MSTed: "Treklander", parts 9-15 [1/2]
Petrea Mitchell
[MSTH theme; "Jack Perkins" is standing stock still as always.]
PERKINS: Hello, and welcome once again. Tonight, we present the long-
awaited continuation of the space adventure "Treklander".
You know, when "Treklander" first aired on alt.startrek.
creative, it received some of the highest and most copious
praise any story had ever gotten there. Well, we know Joel
and the robots aren't going to like anything the Mads send
them-- let's see what they think of it.
[roll theme v1.1]
...o...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL bridge; fake greenery is everywhere. The supposed plants and
trees range in quality from "hey, at least it's got style" to "this
wouldn't fool Bert I. Gordon." Joel walks by, carrying a small potted
plant that could almost be mistaken for the real thing at twenty or
thirty yards, and notices Cambot.]
JOEL: Oh, hi, everyone. Welcome to the Satellite of Love. We're green-
ing up the ship today for our invention exchange.
[Servo walks-- er, floats in as Joel puts the "plant" down just off-
screen.]
SERVO: Oh, you're finished! It looks really nice.
JOEL: Actually, we've still got to move that big tree into position,
if you wouldn't mind helping.
SERVO: Uh, I'm still looking for Crow to get him to help.
JOEL: I thought he was looking for you.
CROW: [coming in behind Servo] Is he done yet?
SERVO: Crow!!
JOEL: C'mon, guys, you're helping. [walks off-screen]
SERVO: You were supposed to wait for the all-clear!
CROW: Well, he *looked* done...
[The commercial sign button flashes.]
JOEL: [leaning back into the frame and hitting the button] We'll be
right back. Now come on, you two.
[It doezn't matter what comez, there will alwayz be death, taxez, and
Clotheztime adz.]
[Joel, Gypsy, Servo, and Crow are maneuvering a reasonable simulation
of an evergreen into place beside the big "G" door.]
JOEL: ...okay, there. All right.
[All step back to look at it. The Mads lights flash.]
JOEL: Oh, just in time-- Fry and Laurie are calling. [hits button]
[Deep 13]
[Deep 13 has also had a plant invasion. Several real, if ill-tended,
plants are drooping over the various consoles. Dr. Forrester is push-
ing a half-barrel-sized planter with a bush in it across the floor.]
DR. F: Ah-- the Cambrian Explosion is here, Frank! You go first with
the invention exchange, Joel, we're still setting up for ours.
[SoL]
[Joel and the 'bots are wearing model dinosaur heads and necks that
seem to be coming out of the tops of their heads. Crow has a tricera-
tops head, Gypsy has a tyrannosaur, Joel has a maiasaur, and Servo's
headgear is the top of an iguanadon.]
JOEL: Well, sirs, our invention exchange this week is based on Larry
Gonick's book _The Cartoon Guide to (Non)Communication_.
[The maiasaur head speaks in a voice similar to Joel's, if Joel were
in the process of being strangled.]
MAIASAUR: I loathe you! I despise you!
JOEL: Some scientists believe that emotions first evolved in the time
of the dinosaurs. In essence, all our feelings are messages from
an "inner dinosaur" buried in our brains.
SERVO: I thought you humans didn't evolve from dinosaurs.
MAIASAUR: Oh, *duh*!
JOEL: [to Servo] Shh, not now.
SERVO: Anyway, we've taken Gonick's graphic representation one step
further. Now you can let the world know how you really feel
without the inconvenience of having to do it yourself.
CROW: Hey, Joel, mine isn't doing anything!
MAIASAUR: Geez, you gotta explain *everything* to 'em!
JOEL: [patiently] That's because you're a robot, Crow. You don't have an
inner dinosaur.
CROW: Aw, what a gyp.
[Deep 13]
[Frank, wearing a pakycephalosaur head, is being attacked by Forres-
ter, who is wielding the model head and neck of a diplodocus. Forres-
ter glances at the camera, then shoves the diplodocus head at Frank,
who stumbles back.]
DR. F: Your experiment today is the continuation of John F. Moore's
train wreck of a fanfic, "Treklander". Choke on it, C. Arthur
Toon.
FRANK: [stumbling forward now] Why don't they look? Tell me... [col-
lapses on the console]
DR. F: Frank, have you been into the deathangel again?
[SoL]
SERVO: Terse today, aren't they?
MAIASAUR: [to Gypsy] Hey hey *hey*! Your swamp or mine?
[The tyrannosaur head emits a deep, menacing growl.]
[Alarms sound, lights flash, etc.]
EVERYONE AND THEIR DINOSAURS: Aaaaa! We got message sign!
G...6...5...4...3...2...o...
> Xref: agora alt.culture.internet:1381
[As our heroes enter and sit down, Joel removes all the dinosaur
heads.]
SERVO: Culture. Internet. What am I missing here?
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net
CROW: Bennett, do you have a question for our mystery guest?
> !usc!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!
> news.kei.com!
SERVO: Pity it isn't `tokei.com', or we could tell them to "watch"
their step!
JOEL: Huh?
SERVO: Uh, a little bilingual joke for our friends in Japan.
> rs6a.wln.com!news.uoregon.edu!netnews.nwnet.net!news.u.
> washington.edu!dogpest
> From: dog...@u.washington.edu (Mister Pastry)
CROW: "Dogpest"? Isn't that Li'l Abner's home town?
JOEL: No, that's Dogpatch.
SERVO: Oh, then it must be the name of Blondie's husband!
JOEL: No, Tom, that's Dagwood.
CROW: Huh. So what is "Dogpest", anyway?
JOEL: Maybe it's an obscure comment on the quality of today's post.
> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Subject: What is the internet?
CROW: You have two hours to complete your response. Go!
> Organization: University of Washington
> Lines: 12
> Message-ID: <2rc7vo$1...@news.u.washington.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: stein.u.washington.edu
>
>
> Recently I have been hearing about something called the "internet".
JOEL: I have also been hearing about something called "prozac".
> What is the internet?
SERVO: Page 243.
> Also, what is "usenet"?
SERVO: Page 9.
> How can I gain accesss
> to
ALL: Yes???
> usenet, whatever it is?
JOEL: You're soaking in it!
SERVO: Page 378. Internetics, by L. Ed Krol.
> Just to give you some idea of my situation here:
JOEL: I am currently writing this from the Washington Home for the Crim-
inally Bewildered. Please excuse the crayon-- they won't let us
use any sharp instruments here.
> I am using a
> computer
CROW: Made from stone knives and bearskins.
> with a standard keyboard and monitor, and a phone-connection devvice
> called a modum.
SERVO: 'Cause I'm mo' dumb than you can believe.
> Our current
CROW: ...position is 20 degrees north by 15 degrees west. Target: Bor-
neo!
> is (I believe) 120 volts ac, and we have
> cable tv (incidentally, this is where I heard about the "internet"
> whatever that may be!)
JOEL: Ah, don't believe everything you hear on cable TV.
> So help me.
SERVO: At last, an honest cry for help from our friend, Mister Pastry.
> Thank you.
>
>
> Xref: agora alt.culture.internet:1419
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!
JOEL: [singing] Interjections! of excitement, of emotion. They're gen-
erally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by
a comma when the feeling's not as strong.
So when you're happy--
CROW & SERVO: Hurray!
JOEL: Or sad--
SERVO & CROW: Aw!
JOEL: Or frightened--
'BOTS: Eek!
JOEL: An interjection starts a sentence right!
> ihnp4.ucsd.edu!library.ucla.edu!
> europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.uoregon.edu!netnews.nwnet.net!news.u.
> washington.edu!dogpest
CROW: So, exactly which parasite are we talking about here?
> From: dog...@u.washington.edu (Mister Pastry)
JOEL: It's a post from everybody's favorite late-night donut shop!
> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Subject: What the Internet is.
CROW: Wait a minute, first this guy is asking what the Internet is, and
now he's going to explain it to us?
JOEL: Maybe he had a sudden epiphany while sending the post.
[jump-cut]
> Organization: University of Washington
> Lines: 29
> Message-ID: <2rpbht$r...@news.u.washington.edu>
CROW: Yeah? Well, 2rpbbbbhbhbhbhpttttt to you too!
> NNTP-Posting-Host: stein.u.washington.edu
>
> What The Internet Means to Me
JOEL: Billy Hufnagel
CROW: Age 8
SERVO: Mrs. Krapinski's English Class
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
CROW: Hm.
JOEL: Mm.
SERVO: Means that much to him, eh?
> With the help of my buddies here,
CROW: THANX B1FF!!!!
> I now know what the internet is.
JOEL: And I know that I am not welcome on it.
> There was such an outpouring of emotion when I asked the good, kind
> people of this newsgroup what the internet is that I feel the need to
> share some of the responses I received.
SERVO: The top response was "Bite me," closely followed by "Get a
clue"...
> (First, let me give you all some kind of idea what my situation is
> here:
JOEL: I have now been put in the room with the puffy walls, and the
jacket with the extra-long sleeves.
> I am using what appears to be a keyboard connected to a box.
CROW: This sounds like a description out of "Zork II"!
> This box,
> or
> "computer" ((to use the colloquialism)) Is the electronic brain that
> makes
> it possible to "talk" to
JOEL: [singing, to the tune from "Dr. Doolittle"] ...the animals. Just
imagine it!
> other "computers" on the "internet" ((more
> about
> that later)). Attached to the box is a small television that doesn't
> get
> the local stations or cable.
CROW: Gee, no CC.
SERVO: That can be rough.
> My power is, as before, 120 volts ac.
JOEL: This is significant?
> I
> am
> also a longtime toaster user
SERVO: Eventually, I'll graduate to using a stove.
> but there is no keyboard attached to my
> toaster or my iron lung.
CROW: Personally, I think somebody fed nitrous oxide into the iron lung.
> Both, however, are cable-ready.
SERVO: Somebody just went off the deep end, folks.
> The steel
> plate
> inside my head is titanium, and greatly aids my defense against the
> Pulsations that the government is using their Electromagnetic Antenna
> to
> generate, the purpose of which is, as before, to read my mind.
SERVO: The result of which is, as before, a flat carrier-wave signal.
CROW: Joel, is this what they call trolling?
JOEL: Yep, pretty much.
> I have
> modems attached to every electrical appliance in my house.)
SERVO: He must have a hell of a phone bill.
CROW: It's not a very good troll, is it?
JOEL: Nope.
> The internet, as I understand it, is a large number of "computers"
> that
> can share information because I said so!
JOEL: It's Abian by another name!
SERVO: And not as sweet.
> This can get tiring, and I
> need
CROW: A Valium cocktail with a Ritalin chaser?
JOEL: A good hard beating?
SERVO: A nap?
> my nap.
SERVO: HOOOO!! Tommy-Gun Servo calls the shot once more!!
JOEL: He's gotten stranger since the Mads started sending up the Psychic
Network to us.
>
> end of part one.
>
SERVO: There's more???
JOEL: Coming soon: "What Electroshock Therapy Means to Me".
>
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.
> unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
CROW: Your time is up, Bennet. We now move to Dorothy Kilgallen.
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
JOEL: Brace yourselves...
> Subject: Treklander, Part 9
JOEL & CROW: AAAAAAGGHH!!!!
SERVO: I've changed my mind! Bring Mister Pastry back!
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
JOEL: Bull Durham, NH.
> Lines: 91
> Message-ID: <2nqbk6$7...@mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)
CROW: Why does he concatenate...the two cliched slogans?
>
> T R E K L A N D E R
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
JOEL: [Boris Badenov voice] Or, as we know him, Prince John III of At-
lantis.
>
> Part 9
>
> Julia and Duncan were walking hand-in-hand under
SERVO: [singing] The beautiful briiiiiny sea.
> the twin moons of
> Clari
> III.
JOEL: Or was that the triple moons of Clari II?
SERVO: Hey, I did that one already.
> Julia couldn't remember being happier than she was by Duncan's
> side.
> She never thought she could feel this way after Adam's death...
> *Adam,* she thought, *I'll always love you, but I don't want to be
> alone
> any more--*
CROW: [falsetto] And this man is so cute, and neat, and he's better in
the sack than you ever were.
> Julia's thoughts were interrupted as a phaser blast hit the pillar
> near
> the pair and Sancho Marin jumped the pair.
CROW: Two pair?
JOEL: [knowlegdeably] Beats three aces.
SERVO: I wouldn't call these guys aces.
> Duncan pulled out his
> sword
> and pushed Julia away, telling her to get to safety.
CROW: How effective is a sword against a phaser?
> The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion
SERVO: As opposed to the rest of this story, which has seemed to happen
in even *slower* motion!
> as the
> combatants
> clashed swords.
JOEL: Geez, that green sword and that puce sword just look hideous toge-
ther!
CROW: Wait, Marin had a phaser!
JOEL: Oh, this must be a dream sequence.
SERVO: All of "Treklander" so far has been like a bad dream.
JOEL: Well, if it's a dream, then it can't hurt you. [Crow leans over
and bites him] OW! Hey!
CROW: *You're* not dreaming.
> Duncan pressed the offensive, trying to get Marin away from her.
CROW: Okay, so he's getting Marin away from the female offensive.
SERVO: No, no, he's pressing Julia, trying to get *her* away from *it*--
uh, him-- oh, forget it.
> "Ah, sinor MacLoud, you are mucho aggressive when you have the
> sinorita
> to defend, eh?"
JOEL: There oughta be a law against writing dialect.
> "You'll not touch her while I still live!"
SERVO: You call that living?
> "Then I shall have to make you no longer live."
CROW: He must've flunked out of his Combat Quips class.
> Suddenly Marin charged Duncan, forcing him back until Marin gained
> the
> upper hand. Duncan tripped onto his back and fell prey to Marin's
> sword.
JOEL: And there is something I have not told you... I, too, am not left-
handed.
> As he soaked up his Quickening,
CROW: With Bounty, the Quickening-Picker-Upper!
> Duncan's head rolled in her direction.
> She lookedf at in horror as she stared into the vacant eyes of her
> dead
> lover...
SERVO: He seemed pretty vacant while he was alive! Zing! Heh heh.
> Adam?!
JOEL: [police band voice] One-Adam-Twelve, we have a 530 in progress,
repeat, bad fanfic in progress... the author must be considered
armed and *goofy*.
> She was so horrified by what she saw that she didn't hear Marin's
> Quickening finish.
> "Well, well...looks like sinor macLoud died in vail, eh?"
SERVO: [announcer voice] Yes, "Duncan MacLoud", you're dying, but you'll
be dying for six days and five night on an all-expenses-paid va-
cation in... sunny Vail!
CROW & JOEL: [cheering crowd noises]
> Marin's sword flew toward her neck...
SERVO: D'oh. Note to myself: Do not let go of sword in the middle of an
attack.
> ...and she woke up.
JOEL: And found "MacLoud" in the shower, revealing that the events of
the previous year had all been a dream.
>
> Data sat in the command chair. He was the only crisis-experienced
> officer on the bridge.
CROW: So he immediately summoned some more crisis-experienced officers
to take over from the rest of the bridge crew! Ha ha, I kid.
> `Go to Yellow Alert,' Captain Picard said from the brig.
SERVO: The Captain's in the brig?
JOEL: [Captain Bligh voice] You'll *hang* for this, Mr. Data! Hang from
the highest yardarm in Starfleet!
> "Yellow Alert, Mr. Kaal," Data said to the Tactical officer on duty.
CROW: I've changed my mind-- make that Mauve Alert.
> "Raising shields," Ensign Kaal said as the klaxons wailed.
ALL: ["Goon Show"-type weeping and wailing]
> "Captain," Data said, "we may have to break orbit. I am alerting
> the
> away team of our situation."
> `Make it so. I'll return to the bridge as soon as the situation
> here is
> resolved.'
SERVO: Besides, you ought to handle the ship through a few emergencies
without me. Sort of on-the-job training.
> "Understood. Data out. Helm, talk us to 356 Mark 67, Warp 3."
CROW: The ship is driven by talk?
SERVO: The whole SHOW is driven by talk!
> "Heading set and engaged, sir," Lt. Dhemn, the Navigation officer
> stated.
SERVO: "Kaal"? "Dhemn"? Does John pick his names by banging his head
against the keyboard?
JOEL: I'll explain when we get a break.
> "The ship is powering up weapons!"
CROW: Our ship or theirs?
JOEL: Oh, that's such a stale old line.
> "Go to Red Alert."
> The klaxons wailed more urgently as the weapon systems were brought
> online.
CROW: Would somebody please feed those klaxons?
> The ship shook under enemy fire.
SERVO: [haughty director voice] All right, people, the ship has just
been hit by one of those nasty Kling-free torpedoes. Now, roll
to the left-- mm-hmm, now right-- beautiful, beautiful, now grip
those instruments!
JOEL: [putting his hand on Servo's shoulder] Okay, I think that's e-
nough.
SERVO: "Spock Rock", for those of you playing along at home.
> "Enemy weapons barely touched the shields, sir.
CROW: The *ship*, on the other hand, is getting the crap pounded out of
it.
> Maybe they're no
> threat to us after all."
> "I do not think that is the case, Mr. Kaal. If I am correct, the
> ship
> pursuing us wants our prisoner intact. But why would they chase
> us...?"
JOEL: Maybe... they want our prisoner intact?
>
> "My followers weel not rest unteel I am free, sinor Picard."
CROW: Free? 10,000 credits, that's my final offer!
> "Then they'll be awake a long time," Riker stated.
JOEL: Riker's been polishing up his Snappy Retorts to Silly People.
> "Don't be so hasty, Number One," Picard whispered to his first
> officer.
> "Don't forget he has Lt. T'dor in his custody."
SERVO: And his dragon, Boogaleth.
> He then spoke aloud. "If we let you go, will you agree to leave
> Clari
> III?"
> "You have my word as a Mexican, sinor Picard."
CROW: What's that got to do with anything?
JOEL: How about his word as a badly written stereotype?
> "I still don't trust him sir," Riker murmured to his Captain.
> "Nor do I, Number One, but what choice do we have?"
CROW: You could stun everyone in the room and sort 'em out at your lei-
sure...
> Picard tapped his combadge. "Picard to transporter room. standby
> for
> transit to the pursuing vessel."
> `Standing by.'
> "If you release Lt. T'dor, I'll beam you back to your ship.
> "I think I Like thees Vulcan's company, so he weel amuse me unteel
> I am
> returned."
SERVO: I eespecially Like hees watermelon-smashing act.
JOEL: That accent is the literary equivalent of fingernails on a chalk-
board.
> Picard tapped his combadge again. "Mr. Data, signal the vessel that
> we'll be returning their leader to them."
> `Understood, sir.'
CROW: [as Picard] Mr. Data, signal the pursuing vessel that, as usual,
I'm collapsing like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.
>
> Duncan exited the shelter to the windy Clarian night.
JOEL: A piece of information about the setting? How'd that slip through?
> He saw Julia
> standing with her back to him about ten meters away, her hair blowing
> in the
> breeze. He approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She
> shrugged it off and backed away.
SERVO: Backed away? If she's facing away from him, shouldn't she plow
right into him?
> "Julia, what's wrong?"
JOEL: [falsetto] I have no sense of spatial relationships.
CROW: Or any other kind.
> "I can't be involved with you any more, MacLoud...I can't take
> losing
> another man I care for."
> "Julia..."
SERVO: Half of what I say is meaningless.
> "Duncan, please...just go."
CROW: By the way, Duncan, we're just good friends now. Okay? Bye!
> Duncan walked away silently. He didn't see Julia's tear-streaked
> face
JOEL: Because she was laughing and dancing with joy!
> under the twin Clarian moons.
SERVO: Won't somebody send this guy to Clarion?
JOEL: The system?
SERVO: No, the science fiction writers' workshop.
>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "If You Love Somebody, Set Them Free" -- Sting
CROW: Set us free! Set us free!
JOEL: He can't set us free-- he doesn't love us.
CROW: I wish somebody would come along and sting him.
SERVO: Let's roll, fellas.
...o...2...3...4...5...6...G
[SoL bridge, as green as ever. Joel is holding a small bag of some-
thing.]
CROW: All right, so how does John F. Moore come up with those weird ali-
en names?
JOEL: Well, he could be using any one of a number of proven techniques.
For instance, one of the most common is pulling letters out of
[shakes bag] a Scrabble bag. Want to try?
CROW: Sure, okay.
JOEL: Okay, let's see... [rummages around in bag, pulls out letter] Q.
SERVO: <heh> Hey, it works!
JOEL: I think we could get sued for that one, though. [tosses letter
offscreen, pulls another out of bag] W. Oh, how many letters do
you want?
CROW: Something short, so the hapless victims could scream it quickly...
yet distinctive, so it haunts the mind.
JOEL: Okay. [pulling letters out of bag and putting them on the coun-
ter] H, A, T, D, O--
SERVO: [laughing] "Hat do"? Isn't that when you wear a fez, and it mes-
ses up your hair?
CROW: Hey!
JOEL: [still pulling letters out of bag] Y, O. That enough?
CROW: "Hatdoyo". Uh, I dunno.
JOEL: [to Servo] Here, you take a turn. Say when.
SERVO: Okay... [Joel pulls out five letters] ...when. [examining let-
ters] "Ugetw".
JOEL: There, that's a good one.
CROW: No, no, it just doesn't have that box-office ring to it. Here,
let me try again. [Joel pulls out more letters] When!
SERVO: "Henyo". That could be "Hatdoyo"'s brother.
JOEL: I think that sounds like one of those giant rubber monsters. You
know, like Rodan, Gaigan, Gamera-- [both 'bots come as close as
they can to wincing] --oh, sorry, guys. Okay... [pulls four more
letters out of the bag]
CROW: "Umul". [pronounces it "a mule"]
SERVO: Isaac Asimov already used that one.
JOEL: Yeah. [pulls a bunch more letters out] "Tiplysi".
SERVO: Isn't that the capital of Soviet Georgia?
CROW: Joel, are you sure real writers do this?
JOEL: That's *formerly* Soviet Georgia, and yes, lots of writers do
this.
CROW: Which ones?
JOEL: Oh, lots of them.
SERVO: You don't know, do you?
CROW: You're just making this up, aren't you?
JOEL: [in a tone of parental authority] That is beside the point; now
could we get on with the exercise?
SERVO: [sotto voce, to Crow] He doesn't know. [Joel looks at him] Uh,
four letters.
JOEL: Right. [shoves previous letter tiles out of the way, pulls out
four more letters] X, B, Y, N.
CROW: Oh, that's one of those enigmatic energy beings that knows every-
thing and goes and tests humanity to make sure it's worthy.
SERVO: Worthy of what, they never say.
JOEL: Well, try this one. [yup, he pulls more letters out of the bag] I,
N, E-- oh, there aren't any more. [the commercial light flashes]
And we got commercial sign. We'll be right back.
SERVO: I still say John F. Moore hits his head against the keyboard.
JOEL: Where'd that Q go?
CROW: I think it fell in the privet bush.
[More Clothestime commercials. Are you SURPRISED?]
> Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.
JOEL: Hey, isn't that a blues singer?
> reston.
SERVO: And a NY Times Columnist.
> ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.
CROW: And a dead astronaut! [looks at Joel] Oh, uh, sorry.
> unh.edu!jfm
> From: j...@christa.unh.edu (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
SERVO: <sigh> Creative is not the word.
> Subject: Treklander, Part 10
> Organization: University of New Hampshire - Durham, NH
> Lines: 121
> Message-ID: <2nuutr$716
JOEL: Wow, those user fees are going up fast.
> @mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
> (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)
SERVO: Theorizing that it was possible to travel through time, Dr. Sam
Beckett...
JOEL: Four Vietman veterans were framed for a crime they didn't com-
mit...
CROW: It was the dawn of the third age of mankind...
>
> T R E K L A N D E R
>
> Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
SERVO: As if someone would want to steal this dreck.
>
> Part 10
>
> Councellor
CROW: Ow.
> Troi quietly entered from the turbolift and watched the
> events from the Science stations. Data was, of course, the epitomy
JOEL: He was made by Tomy?
> of
> calm on the bridge.
SERVO: Everyone else was gibbering in panic.
CROW: I would be, if I were stuck in this story.
> The rest were young officers who would have been
> replaced by the more experiences department heads, were they able to
> report to the bridge,
SERVO: Join us now as we give the status of every crewmember on the
ship.
> but the Captain and Will were handling the
> hostage
> situation in the brig and Lt. Worf was recovering from his wounds in-
> flicted by Sancho Marin.
CROW: So Picard, Riker, Data, and Worf are the only experienced officers
on the *entire starship*?
> These were mere babes,
JOEL: Troi's a bit of a babe herself.
> hinging on Data's
> every
> command and counting on him to save them.
SERVO: You know, I feel they've been turning out a lower grade of offi-
cer ever since those budget cuts at Starfleet Academy.
> She didn't need to be an
> empath
> to feel their fear of making a mistake that could cause the deaths of
> every man, woman, and child on the Enterprise.
CROW: Or, worse yet, show up on their permanent records.
> `Picard to Data. We're ready to transport.'
> "Understood Captain. We will lower shields momentarily."
> Lt. Kaal pressed a few buttons on his station and indicated that he
> had
> lowered shields.
SERVO: Okay, guys, you can shoot us now!
> "Hail the vessel," Data said.
ALL: Taxi! TAXI!!
> The bridge of the vessel came up.
JOEL: Boingg!
> It was filled with Clarians.
CROW: Oh, it must be a convention of Clarion Motel Managers.
> Marin
> still had Lt. T'dor in his grip.
SERVO: Sorry, but thees cab is, how you say, occupied.
> "Ah, Enterprise. Muchos gracias for freeing me...now I shall have
> the
> honor of destroying you," Marin said as he effortlessly snapped
> T'dor's
> neck and tossed him aside.
SERVO: Whoa! Time to thin out the cast, I guess.
JOEL: This is going to look bad on their quarterly evaluation.
CROW: Well, send in the next disposable lieutenant...
> "Shields up! Red Alert!" Data ordered as the screen shifted back
> to
> the vessel.
> The vessel fired phasers and photon torpedoes, the Enterprise shook
> violently.
JOEL: [sings] I'm all shook up, hm hm hmmmmm.
> "Shields down to 35%, Mr. Data!"
> "Helm, evasive maneuvers.
SERVO: Isn't that like closing the barn door after the cows have left?
> Mr. Kaal, return fire.
JOEL: And CANCEL CHRISTMAS!
> Data to Captain
> Picard."
> As the Enterprise fired its weapons, the vessel disappeared.
CROW: Yee-ha! We got 'em!
> "Cloaking device activated, sir." Kaal reported.
CROW: Oh.
> `Crusher to bridge'
> "Data here. Go ahead Doctor."
> `Data, that attack seems to have knocked the Captain and Commander
> Riker unconcious.'
JOEL: So the Enterprise fires its weapons and disappears, Riker and Pi-
card are knocked unconscious by their own ship's attack, and Dr.
Crusher suddenly knows this from Sickbay?!
SERVO: [shaking head] <yageta ageta ageta>
> "Are they injured?"
CROW: [falsetto] Of course not. Just a slight touch of unconsciousness.
> `They appear to have concussions, but I don't know how bad yet.
JOEL: They're just really really bad. Take my word for it!
> There
> are a lot of casualties coming in that are more serious.'
SERVO: The plot, for instance, needs major surgery.
> "Understood Doctor. Keep me informed. Data out."
> Dianna felt the tension on the bridge climb even higher as the
> bridge
> crew realized they were on their own.
CROW: Hey, I just joined Starfleet to get money for college, man!
> "Damage report, Mr. Kaal?"
> Kaal looked at the readouts coming in. "Warp Drive damaged; we can
> only get to Warp 2 until repairs are made...Impulse engines also seem
> to
> be hard hit as well...communications are out...
JOEL: Oh, he's reporting on the status of the author.
> Decks 10 through 19
> report
> heavy damage...they hit us hard, sir.
> Data stroked his chin in a fashion that he saw other crewmen do when
> they were deep in thought.
CROW: He curled up in a ball and whimpered as he had seen other crewmen
do when under pressure.
JOEL: Android see, android do.
> "Bridge to Sick Bay."
> `Crusher here.'
> "Doctor, transfer all wounded to the saucer section.
SERVO: Just slosh them over the side of the cup.
> I am taking
> the
> drive section back to Clari III while the saucer section is taken to
> the
> nearest starbase."
CROW: [announcer voice] Remember, wherever you go in Federation terri-
tory, there'll always be a 24-hour starbase near you.
> Data then turned to Troi. "Councellor, I want you to assume
> command of
> the saucer section--"
> "Data," Dianna said, "Why are you separating the ship?"
JOEL: Because it's a neat SFX clip that we don't get enough mileage out
of.
> "Because I must protect the lives of the injured and the crew's
> families--"
> "But Data, these people aren't battle-experienced. Wouldn't it be
> better to--"
SERVO: Can't anyone get a complete sentence out around--
> Data looked squarely at Troi,
JOEL: [falsetto] You're a square, Daddy-O.
> and she thought she could almost feel
> a
> glimmer of concern from him. "Councellor, no one is ever ready for
> their
> first battle.
CROW: Starfleet training makes sure of that.
> Most hope they never have to face another being in a
> contest where there is a good chance only one will survive. But
> Embassador MacLoud's group
SERVO: Chief!
CROW: McCloud!
> is back at Clari III, and the Clarians are
> trying to achieve peace...a peace that can not happen if Mr. Marin
> returns.
JOEL: He'll learn too late that man is a feeling creature.
> For the sake of a world's safety, we must place our own
> safety
> aside."
> Dianna had never seen Data like this.
CROW: In Spandex!
> If she didn't know better,
> she
> would have thought that Data was trying to avenge a blow to his pride
> in
> allowing the Enterprise to be crippled under his command.
SERVO: But of course she knew better.
> "All right, Data. I'll get them to safety. You do what you feel is
> right."
> Data turned to his bridge crew. "Please report to the Battle Bridge
> and prepare for seperation."
JOEL: [falsetto] I get half of everything!
CROW: No, se*per*ation, see? It's entirely different.
>
> Duncan sat by the entrance to the shelter. He couldn't understand
> why
> Julia had sent him away.
SERVO: No one's going to tell you you need Clearasil...
> All he knew was it hurt...he hadn't felt so
> hurt
> in almost 400 years...since Tessa's death. He could almost feel her
> body
> in his arms...
JOEL: Julia's body? Tessa's body?
CROW: Troi's body?
SERVO: That wouldn't make any sense.
CROW: Does it make any sense anyway?
> and the bodies of all the others he'd loved and lost in
> his
> 800 years of existance. He couldn't begin to count the people that he
> cared for, male and female, lovers and friends, mortal and Immortal,
> who
> died despite his best efforts to save them.
[Both 'bots start sobbing. Joel puts his arms around them.]
JOEL: There, there, it's okay.
> (The Alamo:
SERVO: Scene of yet another irrelevant digression from what passes for
the plot.
> Duncan heard the charge of the Mexican army as they
> stormed
> the fort. The brave Texans and their allies valiantly fought to keep
> their enemy out, but eventually it proved to be to no avail. He saw
> the
> body of Davy Crockett fall from the platform above to his feet.
ALL: [singing] Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier--
yeaaaaagggghhh!
> He
> checked Crockett's pulse, already knowing there would be none.
> Suddenly, the Mexicans burst through the doors of the fort. Duncan
> charged the onslaught and wound up fighting alongside Pierre.
> "Quite ze fight, eh mon ami?"
JOEL: Hey, who let Gambit into the fight?
> "Just watch your back and don't let them in!"
CROW: Into his--?? Oh. Eww!
> Suddenly a shot hit Pierre square in the chest and he crumpled.
JOEL: Oh, and watch your front, too-- d'oh.
SERVO: [nodding] It's always the one you don't see coming.
> "Pierre!" Duncan knelt before his friend.
> "Please....mon..ami.......do an old..Quebecois proud.......Do not...
> let
SERVO: [as Pierre] ...ze English-speakers...
> ze Mexicans......ween........"
CROW: So, in essence, Duncan screwed that one up too.
JOEL: Yep, pretty much.
> "Don't die on me, Pierre!
SERVO: Die over there, out of sight! The NEA is reading this!
> Please don't die...")
JOEL: Please, inflict more of your cheesy accent on the world!
>
'BOTS: Doodledoodledoot! Doodledoodledoot! Doodledoodledoot!
> "Duncan?"
CROW: Lincoln Duncan is my name and here's my song.
> Duncan slowly lifted his head to see Julia looking at him.
> "Hi."
> "Listen, I'm sorry I was hard on you like that--"
> Duncan placed a finger over her mouth. "Shhhh....
JOEL: But only half-heartedly Shhhh.
> you don't need to
> explain. If it's what you want..."
> "I don't, but I'm just afraid of seeing you die."
> Duncan held his hand out to her. As she accepted it he pulled her
> down
> and held her close.
> "I know. It's one of the prices of Immortality."
SERVO: Fifty down, seventy-five a month.
CROW: The other price is having to be in awful fanfics like this one for
all eternity.
>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
> Prince John III j...@christa.unh.edu
> Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
> "I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching me" -- Rockwell
CROW: Yep, the NSA's got a tap on John's home.
>
[Come and see the 61% Old Tour, now playing at a metropolis near you!]
[Deep 13, and no one's home. A bewildered young man happens by. He's
wearing tennis shoes, a T-shirt with a dragon on it, a nose ring, and
jeans that must have seen many trials and tribulations. He is holding a
ragged piece of paper, and carrying a cardboard sword.]
GAMER: [looking nowhere in particular] Hey, Rob! You in here?
[TV's Frank walks in, still wearing the pakycephalosaur head, although
it appears to have been switched off.]
FRANK: What are you doing here? How'd you get in?
[The young man is startled, but quickly recovers and dramatically
swings his sword at Frank, giving him a moderate tap on the shoul-
der.]
GAMER: Ha! I smite you with my +8 Sword of Munchkins!
FRANK: We don't want any. Why don't you try the lab down the block?
GAMER: [tapping Frank in the shoulder and neck ar-- er, region as if to
prove a point] You're dead.
FRANK: I am not dead.
GAMER: Yeah, you are. I just hit you with my +8 Sword of Munchkins.
FRANK: Look, I have been dead several times, and I know I'm not dead
now. So if you would please *leave*... [indicates the way out,
but the gamer tries to go the other way]
GAMER: Uh, I came in that way.
[Frank pauses, making some mental adjustment.]
FRANK: You came in through the steam tunnels?
GAMER: Yeah, the Caves of Depression...
[Frank has already run off. The gamer looks alert and ready to hit some-
thing, but can't figure out what to do. Frank speedily returns with Dr.
Forrester, who is wearing the model diplodocus section, switched off, on
his head.]
GAMER: Isn't this supposed to be the Temple of the Broken Shield?
DR. F: [in an extraordinarily cheerful manner that makes it plain some-
thing unspeakably evil is about to happen] Of *course* it is!
[begins leading the gamer away] Now, I have some vital informa-
tion about the... what was it again...
GAMER: The Ring of Total Fish Annihilation?
DR. F: Exactly. Just make yourself comfortable over here... [glances
back at Frank, and speaks quietly] You know the drill, Frank.
FRANK: Third drawer from the top, the... green syringe.
DR. F: Right. And switch the visuals back to the satellite.
[Frank hustles over to the console.]
[SoL]
[The fake plants and tree have been decorated with itty-bitty white
lights and life-size plastic cherries. Posters depicting various super-
heroes cover most of what would be visible of the walls behind the
greenery. Gypsy is wearing a bowl of fruit on her head. Joel is attired
in his "Feet of Fate" robe from _"Manos"_ and a long, multicolored scarf
similar to the one worn by the Fourth Doctor. There is a bunch of silver
glitter in his hair. Servo has on a grass skirt, a pink Spandex top, and
an English judicial wig, and there are two plastic fish in his head.
Crow, a Spock ear attached to each side of his head, is hanging by his
mouth from a trapeze. Two dozen paper cocktail umbrellas are suspended
from the ceiling at various heights. Breath mints are EVERYWHERE. On the
counter, there is an electric guitar and a gallon of milk.]
JOEL: You mean we weren't on the air at all?
CROW: Mmmph mrrgmf!
GYPSY: Aww.
SERVO: Geez.
[Alarms go off and lights flash; Crow's trapeze starts swinging wildly.]
JOEL & SERVO: Oh no! Message sign!
CROW: MMGMMMMMRFMMMLGMF!
[The picture freezes as Joel is hitting the button, and fades to the
MSTH set. There are several British Museum plastic dinosaurs on the col-
umn next to Perkins.]
PERKINS: Much like the dinosaurs, the Star Trek universe was once
thought to be primitive and outmoded, but has been shown to
have more potential for adaptation than people first thought.
"Treklander" is only one of the thousands of species of cross-
overs that have evolved from it. Join us for the conclusion on
the next Mystery Science Theater Hour.
[The lights dim, the theme starts, and Perkins turns to his plastic di-
nosaur collection. He appears to simulating a fight between them.]
MSTed by Steve Brinich <ste...@access.digex.net>,
Laurie Cubbison <engc...@acs.eku.edu>,
Petrea Mitchell <pr...@mvp.com>, (Almighty Editor)
Mark Sachs <sa...@crayola.cse.psu.edu>,
& Spatch <spa...@student.umass.edu>
Host segments by Laurie Cubbison & Petrea Mitchell
[One of the dinosaurs falls to the floor. Perkins picks up a winged
plastic reptile and runs around the set with it.]
All characters, logos, and sharp objects copyright Best Brains, Inc.;
all rights reserved. "Treklander" reproduced electronically by permis-
sion of the author. This MSTing is not intended to infringe upon any-
thing except the humorlessness of today's world. This article may be re-
distributed freely as long as this notice remains intact.
[Perkins returns to the column, and the battle there intensifies. Dino-
saurs are falling to the floor right and left.]
If you'd like to MST some deserving piece, contact the "dibs" mailing
list at <misties...@jg.cso.uiuc.edu>.
[Having disposed of all the dinosaurs remaining, Perkins pauses and
kicks a couple around on the floor. He shrugs and strolls off the set.]
--
/ <|> <|> <pr...@gm.dev.com> <watch this space>
Petrea Mitchell <pr...@agora.rdrop.com> <pr...@mvp.com>
Today's Life Lesson: Animals sleep in the darndest positions.
TIGER RESTROOM --> ---sign at the Metro Washington Park Zoo