MiSTing: "Hail to the Queen" [PG, STNG, Marrissa] (6/9]

[Matthew R Blackwell]

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

[The trio returns from the theater. The union members are
nowhere to be seen. Babe stands alone at the console, standing
at attention.]

Mike: Oh, hi Babe.
Babe: Hello, Mr. Nelson. Have you made any progress on
returning this unit to the collective?
Mike: Well, we still don't know where the collective is. . .
Tom: I do.
Mike: [aside] Shut up Tom.
Babe: Well, this unit will continue its exploration of what it
means to be human. By the way, is it customary for one
to leave their undergarments lying around on the floor?
Mike: [sheepishly] Sorry. Those are mine. I'm afraid that it's
been a long time since there were any other humans
aboard. I'll take those.
Crow: We wouldn't mind if you left *your* underwear lying
around though.
Mike: [aside] Shut up Crow!
Babe: This unit has already discovered the feelings of
"disgust." Perhaps this unit should investigate the human
means of reproduction.
[Mike blushes deeply while the bots make "bucka-wow" noises.]
Babe: I'll need a test subject. . .
Mike: Well, I guess that I can help you with that. . .
Tom: [snicker] Oh, this ought to be entertaining.
Crow: [snicker] Don't do anything that I wouldn't do Mike.
Babe: You! Gold One! You will assist me!
[Babe grabs Crow and drags him offscreen. Crow gives a shriek
of alarm as he's dragged off stage.]
[Mike stands beside Tom, stunned. Tom looks at Mike for a
moment.]
Tom: Boy Mike, just when you thought that your self esteem
couldn't get any lower, the only human female around for
parsecs chooses . . .
Mike: Tom, if you value your existence, shut up.
Tom: Yes, sir.
[Noises occur offscreen. We hear shouts of joy from Babe,
various crashing sounds, Crow yelling in terror, and a cuckoo
clock. Mike and Tom continue staring off screen towards where
Crow and Babe left the Bridge.]
Tom: That must have hurt.
Mike: Yep.
[A few moments pass. More things crash.]
Tom: Say, could you do that?
Mike: My joints don't bend that way.
[More crashes. Crow screams in terror again.]
Mike: Hmm. That'll leave a mark.
Tom: Yeah.
[Babe yells.]
Mike: Ooooh.
Tom: Ahhhh.
[A furious crescendo of noise erupts from offstage. When the
noise ends, Mike begins to clap loudly while Tom raises a
lighter into the air. Moments later, Babe walks back into view
with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and a smile on her
face.]
Babe: Well that was refreshing.
[Babe walks off screen. Crow wanders back into view, visibly
dazed.]
Crow: [Dazedly, but in a much deeper voice than normal.] So,
that's what it's like to ,um. . .
Tom: Engage in shuttlecraft operations?
Crow: Yeah, that euphemism will work.
Mike: Crow, I hate to break it to you, but that wasn't sex.
Crow: What?
Mike: That wasn't sex Crow. She was mostly pounding your head
against a wall.
Crow: Are you sure?
Mike: Believe me, there is a subtle difference between the two
experiences.
Crow: Bummer. [Pause] So, maybe on our second date?
[The fan-fic sign begins to flash.]
Mike: Darn. I guess I won't have time to answer, because we've
got fan-fic sign!
[The usual antics ensue. The door sequence begins.]

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

[Mike and the Bots enter and sit.]
Crow: On the third date?
Mike: Crow, she nearly dismembered you.
Crow: Oh. The fourth date then?
Mike: Tom, talk to him.

>
>--------------2775F4753112E659C8F739D3--
>
>
>From rto...@direct.ca Fri Jan 09 14:01:33 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen 3/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa
>Stories)
>From: Ron Tonts <rto...@direct.ca>
>Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 20:01:33 +0000
>
>
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>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac-
type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353"
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
>

Crow: Shave-And-A-Haircut: 2bits.

> Chapter 6
>
> Jay watched as the USS James T. Kirk was reduced to
>wayward particles of matter by the final Borg cube.

Mike: The horror was over!

> The stream
>of Quantum torpedoes impacted the surface along side the port,
>making the hull glow red hot. The torpedoes didn't actually
>make it through, but it did the next best thing.

Tom: They - or it! - managed to escape the fanfic.
All: Hooray!

> The port
>opening was now larger, and it would be easier to slip a
>torpedo down its gullet.

Mike: And, again, the Borg aren't the teensiest bit clued in to
the plan.

> Numbness spread through Jay's body as he spotted the
>weak area.

Crow: [chanting] Launch it, launch it, blow her up...

> He could save the Federation from certain
>destruction with a single torpedo.

Tom & Crow: [Chanting] Launch it, launch it, blow her up...

> But the cost, Marrissa, his
>soulmate,

All: [chanting] Launch it. . .

> his best friend,

All: [Chanting] Launch it. . .

> the mother of his child,

All: [Chanting] Blow her up...

> and lastly
>his commanding officer.

Mike: And the problem is...?
Tom: If this was the mirror universe, then Jay would be in
charge by now.
Crow: If this was the mirror universe, Ensign Throwaway would
have killed everyone by now. He's a knife man, you know.

> It was too high, he couldn't give the
>order.

Crow: The ending of Wrath of Khan, this isn't.
Mike: And Rob's seen "City on the Edge of Forever", too.

> "Admiral, I have the torpedoes locked on to the opening.
>Awaiting your orders, sir," Shayna announced from behind him.

Tom: [Jay] If you were m--
Mike: [Shayna, quickly] I'd ice the bitch, sir.

> Jay's mind exploded

Crow: Cool! Just like _Scanners_!

> into conflict

Crow: Damn.

> over his two ideals, the
>Federation and his love for Marrissa.

Mike: [Jay] Federation...emasculating ice queen. Federation...
emasculating ice queen. That's a poser, all right.

> Logic finally prevailed
>and said that his wife may as well be dead.

Tom: Yes-s-s-s!!! We've finally won the rest of the Kids' Crew
over to our side!

> "Shayna," Jay announced, "fire at will."

Mike: Ah, we've already done that riff.

> His voice was
>clear of the excitement and rage it had held earlier. There
>was only a hint of resignation under the cold visage. Shayna
>was also internally torn over her friendship for Marrissa and
>her duty to her uniform, but reached for the button anyways.

Crow: Then she shrugged. "What the hell. I've killed her once
already."
Mike: Torn for almost .68 seconds. For a Kids Crew member
that's nearly an eternity.

> Like a silver bullet streaking for a werewolf's
>heart, the torpedo crossed the vacuum of space and entered the
>expanded port.

Crow: And now, the award for "Most Freudian Image In A
Fanfic..."

> Embedding itself in the waste jettison unit, the
>warhead detonated.

Tom: Must be out of those slow models.

> Expecting a ball of fire similar to the last
>one, the Enterprise veered away from the cube. Instead of the
>armageddon that was expected, a single tongue of fire
>raspberried the remaining member of the Earth Defence Fleet.

Tom: [as Borg] NYeeeeeah!
Mike: I'd like you to meet my aunt...Rob Tonts, this is Auntie
Climax.

>The only explanation was that the Borg had expelled all their
>waste gasses before the explosion.

Bots: Ah--
Mike: Let it pass.

> "Helm turn us about. Shayna, fire all the weapons."
>Jay ordered, determined to go down fighting. The subsequent
>burst of weaponry was capable of laying waste to several large
>starbases,

Crow: Apparently, Jay goes around taking out random starbases
for fun.

> yet did little to injure the Borg. Some sort of
>energy projectile shorted out the Enterprise's external
>systems,

Mike: What was it? Even the writer doesn't know.

> deactivating the engines, and weapons. Sensors were
>still fully operational, and allowed Shayna to notice the
>Borg lowering their magnetic shields.

Tom: Too bad she was busy surfing the web for Matt Damon sites.

> "Sir," Shayna started to get Jay's attention, "call
>all the decks. Were going to have some visitors."

Mike: Okay. I'll get some extra chairs. Shayna, go put on some
CDs. Alexander, make some dip for the chips. Patterson!
Act androgynous!

> Chapter 7
>
> The branch of the Collective unaffected by Marrissa's
>revisions took matters into its own hands.

Mike: Revisions?

> Warring with
>Marrissa to destroy her former comrades didn't accomplish
>anything. Despite being added to the group mind, her
>constitution was still as strong as ever.

Tom: But her Strength and Integrity had been reduced to 5, and
her Cunning was only 7.
Crow: So what's her Yuta number now?

> Seeking an
>alternative solution,

Tom: The Borg decided to wait for the sanctions to work.

> Borg Drones began to beam over to the
>Enterprise. They could seek out and destroy the aspects of
>their Queen's former life.

Crow: Yeah, taking away everything she ever cared about will
make her well-adjusted.

> If the Queen wanted to know what was happening, they
>could say they were assimilating one of Starfleets most
>advanced starships. The Collective waited and guided at the
>same time.
>

Tom: And Marrissa, secure people will always obey her, didn't
notice.

> "Jay," Shayna called, "the Borg are beaming aboard.
>Sensors place them on decks 1, 5, 21, 30, and 68."

Crow: Bingo!

> The numbers were understandable:

Crow: They average out to 25, and since 2+5 is 7, and there are
7 letters in the name "Clinton", this *proves* the Borg
are controlled by the Tri-Lateral Commission!
Mike: What was *that* all about?
Crow: Just practicing up for the net.kook competition.

> deck one was directly
>below the bridge,

Mike: So, the bridge is on the hull?

> decks twenty-one through thirty were crew
>quarters, while deck sixty-eight was home to Engineering.
>Jay's face contorted with worry when he realized that his
>quarters, and his baby, were on level twenty-one.

Tom: Kinda slow paternal reactions there, Jay.
Mike: [Jay] No! Not my STUFF! [beat] Oh, and my kid, too.

> "Shayna, stop all the turbolifts and place
>forcefields on all decks. That should slow them down.

Crow: [Shayna] Us, too.
Mike: [Jay] Hey, there's drones going through my underwear.
You try thinking straight. Uh, password protect it. The
password is "nougat."
Tom: The Canadian spelling would be "Nouegat."

> Alex,
>encode the main computer. Everyone else, grab an EMP Rifle
>and start securing the bridge," Jay ordered.

Crow: Cover my ass since my screw-ups got us here!

> While the crew moved about at their tasks, Jay pulled back
>the bridge carpeting behind tactical to reveal a floor access
>panel leading from the bridge to deck one.

Crow: Huh? I thought the bridge *was* deck one!
Tom: American-built ships have "Bridge", decks 2, 3, etc.
British-built ships start with "Bridge", *then* deck 1,
then 2, 3, etc.
Mike: But neither has a deck 13.

> Seeing that no
>drones were waiting underneath, Jay looked back to the people
>in the bridge and got them to file through one at a time.

Mike: And now, a replay of "Star Trek: First Contact".

>Once on deck one, Shayna popped open an access port to a
>Jefferies tube. Everyone climbed into the tube and began a
>decent towards Engineering.

Mike: Well, that's an improvement. Everyone's moral was low,
but now they're decent again.

> On the way down, Jay took count of
>the deck numbers.

Tom: Looking for Gray 17?

> He knew he was the leader and that he rest
>of the crew depended on him,

Tom: So they're pretty much doomed then.
Mike: Yep, pretty much.

> and that he could even send a
>team of ensigns to get her,

Mike: ...somehow sending no-name cannon fodder after his kid
struck him as a bad idea.

> but concern for his child's well-
>being and the responsibility he felt made him decide to get
>her.

Mike: See, that refusal to send anonymous underlings to vicious
and pointless deaths is what's holding Jay's career back.
Tom: Yeah, how can you get to be a captain without killing off
your excess ensigns?

> At deck 21, Jay held back Shayna and Alex.

Crow: Yep, again, future of all the galaxy in your hands, save
one baby.
Mike: Maybe it's a STNG/Willow crossover ?

> "Shayna, Alex, this is our stop.

Mike: Get your cross-town transfers ready.

> We're getting out
>and going after Sarah and then Alexis.

Crow: Didn't they leave the kids with daycare or something?
Mike: And why can't they just use the transporters?

> Patterson, get everyone
>else down to Engineering and tell Clara what's happening.

Crow: And while you're at it, find out which gender you are
this week.

>Well let's go," Jay commanded. As ordered, the crew crawled
>off down the tube, while Jay and Shayna opened the access port
>to deck twenty-one.

Tom: [Flash Spazbo] H-hello? Mister Borg-thing-person, is th-
there, h-hello?

> The once beautifully designed, navy blue and tan
>corridor looked as if it had a fatal infection.

Tom: Uh-oh, wallpaper herpes!

> Black tubing
>and wiring sprouted from the walls and ceiling like some type
>of fungus.

All: Among us.

> There were no drones nearby, but a close inspection
>of the area showed fried circuitry and phaser burn marks.
>There was obviously a fight in the area.

Tom: Good heavens, Holmes! This is astounding!
Mike: What's more, I deduce from the state of the floor that
carpet-layers have been aboard at some point.
Tom: Amazing!

> Taking note of the
>section they were in,

Mike: Okay, we're in "Morn 47." Everyone remember that.

> the trio moved off in the direction of
>Jay's Quarters.

Mike: All of this just to save a coin collection.

> Progress was remarkably quick, since the
>force fields that were supposed to be in place had been
>shorted out or broken down.

Crow: Looks like those really helped.
Mike: [Jay] Nougat! Nougat! Look how fast this is! Whoosh!
Tom: Nouegat, Mike. Nouegat.

>The last hallway to his room was untouched by the implants,
>and still had the forcefield in place. After fiddling with
>the shut down code,

Mike: [Jay] Whaddaya mean "Control-Alt-Delete" won't work?!?

> the field dropped and Jay rushed into his
>nursery.
> Everything was in perfect order, and Sarah was found
>napping peacefully in her crib.

Crow: Sarah could probably sleep through a war! Oh wait, she
already did...

> Grabbing an anti-gravity
>stroller from nearby,

Mike: An anti-gravity stroller?
Crow: Do you think that the shopping carts in the 24th century
have a malfunctioning front anti-gravity unit, so that
the cart will wobble?

> Jay scooped up his child and moved back to
>the hallway.

Crow: It's Lone Wimp and Cub!
Tom: Unfortunately, he had the controls set too high and
flattened Sarah against the ceiling.

> In the mean time, Shayna and Alex were across the
>hall, looking for Jackie and Lynn. The only clue to their
>whereabouts was a note saying they went down to Engineering.

Tom: Although as clues go that's a pretty good one.
Mike: "Have gone to Engineering, will be back after while.
Leave implants on doorstep, we will assimilate ourselves
when we return. Love, J&L"

> After meeting back in the hall, the group
>once again climbed into the Jefferies tubes and headed for
>deck 30.

Mike: I'm real worried we were going to see a scene from the
Untouchables.
Tom: This IS untouchable, Mike.

> Deck 30 was in even worse of a condition than the last
>couple of decks. Borg electronics were covering the walls,
>obscuring any trace of its former identity,

Crow: The Bulkhead Formerly Known As "Prince."

> and blocking out the
>lights on the ceiling.

Tom: [Borg] Light is irrelevant. *thump* Ow!

> The environmental controls were also
>assimilated as well.

Tom: [Borg] I am Carrier of Borg. You will assimilate warmth in
the winter and cool air in the summer for only pennies a
day.

> The normally soothing, moderate
>temperature had been altered to the extreme.

Tom: [auto show announcer voice] Borg EXTREEEEEEEEEME!
Crow: We've taken your environmental settings and SPUN them
INTO THE EIGHTH DIMENSION!
Tom: Borg EXTREEEEEEEEEME!
Crow: This SATURDAY!
Tom: SATURDAY!
Bots: SATURDAY!
Mike: I thought you guys had gotten over that.

> It was as if an
>acidic tasting fog

Tom: Yum! Lemon zesty!

> had settled throughout the deck, and the
>heat was unbearable.

Mike: Why is setting the environmental controls to "L.A." going
to help?

> The team broke into a sweat just after
>setting foot on the deck.

Tom: [Jay] *huffhuff* Boy, guys, *wheeeeze* we're really,
_really_ out of shape! *GASSSP!*

> Making their way along the
>corridor, the team occasionally passed a drone or two, who
>paid little, if any, attention to them.

Crow: They were THAT boring.
Mike: [Borg] You just see someone?
Tom: [Borg] Nah.

> Upon reaching Alex's Quarters, they found Alexis
>crying and squirming.

Crow: She's never gotten over Blake marrying Krystle.
Mike: [Alexis] Father...you abandoned me in my hour of
need...*ack* I reject you and your values!
Tom: Like father...like daughter...think about it, won't you?

> Placing her in the stroller, the group
>made its way towards the nearest Jefferies tube. A horrific
>scream pierced the silence,

Mike: [Jay] You just hear a scream?
Tom: [Alex] Nah.
Crow: [Shayna] Nah.

> provoking a response from the
>adults in the group.

Mike: But enough about Marilyn Manson...

> After telling the positronic brain inside
>the stroller to head to Engineering,

Crow: Hey! Where the kid go? I'm sure I put it in here. . .

> the trio ran off towards
>the scream, while the stroller dutifully lowered itself into
>the tube.

Mike: Then the stroller, tired of being enslaved, sold out to
the Borg.

> Reaching the source of the noise, the group found
>themselves outside sickbay, confronted with three drones
>surrounding a lone individual.

Tom: They'd spaced themselves at even 120-degree angles. The
Borg are like that.

>The man was doing an odd little jig,

Crow: The Borg are assimilating the Lord of the Dance!
Mike: Good!
Crow: But that means once they've added his distinctiveness to
their own, there'll be trillions of Borg faux-Irish
dancing their way across the galaxy, all naked from the
chest up!
Tom: Yeah, but the infusion of ego will tear the collective
apart.

> as the Borg nanoprobe
>injectors continuously snaked out into his neck.

Tom: Ah. The Trek equivalent of the tentacle scene.
Crow: I see Marrissa taught them sadism as well.

> Taking aim
>with their Rifles, the three Borg dropped helplessly to the
>ground.

Mike: Wha-huh?
Tom: Did the Borg just shoot themselves?
Crow: Not the most effective shock troops, eh?
Mike: Crow, don't you start acting Canadian too.

> Only then did the victim take note of his rescuers.

Crow: Well, I'm glad that's ovYAAAAAAH!!! Don't sneak up on me
like that!!

>Immediately, Doctor Jackson Johnson tried to compose himself
>in front of his crewmates.

Mike: Myself. A composition by Jackson Johnson, the man with
Action Traction.

> "Doc, that was incredible. How did you prevent the
>assimilation?" Jay inquired incredulously.

Tom: And why didn't you TELL us you could do it?
Crow: I practiced safe Trek, and made sure all the implants
wore protection.

> "With this," the Doctor replied while holding up a
>hypospray,

Mike: I call it a "sonic screwdriver." Jelly baby, anyone?

> "I got the idea from the nanoprobes the Borg have
>been using. With some modifications, I enabled them to put
>out a profile that tricks the Borg probes into thinking its
>blood.

Tom: Hey probe! Your blood!
Crow: [probe] What about it?
Tom: Think about it...always rushing through your veins at
hundreds of miles an hour...
Crow: [probe] Yikes!

> Then, when they try to assimilate it, the probe holds on
>to the Borg probe, preventing assimilation. One of my probes
>can hold about ten of the Borg probes, so it should be
>adequate protection."

Mike: Other anti-assimilation measures work on the principle of
tricking the body into thinking it's been assimilated,
physically preventing the probes from entering the body,
or just applying lots of probicide. Some people try the
Rhythm method to avoid assimilation too.

> While he droned on,

Tom: Get it?!? 'Cuz it's Borg, see, and he's "drone"-ing on,
and, and, and - it's just FUNNY, is all!! LAUGH!!!
LAUGH!!!!!!!!

> Dr. Johnson injected
>the probes into the trio.

Crow: Dr. Johnson actually got the idea from the alien race
called the Plahts.
Mike: You mean?
Crow: Yes. [Brief pause] They're shooting themselves up with
Plaht Devices.
Tom: Mike, hit him. Hit him hard.

> "We should wait here a while longer, so I can whip up
>more probes for everyone else," stated Jackson, ushering the
>trio into sickbay.
>

Tom: Oh, and I cured cancer, extended the human lifespan and
found ways to double our intelligence. Sorry, forgot to
tell you.

> The one who would not assimilate was rescued,

Crow: That's my favorite bedtime story.
Mike: What?
Crow: "The Borg Who Wouldn't Assimilate." In the end he learns
to assimilate and the Borg Queen tells him how much she
loves him.

> thought
>the Collective. Clearly it was the Queen's former friends who
>did this. All across deck 30, Borg stopped what they were
>doing, and lurched off in the direction of Sickbay.
>

Crow: Whoops. The Borg must have assimilated some of Neelix's
food.
Tom: Wrong show.
Crow: Who cares?

> A loud rapping came on the door of sickbay,

Mike: Avon calling!

> just as Dr.
>Johnson had finished replicating the anti-Borg nanites and
>placed them in a duffel for easy carrying.

Mike: Of course, they all just fell through the weave because
they're MICROSCOPIC, but it's the thought that counts.

> From the large
>dents left in the door, it was apparent that it wasn't some
>crewman with a sprained joint.

Tom: Unless it was Lieutenant Bruce Banner.

> The doors gave and the first
>ave of drones were met with the invisible streams of magnetic
>pulse, dropping them to the floor. The next wave was a bit
>more discrete than the last,

Tom: Meaning that they were easier to tell apart. [begins to
hyperventilate]
Mike: Now, now, Tom.
Tom: I'm sorry, Mike, but they can't bounce off my Teflon
coating forever.

> and broke through the door to the
>Chief Medical officer's office.

Crow: Where they slipped on half-eaten cheese sandwiches and
piles of porno mags!

> They too, were felled with
>little effort. The signal the tides had turned, was in the
>form of a phaser bolt lancing into Dr. Johnson's left
>shoulder.

Tom: Damn! It's Dr. Pulaski! She's after your job,
Jimjamjingalong!

> The source was an former crew man who had met the
>Borg. His uniform was in untouched form, and he could have
>passed for any other Ensign, if it was not for the large
>chunk of metal protruding from the left side of his head.

Crow: It was shinier than most metal chunks lodged in the heads
of enlisted personnel.
Mike: Actually, the makeup department just ran out of latex.

> The plate had a small cord running from it down to the phaser
>rifle in the drone's right hand, probably to relay targeting
>information to the Collective.

Mike: Maybe it was just brake fluid.
Crow: Nope, just the 110 volt adapter.

> Jay's guard dropped as he rushed
>to help Jackson, but couldn't get past the phaser beam that
>continuously landed in front of him. Shayna continued to hold
>the horde as much as she could,

Mike: I will love him and hold him and squeeze him and stroke
him and call him 'Borg.'

> while Alex opened a nearby
>Jefferies tube.

Crow: [Alex] Okay, line up the little arrows and - d'oh!
C'mon, you...

> Jay had managed to fake out the drone

Tom: [football announcer] And Gordon fakes to left...he weaves
right...

> and
>began dragging the Doctor to the port,

Tom: ...suddenly he makes a break to the left, with Johnson in
tow!

> when the drone shot at
>full power.

Tom: But it's no good! The drone fires a pass! It's not
looking good for the Federation!

> The crimson red beam hit square in the chest, and
>vaporised Doctor Johnson.

[Balloons fall from the ceiling again.]
Tom: Hey, he killed a Kids' Crew member!
Crow: First Dark Marrissa, now the Borg. Guess no one could
stand that accent.
Mike: Wow, we're getting *really* bloodthirsty!
Crow: [sniffling] Goodbye, Dr. Jackson Jones Jimmy Joe Jerry
Johnson - you were loved!

>The duffel bag he carried dropped to the ground, and Jay
>stooped to pick it up. The phaser-toting drone was taken out
>by a discrete

Tom: AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!
Crow: Hey, at least he's consistent.
Tom: Oh, you'll get yours someday, Crow.
Crow: Hey, man, you may be Teflon, but I'm Kevlar. Nothing
gets to me.
Tom: Shari Lewis!
Crow: Yipe! [dives beneath the seat]

> blast to the head

Tom: *Blast to the Head!*
Mike: Maybe it's just me, but I've somehow always considered
the terms "discrete" and "blast to the head" mutually
exclusive.

> causing a miniature fire
>works display,

[Crow re-emerges. All hum a quick snatch of "The Stars And
Stripes Forever."]

> courtesy of Shayna. Alex was well into the
>vent, with Jay close behind. As Shayna entered the tube, she
>pulled out a photon grenade she kept with her for special
>occasions.

Mike: Birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, weddings...yes, friends, nothing
says "I love you" like a lethal blast of photon
radiation!

> Leaving the armed grenade behind, and shutting the
>access port, she retreated down the tunnel with a gratifying
>explosion ringing in her ears.

All: Whew!
Mike: That was one long and boring paragraph.

> Getting to Engineering was a simple task compared to
>what the trio had been through. Opening the doors to
>Engineering was

Crow: ...a task beyond nine out of ten ensigns, but not our
intrepid heroes.

> met with the muzzles of several EMP and phaser
>rifles pointed in their direction.

Tom: [Ace Ventura] I'm looking for Ray Finkle - and a clean
pair of shorts!

> Jay could see Clara
>attending to an anti-gravity stroller nearby, and felt an
>amazing amount of relief knowing his child was safe.

Tom: Amazing? Wow, really sensitive guy.
Crow: Yeah. "Whoa, I'm even more gratified than I expected to
see my offspring alive."

> "Clara, what's been happening?" Jay questioned.

Tom: Yeah. What's the buzz? Tell him what's happening.

> "We beat off the Borg on this deck, deck one and deck
>five.

Crow: [nervously] They b--hm. So...how 'bout those Dodgers?
Tom: That's it, Crow. *Sweat*.

> But there's still fighting on the twenties.

Mike: There's dead flappers and bootleggers everywhere!

> The Borg may
>have over run them all by now."
> Jay nodded in acknowledgement, and extended the
>hypospray bag.
> "Distribute these to all the members of the crew.

Mike: Most of them are anti-Borg spray, but a few have Dr.
Johnson's "special blend." You'll still be assimilated,
but you'll feel like you're french-kissing Saint Peter
while they drill into your eyes and tear out chunks of
your brain.

>It'll help protect them against assimilation."

Mike: Like the guy in engineering?

> Looking around
>Engineering, Jay called over the nearest Vulcan.

Crow: One of the selling points of the Enterprise-F is its
convenient "Vulcan in every room" feature.

> "What are the odds that we can repel this attack at our
>present rate." Jay wondered.

Mike: Never tell me the odds.
Tom: [whimpering] Please no more Star Wars, please. . .

> "Approximately 1349.264 to 1, sir" the Vulcan replied
>after a moment of calculation.

Mike: [Jay] Darn it, man, don't give me these generalities, I
need cold hard numbers!

> "In other words, not good.

Crow: Still, it's better odds than you'll get at most casinos.

> Shayna, you said earlier that the
>Borg were creating gaps in their magnetic field to beam over
>the drones. Could beam over through one of the gaps?" Jay
>continued.

[Pause]
Mike: I guess we don't get to find out what he said when he
continued. Rats.

> "Maybe sir," Shayna confirmed.

Mike: I may not have done well in English, but that was not a
"confirmed."

> "All right; Kathy, Clara, Shayna, and Alex.

Crow: [Jay] Under Anime Five-Character Theory, I'm the hero,
Alex is the big guy, Kathy is the chick, Clara is the
other guy and Shayna is the pet. Any objections?

> Get a Security
>team of volunteers together.

Mike: Okay. Set a course for Nashville.

> From there, we're going to stop at
>the weaponry and pick up some goodies," Jay paused and looked
>into the eyes of everyone gathered, "We're beaming over to the
>Borg ship."