibs" mailing list.
[Perkins strides off the set looking absolutely ridiculous.]
Kevin P McBrearty
I just saw this, and I was wondering if there was a "Treklander I" out
there somewhere? If so, could someone be so kind as to repost it for
me? Mahalo!
Kevin P. McBrearty
kp...@christa.unh.edu
--
"Space...the final frontier. These are the voyages of the
Starship Enterprise. It's continuing mission: to explore
strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations,
to boldly go where no one has gone before."
Robert Mobbs
: Mahalo!
WaterMaid!
Robert Mobbs
mo...@cyberspace.com
Petrea E. Mitchell
: I just saw this, and I was wondering if there was a "Treklander I" out
: there somewhere? If so, could someone be so kind as to repost it for
: me? Mahalo!
There is indeed a "Treklander [I]". Mr. McBrearty is having it
delivered straight to him; the rest of you can find it all at ftp.cs.
odu.edu and ftp.ee.pdx.edu, /pub/mst3k/mistings, filenames 'treklander.1'
through 'treklander.4'.
--
/ <|> <|> <pr...@mvp.com> <pr...@gm.dev.com>
Petrea Mitchell ** GO NINERS ** <pem...@is.nyu.edu>
"We were going to write something about Reagan, but forgot what we were
going to write." ---_Washington Square News_ weather
** This .sig has been altered to screw up the grepping scheme of Lawrence
** Canter and Martha Siegel. Green cards and spam! HarperCollins! Fnord!