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MiSTed - "Royal & Prime Directives" (Marrissa Stories) 6/8

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Bill Livingston

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Jan 13, 2003, 9:59:45 PM1/13/03
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CROW: Not for really much of anything else, either.

>From: Stephen Ratliff <ste...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Royal and Prime Directives 11/16 [PG] (Marrissa Stories)
>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office

TOM: They have a computer-generated Romulan as a secretary.

>Message-ID: <qhoqnuchvkvn8dhja...@4ax.com>
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>NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 09 Sep 2002 19:13:04 PDT
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:160791
>
>Title: Royal and Prime Directives
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen at trekiverse dot org
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Part: NEW 11/16 Serialized Biweekly

MIKE: Or Weeklized Biserially.

>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
>

TOM: We join "Heart of Blandness" already in progress.

>Chapter Ten: The Earl of Avtra's Own
>

MIKE: Actually, Earl of Avtra's Own is a pretty good spaghetti sauce.

>
>Clara crouched in the shadows of the alley, along with Earl
>Cedric and his team.

CROW: Wow. I didn't think Clara was that kind of a girl.
TOM: It's always the quiet ones.

> They were waiting for the last point of
>distraction before they began to sneak into the Odyssey. The fog
>had rolled in, which would make the distraction even better.

CROW: Hmm... I see they recruited the local X-Men chapter...

>Clara couldn't see more than twenty feet in front of her.
>

MIKE: This would also make the distraction even better.

>The whine of bagpipes began.

CROW: [Scottish] Ach, but ah don' wanna go-o-o-o-o-o!

> It was the Earl of Avtra's Own, the
>acknowledged best in the whole country.

TOM: They could annoy more people per square mile than anyone else
torturing an octopus.

> Clara had watched them
>practice for tonight's performance. They were led by a man who
>directed them with a large staff,

CROW: It took 30 guys just to move the baton.
MIKE: Tough union.

> dressed in a dark green tartan
>kilt, with a tan tunic tucked under it. He wore a sash with a
>silver metal on it, which he had earned in battle.

CROW: For your bravery in battle, we award you this lump of antimony.

> There were a
>dozen bagpipes that followed him, expert in their art. Then
>there were the drummers, who beat the cadence.

MIKE: Then came the juggling clowns, 55 of them crammed into one
tiny rinnebeast.

> Those were what
>had attracted Clara's attention. Especially the drummers who
>appeared to twirl their sticks, yet never missed a beat as they
>did so.

TOM: [announcer] Clara feels all confused inside as her hormones
finally kick in.

> Earl Cedric had told her that it took years for drummers
>to perfect that trick.
>

CROW: What this has to do with anything? It doesn't! Enjoy the
rest of the show!

>She could just imagine the guards at the entrance looking out,
>hearing the march of the band, peering through the fog.

TOM: When suddenly, John Elway came bursting through the band
to score the winning touchdown!

> The beat
>of the drums providing the impression of a large army's progress
>through the city.

MIKE: Or of a bunch of band weenies on drums. Whichever.
TOM: The Neil Piert Commandos make their move.

> Then they'd see the conductor, his staff
>raised, stopping just as he could see the entrance.

CROW: [Conductor] Okay, c'mon, who has the tickets? We can't
get in without tickets, people!

> He'd be an
>almost insubstantial ghost,

MIKE: It's the Drum Major of the Undead.

> as the Earl of Avtra's Own split
>behind him, spreading out along the line his staff defined,
>constantly moving behind him.

TOM: Mocking him, making funny faces...

> The music would continue along
>with the pacing as the conductor stood still, at the edge of
>sight, a vaporous vision out of the range of their swords.
>

MIKE: Viciously taunting them with his caterwauling bagpipes.
CROW: Fiend!

>With a tap on her shoulder, Cedric began the mission.

[All hum the "Mission Impossible" theme]

> Two men
>moved with a ladder towards the outside skin of the Odyssey.

CROW: Wow, that's some radical acne treatment.

> As
>soon as it was secured, the rest of the team headed up it, Clara
>being the third of the nine.

MIKE: Thus making her less than half the woman Jeri Ryan is.

> Behind them the ladder was removed,
>and no evidence was left of their passing.
>

CROW: [Guard] Hey, look! Lots and lots of footprints! And some
suspicious looking ladder-like marks!
TOM: [Guard] Aaah, just the darn chipmunks again. Fuhgeddaboudit!

>Across the saucer they moved, the white hull and thick mist
>making navigation difficult,

MIKE: Can't - move! Hull - too - white!

> but with slow progress the moved
>across it, towards the garden. The hull had been opened to the
>air there, and that was where they'd get in.
>

CROW: That makes it sound like they're scaling a fog-covered
sunflower seed!

>***
>
>Under the cover of the fog, Captain Lord Treavor arrived in
>Odyssey harbor.

TOM: Hey, he came in on little cat's feet, heh heh.

> He'd been stopped before entering earlier by a
>pinnacle bearing a message from the Prince.

CROW: Well sure, it - the hey?!?
MIKE: Okay, time to play "*Now* What's Steve Talking About?"!
CROW: Maybe a giant pyramid came down and handed the guy a note.
TOM: Nah, it's obvious - a huge volcanic peak rose out of the
harbor and formed into a gigantic natural e-mail message.

> Tonight he'd begin
>to prepare his part in the attack.

CROW: It consisted mostly of hiding and whimpering.

> His boat slid noiselessly
>into the water, though stealth was not really necessary in this
>stage.

TOM: It was Friday night, and the pier guards were higher than lab rats!

> His passengers were placed in the boat before he joined
>them, turning his ship over to his first officer.

MIKE: [Basso] Remember, be home by 11:00. And bring it back with
a full tank this time!

> They pushed
>off and soon were on their way to the city docks.
>

MIKE: [Random Soldier] Hookers and booze! Hookers and booze!
I'm gonna get me some hookers and booze!
TOM: So what *is* the plan?
CROW: I think it's actually several plans in one.

>The fog hugged the waters of the bay tightly,

MIKE: [soprano] Oooh, Foggy, hold me closer. Closer! Closer!!!
CROW: [Groucho] If I held you any closer, I'd be in back of ya!

> so only the compass
>allowed him to navigate towards shore. Soon, the docks peaked
>through the clouds,

TOM: And - no, wait, I guess that worked either way.

> and he pulled along side. Troops stood at
>the ready along the dock, and a cry for the Duke of Armedge's
>Squire rang out,

CROW: [whispering] Shhh, silence is our ally. [shouting] *PHWEEEET!*
HEY, SQUIRE BOY! GETCHER HINDER OVER HERE, TOOT SWEET! THE
DUKE WANTS TO SEE YOU!

> as they assisted him and his passengers out of
>the boat.
>
>"Treavor!" was the cry.

MIKE: Was it?
TOM: It was. No one knows why, but it was.

> The voice was familiar as well.

ALL: RICK DEES?!?

>He turned towards it. Out of the fog approached Squire Brett,

TOM: A.K.A. Secret Agent Woman.

>otherwise known as Princess Brittany, though you couldn't tell
>that at the moment,

CROW: Unless you actually looked at her.

> as her breasts were bound,

MIKE: Her breasts being held prisoner? That's just kinky!
TOM: But with the way Ratliff's been writing lately...

> and she was
>dressed in the typical squire's attire of Lord Treavor's father's
>household.
>

CROW: Namely, a Nehru jacket and corduroy culottes.

>"Squire," Treavor returned, with affection. "I assume you are
>currently in charge of the docks."
>

TOM: [Brett] Yep, I'm the new chief of surgery.

>"Until your arrival, sir," Squire Brett replied. "I'm to brief
>you on the latest plan of the Prince's,

CROW: [Brett] Remember, he might show up any time, so no giggling.

> and then turn the
>operation over to you.

MIKE: Remove funny bone. Ha ha ha.

> I've arranged for a private room off the
>dock master's office. We'll be the only ones in the building."
>

TOM: Nope! Can't read anything salacious into that! Not at all!

>"I need someone to take care of the Ladies of Castrome that I've
>brought with me," Treavor said. "I felt it unwise to leave them
>aboard ship in the current plan."
>

CROW: He wants Squire "Brett" to take care of some ladies he brought
with him? Privately?
TOM: This could be the first Kids' Crew adventure ever filmed - for
Cinemax After Dark!

>"Captain Black!" Squire Brett ordered. "Take these ladies and
>their stuff to our headquarters in the Golden Rinnebeast.

TOM: [Captain] "Stuff"? What kind of stuff?
MIKE: [Brett] Well - um - you know, woman-type *stuff*!

>Princess Beatrice should be there to pick them up in an hour."
>

MIKE: [Brittany] And if the owner offers you a taste of her
meat pie, decline. Quickly.

>"Aye, Squire," an older solider said.
>
>Treavor moved closer and whispered in Brett's ear, "Planning to
>leave the post?"
>

CROW: To which newsgroup?
TOM: alt.feudal.planets.dull.dull.zzzzzzz

>"Only after you help me change," she whispered back.
>

TOM: Eww! I thought we were only kidding about that!
MIKE: For Steven, this is really letting the kink flag fly!

>"Squire, your father would be shocked," Treavor said in a normal
>tone, as they began walking towards the dock master's office.
>
>"My father isn't here," Brett replied.

MIKE: [Brett] He's, like, not the boss of me!

> "And we've got business
>to handle first, and I want him to be proud of what I've been
>doing."
>

TOM: [King] My daughter-son is the best transgendered princess *ever*!

>"That depends on what you've been doing," Treavor said, as he
>opened the door to the dock master's office.
>

CROW: It would, wouldn't it?

>***
>
>Prince Avery, Lady Hayley, and Duke Nolan were looking over the
>map.

CROW: So we take I-65 up to US 31...
MIKE: But what about this shortcut at State Road 36?
TOM: Never mind that, is there a Cracker Barrel around? I'm starved!

> It was a large tapestry that had been taken down and placed
>over the table so that Armedge and Castrome were visible.
>They'd placed several icons of forces to track where things were.
>

TOM: [Avery] Okay... So we've got :) on the northern entrance,
^_^ coming in from the south, and :P and @_@ backing them up.
CROW: [Nolan] Well what about :-) and ^o^?
TOM: We're holding them in reserve!

>Hayley wasn't really doing much, save moving icons as messengers
>went in and out.

MIKE: Finally, a job that doesn't overtax her mental processes.

> The Prince was concentrate on where everything
>was, while the Duke talked.
>

TOM: And talked, and talked, and talked, and...

>"You see, Avery, if the Fasstime forces head down the road from
>Hammer Pass,

CROW: [Duke] Why they'll be 2 Legit 2 Quit!

> they'll run right into my son Oswald's force,"

MIKE: [Nolan] *sigh* My boy's dog food!

>the Duke said. "He'll probably not be able to hold off them for
>long, but we need the delay.

TOM: [Duke] I'll gladly sacrifice the lives of my son and all his
troops to buy us a couple of minutes.

> Duke Murdock has begun his advance
>into Fasstime, and he's moving fast.

CROW: But he's leaving Time pretty much where it is.

> Those dragons of his will
>be rather helpful, I'd think."
>

TOM: [Duke] And his Orcs and his Leprechauns and his pretty, pretty
fairies!

>"Your grace, who is covering the coastal road?" the Prince asked.
>"It looks like they can march all the way to Arm right now."
>

TOM: Yeah, but they have to watch out for the soft shoulder! BWHAHAHAH!
MIKE & CROW: Ugh!

>The Duke looked at the map a while. "So they can, but I wouldn't
>worry," he said.

MIKE: Well, of course, *he* wouldn't worry. He's too busy fretting
over minor procedural improprieties to worry.

> "If they come that way they'll have to go
>through Arm to cross the bridges, and I've left the City well
>defended."
>

CROW: By two 67-year old rent-a-cops named Hank and Carl.

>"Very well," Avery said. "Can you see any other area we've left
>uncovered?"
>

MIKE: Come on, Avery, pull your pants up and quit joking around!

>"Not to my knowledge," the Duke said.
>

TOM: Is this a good time to say "INTENSE PLANNING ACTION!!!"?
MIKE: Considering you just did, I guess so.

>"Then we better get some rest," Avery said. "The attack is set
>to begin at dawn. Have the staff wake me an hour before.
>Hayley, let's go get some sleep."
>

TOM: o/` Let me rest in peace, let me get some sleep... o/`

>***
>

MIKE: Orion must be losing weight - he's tightening his belt.

>Inside the Odyssey, Lord Henry slept in a room near to the throne
>room. He'd found the bed most comfortable,

MIKE: Much more so than, say, the china cabinet or the walk-in freezer.
CROW: Plus, the porridge wasn't too hot *or* too cold.

> and was sure that the
>one in the King's chamber would be even more so, but didn't want
>to stray far from the throne room, since he didn't know the
>Odyssey well.

TOM: He and Odyssey are "just friends".

> He slept well, secure in his position of the next
>King of Ellosia, at least in his mind.

MIKE: Of course, in his mind, he was also hot-tubbing with his
wives, Halle Berry and Rose McGowan.

> He had no clue,

CROW: Or Monopoly, or Rook, or even a lousy Scrabble board!

>nor watch, on the garden.
>

TOM: How much you wanna bet that soon Henry will be cursing
every garden in existence?
MIKE: Boy, remember when this was a Next Generation fanfic?
CROW: Barely.

>***
>

CROW: I'm not sure I'd give this story three stars.

>In the garden, Earl Cedric and his men were descending down its
>walls.

TOM: o/` Spider-Earl, Spider-Earl! o/`

> Softly, they landed on the richly fertilized soil

[Tom makes disgusting squishy noises]

> covered
>with short grass.

MIKE: Sounds like they're on the turf at Lambeau!

> As quietly as possible they made their way
>towards one of the exits, finding it unguarded. In the carpeted
>hallway, Clara directed them,

CROW: Well, good for her. She's always wanted the chance to direct.

> her study of the Odyssey's plans,
>not only in the keep of the Avtra Dukes, but up on the Enterprise
>giving her the edge to the mission.
>

TOM: Bono was staying on board and co-ordinating.

>Into a jefferies tube entrance they went,

CROW: Where they bumped into a grumpy Scotty.

> and up a couple decks.
>It was slow going, but they had until morning to get into place.
>

MIKE: Isn't Clara breaking the prime directive by showing these
guys a Jeffries Tube?
TOM: She cleverly concealed it by calling it a Geoffories Tube.

>***
>
>Inside the throne room, Captains and Counselors slept,

CROW: Captains and Counselors? Isn't that another ASC series?
TOM: Yep. And look - there's Ghidorah sleeping off a bender.

> unknowing
>that rescue was on the way. The water lights had been turned
>down,

MIKE: Along with the dirt noises.

> automatically, by cutting the bacteria's feed of sugar,

TOM: Eliminate bacteria that cause tooth decay in your bacteria!

> so
>the room was only lit by dim glows. Around the Captains and
>Counselors were soldiers, trying to keep their eyes open.
>

TOM: So they shouldn't SLEEEEEEEEP!!!
MIKE: Woah!

>***
>
>Up in the tower of Avtra Keep, Prince Avery slept fitfully,

CROW: No, I - doesn't - you can't - uh uh uh - BAND PRACTICE!!!

>Hayley in his arms.

MIKE: [Hayley] This would be much more enjoyable if he didn't keep
calling me "his little Binky"...

> The wake up call would come all too soon.
>

TOM: He's on Central Time, and the Concierge is on Eastern.

>***
>
>At dockside, his sister slept in Lord Treavor's arms. The
>afterglow was more than enough to send both to sleep,

CROW: Um, fellas, isn't this the *thirteen* year old sister?
TOM: Uh - yeah. It is.
[pause]
ALL: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
CROW: I've now officially lost track of how many showers I'm gonna
need once this is over!
MIKE: It's a bad sign when even Marrissaverse stories start needing
a "Parental Guidance Suggested" label!

> while the
>troops boarded Lord Treavor's ship in preparation for the
>morning.
>

TOM: They were making plans to stop at Hardees for sausage biscuits.

>***
>
>And at the Odyssey's main entrance, the guard stood increasingly
>more ill at ease.

CROW: Huh. They musta just read the whole "afterglow" scene, too.

> The Earl of Avtra's Own was still giving their
>personal concert, late into the night. The bagpipes blared, and
>the drums thumped,

MIKE: And the banjos zinged, and the tubas oompahed, and the kazoos
screeched...

> as the fog obscured, partially, the music
>makers. Several times, they left only to return later.
>

TOM: And each time, it cost more to make them go away.

>As dawn approached, the Earl of Avtra's Own approached one last
>time. Their bagpipes blaring out the marching theme favored by
>the Duke of Armedge.

CROW: Oddly, it was the theme to "Gomer Pyle USMC".

> One last time they crossed in the mist.

MIKE: "Bagpipers in the Mist". Starring Sigourney Weaver as an
anthropologist who lives among a wild tribe of bagpipers.

>Then, unlike the pervious times,

CROW: He became impervious.

> near the end of the tune the
>conductor's staff was raised above his head,

TOM: You *will* believe a bunch of bureaucratic weenies can fly!

> then tilted at a
>slight angle. With a swift twist, he straighten it on the beat.
>The tune died.
>

CROW: As did a little piece of my soul.
Tom: I bet that if this was televised, it would just have the music
play and no dialogue.

>Path: sn-us!sn-xit-01!sn-xit-04!supernews.com!newsswitch.lcs.mit.edu!
>snoopy.risq.qc.ca!

MIKE: Here's the World War I Flying Ace, in his Sopwith Camel, shooting
down the Prime Directive.
[Tom does machine gun chatter]
MIKE: Oh no! CURSE YOU, RED RATLIFF!!!

> 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 12/17 (Marrissa Stories) [PG]

TOM: Waitasec! Twelve of *Seventeen*?!?
MIKE: Oh, that wacky Steve - he's snuck another part in on us!
CROW: Because darn it, boring horny royal twits just *need* more
space to have their story told!

>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office
>Message-ID: <mrdjpu8urluj9i6ja...@4ax.com>
>X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572
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>(Tue, 01 Oct 2002 06:57:50 PDT)
>NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 01 Oct 2002 06:57:50 PDT
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:161150
>
>Title: Royal and Prime Directives
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen at trekiverse dot org
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Part: NEW 12/16 Serialized Weekly

CROW: Um, not that I'm quibbling or anything, but didn't he just get
through saying it was 12 of *17*?
MIKE: His word processor hasn't caught up with his brain yet.
TOM: A scarier thought I've never heard.

>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 Eleven: Waking up dead.
>

CROW: Oh, man, what did I drink last night?!? Did I kiss a moose?!?

> Lord Henry had left two dozen men manning the main entry room into
>the Odyssey, but only two were looking out at the fog.

MIKE: The rest were watching the wacky new hit comedy, "Eight Simple Rules
for Dating My Teenage Daughter".

> In the mist stood
>a single man, staff raised straight and high,

TOM: Good morning!

> as the last sounds of the
>bagpipes and drums echoed off the nearby buildings.

MIKE: Or it may have just been someone strangling an accordion.

> Soon the staff dropped
>down, hitting the ground. With that another sound echoed though the square,

CROW: [Henry Fonda] It was the sound of the Ambassador's phone meltin'!

>that of swords being drawn.
> With a cry of "For King Richard!" the mist suddenly disgorged a host
>of swordsmen.

[Tom makes upchucking noises]

> Lord Henry's tired two dozen never stood a chance, as sword
>after sword, slew the usurper's guard, the blood and gore hidden by the fog.

MIKE: And by network Standards and Practices.

>Only the sound gave evidence of the battle.

ALL: Oof! Ow! Watch it, ya dink! *shumf* Hey!

> Through it all, the single man
>stood, his hands folded over the tip of his staff.

CROW: To hide his hairy palms, obviously.

> Finally, the entrance secure, and more troops entering the Odyssey,
>he raised his staff, parallel to the ground.

TOM: It's Generalissimo Arturo Toscanini.

> His band formed up behind him,
>and he flipped it straight up and down, and made 3 pumps in the air with it.

MIKE: Causing planes for miles around to attempt to land nearby.

>Once again the sound of pipes echoed through town, as the Earl of Avtra's
>Own began marching back towards the Headquarters, playing a melody of a
>victory in progress.
>

TOM: Then they went into a rousing rendition of "Sk8ter Boi".

> Clara had several objectives when she climbed through the Jefferies
>tube above the throne room.

CROW: One was to discover the magical orb of Nod.
TOM: Then she had to assemble the Millennium Puzzle
MIKE: Followed by removing a sword from the pit of the dragon.

> The team of locals she was assigned to expected
>her to report on the positions of the people in the throne room.

MIKE: Because, after all, this *is* a Marrissa story.
TOM: Yeah, and knowing everyone's precise location is much more important
than minor things like, say, plot and characterization.

> She also
>had to find out the status of her Captain, and make a brief report to the
>Enterprise.

TOM: Finally! I was beginning to think this was Final Fantasy, not Trek.

> She popped open the access to the air recycling system, allowing her
>to look down on the people below.

CROW: Isn't that usually Marrissa's job?

> The Captain was easy to spot. He was the
>only one who was bald.

MIKE: At least until the blue chick from "Farscape" shows up.

> The enemies appeared to all be along the edge of the
>room, which would help. She carefully put down the access panel and pulled
>a small object out of her tunic.

TOM: It's a can of spray-on hair - just for Picard.
MIKE: What a suck up!

> They'd hidden the usual communicator
>inside a carved wood ornament on a rope.

CROW: [Clara] Just let me consult with my Tiki idol.

> "Lieutenant Sutter to Enterprise."
> "This is Enterprise, go ahead," Commander Data's voice said.

TOM: Finally, someone with talent.
MIKE: Yeah, but don't forget this is a Ratliff fic.
TOM: Yeah, but at least Data has a reason to act wooden.

> "I've found the Captain, directly below me." Clara said.

CROW: Clara's plan for rising through the ranks becomes crystal clear.
TOM: I dunno, maybe this *is* the Mirror Universe.

> "The locals
>are about to attempt to rescue him and their king. Have Sickbay standing by
>for the Captain if things go wrong. I'll try to get him to some place out
>of view. Any additional instructions?"

MIKE: [Data] See if you can pick me up an "I Love Ellosia" snowglobe while
you're down there.

> "No instructions have been logged for you, Lieutenant," Data said.
>"Do you need assistance? I detect a large force preparing to enter the
>Odyssey."

TOM: [Data] Some kind of - monolith?

> "No, I don't think so," Clara said. "That should be the local army
>preparing to retake the Odyssey.

CROW: Or it might just be the Jennifer Garner Appreciation Society.

> I'll be back in contact later today.
>Clara out."

TOM: [Data] Wait a minute, what did you mean by... rats, I hate it
when she does that.

> Now Clara turned to deliver the information to Earl Cedric and his
>team. It was time to get moving.
>

MIKE: The van was here, and everything was packed.

> It had taken an hour for Squire Brett to bring the boat around the
>rocky and metal-strewn shore.

CROW: [Robin] Holey Rusted Metal, Batm-
TOM: Crow, no!
MIKE: Don't make us do an intervention again.

> It was a path the squire was very familiar
>with, but the thick fog made a difference. Still, they were close to
>schedule, as the Squire brought the boat up against the dock across the rear
>of the Odyssey.

TOM: I don't care what you say, that was *definitely* a euphemism!

> With a hand signal, she sent her dozen passengers, hand
>picked from the Godspeed's crew, up the ladder.

CROW: They immediately headed for the local trinket shops and Burger Kings.

> "Report in!" the voice called above, moments later.

MIKE: We're reading a Marrissaverse medieval future Star Trek fanfic.
TOM: Ahem.
MIKE: Oh, sorry. We're reading a Marrissaverse medieval future Star
Trek fanfic, SIR!

> It was answered
>only by four splashes.

MIKE: Okay, this time report in *after* you hit dry land, ya dopes!

> Then there were sounds, like someone was dropping
>off a crate, thump, thump, thump, as they worked their way down to the
>dock's planking.

CROW: The post office drops off another load of delicate crystal figurines.

> A minute later, a head poked back over the side of the dock to look
>down at Squire Brett. "Squire, the dock is secure."

TOM: They've set up a firewall and installed Norton Antivirus.

> "Good, put out the signal lights for the Godspeed," Squire Brett
>said, climbing up the ladder. "Did we get any alive?"

CROW: [Guard] Nope, we're all dead. Sorry.

> "Just the head guard, as ordered, sir," the sailor said. "We killed
>nine of them. You might be interested in one of them."

MIKE: [Sailor] He's an *unmarried* corpse.

> "Oh?" Squire Brett asked, standing on the dock now, hand on the
>pommel of the sword she wore.
> "He was wearing the Earl of Airipor's arms," the sailor said.

CROW: [sailor] He's doing his Shiva impression. Pretty good one, too.

> "Her Grace will be interested in that little tidbit," the Squire
>said, looking around, not that she could see much. The fog was lightening,
>but still oppressive.

TOM: [British] Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!

> It would probably be a good hour before the Godspeed
>could dock, safely.
>

MIKE: Or possibly a mediocre hour and a half.
CROW: It depends on daylight savings.

> The King woke from his uncomfortable sleep on the floor of the
>throne room

TOM: It was the third time this week.

> to the sound of arrows flying through the air.

CROW: [arrow] Wheee!!!

> He could see the
>tips of a second round poking through the curtain behind the throne. Across
>the room, the two archers on the upper level that Lord Henry had left guard
>were falling to the floor below.

CROW: Bungee-Guarding is really hot with the younger guards these days, I
hear.
TOM: Yeah, it has a certain thrill in-line skateguarding lacks.

> The King's eyes searched the room.

MIKE: His nostrils kept a lookout for the fuzz.

>The first round had taken out six of the eight guards.
> The second round took out one more, five arrows in his chest.

TOM: [archer] Did we *all* aim at the one on the left?!?
MIKE: [archer] He's a bigger target, okay?!

>The last guard was up against the curtain, out of range.

CROW: Plus, he completely clashed with the decor.

> From behind the
>curtain, two swordsmen vaulted over the rail and down to the floor below.

TOM: Sic Semper Tyraaaaniiiiiiiiiiiiis!

>Over to the left side of the room, the curtain parted,

MIKE: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to our stage, the one, the only -
BARRY MANILOW!!!

> revealing Earl Cedric
>leading a young girl, who carried a rope ladder.

TOM: She likes to kiss him, but she's *really* short!

> Now everyone was awake in the room. The remaining guard was engaged
>in swordplay, trying to get to the door where he could escape and warn Lord
>Henry.

CROW: Or just run screaming into the night in terror. Whichever.

> He would not make it, as he found a knife in his back.

MIKE: [Guard] What th- I *wondered* that had gotten off to!

> "Harlan, you had that knife all the time?" the King said, looking at
>his Chief of Intelligence, who still was posed at the end of his follow
>through.

MIKE: [Harlan] Yes, sir.
CROW: [King] Well why didn't you tell me that before?
MIKE: [Harlan] You never asked.

> "Well, a couple knives aren't very much use against the forces we
>were up against," Lord Harlan said, standing straight and looking up at the
>second level. "And they didn't check my boots very well."

TOM: He strategically hasn't washed his socks for 5 months.

> "Your Majesty, we need to get out of here," Earl Cedric said, as he
>tested Clara's knots.

MIKE: And then awarded her a merit badge.

> "Very well, Cedric," the King said. "It wouldn't do to get
>recaptured."
> They began climb up the ladder to the next level, first the king,
>followed by his advisors and the Captain.

CROW: [King] Outta the way! Women, children, and ex-Starfleet monarchs
first, not necessarily in that order!

> As Captain Picard reached the top
>of the ladder, he paused to say to Clara, "It's nice to see you again,
>Ensign."

TOM: [Clara] Thank you, Mr. Shiny Head... I mean Captain.

> Clara smiled nervously, as he climbed over the railing. "Just
>following your daughter's orders," she said.
>

MIKE: As are they all.

> King Richard exited the Odyssey in tears.

TOM: Homer left all his scenes on the cutting room floor.

> He'd gone by the Queen's
>quarters and discovered her cold dead body.

CROW: Someone took her seriously when she said "only when you pry it
from my cold dead fingers.

> It was only the hurrying of
>Earl Cedric and Captain Picard that had gotten him out of the Odyssey.
>Behind him were two men, bearing a stretcher, carrying the Queen's body,
>covered with a spread from her bed.

TOM: Don't forget to stake her first so she doesn't turn.

> The dock was covered with Royal Marines, and the Godspeed was stopped
>at the end of the pier, ready to sail at a moment's notice. At the gangplank
>of the Godspeed stood Captain Lord Trevor and Squire Brett.

MIKE: Ah, it's "The Icky Couple".

> At first the
>Squire's face lit up, as she saw the King on the dock. Then she spotted the
>draped stretcher.

TOM: A corpse for me? Awww, dad, you shouldn't have!

> The face of the princess posing as squire boy lost all of
>it's color, as she stumbled forward, towards the King.

CROW: [Brett] *Ooof* Man, I'm tripping over everything today.

> "Mom?" she asked plaintively, of her father as she reached him.

MIKE: [King] No, honey, I'm dad. Don't let the ballgown and heels fool you.

>His tear stained face gave her the answer before his slow nod confirmed it.

TOM: His face is a big snitch!

> She
>threw herself into her father's arms, tears flowing. Together they sought
>comfort in the embrace, as the late Queen's body made it's way up the
>gangplank.
>

CROW: Her Serene Highness, Queen Zuvembi.

> The skies had cleared, and it was almost noon, when the Godspeed
>pulled away from the dock.

MIKE: They're making a leisurely stroll for safety.
TOM: Yeah, once you've rescued the king and killed all the big bad's guards,
you can pretty much just take your time in escaping.

> The King stood at the front of the quarterdeck,
>lost in thought.

TOM: [King] Geez, why do the Braves always make the Playoffs and then choke?

> Above him the royal standard flew on a ship for the first
>time in over a year.

CROW: They'd finally been ISO 9001 certified.

> A flag that he'd have flying at half staff for his
>beloved Queen Claire starting in the morning. He had know that his wife was
>dying, but to come across her cold body, left alone in her room after his
>escape from Lord Henry's clutches...

MIKE: [King] Run run run run run - oops! Forgot the old ball and chain!
Get wife and run run run run...

> He wasn't prepared for that. No one
>was prepared for that.

CROW: Well - we were, weren't we?
ALL: Yeah, I think so, sorta, I guess, yeah.

> The King's attention returned to the deck below him as his daughter,
>in her squire guise took the steps up to the Quarterdeck. There was
>something different about the way she walked.

TOM: Well she *is* trying to be a man.
MIKE: And men don't just sway along the road.

> "Brittany, over here, now," he said, in clipped tones. His daughter
>turned towards him, instead of continuing to the ship's Captain."
> "Yes, your majesty," she said, curious.
> "Who was it?" the King said stiffly.

CROW: Professor Plum in the library with a lead pipe.

> "Who was what, sire?" the Squire said, trying to keep in her role.
> "I take it wasn't forced, or you would have told me first thing," the
>King said. "Or told your brother, and the bastard would have been dead in
>an hour.

MIKE: That's not a nice thing to say about your own son!
CROW: It does explain why the Prince looks so much like the Royal Milkman.

> He still might."
> "I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more descriptive,
>father,"

TOM: In a Ratliff Story? Not a problem.

> the Princess said, dropping all pretense of being a squire.
> "I want to know who made you a woman, Brittany," the King said.

MIKE: [King] And can they make one for me, too?
CROW: Wait wait wait - he can tell just by watching her *walk* that she's
not a - that she's been - that she's had -
TOM: Apparently his Royal Spidey-Senses were on full alert.

> Brittany blushed. "Trevor," she said, then softer "It was my idea."

CROW: [Princess] He may be a horndog, but I'm a great big old ho.

> "Lord Trevor!" the King bellowed.

TOM: Meanwhile, Trevor has abandoned ship and started swimming for Alaska
as fast as his grubby little arms can go.

> It didn't take long for the Captain to rush to the King's side.

MIKE: It took even less time for the King to kick him in the nads.

>The King, meanwhile had turned to stare at the second son of the Duke of
>Armedge.

CROW: Who was he? Why was he here? No one knows.
TOM: Just sit back and watch as the vague background characters flow in and
out, folks.

> The glare was one that had turned his children to quivering masses
>before him, the rare times he had brought it to bear on them.

CROW: So he can melt and remake them at will? Cool!

> "How can I help you, sire?" Captain Lord Trevor said, saluting his
>king.

TOM: [King] Sword! Neck! Now!

> "How long have you been fornicating with my daughter my daughter?"
>the King asked in a deadly growl.

CROW: A deadly stuttering growl, apparently.
MIKE: Crow, he's confronting the sailor who's been boinking his teenage
daughter - we're lucky he's even coherent at this point.

> "And what are your intentions towards her?"
>

TOM: [Trevor] Hot monkey love, your majesty!

> Prince Avery stood at the dock, Duke Nolan and Lady Hayley at his
>side. He watched the complex dance of the dockworkers as they tied down the
>Godspeed.

CROW: I *love* the Complex Dance of the Dockworkers! It's just so graceful
and - and -
MIKE: Complex?
CROW: Exactly!

> Up on her mast flew the royal standard, white Yorkist Rose, on a
>golden skewed chevron,

TOM: Right next to a sideways platinum Texaco.

> with a purple background. It had been years since it
>had flown on a ship.

MIKE: It was just that tacky-looking.

> The gang plank made a thudding sound as it hit the
>dock. His father stood at the top of the plank, saying something to a bald
>man in the same outfit as Marrissa was wearing.

CROW: [Avery] Boy, she has minions *everywhere*!

> Avery glanced over to the left. The young sailor girl was perched on
>the edge of a box, staring intently at the docked ship, as if she was
>looking for something as well.

TOM: She's using her X-Ray Vision to scan for strawberry juice.

> He turned back to the ship. His father had
>been joined by his sister, now dressed back in her Princess attire. Avery
>was sure that his sister hadn't gone on the mission with that on.

MIKE: She kept it hidden in her quarters - same as he does.

> Father
>and daughter, they descended from the ship. Avery reached out for Hayley's
>hand, then walked to meet them.

CROW: Instead she gave him her foot.
TOM: Straight up his... well you know.

> As his father stepped on to the dock, Avery stopped, less than five
>paces from his father, and bowed deeply, Hayley and Duke Nolan, taking his
>lead.

TOM: Subclauses ahoy!
CROW: Ratliff paid for all these extra commas, and by golly, he's gonna use
every last one! Even if it kills us!

> "Rise, my son," the King said.

MIKE: And kill the envious moon.

> "Lord Trevor and your sister tell me
>you have done well while Lord Henry had us beyond reach."

CROW: [Avery] Yep. Made a killing on the big board by short-selling
LordHenryCo!

> Avery stood straight, again. "It is my hope that I find favor, when
>you review the actions I and the council took in your absence," he said
>formally. "May I present my chief advisors during your staff's
>confinement?"

TOM: [King] No! I need plausible deniability!

> "Please, do," the King said. "Then we shall repair to a place of
>security, as another needful absence shall be coming."
>

MIKE: [King] I'm takin' a few days off and headin' to Barbados! I'm a
bachelor now, y'know.

> The main room of the Golden Rinnebeast was only occupied by three
>people.

TOM: Piper, Paige and Phoebe.

> Up against the far corner was Commander Riker, sprawled out in his
>seat against the wall.

CROW: His oily, doughy body was splayed out for all to see as he snored
himself into a stupor.

> Captain Picard sat stiffly in his chair, looking
>over hand written reports.

TOM: Oddly, for Picard, this *is* how he relaxes.

> The last of the occupants was standing, her
>hands clasp behind her back. Marrissa's report was the latest to be added
>to the piles in front of the Captain.

MIKE: [Picard] Hmm, I see you're preparing to subjugate yet another innocent
world to your evil, twisted whims.
CROW: [Marrissa] Yep, that's me.
MIKE: [Picard] Make it so.

> "I must say that your handwriting is much improved, Marrissa,"
>Captain Picard said. "This is a very through report on the political
>situation.

TOM: [Picard] But I still don't understand what happened in the New Jersey
Senate race.

> Number One, are we ready to proceed with the trial?"

CROW: Just as soon as Dylan McDermott pulls himself out of his latest funk.

> "As soon as the other Captains arrive, and Captain York turns himself
>in," Riker replied.
> "He will be here in the morning," Picard said.
>

MIKE: [Picard] But not until I've had my first gallon of coffee.
TOM: Out of the frying pan into the fire.
MIKE: Speaking of which, I'm starting to get a bit peckish.
TOM: Yeah, me too.
CROW: Really? Hey, I know a great new restaurant you oughtta try.

[All leave]

O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]

[SOL Bridge - Mike & Tom are looking around]

MIKE: So where's this place supposed to be?
TOM: Crow said it was here someplace. It's gotta be - ah! There it is.

[We pull back to see a table and a couple of chairs set up to the right
of the theater entrance. Above them is a sign that reads "Sir Crow's
Authentic Ellosian Edibles". Mike and Tom go over and sit in the chairs
(don't ask how Tom does it - just accept it and move on with your lives).]

MIKE: Nice place.
TOM: Yeah, the atmosphere's not bad either.

[Enter Crow]

CROW: Ah, good afternoon, gentlemen, and welcome to Sir Crow's Authentic
Ellosian Edibles, the only place on the whole entire Satellite of
Love to feature genuine Ellosian cuisine. I'm Crow, and I'll be
your waitron for today. Now, what can I get you?
MIKE: Hmm, well, it's our first time here - what do you recommend?
CROW: Well, to start off with, I'd suggest every Ellosian's favorite
appetizer, bread and jam.
MIKE: Sounds good - I'll have sourdough and blackberry.
TOM: Lessee, pumpernickel and - hey, you got any apple jelly?
CROW: [incensed] JELLY?!? Listen, bub, this is basic Ellosian cuisine,
okay? Jam is what we got, not your precious *jelly*!!!
TOM: Woah!
CROW: Whattaya think, I have every single obscure food served anywhere
on the planet or something?
TOM: Well yeah. It says you do on your brochure!
CROW: And who are you gonna believe - me or my own stinking brochure?!
MIKE: Look, let's just skip the appetizer and go on, okay? How about
something to drink?
CROW: [effusive] Excellent idea, sir! We have a wide selection of
complementary house drinks, including wine, beer, ale, grog,
sour mash, white lightning, Sterno, furniture polish, and
Prestone Anitfreeze.
TOM: Got any iced tea?
CROW: Slightly extra - about 250 bucks.
MIKE: Milk?
CROW: Five hundred.
TOM: How about just a glass of tap water?
CROW: Okay, but I'll have to run a credit check.
MIKE: Yeesh. Okay, just bring us some ale along with the main course.
CROW: Oh! I suggest the meat pie - it's quite good today.
TOM: Well, let's just go with, then.
CROW: Very good. In the meantime, enjoy our complimentary fruit plate
while your meal is being prepared.

[Crow lifts up a platter bearing a lemon, a yucky-looking ball of fuzz,
a cluster of small red objects, something wrapped in paper, and a roundish,
shiny, silvery thing.]

MIKE: Um, and these are...
CROW: Delicious native Ellosian fruits - specifically, yellowfruit,
grayfruit, redfruit, bluefruit and silverfruit. Enjoy yourselves -
I'll be right back with your yummy meat pies. [exeunts]
TOM: I'm almost scared to ask, but what do we got here?
MIKE: Well, looks like the yellowfruit is a standard lemon.
TOM: Weird - that actually almost makes sense.
MIKE: Almost. And lessee, the grayfruit - oh, yuck! It's a moldy,
spoiled tangerine!
TOM: And look! The redfruit's nothing but - radishes?!
MIKE: The bluefruit looks like a banana or something.
TOM: A blue banana?
MIKE: Yeah, it's, uh, it's wrapped in Blue's Clues "Happy Birthday" paper.
TOM: Nice. What about the other one, the silver thingy?
MIKE: [picks it up and scrutinizes it] Near as I can tell, I think it's
either a mango or a papaya covered in - I dunno, Krylon?

[pause]

MIKE: I'll be honest, I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this.
TOM: Okay, it's been kind of disappointing so far, but I've heard the
meat pie here is really really good.
MIKE: Who told you that?
TOM: Well, Crow did, so it *must* be - oh, here he comes now.

[Crow returns, bearing two suspiciously dessert-looking pies.]

CROW: Well, here we are! Bon Apetit, boys!
MIKE: [looking at it very much askance] Um, and these are...
CROW: Meat pies, of course.
TOM: Heh, I don't mean to be nosy, but, uh, what kind of meat pies,
*exactly*, are talking about here?
CROW: It's today's special - Catfish Meringue!

MIKE & TOM: [look at each other blearily for a second, then] URRRMPH!
ARRGGHH! BLEAH!

[Both make a dash for clear air, Mike holding his hand over his mouth.]

CROW: Hey, wait! You haven't even tried it yet! C'mon! *sigh*
Dang! I *knew* I should've gone with the souse a la mode.
[lights flash] Oh well. Huh? Hello, Sir Crow's Authentic
Ellosion Edibles - who's calling please?

[CF - Bobo, licking his lips]
BOBO: Um, did I hear someone say - catfish meringue?!? [rubs hands
together] Oh please, *please* tell me you deliver! Mmmmmmm..

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"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"

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