MiSTed - Ratliff-a-Go-Go (1/3)

[Bill Livingston]

MiSTing: Ratliff-a-Go-Go
By Matthew Blackwell and Bill Livingston

[Season 6 Opening Sequence]

<SoL>
[Mike is standing behind the command console, drinking a cup of coffee
and reading a magazine. After a moment, he looks up.]

MIKE: Oh, hi everyone. I'm Mike Nelson and this is the Satellite of Love.
I'm still stuck up here with my robotic compatriots and I'm still
being forced to watch bad movies. Today, though, none of that
matters, cause I've got a damned good cup of coffee. [sips] Ahhh.
That's good coffee.

[Crow rushes in from stage right.]

MIKE: Hi Crow. Would you like a damn good cup of coffee?
CROW: There's no time for that Mike...
MIKE: It's really good coffee...
CROW: Forget the coffee, you stupid Java guzzling fool! We've got a
problem!
MIKE: [sighs] Okay, what's the problem?
TOM: Well, Tom was fooling around on the holodeck and, as usual, things
went horribly wrong! There's rust monsters loose all over the ship!
And Gelatinous Cubes! And Green Slime and Black Puddings too!
MIKE: [Beat] Crow, we don't have a holodeck.
CROW: Well, of course we do. Don't you remember? All Galaxy class
satellites have them.
MIKE: This isn't a Galaxy class anything Crow. [turns to the camera] But
this is galaxy class coffee. [sips] Ah. Damned good coffee.
CROW: Mike, I *saw * the rust monster. It was short and red and hovered
and had a set of antennas on its head!
MIKE: So it looked like Tom, but with a set of antenna?
CROW: Yes! It looked - heeeeey!

[Tom, wearing a set of antenna on his dome, rushes in from stage left.]

TOM: ARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!

[Crow turns and stares at Tom.]

TOM: Arrrggghh?
CROW: Nope.
TOM: Uh-oh.

[Crow launches himself at Tom, and a fight ensues. Mike quietly sits
there drinking his coffee, and smiling after each drink. After a few seconds
of this, the console lights begins to flash.]

MIKE: Oh look. Chase and Sanborn are calling. [hits the button.] Hi there!
Would you like a damned good cup of coffee?

<Deep 13>
FRANK: Oooh, fresh ground Colombian?
DR.F: Frank! [To Mike] Good evening, Juan Valdez. We've got a special
treat for you tonight. Whilst browsing our archives, we found
copies of some previously unknown short stories by the 20th
century's best known author.

<SoL>
[The fight has broken up. Both Tom and Crow look the worse for wear.
Tom's antennas are still loosely attached, but droop noticeably.]
MIKE: Steven King?
TOM: Tom Clancy?
CROW: Nick Pollotta?
[Mike and Tom turn to face Crow.]
CROW: Well, *I* think he's well known.

<D13>
DR.F: No, of course not. I'm referring to the creator of one of the most
beloved series of all time, involving a plucky young girl and her
adventures with Starfleet.

<SoL>
MIKE: Oh, no!

<D13>
DR.F: Oh, yes! Three new short stories by Mr. Stephen Ratliff.

<SoL>
[Everyone looks despondent.]
CROW: Say, Mike? Is there any chance there's a real Rust Monster on the
satellite?
MIKE: You're made of Kevlar, Crow. You don't rust.
CROW: Blast.

<D13>
DR.F: I'll just start them up in a minute. You can go in and watch them -
if you'd like.

<SoL>
TOM: Wait a minute! We can watch them, *if we'd like*?!?
CROW: You mean we don't *have* to experience the horror that is Ratliff?
MIKE: We don't have to read one sentence space battles?
TOM: Or lamely named characters?
CROW: Or bizarre plot?
MIKE: Or read anything about Marrissa Amber Flores Picard?
TOM: Princess of Essex?
CROW: Second in Command of the Stargazer?
MIKE: Head of the Fighter wing?
TOM: Future head of Starfleet?
CROW: Future wife of Jay Gordon?
MIKE: Her royal badness?

<D13>
DR.F: Nope.

<SoL>
[A party has sprung up. Mike and bots are whooping and dancing wildly
about the station. After a moment, Mike breaks off from the impromptu
conga line and addresses Forrester.]
MIKE: Thank you, Dr.Forrester! I'll never forget this act of kindness! Heck,
it's almost enough to make me forgive you for sending me up here in
the first place!

<D13>
DR.F: Oh, no thanks are necessary. I'm sure that you and your visitors will
have a lovely, lovely time.

<SoL>
[The party's still in full swing.]
MIKE: Visitors? What visitors?

<D13>
DR.F: Oh, did I neglect to mention that? I'm sending up some friends of Mr.
Ratliff. I believe they're his fan club. Have fun. [Begins to laugh]
FRANK: So no coffee then?
DR.F: Frank, go percolate yourself!
FRANK: Right. [wanders out]

<SoL>
[The music has ground to a halt, and the party has stopped dead.]
MIKE: Ratliff's *fan club*?!?
VOICES: Hi!

[Mike and the bots turn to see a throng of people on the bridge.]

ALL: AHHH!
TOM: The legions of the damned walk among us!
MIKE: [whispering] Quiet Tom. [to the Fan Club] Um, hi.

[A cheerful woman, looking suspiciously like Bridget, steps to the front of
the crowd.]

FAN #1: Hi there, fellow Ratliff fan! And how are you today?
CROW: We're fine - I guess.
FAN #1: That's great! Say, why don't we introduce ourselves? I'm Lisa,
President of the Stephen B. Ratliff Fan Club. And this is Molly, our
vice president, Joan, our third in command, Luke, our fourth...
MIKE: [interrupting] Um, do we really need to know everyone's name and
fan club rank?
LISA: [puzzled] But how else can we keep track of who we are and what
position we hold??
MIKE: Well, have you considered nametags? Maybe some monogrammed shirts
or some-
CROW: Mike, you're missing the main point. These people have a fan club
for that hack, Ratliff!

[Another woman, who looks suspiciously like Mary Jo, barges through the
crowd and grabs Crow by his beak. Several other women follow her to
the front.]

NOEL: Hey! Watch it! Ratliff's a friend of ours!
TOM: And you are??
NOEL: We're his net.wives, pal.
MIKE: Net.wives? [Shakes head] Never mind. I don't want to know. All
right, who else is here?
[Voices shout out from the crowd.]
VOICE #1: We're from alt.startrek.creative!
VOICE #2: We're from Radford's comp sci department.
VOICE #3: We're his fellow Star Trek RPG players.
MIKE: [peering out over the crowd.] Hey, you in the back! You haven't told
us who you are yet.
VOICE #4: I'm Rick Berman. [with an audible intake of breath, the remainder
of the crowd moves away from Mr. Berman.]
LISA: Say! Let's celebrate this little get-together with a song dedicated
to the great one!
OTHER FANS: Yeah!
MIKE: [Turns to the bots] Theater?
TOM: Theater.
CROW: I don't know about this, Mike...
FAN CLUB: [singing] Oh Great Ratliff
To you, we sing our praise.
Your stories bring us light
And hope for better days...

CROW: Theater! The theater! Sanctuary!
[The fanfic sign flashes, and the three rush to the doors.]

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

[Mike and the bots enter and sit down.]
CROW: [shivering] Odes to Ratliff. Brrr-r-r-!
MIKE: It's okay, Crow. We're safe in here.

>Dear Isabella #5

MIKE: Then again...
TOM: Collect the whole series.
CROW: The Federation Strikes Back...

>Set on the Enterprise-E after the End of the Klingon-Federation
>Conflict.

CROW: Which the Federation won 31-28 with a field goal in OT.
TOM: It was the dawn of the third age of man, ten years after the end
of the Klingon-Federation Conflict. The Babylon Project was a dream
given form. Its goal: to prevent the completion of any more fan-
fics involving cute furry animals or maniacal uber-teens.

>Note: The position given Alexander in "Who Q? Where Q?" of

TOM: Official Weenie of the Klingon Empire ©

>Ambassador at Large from the Klingon High Council is a life time
>appointment, and could not be stripped from him after "The Way of the
>Warrior" (And yes, I wrote that in before the said show.)

TOM: Ratliff has the powers of prescience?
CROW: He's the kwisatz haderach!
MIKE: I always considered him more of a twisted mentat myself.
CROW: Maybe he'll make a ghola re-creation of Ensign Throwaway.

>Personal Log
>Marrissa A. Picard, Lieutenant, Chief of Security USS Enterprise-E

TOM: Oh great, now she's chief of security, too!
MIKE: All she needs is one more, and she'll officially pass Queen
Elizabeth as the world's title-holding title-holder.

> If Clara tries to get me to go to another social event... I'm
>going to shoot her out of the torpedo bay.

TOM: If that fails, then I'll try to kill her with a forklift! BWAH-HA-HA!

> Get out and socialize more
>... This from a girl who's log is written to an imaginary friend named
>Isabella.

MIKE: Ouch.
TOM: And Marrissa unsheathes her claws...
CROW: Steve's giving us a cat fight! Thank you!

> I may have to attend welcoming parties for visiting VIPs on the
>Enterprise, but that's a part of my duty.

TOM: [Marrissa] Besides, that makes it easier to replace them all with
my pod people.
CROW: Queen Victoria tells me that it's her duty to service the PM, but I
can't find that anywhere in the Constitution...
MIKE: Do you want to listen to the fan club sing again?
CROW: I'll be good.

> And there is the diplomatic
>functions that I have to do for Essex. That's duty too, but it's one
>that drives me nuts.

TOM: [Marrissa] And when I take over, it'll be the first thing to go.

> I really should get an escort for every event,
>because some of those diplomats are rather annoying.

TOM: [Marrissa] The ambassador from Urkel IV is particularly annoying!
MIKE: Wanna see my Urkel impression again?
CROW: Not in a hillion-jillion years, Mike!

> If another Ambassador hits on me, I'm drawing a phaser on him.

MIKE: Early evidence of Marrissa's gift for diplomacy.
TOM: And on top of everything else, she's a budding tattoo artist.

> With all of that, I really don't see the need for my attendance
>at the bi-weekly dance. It's not like any of the people my age are

CROW: ...Actually in Starfleet or anything!

>going to dance with me.

CROW: Except for that Lt. Sienfeld and Ensign Humbert.

> For some reason, dancing with the Security
>Chief whose also the Captain's daughter is not exactly popular.

TOM: [Marrissa] I wonder if the blood-stained b'atleth I carry all
the time has anything to do with that? Na-a-a-ah!
MIKE: Or it might be due to Picard's "Touch my daughter and die" decree.

>I liked it better when I was just the Chief CONN Officer.

TOM: COOOOOOOONNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!

> Then I had people willing to dance.
> In any case, our next stop is Deep Space Nine.

MIKE: [Marrissa] And then Voyager, and I'll finally rule the entire
Trekiverse!

> I happen to
>know, that Alex is visiting his father there. I also know that there
>will be a diplomatic function on Bajor,

CROW: Ah, it's "Take-a-Maquis-to-Lunch" week!
TOM: Or a "Marquis"
MIKE: Or a "Marqui"

> which Victoria wants one of us
>to attend. Unfortunately, I will be busy and so will Clara's father...

TOM: We'll be trying to determine if there are any members of the Kid's
crew left who aren't orphans yet.

>End Log.

CROW: And flush.
MIKE: Crow!
CROW: What?!?

>Dear Isabella,

CROW: My journey to India continues, still no sight of land. I'm still
curious as to why the young blonde girl has been assigned to
my ship, but I trust your judgment. Don't let Ferdinand know about
us. Love and smoochies, Chris C.

> Alexander is escorting me to a diplomatic function. It seems
>that he was invited in his position as Ambassador at large from the
>Klingon High Counsel.

TOM: And because he makes that killer spiked punch, dude, wooooo!

> I never expected him to ask me out. I thought,
>if anything, I'd have to ask him out.

CROW: And if he didn't accept, then I'd have used my royal station to
have him beheaded.

> As a Klingon, I don't think you could ever call Alex shy, but
>Klingons are not exactly known for dating.

TOM: D'oh! That's why those Vassar/Klinhasi U socials were so badly
attended.

>They tend to skip that.
>Alex, may be a fourth human,

MIKE: But the first three were all a bunch of drips, so...

> but he's mostly Klingon, and tends to
>follow their ways.

CROW: Except for his annoying "I won't be a warrior" Routine...

> However, I do see someone else's hand in this.

TOM: [Michael Caine] Me hand! Me bloody, bloody hand!
CROW: [Clara] Marrissa! Stop trying to type for me!

>It seems that Queen Victoria wanted one of us to attend this function as
>well.

MIKE: This was part of the Queen's new "spread the suffering around"
campaign.

>However, my father has never attended such a function, and Commander
>La Forge wants him to work on some weaponry upgrades that the Chief
>of Security suggested.

MIKE: [Clara] Though why Marrissa wants strawberry juice launchers
installed is beyond me.
TOM: So either he's a really dedicated and diligent chief engineer, or -
CROW: Geordi still can't get a date.

>As for that Chief of Security...

CROW: [Clara] Her day's coming, mark my words!

> It seems that
>Marrissa has to attend some Intelligence briefing at that time.

TOM: Gasp! Is Ratliff admitting that there might be something Marrissa
doesn't know about?
CROW: She's probably giving the briefing.

> Marrissa does know about my crush on that "Klingon Kid" as
>some of my less respecting classmates called him behind his back.

TOM: They should refer to him as "forehead-gifted"!
MIKE: Besides, the writers only give names to important characters, like
the Blind Guy and the Counselor Babe.

> I told her about it about the same time she admitted that she had a crush
>on Jay... although I think it's much more than a crush.

TOM: It's more of a suffocating death grip that threatens to choke Jay's
very soul, but we've come to expect that from Marrissa.

>Those two can complete each other's sentences.

TOM: Do you remember...
CROW: Wasn't that the one...
TOM: Nonono, he had...
CROW: And with...
TOM & CROW: Parchesi!

> Boy was Marrissa worried about it effecting her judgement.

MIKE: Fortunately, it was just a simple case of cause and affect.

>At the time, Jay was her Kid's Crew First Officer.

TOM: Or as Jay calls it, his period of shame and doom.

> She's never been in
>any position which forced her to deal with her attraction,

CROW: Except that one time when she was hyper-polarized.

> but I think that
>she'd probably do just about anything to save him.

MIKE: Like appearing in lousy fanfics.
TOM: Or besides giving up her power, but that probably goes without saying.

> Speaking of Jay, the Independence will be in dock at Deep Space
>Nine, starting two days after we arrive, and Marrissa's fourteenth
>birthday is in four days...

TOM: "Operation: Bastille Day" is coming together nicely

> I think I better make some suggestions to
>Jay.

MIKE: Remember Jay, the woods at night are dark and deep, and you have
promises to keep, and miles ago before you sleep.
CROW: Be careful, Jay. Remember what happened to Rommel after that
little bunker incident...
TOM: Or like, "RUN, JAY!! RUN IF YOU VALUE YOUR NO-GOOD, STINKING LIFE!!"

> What comes around, goes around.

CROW: Payback's a bi-
MIKE: Ahem!
CROW: Um, big old bag of fun!

>
>Your Friend,

TOM: [Clara] Though, unlike *some* friends I could name, not an
imaginary one!

>
>Clara
>
>Personal Log
>Jay Alan Gordon,

CROW: Rodham Clinton...
TOM: Michael Montgomery...
MIKE: Ftang Ftang Ole Biscuitbarrel the Third

> Lieutenant junior grade, Operations Officer USS
>Independence
>
> I just got a strange call from Clara.

MIKE: [Jay] She started babbling about a plot by the FDA to declare Lucky
Charms was no longer part of a complete and balanced breakfast.

>She wanted to remind me hat

TOM: [Michael Caine] Me Hat!! Me bloody, bloo-
MIKE: Okay, Tom, a little Michael Caine goes a long way.

> Marrissa's birthday was Friday. I knew
>that.

TOM: After all, Admiral Picard sent out that Fleetwide memo about it.

>I also know that the Enterprise and Independence will be at Deep Space
>Nine together

MIKE: In a desperate attempt to increase ratings.

> for four days around that, assuming no emergency comes
>up that needs either a Galaxy Class Starship or a Sovereign Class one.

MIKE: But, unfortunately, since all the other ships in Starfleet guard
the Earth-to-Vulcan mail run, the chances of such an emergency
are pretty high.

> Now, I like Marrissa and I do plan on giving her something for
>her birthday.

CROW: But those weak Federation bureaucrats said that Orion slave men
were a no-no.

> In fact I got a pair of antique amethyst earrings,
>complete with a certificate of athenticacy,

CROW: He bought 'em in Athens, then?
TOM: Yeah - the flea market at Athens, Alabama!

>the last time I was on Earth
>to give to her. It's probably more than one expects to get from a
>twelve almost thirteen year old friend

MIKE: Heck, it's more than most 30 year women expect from 29 year old
men.
[Mike waves as the applause of the net.wives is heard inside the theater]
TOM: Kissing up to the net.wives, Mike?
MIKE: Better than being drawn and quartered by them.

>(my birthday is just a month later than hers),

MIKE: [Jay] So I'm hoping she'll return the favor and get me that "Tomb
Raider LXXVII" Playstation cartridge I've been wanting!

>but I really like Marrissa.

CROW: [Jay] So, I'll try to buy her love.
MIKE: Ah, Marrissa's mind control techniques are beginning to work.

> And as a Lieutenant jg, I can afford it.

CROW: Further proof Steve has no idea of what military salaries are like.
TOM: Oh yeah, Lt JGs are just rooollling in money....

> I do hope Marrissa likes them. It would be a shame to spend all
>that money and have my friend dislike my gift.

MIKE: Cause, you know, then she'd behead me.

>End Log.

CROW: And flush.
MIKE: Crow!! What's with you today?
CROW: What? I'm talking about a memory flush after storing a log entry!
Geez, Nelson, get yer mind outta the gutter!
TOM: Let's scram...

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

<SoL Bridge>
[Mike is once again standing at the console, drinking a cup of coffee and
reading a magazine. Crow frantically rushes in from stage right.]
CROW: Mike! Mike! Mike!
MIKE: What?!? What?!? What?!?
CROW: Mike! Quick, follow me! Something horrible's happened!
MIKE: What is it, Crow? Timmy's trapped at the bottom of Black Canyon and
there's a flood coming?
CROW: [Stops running around] Oh, hah hah, Mike! Yes, I try to warn you
of impending danger, and you turn it into a Lassie joke. Well,
boy-o, my contract's coming up for renewal soon, and I've heard
that "Earth: Final Conflict" is looking for a robotic sidekick to
help boost ratings. I may just jump ship, y'know!
MIKE: Okay, calm down Crow. No need to make any drastic decisions
CROW: Yeah, that's what I should do. "Why yes, Mr. Companion. I'll assist
Boone in his duties." Or, "Yes, I can expel butterflies out of my
mouth. Why do you ask?"
MIKE: Crow? You had something to warn me about, remember?
CROW: Huh? Oh yeah, that. Tom's gone over to the dark side. He's decided
to join the fan club.
MIKE: What?! Where is he?
CROW: [Tilts head to the east side of the stage.] He's over there.

[The camera pulls back to show the right hand side of the stage, where it
appears a Nuremberg sized rally is going on. Huge posters of Ratliff can
be seen behind the assembled multitude. Tom stands behind a podium in front
of the assembled masses.]

MIKE: Good Lord!
CROW: Scary, huh?
MIKE: Yeah, I never realized we had so much space over there.
CROW: Well, they redecorated with muted colors, so it'd look bigger.
MIKE: Muted colors? Hmm, that sounds like a good... What am I doing?!?
We've got to save Tom!
[Cheers erupt from the rally]
CROW: Well, as long as Frasier and Wings don't erupt too, that's okay.
[A bolt of lightning strikes Crow, who falls to the floor]
CROW: OWWWW!
MIKE: Don't riff the authors, Crow.

[The rally. Tom is standing behind the podium, about to speak.]

TOM: Fellow Ratliffians! Hello! We stand together today on the threshold
of a bright new future. A future free of strife! A future full of
hope! A future inspired by the works of Stephen Brian Ratliff!

[More cheers, as well as a brief chant of "Ratliff!"]

TOM: Let us look at the works of our hero for a moment. Consider the
drama of his battle scenes. The pathos of the death of Marrissa's
family. And Ensign Throwaway. And the Essex Royal Family. And Ross
Lockard. And, of course, Ross Lochard. To me, the loss of both
Rosses was almost too tragic to bear, but I still survived, with
the help of dear Stephen.

[Applause and cheers]

LISA'S VOICE: Preach on, Brother Tom!
NOEL'S VOICE: Love that Stephen!
BERMAN'S VOICE: And watch Voyager, Wednesdays at se- [whack] OOOOFFF!
TOM: Thank you. Who can forget the surge of emotion that we felt when we
first saw the inscription on the defeated Gul Ducat's ship; "I was
beaten by a bunch of kids"? Not I. [Applause] Or when Marrissa
defeated the evil Romulans attacking her wedding? [More Applause]
That's why it saddens me to report this grim news. Our leader and
idol, Stephen Ratliff - is dead.

[The crowd gasps. Some begin to cry. The scene switches back to Mike
and Crow.]

MIKE: What?!? Ratliff dead? When did this happen? Crow, do you remember
hearing anything about Ratliff dying?
CROW: [wearing a party hat & tossing confetti] Sorry, Mike, did you say
something?
MIKE: Apparently not.

[Back at the rally, Tom signals to the crowd, attempting to bring them
back into order.]

TOM: No, no. Stephen wouldn't want us to be sad at the reports of his
death. Just prior to his death he and I spoke, and he revealed to
me his wondrous plan for the future. He said to me, "Tom, I want
you to lead my followers if ever something befalls me."

<West Bridge>
MIKE: Oh no!

<Rally>
TOM: "You'll find all of my teachings in this book, "Ratliffology". The
two most important teachings are as follows: Children should lead
us in all our endeavors. But the most important lesson is, "Obey the
words of Tom Servo as if they were law. [rumblings can be heard from
the crowd.] For Tom is all-wise and all-knowing. Just as Marrissa
smote the evil Klingons and their Domination allies, Tom will smite
those who do not follow him."

[Pitchforks and torches appear at various points in the crowd. Mike and
Crow rush on the stage towards Tom.]

TOM: "So just as you follow the exploits of Marrissa, her brother Wendell
Cruncher, Clarice, and what's-his-name, the son of Woof, you should
follow Tom and obUMMPH"
MIKE: [grasps Tom's mouth, shutting it] Sorry, sorry, false alarm. Go
back to whatever you were doing. [To Crow] RUN!!!!!

[The fan-fic light begins to flash, and Mike, Crow, and the bound Tom
rush to the doors, followed by throngs of outraged Ratliff fans.]

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
bi...@Traveller.COM http://www.hsv.tis.net/~bill
Best if Used by Date on Label

[Roger M. Wilcox]

On 1 Jan 1998 16:13:34 GMT, bi...@Traveller.COM (Bill Livingston) wrote:
>
>BERMAN'S VOICE: And watch Voyager, Wednesdays at se- [whack] OOOOFFF!

Oh my God! Rick Berman's gone Hexadecimal!

Roger M. "With a 32-bit register, no less!" Wilcox
--
Roger M. Wilcox (rog...@ix.netcom.com) -- without prejudice UCC 1-207
Unlawful to use this e-mail address for commercial solicitation: 47 USC 227
MSTie # 38808 | http://www.netcom.com/~rogermw ... now in EXTRA bold!
I'm sodium! <*> | "The Truth, as always, is more complicated than that"

[Bill Livingston]

Previously on "Babylon 5: The Quicken- uh, Gathering", Roger M. Wilcox wrote:
>On 1 Jan 1998 16:13:34 GMT, bi...@Traveller.COM (Bill Livingston) wrote:

>>BERMAN'S VOICE: And watch Voyager, Wednesdays at se- [whack] OOOOFFF!
>

>Oh my God! Rick Berman's gone Hexadecimal!
>Roger M. "With a 32-bit register, no less!" Wilcox

He is now Berman of Borg. Resistance is futile. He will add your plot and
character distinctiveness to his own.

Bill L.
Actually, (R)ATM(M) sees Rick Berman as a series of ones and zeroes