MiSTing of another Trek fanfic
david zevcalvert hines
archive, so I donUt know if anyone has done this before. If so, IUm sorry for
butting in.
I have neither time nor ability to write a masterful opening scene, so the
post begins in medias res.
________________________________
Joel and the bots enter the theater.
Tom: I donUt know, guys. The Mads said itUs an alt.startrek.creative fanfic.
Frankly, these things always scare the willies out of me.
Joel: Hey, at least itUs not a crossover.
Crow: Yeah, right. ThereUs that. I still havenUt gotten over RCyborged.S
>alt.startrek.creative #7897
Tom: Oh, Joel, IUm scared.
Joel: ItUll be OK, Tom. Just watch the opening blurb...
>[1]
>From: j...@cis.ksu.edu (Joseph F. Young)
>[1] FROM THE ARCHIVES: story/btw-tos-tng/Fargin.zip (part 01/01)
>Followup-To: alt.startrek.creative
>Date: Thu Nov 18 06:30:01 CST 1993
>Organization: Kansas State University, Dept. of Computing and Information
>+ Sciences
>Lines: 832
>Distribution: world
Joel: Just think, guys. The whole world gets to suffer along with us.
Tom & Crow: Wow...
>NNTP-Posting-Host: depot.cis.ksu.edu
>Summary: Automated posting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative archive
>
>This is an automated reposting of fiction from the alt.startrek.creative
>archives. Any comments, questions, etc. about the archives may be
>addressed to j...@cis.ksu.edu.
>=====================================CUT >HERE===================================
Tom: And throw the bottom part away.
>[story/btw-tos-tng/Fargin.zip] comment:
>-------------------------------------------------------------------
>- This story came from the alt.startrek.creative archive on -
>- ftp.cis.ksu.edu (129.130.10.80) -
>- -
>- If you have any submissions for the archive, please either -
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>-------------------------------------------------------------------
> Exploding: story/btw-tos-tng/Fargin
>Article 796 of alt.startrek.creative:
>Path: >ariel.unm.edu!news.cs.indiana.edu!widener!iggy.GW.Vitalink.COM!pacbell.com
>!ucsd!usc!apple!bionet!raven.alaska.edu!milton!amigo
>From: am...@milton.u.washington.edu (The Friend)
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: Fargin story (old repost)
>Message-ID: <1991May26....@milton.u.washington.edu>
>Date: 26 May 91 06:16:19 GMT
>Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
>Lines: 794
>
>
>
>CHAPTER ONE
> Captain's log: Stardate 10001.2. Captain Pavel Checkov
Tom: Checkov? WhoUs Checkov? Does he mean Chekov?
Joel: Yeah, I guess.
> Reporting. We have been assigned patrol duty along the
> Romulan neutral zone. While the crew of the INTREPID is
> a bit nervous about the prospect,
Tom: Brilliant, just brilliant. A ship called the INTREPID, with a nervous
crew.
> we have been keeping
> high spirits.
Crow: Yeah, Romulan ale! Woo-hoo!
>
> They call it the Neutral zone,
Crow: But itUs known as Clarence to its friends.
> a buffer between the United
>Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire. The name is ironic,
>however.
Joel: Which name?
Crow: RRomulan Star EmpireS sounds goofy, but I dunno how ironic it is.
> There is nothing neutral about the zone. This single area
>of space, thrity light years across a worthless region,
Tom: This single post: eight hundred and thrity-two lines long a worthless
fanfic.
Crow: Nope. Seven hundred ninety-four.
Joel: Crow, he has to include the headings or the joke wonUt work.
Crow: Oh. Sorry.
> has been the
>one single ring of destruction known in the galaxy.
Crow: I thought that was Shannen DohertyUs wedding ring.
> The mere mention
>of the Zone instills fear in even the most courageous Federation
>officers.
Joel: Even more than the name RLwaxana Troi.S
> This buffer acts as a staging ground,
Crow: For Trek on ice!
> a battlefield for
>two very different opponents. For six score this region was known as
Crow: South Central Los Angeles?
Tom: Hey, Joel, what does he mean by six score? Six score what?
Joel: Years? Days? Weeks?
Tom: ItUs all meaningless, isnUt it?
Joel: Yes, Tom, IUm afraid so.
>the enternal battlefield.
Joel: The gastro-enternal battlefield?
Crow: You mean HaroldUs Chicken Shack?
> The Zone recieved its reputation
Joel: I before E *except* after C!
> since the early days of the
>Federation. It was within this so-called neutral zone that the first
>contact with the Romulan Empire ended in disaster. A cargo ship from
>the Federation wandered into their territory and was obliterated.
Tom: My God, they shot down their own ship?
Joel: No, I think TtheirU refers to the Romulans.
Crow: But thatUs neither here nor their, is it?
Tom: DUoh!
> The
>executioners never attempted a dialogue, but just kept raiding vessels
>until eventually war was declared.
> The Romulans had poorer equipment than the Federation, but
Crow: They knew how to use it.
>were relentless in their assaults. The Federation lost half of her
>fleet in that section of space before the war ended. And none of those
>ships ever saw their executioners.
> Eventually more was revealed about the Romulans. Apparently
>they are Vulcanoid,
Tom: Is that like Vulcanized rubber?
Joel: Maybe they have gold maidens who help them get about.
> but warlike and higly emotional. They are highly
>efficient in the art of war, striking fast, furious, and hard. When
>the giant warbirds that symboled the Romulans appeared in Federation
>viewers, there could only be one outcome, war.
Tom: When this fanfic appears on computer screens, there can only be
one outcome, disgust. Joel, he doesnUt know English, does he?
> The Zone can never be called neutral, it more resembles an
>arena of fire when the death within is considered.
Tom: What kind of a sentence is that?
Crow: The worst kind.
> And, after all of
>this, it has been demmed
Joel: Demmed? YouUre trying to say Demme directed this?
Crow: Well, he did direct RSomething Wild.S
> the most dangerous tour in Star Fleet, and
>Captain Pavel Checkov has now assigned to it.
Crow: Who? WhoUd he assign?
> Checkov couldn't help but feel nervous about his duty. Not many
>captains would be assigned to the neutral zone during their entire
>carrer. But Checkov was special,
Crow: Then again, everybodyUs special.
> he had confronted Romulans. Not many
>in Fleet could say that,
Tom: But then again, not many in Fleet would want to.
> not many in Fleet would wish to knowing what
>could happen to them.
Crow: Wow! He even writes with a Russian accent!
> Romulans were the ultimate unknown. The Federation could not
>comprehend what or who the Romulans are, what they fight for, how they
>relate to others, what their culture consists of.
Crow: Whether they sleep on their backs or stomachs!
Tom: What brand of toothpaste they prefer!
Joel: How often they change their socks!
Tom: How they grew those weird bumps between Classic Trek and Next Generation!
Crow: Why they all look a little bit like the Keebler Elf.
Tom & Joel: Yeah...
> Checkov had seen
>a few face to face, and had fought against them. Fleet offered him a
>captaincy patrolling the Zone for all he has done, and he readily
>jumped at it.
Tom: He wrestled it to the ground! But it was tough and gave him a bitter
battle.
> Checkov now regretted this decision. He had, for the past few
>weeks, been sitting in this primarily Vulcan starship as captain,
>Wishing for something, anything, to occur. "Like the RELIANT, boring
Crow: Like this fanfic.
>with the promise of great excitement,"
Tom: Unlike this fanfic.
> Checkov muttered. "Kelak, sensor
>scan report, see if there are any energy irregularities."
> "Sensor scan indicating no bizarre energy readings.
Joel: We got a couple slightly weird ones, though. ThatUs OK, right?
> No cloaking
>patterns evident." The science officer was, like the majority of this
>crew, Vulcan. Checkov felt a disdain over that, he didn't like the idea
>of commanding a bunch of Spocks all day. They were all so damn boring.
> "Thank you, Commander Kelak." Checkov sat back into his chair.
Crow: And sat on a whoopie cushion!
>"Set course to outpost seven, warp three."
Tom: Oh.. Uh-oh, wait a minute. Maybe thatUs outpost *three*, warp *seven*.
> Another six hours and this
>rotten month would climax into some R&R at starbase, Checkov thought
>to himself, maybe there I can see some nice human females for once.
Crow: ThereUs a Freudian slip in that sentence!
> "Now scanning an energy reading, high concentration of ions,
>from astern at four thousand kilometers, closing fast." Checkov quite
>quickly
Crow: Took his hand out of his pocket.
> regained his intrest. "Definately a Romulan cloaking pattern,"
>Kelak continued
Joel: Hey, thereUs no period there!
Tom: What are you, the SCA?
> Checkov clinched the grips on his chair, almost anxiously. "Can
>you match the cloaking configuration?"
> "Negative, cloak configuration matches no known Romulan or
>Klingon vessels specifically, but the pattern resembles that of the
>Romulan cruisers, higher energy levels being the major difference here,
>sir," the Vulcan said.
Joel: Oops, sorry, sir. I was wrong. Just a little dust on the sensors.
> "Raise shields, go to yellow alert." Checkov's voice showed an
>edge of nervousness. The klaxxon sounded and the crew scattered into
>their defense positions.
Tom: They ran to their quarters and hid under the beds.
> "Open hailing frquencies."
> The communcator's response was a wailing of static energy.
Crow: Dammit all, I wasnUt talking to the communicator!
> "Sir,
>alien vessel is jamming our communications attempts." The Vulcan tried
>a few more of his bottons to no avail. "Confirmed, sir. Alien vessel
>closing in on one-eight-zero mark zero. All attempts of communication
>has thus far failed, communication with Fleet impossible."
> Checkov looked at the viewscreen. "That is an attack posture!"
Joel: A little slow on the uptake, isnUt he?
>Checkov stood as he yelled.
Tom: HeUd originally decided to yell as he stood, but this way was flashier.
>"Arm torpedoes and circle enemy vessel."
Joel: Did Chekov just use a V??
Tom: ThatUs NOT the Chekov I know.
Joel: Something to be grateful for.
Tom: Yeah.
>The Russian could not help but wonder just what exactly he was getting
>himself into.
Tom: Him and me both.
> "Torpedoes armed." At that very same moment, there was a
>rupture on the viewscreen, space ripped itself apart as stars began to
>distort their images and color asserted itself upon a black canvas.
Crow: The bridge crew exchanged smiles and knowing glances as they realized
the Orange Sunshine theyUd slipped into the captainUs tea was taking
effect.
>The rupture spewed
Crow: Blaaaach!
> the wings of a Romulan Eagle, their bird of death.
Joel: Only the wings? What happened to the rest of it?
>Checkov clinched his seat in a death grip.
Tom: It was no time for him to conceal his forbidden passion.
>The less-controlled Vulans
Joel: WhatUs a Vulan?
>gasped. Even the most-controlled Vulcan could not easily conceal heir
>fear. The science officer tried, and failed to compose himself. Sir,
>Romulan NOVA class battleship in sector, she is arming torpedoes."
Crow: I dunno about you guys, but IUm rooting for the Romulans.
> Checkov weighed options to himself, but he knew the Romulans
>well enough not to trust them to withold fire. Checkov rubbed his chin.
Tom: He realized he needed a shave.
>Outside the battleship screamed toward the INTREPID.
Joel: RYou bastard, I thought we had something special!S
> The science
>officer spoke with an obvious nervousness, "Romulan vessel bearing on
>attack pattern."
> So, even the emotionless Vulcans show their fear of the giant
>Romulan bird, Checkov thought to himself.
Crow: Course theyUre afraid. They just washed the ship, and here comes the
Romulan bird.
> "Launch torpedoes!" INTREPID
>fired two balls of red-hot energy from her spine.
Joel: Oooh, sheUs gonna feel that in the morning!
> The torpedoes crashed
>into the Romulan's sheilds in a fiery glow that illuminated the black
>sky.
Tom: SKY? What sky?
Joel: HeUs just trying to impress us with his prose.
Tom: Well, I wish heUd stop.
> The giant vessel refused to so much as shudder.
Crow: I wonUt, so there!
> "Arm all weapons." Checkov sat back into his chair. He hadn't
>expected to go up against a Romulan Battleship, not this soon. These
>battleships were used for defense only, so intelligence had assumed,
>and there were no battleships with cloaking devices. At least, there
>weren't until now.
Crow: Introducing the new Stardate 10001.2 Romulan Warbird! ItUs a stylish
battleship with a cloaking device! Yes, you too can kick some
Federation patootie!
> The INTREPID rounded the Romulan craft to the port side. Even
>from this distance the size of the battleship was imposing. The Romulan
>ship unleashed a stream of light into the Federation cruiser's hull.
Crow: And hit it with a pillow while screaming, RTruck! Truck!S
>Bits of metal merged with fiery streaks of phaser energy to produce
>a brilliant glow of hell on the cruiser.
Tom: A brilliant glow of hell?
Joel: ThatUs what it says.
Crow: Are we gonna just sit there and take it?
All: Hell, No!
> Checkov cursed to himself. "Status report."
Joel: Oh, that must mean something really rude in Russian.
> The Vulcan looked over his console. "Shield two is out on our
>vessel with minor damage, the Romulan vessel has sustained thirty
>percent damage on their number one shield." Checkov looked at the
>viewer at the image of the Romulan battleship.
> The Romulan ship spat forth another torpedo from its beak.
Crow: Ptooie!
> The
>energy-ball impacted into the formerly soft-blue sensor dish
Tom: But fortunately it missed the warm pink Vargas array.
Crow: WhatUs a Vargas array?
Tom: Beats me. Sounded Trekish, though.
> on the
>INTREPID. The dish ruptured into engineering,
Joel: My uncle had a ruptured dish once.
> and the resulting energy
>lit the lower hull of the INTREPID ablaze. Explosions rocked up her
>spine
Crow: Oh, baby!
> as glass, metal, flesh all were blown out the rear of INTREPID's
>slender neck.
Joel: No, no... the flesh can be blown out the rear, but the glass and metal
have to be rinsed and put in the appropriate recycling bin.
> The bridge went aflame, Checkov felt his stomach lunge into
>his throat
Tom: HeUs gonna feel *that* in the morning.
> as consoles around the bridge exploded in their operator's
>faces. The death screams of Vulcans filled Chekov's ears. Almost
>instantly crewmembers ran into the bridge and sprayed foam to put out
>the fires. The remaining bridge personell ran past the charred bodies
>of their former comrades to find out just what exactly had happened and
>what they could do now.
Joel: RJust exactly what had happened?SDid they all sleep through the
beginning of this fanfic?
Tom: Lucky them.
> Checkov looked down. "Status report, anyone." Checkov noticed
>that he himself was bleeding from a piece of glass stuck into his arm
>from what was the navigator's station.
Crow: What was an arm doing at the navigatorUs station?
Tom: ItUs just a misplaced prepositional phrase. No arm done. (chuckles)
Crow: Oh, brother.
> "All sheilds have collapsed, major damage on all decks," the
>Vulcan spoke as cooly as he could, bu nervousness etched itself on his
>tone. "Sensor scan damage makes reading of enemy vessel impossible. We
>have lost both impulse and warp engine control." Checkov grimaced. The
>Vulcan continued, rattling off countless reports and figures.
Tom: The Warren Commission!
Crow: The Meese Commision!
Joel: 36-24-36!
> "All
>weapons systems are nonfunctional."
> The lighting had already changed to bright red, but the drain
>of power already caused the lights to flicker. Checkov slouched back
>into his chair. "Are the hailing frequencies open yet?" He muttered.
> A Vulcan stood up, "Aye sir, the Romulan vessel is responding."
>The Vulcan pressed a few toggles and the harsh image of a Romulan
>Commander.
Tom: It isnUt wise to press a Romulan.
Crow: Arrgh!
> The Romulan examined the scene carefully. "You are the captain
>of the NCC-1717 USS INTREPID?" Checkov nodded in the affirmative. "I
>assume you have called upon me to surrender. Truly pathetic of you, I
>do say, ecspecially for a ship of my Vulcan kindred."
> Checkov didn't reply, he couldn't reply to the cool, collected >Romulan. His crew gathered around him, almost begging for reassurance.
>Checkov composed himself. "What is the meaning of this attack? You are
>in wiolation
Tom: Now *thatUs* the Chekov I know!
> of the neutral zone treaty, your presence is an act of
>war."
> The Romulan laughed. "You are in no position to dictate terms
>to me. You are alive merely because I have not hit the torp controls
>again. I will, of course, as we do not take prisoners, but I thought
>that you should at least have to opportunity to see your executioner."
>The Commander relaxed into his seat. "The meaning of this attack is
>simple to undersatnd. You have lain in our path for too long. Our path
>through the stars must be completed."
Tom: Not to mention my journey to the Dark Side.
> "Now wait just a minute, the Federation will not -"
> The viewer cut off
Tom: I wish.
> to show the Romulan battleship launch a
>single torpedo from its beak toward the INTREPID. The ball of fire grew
>larger in Checkov's eyes, and it would be the last thing that the
>Russian would ever see.
> The torpedo impacted into the already tattered neck of the
>INTREPID. The two hulls parted in a brilliant explosion, and spun away
>from each other. The saucer burned, and the letters of the INTREPID
>slowly faded amidst the blackening hull.
All: Oooooh! Aaaaah!
> The Romulan Commander smiled. Which was itself a rare sight.
>But none of his minions would dare say it to him. This Commander was
>very much unlike all other Romulan Commanders, he was dangerous to
>cross, even more so than the standard. He was not the kind of Commander
>who actually had to display his power to enforce it. He merely was
>imposing by his presence. This fact pleased him to a point, it meant
>that all of his men were deathly loyal to him. This is a stata that he
>fully was comfortable with.
Tom: IUd just like to say that this paragraph is making me physically ill.
> <Kela, new course.> The navigator readied
>herself for her orders nervously. The Commander felt her fear and
>sympathized with it. He bent over to her and put his hand on her
Crow: Thigh!
Joel: Crow...
>shoulder. <Relax, Secundam.
Joel: Is her name Kela or Secundam?
Tom: Senectutem, Nos habebit humus.
Crow: Huh?
> I want you to lay a course to Federation
>territory, specifically the Federation defense outpost six.> The woman
>nervously toggled some switches and turned the astrogation dial. The
>tall Commander continued, <Proceed at warp four.> The female Romulan
>shook her head quickly.
Crow: Aibibi-yey bibi-yey.
> The helmsman looked over, <Engage cloaking device, lord?>
> The imposing figure replied, <After we have left this section
>of space and are underway. I wish to see the remnants of my prey.> The
>helmsman nodded in response and readied the cloaking device.
> The RISS FIERY RAVEN
All: (disintegrate into hopeless laughter)
Tom: The *what*?
> burned through the remnants of the late
>INTREPID and flew off into space in a ribbon of red light before
>seemingly rippling out of exsistance.
Tom: And thereUs more to come.
>
>From rcs Wed Jan 31 17:43:34 1990
>Received: by expert.cc.purdue.edu (5.61/1.14)
> id AA05798; Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:32 -0500
>Date: Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:32 -0500
>From: rcs (Neale Davidson)
All: Neale Davidson, SHAME ON YOU!
>Message-Id: <900131224...@expert.cc.purdue.edu>
Tom: Expert? At what?
>To: rcs
>Status: R
>
>CHAPTER TWO
>
> "Enterprise to Captain Riley's shuttle, you are cleared to
>dock port side primary hull torpedo bay." The little shuttle pod
>skimmed alongside a giant EXCELSIOR class ship, reminding Riley of a
>bee flying alongside an annoyed human. Riley sat back at the controls
>and guided the petite craft around the rear of the sleek vessel.
Crow: The firm, round rear of the sleek vessel.
> Riley smiled at the new ENTERPRISE.
Tom: He was disappointed when it didnUt smile back.
> From the outside at least,
>the new ship was the most imposing craft he had seen. "This is Riley,
>confirmed docking status, will comply in three minutes." He looked at
>the vessel again. "You know Saavik, if all ships are female then this
>one is a mean bitch."
Tom: On the other hand, if all ships are male, this one is a beer-guzzling
lout.
> Saavik looked at him quizzicly. He cracked a
>smile at her. "I'd hate to see her come barrelling at me."
> Commander Saavik studied the vessel over as the shuttle
>maneuvered over and above the call letters. USS ENTERPRISE, NCC-1701-B.
>"I understand, sir. To an emotional species, this class could be quite
>imposing." Of course, the ship was imposing.
Tom: Of course.
Joel: Of course.
Crow: Of course!
> It was designed as the
>heaviest piece of hardware in fleet, and she flaunted it.
Joel: Hey, if youUve got it...
All: FLAUNT IT!
> The primary
>hull was round like her former ship but was broader, heavier looking,
>the connection between the hulls wasn't a slender neck but more like
>a trunk, the secondary hull had the familiar bulge in front,
Crow: Just like Senator Packwood.
> but the
>sensor dish was pulled inside the ship, protecting it, and the lower
>hull jetted back to a slender rear. The nacells were at right angles
>and looked as if they could take an incredible amout of power flowing
>through them.
Tom: Riley thought it over. Yep, he decided. The ship was a babe.
> Riley studied over it again. "I like the way that the neck was
>expanded, it keeps the connection between the hulls much better. And
>the way that the sensor dish is kept inside the hull like that, really
>covers up that weak spot to engineering."
Crow: All thatUs really great, but do you have it in red?
> Saavik considered the Captain's words. "Which ship did you
>serve on before this, sir? You sound as if you were on a CONSTITUTION
>class vessel." Saavik suddenly realized that she hadn't actually
>studied over the material she was given about the new crew and ship.
>She would remind herself to do that when she got to her cabin.
Tom: Right after she took a bubble bath.
Crow: Oh baby!
> Riley spoke without taking his gaze away from the vessel. "I
>was on the USS HOOD for a few years. Served in the Triangle
Tom: Bermuda Triangle?
Crow: Triangle Shirtwaist Company?
Tom: Never heard of them.
Crow: IUm surprised. TheyUre really hot.
> because I
>was an expert on the Romulan people," Riley spoke distantly, trying
>not to remember things as he spoke.
Tom: HeUd forgotten his name already. That was a good start.
> Saavik nearly showed a smile, "And what do you know of Romulans
>then, sir?" She was wondering if he knew about her
>mother's Vulcan life, her father's Romulan heritage.
>She looked at him with a curious eye but decided not to
>ask him about.
Joel: Out and about?
> Riley maneuvered the craft to point away from the ENTERPRISE on
>the port side,
Tom: You know, every time a side of the ship is mentioned, itUs the port side.
I wonder how come.
Crow: ItUs a motif!
Joel: The author probably doesnUt know the word Rstarboard.S
> and slowed the craft to a stop directly in front of a
>docking ring. "I know quite a bit about Romulans, Saavik. Maybe someday
>I will expand upon it for you." Riley spoke matter-of-factly, nearly
>instilling a fear into Saavik.
Joel: But she didnUt have enough to pay instillment charges.
> The shuttle slowed back into the docking ring. "Commencing dock
>sequence," spoke some unknown voice.
Joel: Hey! ThatUs Richard Kiley!
Tom: Spared no expense.
> Riley tapped a few buttons on his
>console. Saavik readied herself for her entrance into the battleship
>by straightening her dress uniform and taking a deep breath.
Crow: And fixing her eyeliner. And her lipstick. And her eye shadow. And her
pantyhose. And she took a really long time to pick out a pair of shoes.
> Riley merely stood up and walked to the door. After pressing a
>few buttons, the doors opened into the torpedo room of the ENTERPRISE
>and the new Captain and First Officer walked in.
All: Ta-DAHH!
> The three-note played and everyone in the room came to.
Joel: WhatUs the three-note? Some auditory equivalent of smelling salts?
> RSorry
>for the lack of personell for your greeting ceremony sir, but we're
>having a hell of a time getting the ship ready." A Commander walked
>in the room, past the three ensigns on hand for the ceremony. "Anyway,
>welcome aboard, Captain."
> "Thank you, Commander." Riley replied. "You are the engineer,
>Commander Paula Grissom if memory serves."
Tom: Oh, is that my name? Silly me, IUd forgotten.
> He offered his hand for a
>handshake, she didn't accept it, but instead strode over to Saavik.
> "I see they've put another woman in a good position on this
>ship, about time Fleet started to act responsibly," the engineer said.
>"Can't let these men take my ship to do god knows what for their egoes
>now can we?"
Crow: Oh, great. Next sheUll talk about the phaser being a phallic symbol.
> Riley considered for a moment that this was some feeble
>attempt at humour, but decided against it after seeing Grissom's fiery
>expression. Saavik raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
> Well, Riley thought to himself, this one's going to be a
>trouble maker. He decided to maneuver in between the two women,
Crow: Say now!
>somewhat unsubtly. "Commander, may I remind you of the fact that
>I am the captain of this vessel and highly expect to be regarded as
>such. Is that understood?"
> The Commander folded her arms. She could be considered somewhat
>attractive, Riley thought to himself, red hair, soft brown eyes, petit
>body. Too bad she seems to be such a pain in the ass.
Joel: Male chavinist pigs... in ... SPACE!
> She looked up at
>him. "You just take good care of my ship, sir."
> Riley didn't miss a beat. "I was going to say the same thing to
>you, Commander. But I do suggest you drop that attitude. This isn't the
>old ENTERPRISE, and I am not James Kirk. I do things by the book, lady.
>I do not enjoy having my authority questioned." Riley left the chat end
>at that and strode out of the torpedo room with Saavik following.
Crow: He really asserted himself there.
Tom: Yeah.
Joel: Yeah.
Crow: Oh, whoUre we trying to kid? This is pitiful!
> The two went to the turbolift, and found it nonfunctional. "I
>guess this is what the engineer meant by getting the ship ready," the
>Vulcan female noted.
> "Well, this ought to be an intresting trip," Riley replied. "At
>least the major systems are on line." He frowned at the lift once. "I
>hope so, at any rate."
Tom: Maybe the life support will go off and theyUll all suffocate.
> Saavik pointed down the cooridor. "I believe that turbolift
>also will take you to the bridge." Riley looked and frowned. Saavik
>started to walk to it. "You do know that it always takes a few days to
>get all systems on line in any new ship. Of course the worst example
>was the former ENTERPRISE which took..."
> "Nevermind, Commander." Riley walked into the turbolift with
>Saavik. "Bridge."
Joel: One club!
Tom: Pass!
Crow: Three diamonds!
> Riley felt his weight shift in two directions before
>this doors opened to the bridge.
> "Captain on the bridge," someone called as the rest of the crew
>stood at attention. The bridge wasn't in too bad of shape, there were
>some missing panels however, but all he could see were missing systems
>whose redundant systems were already on line.
Tom: ItUs BACKUP systems, you fool!
> Riley let out a breath
>of relief.
> "At ease, everyone." Riley paced around the bridge once before
>heading for his chair. "Now then, I want a status report of all the
>working and nonworking functions of the ship," Riley said. "Make it
>within the next hour." He sat into his chair and noted that none of the
>command functions were set up. "Get a team to work on this chair also,
>I would like to have my systems functional." Funny thing about needing
>to call the ship to alert if neccessary, he thought.
Tom: Would someone please explain that last sentence to me?
> The communications officer piped up, "Incoming message from
>Star Fleet command, Captain." Riley almost let out a look of disdain.
>There was usually a few days given before ships would ever be given
>anything to do. Saavik was right about all new ships needing the bugs
>worked out.
> Riley sat back. "Ok, put it on screen." He thought again. "If
>you can." Of course, if it doesn't work work, then... The young captain
>found himself wondering just how bad off the old ENTERPRISE really was.
> "Message on screen," the officer replied.
Joel: RDamn!S thought Riley.
> Fortunately, the
>viewer did work and the standard Federation symbol appeared on the
>screen, along with a voice-over.
Tom: I hope itUs not a Mentos ad.
> "Federation personell assignment
>officer Admiral Drake. Message reference stardate 10002.992. Delivery
>to USS ENTERPRISE, EXCELSIOR class, NCC 1701-B."
> The screen changed to show the battered image of Admiral Drake,
>a grey-haired old fogey with no sense of humor.
Tom: I think itUs the wonderful characterization that makes this fanfic
for me.
> The man's voice was by
>no means attractive either.
Crow: But his thighs were like buttah.
> "Greetings Captain, I hope you find your
>new ship satisfactory."
> Riley sat back and smirked. "Yes, Admiral , just so long as
>I don't have to make her leave spacedock for a few days. You didn't
>exactly tell me that the ship wouldn't be space-worthy for me." The
>first officer began to wonder if Riley should check his tone with the
>Admiral.
Crow: He decided against it, because the check room was full.
> "Well, I thought that it would be a pleasant surprise for you."
>The Admiral actually smiled at that remark. "Feel well off, Riley, the
>HOOD is having trouble with life support right now. Do you know what
>it is to work in no gravity, no light, no air on a battleship of that
>size?"
Joel: Yeah. ItUs called death.
> Riley nodded in the negative. "Well, sir, can I assume that
>this is not a pleasure chat then?" The old man nodded yes in reply.
>Riley frowned. "Well, what is the bad news, sir?"
Crow: The fanfic isnUt over yet.
> The Admiral looked down at some of his papers. "You have been
>assigned to the Neutral Zone, sector six. Sorry about that, but we've
>lost several ships in the aera recently
Joel: And we want you to go next.
> and Fleet Admiral Kirk is not
>exactly looking on the situation with a friendly eye."
> Riley folded his arms. "Kirk eh? What's he want with us? I was
>hoping to avoid dealing with him." This was a massive understatement.
>All I need is for my crew to compare me with him now, Riley thought.
> The Admiral smiled. "I'm not sure, but you are to rendevous
>with flagship UNION at outpost three in six days. You will have to fix
>your ship en-transit, just like the old days."
Crow: In my day we didnUt have these fancy diagnostics and high-tech
doohunkafunnies! No, we had to fix our starships with coat hangers
and spit! And we liked it! We *loved* it!
> "Understood, sir." Riley faked a salute to the Admiral
Tom: How do you fake a salute?
> and
>signalled for cutoff. The viewer went to slate grey.
Tom: This viewer would rather *watch* slate gray than this.
Crow: Slate Gray? Wa-hoo!
Joel: No, thatUs Zane Gray.
Crow: Oh, sorry.
> Instinctively Riley went for the "Address ship" button on his
>chair. It was, of course, not present, so he motioned to the Lieutenant
>to patch him up.
Crow: The Lieutenant grabbed needle and thread and set right to work.
> I really want my chair fixed, he thought to himself.
>"ENTERPRISE, this is your Captain speaking, we have been dispatched to
>the Neutral Zone effective immediately. If anything's not working blame
>our engineer, she seems to have all the answers to this ship."
Joel: That oughtta fix her.
> He let
>out a small smile and signaled termination of communicae. "Helmsman,
>aft one-quarter impulse power."
> The ENTERPRISE slowed out of her parking space inside space
>dock. Her hull slid by the hulls of the smaller ships, including the
>now decommissioned NCC-1701-A awaiting transit to the Star Fleet
>Museum on Memory Alpha.
Crow: Wait a minute. The ENTERPRISE was parallel parked?
> "Spacedock, open bay doors." Riley studied the screen. "Viewer
>ahead, Mister O'Neil." The navigator complied and the screen changed
>to show the center of the giant dock, with people in the various decks
>waving, saluting, and praying for the craft. Riley felt a small glow
>about the sendoff, nothing fancy, just a wholesome compassion from
>fellow beings.
Crow: Hey, what is this? The beginning of an episode of RThe Love Boat?S
> "Opening spacedock doors." The doors pulled back inside te
>mammoth dock, revealing the sleek battleship ENTERPRISE, pulling itself
>backwards through the door. Slowly the ship crawled backwards into
>the black sky.
> "We have cleared spacedock," the helmsman answered, "free to
>navigate system."
Tom: Or maybe we could cruise over to the mall, you know, pick up some
chicks...
> Riley motioned to the Navigator, "Set course and proceed at
>warp six." The was an immense weight of anticipation in the crew's
>stomachs at this moment.
Joel: Or maybe the replicators were screwed up too.
> "Aye, sir. Course setting in, readying warp drive and transwarp
>systems. Power-up time ten seconds." Riley felt a fear build up within
>him. The transwarp drive system was mainly untested beyond speed of
>warp nine, too many things could go wrong.
Tom: Frankly, I donUt see how things could get much worse.
> The ENTERPRISE brought herself around away from the spacedock.
>And inside, the powering up of engines was the dominant noise. "Power
>will be at nominal levels in six... " the computer counted.
> Riley waited impatiently for the next five seconds before the
>ENTERPRISE raced into warp space. "Warp one achieved, sir," the
>navigator answered. "Warp one point five, Warp two..." Riley stopped
>paying attention to the warp count and instead concentrated on the
>"Warp three, Warp four,
Joel: He stopped paying attention to the warp count and instead concentrated
on the warp count?
Tom: You canUt take three from two, two is less than three, so you look
at the four in the tens place...
> Warp five, now at Warp six and have cleared
>Sol system."
> Riley sat up and reasserted his command. "Standby transwarp
>drive, engage at warp eight, accelerate to warp twelve." The ENTERPRISE
>accelerated and flew past Neptune in a flash of light.
Crow: KITT, prepare to engage Super Pursuit Mode!
> "Captain, computer reports transwarp system fully functional.
>Present velocity on course at warp seven, entering warp drive." The
>ENTERPRISE accelerated more, and then shook violently,
All: Oh, capUn, I cannaU give her any more! SheUll blow!
> metal began to
>bend, and the new EXCELSIOR class ship dissappeared into a wormhole.
Tom: I *hate* it when that happens.
>
>From rcs Wed Jan 31 17:43:38 1990
>Received: by expert.cc.purdue.edu (5.61/1.14)
> id AA05804; Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:37 -0500
>Date: Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:37 -0500
>From: rcs (Neale Davidson)
>Message-Id: <900131224...@expert.cc.purdue.edu>
>To: rcs
>Status: R
>
>CHAPTER THREE
Tom: Oh no, thereUs *more*?
>
> "Get those d
>--
Crow: Huh? Oh. Okay. Whatever.
> ///
> Scott Rowin /// am...@milton.u.washington.edu
> *********** ///
> - SPACE OPEN FOR LEASE - \-\_/// Amigas really do it better...
>
Tom and Crow: AMIGA? Hahahahaha!!!!
>=====================================CUT >HERE===================================
>--
>Joseph Young, Systems Programmer
>KSU Department of Computing and Information Sciences, Manhattan, Kansas 66506
>FAX: (913) 532-7353 Phone: (913) 532-6350 Internet: j...@cis.ksu.edu
>UUCP: rutgers!depot!jfy SigQuote: "Never argue with a computer." -- Avon
>End of article 7897 (of 7902)--what next? [npq]
Joel: ThatUs it, guys. LetUs go.
They exit the theater.
DISCLAIMER: I am not trying to infringe on a single copyright. Not one. And
I am not insulting the original author of this post. At least, I do not
*intend* to insult the original author of this post. Furthermore, I vow
solemnly that this MiSTing is for entertainment purposes only. So there.
________________________________________
David Hines
The University of Chicago
Unofficial School Motto: RWe all are ugly.S
Second Unofficial School Motto: RLess fun than the U.S. Military Academy!S
Ahem. There is a slight problem when I copy from my word processor to paste
onto the net. Here's a guide to help you interpret:
U= '
R, S = "
Sorry 'bout that. 8)
ZZYZX
>Okay, here goes: my first MiSTing of a fanfic. ItUs been reposted from an
>archive, so I donUt know if anyone has done this before. If so, IUm sorry for
>butting in.
Mmmmmmmmmm. Donuts.
-David "ZZYZX" Steinberg (dste...@emmy.nmsu.edu)
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*"Who would have thought it *"I can't believe I'm a junior and a *
* That's where I am * film major, when all I really *
* No future at all... * wanted in this life was to marry a *
* Lord carry me down." * lobsterman and cook fish." *
* -Phish * -a letter from Christie Searing *
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