[MiSTied] Who is the Enemy? (2/5)
Michelle I. Villanueva
After weeks of deliberation, Part Two of Magnus Huckvale's magnum
opus, "Who is the Enemy", is finally MiSTied. Once again, comments
are welcomed and encouraged, since I'm relatively new at this.
--
Michelle Villanueva
mivi...@uhunix.uhcc.hawaii.edu
ev...@cleveland.freenet.edu
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[Door Sequence...SOL]
[MIKE and the BOTS are all behind the desk. Gregorian chants are
playing in the background, and everyone seems to be meditating.
GYPSY's "eye" is turned off, TOM seems to be muttering prayers
under his breath, and CROW looks "asleep". MIKE is leaning on
the desk, eyes closed and hands under his chin.
This goes on for a few minutes, then CROW wakes up and looks at
everyone else. He taps MIKE on the shoulder with his beak, but MIKE
doesn't respond. CROW turns to face CAMBOT.]
CROW: (whispering) Hey everyone. Welcome to the Satellite of Love.
As you can see, we're right in the middle of meditating. Mike
Nelson, that big blonde human behind the desk, decided that
we could relax better by listening to monks chanting.
Personally, I'd rather listen to Garrison Keillor, since that
has exactly the same effect!
MIKE: (eyes still closed) I understand now! I understand everything!
CROW: (sarcastically) Yeah, Mike, sure ya do!
MIKE: (eyes closed) No, I mean I really know what everything's
about! Everything's going to be alright! We don't need to
worry!
[CROW shakes his head dispairingly and rolls his eyes upward.]
[Deep 13 light flashes]
[Before CROW says anything, MIKE reaches over to the button and
hits the right one, eyes still closed.]
[Deep 13]
DR. F.: Stop that up there, or I might have you destroyed! The
world's problems can only be solved through science, not
by meditating to thousand-year-old songs written by men
who deliberately shut themselves from the outside world...
FRANK: Uh...Doctor F.?
DR. F.: (evading the subject) Which brings us to this week's experiment.
Because you've been so *good*, (laughs evilly) I have opted
to send you Part 2 of Magnus Huckvale's "Who is the Enemy?"
[SOL]
ALL: AAAAHHHHH!!! NOT THE NODDING GUY!!!!
[Deep 13]
DR. F.: Yes, the "nodding guy". Send them the fanfic Frank...
[FRANK is near the computer console. He's playing "Cat's
Cradle" with a piece of string, making various shapes and chuckling
at his inventiveness.]
FRANK: (holding up the string in his hands) Look, Dr. F., a
bunny rabbit! (reshapes string) A broom! (reshapes string)
A man lying in bed!
DR. F.:He's not the *only* one who's going to be lying in bed...
[DR. F. inches towards FRANK and pulls his hands upwards, making
FRANK choke on the string. While FRANK is passing out, DR. F.
pushes the button with his free hand.]
[SOL]
[Klaxons, lights dimming, shaking]
ALL: AAAAAHHH!!!! Fanfic sign!!!!
[Door Sequence]
TOM: I feel refreshed!
MIKE: Ready to tackle this thing?
TOM: Yeah!
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
TOM:Uh-oh...
>Path:
CROW: F'nor's dragon...
>newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!
TOM: (Curly voice) Hey Moe! Ksu-ksu-ksu!
ALL: Hellooooooooo vixen!
>howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!root44!praxis!tjh
>From: t...@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)
MIKE: Great, ol Tim's posting his brother's fiction again.
>Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 2
TOM: If there's more nodding here, I'm leaving.
MIKE: Oh, come on. There's got to be some redeeming parts here.
TOM: Mike, you're too trusting!
MIKE: I'm still riding on that meditative high.
>Message-ID: <1994May6.1...@praxis.co.uk>
>Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
>Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:22:57 GMT
>
>
> STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
CROW: The enemy's who?
TOM: Don't start that again!
CROW: Sorry.
>by Magnus Huckvale
CROW: Thank you Magnus, for making us *hate* you...
ALL: Again!
>Part 2
TOM: Electric Boogaloo.
MIKE: Do you *have* to stick that in every movie?
>HIGH ORBIT AROUND TSAKKIA PRESERVER COLONY
MIKE: In the Forbidden Grove of the World of Two Moons...
TOM: Where's *that* from?
MIKE: Never you mind...
> The Enterprise gracefully slid into orbit around Tsakkia.
CROW: Thanks to the generous coating of grease on her hull.
> A smaller craft invisibly slid out from between the two
>Enterprise nacelles, took up its own orbit, and waited.
MIKE: No one on the Enterprise had the common sense to look out
a window at the small craft.
>
>
>IMPERIAL PALACE, TSAKKIA
[TOM hums the Imperial Theme from STAR WARS.]
CROW: (Darth Vader voice) If you only...[gasp]...knew the power
...[gasp]...of the Dark Side!
> Spencer Nickson looked out over the lush green grounds of
>the Tsakkian palace,
MIKE: (English accent) Some day son, all this will be yours!
TOM: (EA) What, the curtain?
MIKE: (EA) No, not the curtain!
>at the Tsakkian parliament a few
>hundred metres away. Tsakkia was very similar to Earth,
>either through design or by chance.
CROW: I'd vote for design.
MIKE & TOM: Yeah...me too.
>He couldn't help
MIKE: Laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
>congratulating the Preservers on their choice. He watched a
>ripple of wind
TOM: Ummm...wind's invisible, guy...
>travel towards him across the grass,
CROW: (matter-of-factly) Y'know, grazin' in the grass is a gas...
>brushing
>over the bushes that lined the twisting paths through the
>gardens. He tilted his head back
CROW: Only to have it *snap* in a dozen places.
>to feel the gentle breeze
>ruffle his dark hair.
MIKE: (doting dog owner) Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?
Spencer's a *good* boy!!!
> He sensed a presence to his left.
TOM: NO!!! HE'S IMMORTAL!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!!
[TOM leans against MIKE's shoulder and begins to whimper.]
CROW: If this turns into "Treklander"....
MIKE: It's okay, Tom. If it was another Star Trek/Highlander
crossover, we would have seen it earlier.
TOM: (sniffs) You *sure*?
MIKE: Yes, now...(takes out handkerchief) Blow...
[TOM blows his "nose".]
TOM: Thanks...
> "Wonderful isn't it?" he turned to face the newcomer.
TOM: Grrrr...I could say *so* many things right now...
> She smiled. "Yes. Deanna Troi, Enterprise counsellor."
> "Spencer Nickson. Intelligence."
CROW: If he *were* intelligent, he wouldn't be *in* this fanfic!
>he shook her hand,
[MIKE waves his hand in the air.]
MIKE: (sing-song) Shook his HAA-and! Shook his HAA-and!
>mentally rattling through the list of Enterprise personnell
TOM: We've got a Ratliff in the making, here!
MIKE: Tom, the author's British. They spell some words differently
there, like "cheque" for "check" and "humour" for "humor".
CROW: And "top-rated comedy" for "arrogant, tasteless, and rude".
TOM&MIKE: Huh?
>he thought he'd memorised.
MIKE: Okay, let's see...there's Alek, the Anterean...DAMN! I wish
"T" came eariler in the alphabet!
> She leaned on the fake marble wall,
CROW: (Troi voice) Oooohhh! That's *cold*!
>staring absently at
MIKE: That cue card in the corner...
>the short, dark grey-haired gardener going about his duties.
TOM: Hannibal Lecter?
CROW: He's tending the fava beans...
> "Sorry." Spencer apoligised. "That always puts people
>off."
CROW: (sarcastically) Could you *please* be *more* vague?
> "Not at all. I prefer to rely on my senses to judge
>character.
TOM: Are you *sure* he's not immortal?
MIKE: Yes, Tom. Now relax!
>Believe it or not I've had first-hand experience
>of prejudice against intelligence officers." She shuddered
>at the memory.
CROW: Humph...looks like he succeeded...
>"Anyway, I can see that you appreciate
>beauty, that's always a good start."
> Spencer hoped she was referring to the landscape.
MIKE: Why do *all* Star Trek fanfics have this innuendo
thing with Troi?
TOM: It's in the guidelines. You gotta do it.
> "All the other minds round here are concentrating on
CROW: (Troi voice) Me!
MIKE: (complaining) Crow! See, that's what I meant!
>impressing the Tsakkians." she glanced round at the
>political chit-chat
ALL: (singing) Gimme a break, gimme a break, break me off a piece
of that "chit-chat" bar...
>in the terrace
TOM: Terrace Trent D'Arby?
MIKE: (singing) Love me like a wishing well...
>behind them. "And the
>Tsakkians, I'm not quite sure *what* they're thinking. They
>seem to be frightened, expectant, and I can't help feeling
>they're hiding something."
TOM: They invested heavily in HEAVEN'S GATE.
> "I'd noticed the same thing." said Spencer.
> Deanna looked slightly surprised.
> "Are you part Betazoid?"
CROW: No, I'm part VHS-zoid!
[MIKE and TOM moan.]
CROW: Aaaah...you're right...
> "No." he laughed. "I rely on the other senses to judge
>people."
TOM: He *is* an Immortal!
MIKE: No! He's *not*!
> "Is Intelligence work interesting?"
> "You could say that. Apart from the odd boring
>assignment."
CROW: It's interesting, but not when it's boring...
TOM: (laughs) That's like saying you just like stuff that's
cool and hate stuff that sucks...
[MIKE and CROW stare at TOM.]
TOM: (self-conciously) Ahem...
>he indicated Ambassador Sartre talking to a
>group of Tsakkian's who were looming over the shriveled old
>man.
MIKE: Sir John Gielgud?
TOM: Can't you basically say that about *all* elderly British
actors?
CROW: Hey, another one! "Knight of the British Empire" for
"shriveled old man"!
MIKE: Okay, we get the idea! Don't do that again.
>"It has it's moments." he finished.
MIKE: Like the time Ambassador Sartre forgot his other robe at the
cleaners and he had to wear a *dress*! Ah...memories!
> "It sounds alot like the Enterprise."
CROW: Apart from the fact that the Enterprise is a starship and
Ambassador Sartre is a living being, it's exactly the same!
> "Yes," Spencer paused to nod
[ALL cough and move around uneasily.]
>thanks to the slim waitress
>offering them drinks. Deanna instinctively tried not to
>read Spencer's emotions as the young ginger-haired girl
>retreated.
CROW: (sexy girlish voice) Can't catch me! I'm the ginger-haired
girl!
>"I served on the Excalibur for a year,
MIKE: I played Sir Galahad. They never let me win any jousts though.
>and then
TOM: A stint in Caesar's Palace.
CROW: I used to *rule* Vegas!
>two years on DSK7 in charge of security before Intelligence
>made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
CROW: Yeah, join or we'll break your thumbs...
TOM: His commanding officer was Admiral Corleone.
> Deanna turned to face the crispy white pillars of the
>entrance.
MIKE: Are the pillars *starched*?
>People were starting to move towards the wide
>open doors.
> "We'd better go in.." she said.
> Spencer looked up, not at the sky Deanna thought, but at
>space.
MIKE: There's a difference?
CROW: Well, depending on whether or not there are clouds or other
weather phenomena in the sky, Spencer could be looking at
either a star, which is actually out in space...
TOM: (interrupting) Thank you...
> "I think we have a few minutes yet, from what I've heard
>we're not the only ones interested in Tsakkia."
>
>
>BRIDGE, USS ENTERPRISE
MIKE: And now, back to the afternoon movie, "Bridge on the USS
ENTERPRISE."
[TOM whistles the theme to "Bridge on the River Kwai" and abruptly
switches to the Star Trek theme.]
>
> Data surveyed
TOM: How many poeple actually like reading Star Trek
fanfics. 60% said they didn't like to read fanfics,
35% said yes, they enjoy reading fanfics, and 5% were
actually writing fanfics and could not be reached for comment.
>the bridge from the captain's chair. He
>noticed a sigh of confusion from behind him. He stood up to
>analyse the problem.
> The flustered Ensign noticed him, and stiffened up.
CROW: Ummmm...there's a joke in there someplace...
MIKE: Don't...
> "Sir. I'm detecting a minor gravitational anomaly at
>about 3000km on bearing 010.
TOM: Wait...Sir, it's Sebastian Cabot!
CROW: And he *is* funny floating!
>It would appear to be in the
>same orbit as ourselves, but it wasn't there a minute ago."
> "Interesting." said Data. "Scan the area with a.."
ALL: Herring!
> "SIR!" the Ensign interrupted with fear in his voice.
TOM: It's Paramount! They've cancelled us!
>"Romulan Warbird decloaking. Her shields are up and weapons
>energised."
> Data spun round to face the main viewer.
> "Red alert." he said.
> "Sir, we are being hailed."
MIKE: Well, if they *want* to start a snowfight...
> "On screen."
> A dark-skinned Romulan appeared. Data noted that the
>personnel of the Romulan bridge seemed just as confused as
>those on his own.
> "This is Sub-Commander Cretineck
[Giggling from ALL.]
TOM: Isn't that in New Jersey?
>of the Emperial Warbird
>Garnigar.
CROW: You may know our distant cousin spaceship, crocodile-ni-
crocodile.
>What is the Federation's business with this
>planet?"
> Data cocked his head.
MIKE: (Dirty Harry voice) All right, punk...Did I shoot 6 from
my skull or only 5? Do ya feel lucky?
> "That is exactly what I was about to ask you,
>Sub-Commander. The Federation was invited here by the
>Tsakkians themselves."
> The Romulan leaned forward.
TOM: And brandished his hand-engraved invitation.
> "As were we." he turned to his helm.
CROW: Show 'em *our* invitation, Ensign....
MIKE: (gangster voice) I got yer invitation right....*here*!
>"Lower shields,
>stand-down weapons."
> "Stand
MIKE: We gotta take the Stand against evil!
>down red alert." said Data.
> "I have no quarrel with you, Enterprise. We had not
>expected to compete for this planet."
TOM: Well, as long as we're here...mud-wrestling?
> "Neither had we, Sub-Commander." said Data smoothly. "I
>will inform my superiors who will no doubt take the matter
>up with the Tsakkian leadership."
> The Romulan nodded.
CROW: AAAAAHHHH!!! NO! NO! NO!
> "We too, will take the matter up with the Tsakkians."
> He disappeared from view, pushing the image of the sleek
>D'Deridex back on to the screen.
CROW: Um....I thought their ship was called the Garnigar?
TOM: Continuity error! Gotta e-mail Magnus!
MIKE: I don't think we should....
>
>
>PALACE, TSAKKIA
>
> Deanna frowned.
> "Romulans?
TOM: (English accent) Romulans?
CROW: (EA) Whatever did I give the wife?
>I'd better inform the captain."
> She started towards Picard, but sensed a sudden feeling
>of surprise, fear, and general annoyance from his direction.
> "Never mind," she said, brushing her hair out of her
>face.
MIKE: Yes, it's Enterprise Counsellor Emily Latella.
>"I think he knows anyway."
> She looked at Spencer. "You really should have informed
>him."
CROW: (singing) Informer...
MIKE: Can't say the rest?
CROW: Not if I want to stay sane.
> "No, I couldn't be sure. I was only guessing really -
>Tsakkia is very close to the Neutral Zone,
TOM: Ever since first grade...
>and they might
>have wanted to introduce a bit of competition to ensure the
>best deal."
> He smirked. "Anyway, I didn't want to spoil the
MIKE: (singing) I don't want to spoil the party so I'll go...
>surprise."
> A few minutes later, the Romulans began to beam down.
>Spencer entered the hall behind the Ambassador and listened
>to the Tsakkians make up excuses
TOM: Splunge!
MIKE: Err...splunge for me too sir!
CROW: Yeah...splunge!
>as to why neither
>organisation was informed of the presense of the other.
> The Romulans seemed to accept the reasons given, Spencer
>had noticed that they'd tended towards diplomatic means of
>making allies recently, at least on the Federations side of
>the Empire.
> When the proceedings were in full swing,
MIKE: What about the Swong?
>Spencer sidled
>out of the hall into a side passage. After checking no-one
>was looking, he removed his combadge and placed it under a
>statue stand.
> He stood up straight, looked about, and dematerialised.
TOM: Okay, if he's *not* immortal, how'd he disappear like that?
MIKE: Would you *stop*?
> Riker noticed Spencer leave, this confused him.
CROW: Hey, Spence! How...what the *heck* is going on???
>He was
>confused even more when one of the Romulans sneaked out the
>same way.
>
>USS CHAMELEON
>
> Spencer stepped off the transporter pad, and was
>immediately greeted by Lucy's smiling face.
TOM: (Desi voice) Lucy, I'm home!
> "Everything OK?" he asked.
> Lucy nodded.
MIKE: Have we already put Huckvale on our list of people to look up
once we get back to Earth?
CROW: Yup...
MIKE: Just making sure...
>"Why wouldn't it be?"
> "You never know." he walked over to the rear of the
>runabout, where Lude was fussing around another transporter.
MIKE: Whataminnit! Who's Lude?
TOM: Well, Crow can be at times...
CROW: (offended) Hey!
> "Nelf says it'll work this time." said Lude, without
>looking up from the controls.
> "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" asked Spencer.
> "Don't worry. Phasing's come a long way since Pegasus.
>We have a much better understanding now." Lude looked up.
>"I've selected a frequency with harmonics that should let
>you interact with very dense objects.
CROW: Like members of the KKK, neo-Nazis, John_-_Winston...those
sort of dense objects...
>You still can't be
>seen
MIKE: (English accent) We've hidden Spencer in this field. He
cannot be seen.
CROW: (EA) Spencer, will you stand *up*, please?
>but you won't be able to walk through some walls."
> "Yeah, yeah." Spencer snatched up a tricorder from the
>console and stepped onto the pad.
> "This is serious, Spencer." said Lude. "Don't forget
>that gravity has only about 25% the usual effect, and you
>won't be able to hear much."
> "Energise." said Spencer.
MIKE: Where's that damned *bunny*?
> Lude irritably started the beam-down sequence.
TOM: He might be French...
CROW: (French accent) Stupid Federation beam-down sequence...
> Spencer watched the runabout slowly dissolve. The
>sequence took longer than normal, but he tried not to worry.
MIKE: And failed miserably.
>After a second or two the Tsakkian control centre appeared.
>Spencer looked around. No shouts, no screams, no sirens, so
>he assumed the phasing had worked.
TOM: Hi Spencer!
MIKE: Hey buddy! Where ya been?
CROW: Spence!
> He walked over to a Tsakkian seated at a computer and
>waved his hand in front of the Tsakkian's head. That seemed
>to go alright, so he waved his hand inside the Tsakkian's
>head.
MIKE: Sort of like a poor man's "Quantum Leap".
TOM: "Leaptrek"?? NOOOOO!!!
CROW: Just when you thought that things couldn't get more
derivative...
> The Tsakkian rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through
>his short blond hair.
TOM: Which came off his scalp in large clumps.
CROW: (gasps) Oh, no! Noone must know that I was an extra on "The
Conquerer"!
>Then he called up the comms menu on
>the terminal and accessed 'Supplies - Medical'. Spencer
>watched as the Tsakkian ordered something for pain relief.
CROW: Hi, medical supplies? Send up a bottle of whiskey, please.
> Interesting. He could give people headaches!
MIKE: He's not the *only* one, Magnus.
>He
>wondered whether there were any long-term effects of having
>a phased hand stir up your brains.
CROW: Apart from having the brain severed from the spinal cord
causing *total* and irreversible paralysis?
> He moved on to the computer systems and waved the
>tricorder around.
TOM: A la peanut butter sandwiches!
>Nothing unusual there, they were all
>consistant with the supposed level of technology for the
>planet. He stuck his head inside one of the grey casings,
>and looked at the components inside.
MIKE: But he couldn't get his head out again because the phasing
effect wore off.
CROW: Embarrassing setback for Spencer there.
TOM: Yeah, they had to call the fire department to get his head
outta there...it was an awful scene.
>He brushed his hand
>through a processor core, and felt the tingling of the
>subspace field.
TOM: They've got a machine that goes *ting*?
> He wandered down to the large tactical viewer, showing
>the Enterprise, the Garnigar, and several smaller space
>stations and satellites.
MIKE: Wave...
CROW: Why?
MIKE: Maybe he can see us!
> Spencer checked over the weapons control terminals, and
>the pollution monitoring stations. Interestingly, there
>were several stations dedicated to riot control.
TOM: More interestingly, these stations seemed closely associated
with the soccer stations...
>Perhaps
>they had a lot of riots, he mused.
CROW: (sarcastically) No, these people just enjoy pillaging and
looting in their spare time.
> He was startled when a tea trolley trundled through him.
TOM: How "Quantum Leap"-ish can you get?
CROW: (Al voice) Sam, you're a Federation ambassador and you've
got to mediate the conflict between the Tsakkians, the
Romulans and the Federation.
MIKE: (Sam voice) Oh, boy!
>The young boy pushing it was quite tall for his age, but
>walked with a stoop that made him look nearly two feet
>smaller.
TOM: He's working under minimum wage. What would you expect?
>The trolley stopped by two Tsakkians monitoring
>the displays.
> One of the Tsakkians said something,
TOM: He said "oil can"!
MIKE: "Oil can" what?
>Spencer quickly set
>the tricorder to relay the sound. The boy nodded
ALL (chanting) Kill him, kill him, kill him...
>and filled
>a cup with a light brown liquid.
CROW: It's klah!
MIKE: Is that a Kilngon drink?
CROW: Ummm....
>The Tsakkian simply
>pointed to the top of the console, without speaking.
> Spencer watched the boy scuttle through him to serve the
>other Tsakkian.
> "Gitcha hair cut." the Tsakkian's voice crackled through
TOM: "Gitcha"? Is that a new slang word for "good"?
CROW: Maybe he's Australian?
>the tricorder.
> "Yes master! Of course master."
CROW: (Basil Fawlty voice) Yes, *dear*! I'm *doing* it, dear!
>The boy brushed a
>strand of black hair from his eyes.
> "Vik." The Tsakkian barked his request.
[ALL howl and bark like dogs.]
>Not a request,
>thought Spencer. An order.
> The boy placed another cup on the console, and started
>away. The Tsakkian spun round on his chair and caught the
>boy's ankle with his foot, causing the youth to fall flat on
>his face.
ALL: (critically) Boooo!
> Spencer flicked off the tricorder, choosing not to listen
>to the sadistic laughter filtering through.
[TOM laughs sadistically.]
MIKE: Thanks for the example, Tom.
> "You bastard." he said, in disbelief.
CROW: (worried) Oh, no! He heard that!
>He noticed the
>metal cup of steaming liquid sitting on the console, and
>wondered how dense it was. Waiting until the boy had left
>the room, he swiped his hand through the cup.
MIKE: (sarcastically) Oh, great! It's "Ghost" now!!!
>The sensation
>was strange, he could feel a slight pressure from the metal,
>and a tiny amount of heat from the liquid inside it, but the
>cup didn't move.
TOM: You gotta push everything you feel down into the pit
of your stomach! All your love, all your anger, all your
hate, and then let it EXPLODE!!!!!
>He didn't give up, however, and swiped the
>tricorder through the cup. The denser components had the
>required effect, knocking the cup onto the Tsakkian's lap.
ALL: Yay!
TOM: That's the *first* thing Spencer's done that I liked!
> Spencer tapped his combadge three times, and
>dematerialised.
MIKE: (Dorothy voice) There's no place like home, there's no
place like home...
> "Interesting." said Lude. "But even with a slave trade
>Tsakkia is still eligible to join the UFP.
CROW: "UFP"?
TOM: United Front of Palestine?
MIKE: No! UFP! The Federation!
TOM: I was *kidding*!
>It depends on
>how the slaves are treated officiaily. Food, housing, pay,
>that sort of thing."
MIKE: Officially, the slaves can be categorized as fast-food
employees.
> "That's exactly what I was thinking." Spencer said.
>"Lucy, you're the geographer. How can we find out?"
CROW: (Lucy voice) Aaahh, Ricky...lemme be in the show first!
> "Well, you can look at living standards over a
>cross-section of the population. But they've usually evened
>out by a time a planet reaches this level of technology."
TOM: Have they reached the microwavable entree technology
stage yet?
> "So if they haven't, we'll have evidence that the
>Tsakkian slave trade is illegal."
> "Yeah, *if* they haven't." said Lude.
> "So what, I go down and look around at a cross-section of
cities?" asked Spencer. "Computer, display plan."
> The computer did as it was asked.
MIKE: Grumbling to itself while it did so.
CROW: (Marvin voice) Fourteen million ships in this part of the
galaxy and I have to work for Federation Intelligence. I've
got a brain the size of a planet, you know.
> "Actually, I can probably save you the leg-work." said
>Lucy. "Computer, take a population density scan of the city
>and superimpose."
> "Working."
ALL: (singing) In a coal mine, goin' down down down. Workin' in
a coal mine...
> "Lower living conditions are usually cramped." Lucy
>explained. "They'll be in the inner city, while more
>comfortable houses are in the suburbs."
TOM: (sarcastically) Oh, I see. It's a analogous to our very
own societies on Earth today! Hah! Clever!
MIKE: So Magnus actually wants to comment on the struggle between
the classes!
CROW: And all the time I thought he just wanted to get alot of e-
mail!
> The scan appeared on the screen.
> "So not like that then," said Spencer. "There are more
>people in the outskirts than in the centre."
> "No, I think this is different." said Lucy. "The inner
>city, here, is more crowded than the rest of the city, but
>they're both fairly thinly populated.
ALL: Huh?
MIKE: It's crowded but thinly populated?
>But the outskirts of
>the city account for over 80% of the total population."
> "What are you getting at?" asked Lude.
CROW: I was hoping *you* could tell *me*! I don't have any idea,
myself...
> "It's obvious." said Spencer. "The central part of the
>city is where all the rich live in their big houses, near
>the palace, while the workers live around the outskirts in
>tiny apartments."
MIKE: But it's the reverse back on Earth...
TOM: That's just to distance this story a bit more, and make the
*message* more subtle.
MIKE: Oh...
> "It depends on how different the living conditions are."
> Spencer looked at the chronometer.
TOM: *Clock*! It's a *clock*!
>"I have to go back to
>the conference. Find me a beam-down site in the most
>densely populated area."
CROW: Okay, I'll beam you down at the nearest sidewalk sale.
>he looked at that area on the map,
>and realised that he'd seen an enlargement of that area on
>the riot-control console in the Tsakkian command centre.
> "Oh, by the way." he said, stepping on to the
>transporter. "When you check in with Lawton, tell him he
>needs to revise his Klingonee."
MIKE: Don't want his head to get pulled off, right?
CROW: Inside-joke for those who read part one.
>
>PALACE, TSAKKIA
>
> "...tomorrow morning." finished the diplomat. No sooner
>had he stepped off the podium than a wave of excited
>conversation swept through the hall.
ALL: (singing) Let's go surfing now, everybody's learning how.
Come on a surfari with me...
> Riker leaned forward and tapped Deanna on the shoulder.
CROW: (giggling) Ha-ha! You're it!
> "What do you think?" he asked her.
> She turned to face him.
TOM: (Troi voice) When was the last time you brushed your teeth!
You didn't have to tap me, I could smell you coming a mile
away!
> "We presented our case well." she said. "Considering we
>weren't expecting competition."
MIKE: And who *invited* the Valley High forensics league, anyway?
> "Can you sense which way the Tsakkian's are leaning?"
> "They seem to be deliberately staying in-between."
> "That's what I thought." Riker mused. "The question is..
>Why?"
CROW: Why not?
TOM: Because!
MIKE: That's a college urban legend, right?
CROW: Oh, you mean like "People can lick too?"
MIKE: (chuckling) That's not the kind of thing I meant...
> He leaned back in his chair, and noticed Lieutenant
>Nickson re-entering the hall. Riker watched him making his
>way back to his seat behind the Ambassador, and touched his
>arm when he passed.
> "Anything to report, Lieutenant?"
TOM: (chipper voice) Everything's okeley-dokely!
> "No sir." Spencer replied abruptly. "I checked the whole
>complex."
> Riker nodded.
MIKE: I give up on Magnus...He'll never stop this nodding thing.
>"Are you intelligence agents always so
CROW: Idiotic? Asinine? Vague?
>suspicious?"
CROW: Oh...
> "I guess it goes with the job." smiled Spencer. "I've
>always had a suspicious nature."
> Riker nodded towards a Romulan entering the hall.
> "Looks like you weren't the only one."
>
> TO BE CONTINUED
MIKE: What the...? Did something happen that we didn't read?
TOM: (sighs) Didn't he end part one like this too?
CROW: Yup, short and vague.
>
>--
>Magnus Huckvale
>--posted by
>Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
>The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
>Tel: +44 225 444 700 Fax: +44 225 465 205 Email: t...@praxis.co.uk
> Any opinions expressed are mine
>--
>Tim H
>"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
>Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis". (#2 in a series of quotes)
MIKE: Let's get out of here!!!!
[MIKE grabs TOM and leaves the theater, CROW following.]
[Door sequence...SOL]
MIKE: Well, what did you guys think about part two of "Who is the
Enemy"?
TOM: Hmmmm???
CROW: What did we think about what?
MIKE: That fanfic that the Mads thrust upon us, by Magnus Huckvale?
CROW: Who?
MIKE: You know, the nodding guy?
TOM: Honestly Mike. We have absolutely *no* idea what you're talking
about.
[The BOTS begin to discuss something between themselves, laughing
occassionally. MIKE turns to face CAMBOT.]
MIKE: (chuckling) Ah, those bots! They must've turned on their
selective memory programs, and basically erased their
fanfic experiences. I hate to do this...but I can't stand
suffering alone.
[MIKE sneaks up behind CROW and TOM and turn them off. GYPSY comes
in carrying the book "E-Z Bot Repair" in her mouth. MIKE takes the
book and opens it. After scanning the pages, he finagles with CROW
and TOM. After a few seconds, he turns CROW and TOM back on.]
TOM: Well wha...? Oh, no!!! We just read another piece of weirdness
from the USENET, didn't we?
CROW: Yeah, Magnus...ummm...Huckvale, right??
TOM: And he's....THE NODDING GUY!!!!!
[TOM and CROW begin to whimper.]
CROW: And then he tried to incorporate elements of Quantum Leap
and Highlander!!!!
TOM: Nelson...why'd you make us remember?????
MIKE: You've got to learn that you can't just shut away painful
experiences. Remember Nietzche? "That which does not kill
me can only make me stronger!" Right?
CROW: Stronger, my load pan! These wounds will *never* heal!
MIKE: You guys survived "Manos", why can't you survive Magnus?
TOM: "Manos"! Great, Nelson, now you've dredged up *another*
corpse we thought we'd gotten rid of!
MIKE: I wonder how the other guy put up with you two! What do you
think, Mad fools?
[Deep 13]
[FRANK is tied up in a gigantic "Cat's Cradle". The more he struggles
the more tangled up he becomes. DR. F. comes in and begins to
reshape the string.]
DR. F.: Now, Frank. Here is a man spending his last few moments of
precious life! Until next time, Major Nelson!
[DR. F. pushes the button.]
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>He sensed a presence to his left.
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++LEGAL STUFF++
Mystery Science Theater 3000, its situations and characters
are the sole property of BBI and are (c) 1994 BBI.
Star Trek: The Next Generation, its situations and characters
are the sole property of PARAMOUNT PICTURES.
The opinions expressed in this post are not necessarily those of
BBI, CC, HBO DOWNTOWN PRODUCTIONS, PARAMOUNT PICTURES and their
affiliates, whomever they may be.