MiSTed "Q-Force" (1/2)

[FJ Castellino]

Hi all,
Since my posting service doesn't like to crosspost as it's supposed to,
I'm forced to post this here the hard way. This is my fourth MiSTing,
and I hope you like. My apologies if any of this get messed up in the
transfer.

One other thing, if by some chance someone wants to say something to me
about this, DO NOT use the e-mail address up above, as it is not mine.
My e-mail address is castel...@nd.edu.

Enjoy,
Anthony Castellino
----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Normal Season 8 opening.)

0...2...3...4...5...6...*

(<SoL> Crow and Tom are alone on the bridge respectively. Both are
wearing black suits and sunglasses. Crow is holding a Polaroid camera
and Tom is looking at some tricorder-looking gizmo on the table.)

TOM: Oh, please don't turn green. Please don't turn green. (A pause
and a green light flashes from the device.) Damn.

(Mike steps onto the bridge, oblivious to the 'bots at first.)

MIKE: Hi everyone. I'm Mike Nelson and you may remember my robot pals
Crow and... (He then notices the 'bots.) Well, don't you two look
spiffy. What's up?

TOM: Mike, do you happen to know what kind of alien likes to drink sugar
water and leaves a green spectrometer trail?

MIKE: Huh?

CROW: We've got a Bug here, Tom... Oh wait. Mike, you're not clear to
know that. Will you look at this, please? (Crow aims the camera right
and Mike's head and flashes the bulb. Mike covers his eyes in pain.)

MIKE: Ow! (Uncovering his eyes.) What are you doing?

TOM: Okay, Mike. The UFO you saw was merely a reflection of Venus off
of some swamp gas.

MIKE: Swamp gas? What are you talking about. (Motioning to the
camera.) What are you doing with that thing?

CROW: Well see, this little device isolates the patterns of your brain
activity, specifically those relating to memory. But you're not allowed
to know that. Please look at this again. (He flashes the camera bulb
again right in Mike's eyes.)

MIKE: Ow! That's bright. What are you talking about, Crow?

CROW: My name USED to be Crow, but now I am "C".

MIKE: What?

TOM: And I am known as "T". Hey C, Mike's not allowed to know that.

CROW: You're right, T. Mike, please look at this. (Crow flashes the
bulb again.)

MIKE: Ow! Will you quit that. You're starting to burn my retinas out.
Why are you doing that?

CROW: Because it's our job.

MIKE: Your job?

TOM: Yes Mike. Our job is to monitor all alien activity on the
satellite and keep it contained. For we are the R.I.Bs.

MIKE: (Rubbing his eyes.) Eh? The what?

CROW: The R.I.Bs.

(Cambot zooms in on Crow and Tom.)

'BOTS (dramatically): The Robots In Black.

(Zoom back out to normal view):

CROW: You're last, best, and only line of defense. But you can't know
that. (He flashes the camera at Mike again.)

MIKE: Ow! Guys, that's not making me forget anything. It's only
annoying the hell out of me.

CROW: Well Mike, the only comfort I can offer you is that, in the
mourning, you won't remember any of it. (He flashes the camera at Mike
again.)

MIKE: Arrrggg! (He collapses.)

TOM: (Looking at Mike.) Huh. That never happened before.

(Commercial light flashes.)

TOM: Crow. Commercial sign.

CROW: Huh? (Notices.) Oh. (He hits the commercial button.)

(Loads of unbelievable "free" psychic hotline commercials.)

(<SoL> The 'bots are still dressed up. Mike is up and putting eyedrops
in.)

CROW: You know Mike, you have really beautiful eyes.

MIKE: Gee, thanks. If I'm lucky they'll last.

(Mad light flashes.)

MIKE: Oh. Rip Torn, Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones are calling. (Mike
hits the mad light.)

(<The Planet> Pearl, Bobo and the Observer are sitting on a rock and
have a keg in front of them. Each of them is holding a shot glass.)

PEARL: Okay, the game is called "Century Club". The objective is to
down a hundred shots of beer in a hundred minutes.

BOBO: Sounds fascinating, Lawgiver.

OBSERVER: I don't know, are you sure this is safe?

PEARL: Of course! It's one of the most popular college games next to
Notre Dame football. (Looks up.) Oh, Mike. I'll cut to the chase
here. Now that I got rid of those Starchild brats. I'm gonna kick
back. And while I'm doing that, you can kick back with an experiment.
It's a Star Wars / Star Trek crossover text called "Q-Force". Get ready
for action. (She checks her watch.) Okay guys, ready? Begin. (They
all down a shot of beer.)

<SoL>

MIKE: Gee, I wish I could play.

TOM: It's okay Mike. Knowing Pearl, it's probably Icehouse.

(Warning lights and alarms go crazy.)

ALL: Facfic sign. Oh no!

*...6...5...4...3...2...0

(They enter the theater.)

MIKE: Where did you get that camera, by the way?

CROW: Oh, we own the patent on a few out-of-state items. Oh wait, you
can't know that.

(Crow lifts the camera to flash it, but Mike grabs it and tosses it
offstage right.)

CROW: Hey! $15 down the drain.

TOM: Quiet guys, it's about to start.

>Title: Q-Force
>Description: Q and the Borg vs. Grand Moff Tarkin,
>the Death Star, Darth Vader, the Emperor and
>Luke Skywalker.

CROW: And Red Dwarf was there.

>Catagory: Star Wars / Star Trek Crossover
>E-mail address: stu9...@gcc.edu
>
>
>Q-Force

MIKE: The Desmond Llewelyn story.

>by David A Pontier
>
> "Luke. Use the Force. Let it guide your actions."

TOM (Obi Wan): Give in to the Republican party.

> Luke Skywalker, last of the Jedi Knights,

MIKE: By default only.

> reached over and >switched off his targeting computer. As he raced down the trench, he grabbed >his weapons control stick and closed his eyes.

CROW: Luke, this is no time to be doing *that*!
MIKE: And what is *that*, Crow?
CROW: Um, I'll tell you when you're older.
TOM: Eww! I just got it and that's disgusting.

> He saw the target in front of him:
>an exhaust port. He aimed with the Force, and at just the right time,
>he depressed the firing button.

MIKE: By telling it his life story.

> Nothing happened.

TOM: Just like his career.

> Luke was yanked out of his trance and looked at his control panel. A
>blinking light told him

CROW (chirpy): Hi. I'm a blinking light!

> his proton torpedo tubes were jammed. He looked
>back out of his cockpit and saw the end of the trench approaching him like
>a wall of sand in a Tatooine sand storm.

TOM: Is he flying his X-wing or learning how to rollerblade?

> "I'm sorry Ben," was all he >could mutter before his X-wing exploded against the Death Star.

ALL: Yaah! Woo-hoo!
CROW: David, you're aces in my book.

> Five >seconds later, the Death Star emitted an intense beam of pure energy that >totally annihilated the fourth moon of Yavin.

CROW: That's nothing new to you, though. Is it Mike?
MIKE: Hey, lay off already.

> Grand Moff Tarkin smiled to himself as he saw the work of his new battle
>station.

CROW: You'd look good in an Imperial uniform, though, Mike.
MIKE: I said quit it.

> The Emperor will be pleased, he told himself. He turned away
>from the window and looked back at the collection of his best officers sitting
>at their posts, waiting to carry out his every command.

TOM (Tarkin): Take us into the black hole.

> He smiled
>again. There was no way he could have lost. Now nothing could stop the
>Empire from ultimate conquest.

MIKE: Go go Power Rangers!

> "Are there any Rebels left?" He asked,
>returning to the business at hand.
> "Sensors are picking up two ships, Sir. A crippled X-wing and a
>Corellian freighter." The officer checked the sensor screen again. "Ten TIE
>interceptors are in pursuit of the X-wing, but the Corelian freighter is too
>fast, and will be able to enter hyperspace before any fighters can reach it."
> "Tractor beam five," Tarkin said, "lock onto target."
> "Yes, Sir," the young officer responded. "Target is captured. Shall I
>reel him in, Sir?"
> "Tractor beam two, lock onto same target, and together, both of you real
>him in."

CROW (giggling): I know this scene is meant to induce horror, but it
just seems to be a goofy way to utilize the weapons Tarkin has
available.

> "Yes, Sir." The two officers had smiles on their faces as they carried
>out their orders.
> Tarkin turned back to the window and saw the freighter frozen in space.
>It shook violently, as the second beam locked on, and as the two beams pulled
>against each other, the helpless freighter was torn in two amidst a ball of >flame.

ALL (singing): When I was only ten, and my mom made apple pies, I was in
the cellar, torturing rats and pulling the wings off of flies.

>With satisfaction, Tarkin searched for the TIE interceptors and saw that they >had just extinguished the last flame of the puny rebellion.

CROW (Bevis): Yeah, FIRE FIRE! That's cool!

> "Sir," a voice pulled him away from the window. "Lord Vader has just >landed his crippled advanced TIE fighter in hanger bay seven."
> "Thank-you." Tarkin turned to an officer sitting close to him. >"Lieutenant Commander Tallon, you have the bridge while I go see to our Dark >Lord of the Sith."
> "Yes, Sir." Tallon rose to take command. "Orders?"

TOM: Large fries, pie, large coffee.

> "Prepare for departure back to Coruscant."
> "Yes, Sir." He turned to the communications officer. "Recall all >fighters, and . . .," he glanced at Grand Moff Tarkin as he continued, "and >tell them, 'Job well done.'"
> "Yes, Sir."
> Tarkin proceeded to the turbo lift and planned on how he would greet
>Darth Vader.

MIKE (Tarkin): Hmm, I could jump naked out of a cake for him...

> It was a time of triumph, but Lord Vader himself, >although he destroyed a great number of enemy fighters, had not played the >major role in victory. He had been taken out of the equation by a second rate >smuggler. The real reason they had won was a simple

CROW: Plot contrivance.

> weapons jam that the Death >Star's sensors had only picked up seconds before the X-wing in the trench blew >up. The turbo speed elevator whisked him to hanger bay seven,

TOM: The sheer G-force of it smashing him into the floor.

> and to >the second in command in the Empire. He decided to say nothing of the battle, >but to simply supply him with their current status.
> The turbo lift came to a stop and opened with a swish.

MIKE: Why is Errol Flynn portraying the door?

> Darth Vader >stood before him, awaiting the lift.

CROW (Vader): What's with the hold-up? Other people need to use this
elevator too, you know!

> Tarkin stepped away from the door and allowed >Vader to enter.

TOM (Vader): I'm huge.

> "Welcome back Lord Vader. The fleet is returning, and we are >preparing to return to Coruscant."
> "Good," his hollow voice responded as he stared blankly into the closing
> doors. He turned to face Tarkin. "Your people performed well, Grand Moff >Tarkin. They should be commended."
> "They have been, Lord Vader."

MIKE (singing): Have a drink on me, have a drink on me!

> "Interesting that you should compliment your men. You do not usually >hand out praise so freely."
> "It was done by a Lieutenant Commander Tallon, whom I am grooming for
>future fleet command. It caught me by surprise."

ALL: Huh?

> "Intelligent man. By praising the men immediately after an enormous >victory, you rase not only the moral but also strengthen their loyalty to the >Empire by making them feel important and instrumental in acheiving our cause."

TOM (Vader): I usually just crush their throats, but his method is good
too.

> "Even if they are not."
> "Yes, Grand Moff. Even if they are not."
> The comunicator in the turbo lift beeped twice

CROW: And therefore Moses was denied access to the promised land.

> and Tallon's >voice came over the intercom, "Grand Moff Tarkin, the fighters have returned, >and we are ready for the jump to hyperspace."

ALL (singing): I said you might as well jump, go ahead and jump...

> "At your word Lieutenant Commander."
> "Yes, Sir."
> A few moments later the turbo lift stopped and opened on to the bridge.
>Vader and Tarkin stepped onto the bridge and were surprised to see an >unfamiliar man dressed in a Grand Admiral's uniform standing in the middle of >the bridge.
> Before Tarkin could summon his wits to question the intruder,

MIKE: For a man who likes to blow up planets, he's kind of shy and
reserved.

> the unknown
>Grand Admiral spoke first. "A Grand Moff," he said, quite disappointed
>as he looked at Tarkin's rank. "I hate it when people out rank me." With a
>snap of his fingers the Grand Admiral uniform disappeared, and was replaced
>by a Supreme Fleet Admiral uniform. He looked down at his new attire.
>"This will have to do."

CROW: John DeLancie IS Mr. B. Natural.

> He turned back to Tarkin. "Where am I?"

TOM (Rod Sterling): In a dimension beyond sight, sound and reason. You
have entered THE CROSSOVER ZONE.

> Not allowing Tarkin as much as a breath, he continued. "Let me guess.
>Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away."

MIKE: You're joking, right?

> He shook his head in disgust. "I
>didn't think they'd actually do it.

TOM: They re-elected Bill Clinton.

> Oh, well," he sighed. "Might as well >make the most of it."
> Tarkin finally spoke. In a controlled rage he said, "Who are you?"

CROW (Kosh): Who are you?
TOM (Morden): What do you want?

> "Patience Tarkin, all will be made clear."
> Tarkin could take no more.

MIKE (Tarkin): Calgone, take me away!

> "Lord Vader would you be so kind as to
>remove this pestilence from my battle station."

CROW (Vader): What the hell do I look like to you, the bouncer?
TOM: "Pestilence"? What is this biblical, like a rain of John DeLancies
will fall upon the Earth?

> Vader did not respond >but Tarkin saw him clench his fists in rage. Always before when he had seen
>Vader execute someone with the Force, Tarkin could only see the man choking.
>He had never before seen anyone's entire neck simply collapse as this
>intruder's neck now did. The Supreme Fleet Admiral staggered and fell
>to his knees.

TOM (Schwarzenegger): You've just been erased.

> He made a high pitched squeal, that was almost out of the
>range of hearing,

CROW (Deliverance voice): Now squeal like pig! Squeeeeal!

> as his veins in his head started to explode. Blood >poured down his face and ran past his contorted facial expressions. He fell
>to the deck, quite dead.

MIKE: Perhaps.

> Tarkin walked over to the still corpse as it lay on its face in the
>growing pool of blood and kicked it brutally.

TOM (Tarkin): Stupid corpse! I hate you!

> It flipped over revealing >the smiling face of the intruder staring up at him. Tarkin backed up, amazed.

CROW (singing): Suprise! Your dead.

>The Supreme Fleet Admiral hopped to his feet and brushed the wrinkles
>out of his suit. All of the blood had disappeared, and his face and neck
>had returned to normal. All of the officers stood up from their stations
>and applauded loudly and emphatically.

TOM (British accent): Jolly good show.
CROW: (same accent): Smashing.

> He turned and acknowledged
>their applause by bowing deeply. He turned back to Tarkin. "At least some
>one appreciates a good performance."
> Vader charged with his lightsaber drawn and ignited.

MIKE (Vader): Hikeeba!

> He swung
>down with a force that Tarkin had never seen before. The intruder reached
>up and grabbed the blade in his hand.

CROW: It's a "Kung-Fu" episode.

> Vader had swung so viciously,>though, that the blade broke away from the handle, and Vader's momentum sent >him to the deck. The Admiral side-stepped, avoiding the falling Lord of the
>Sith as he went sprawling and became tangled in his cape.

MIKE (Grampa Simpson): This cape is giving me a rash.

> One of the
>officers snickered to himself at the sight of the fallen Lord. Vader looked up
>at him, and the officer was immediately incinerated in a ball of flame.

ALL (singing): And we'll all burn together when we burn...

> The Supreme Fleet Admiral looked over at the burning corpse.
> "There now," he said in a mocking tone. "Was that really necessary.
>Now put away your toy," he squeezed his hand and the blade exploded into a
>shower of sparks, "before someone else gets hurt."

TOM: Boy, David Pontier has quite a fascination with pyrotechnics.

> In one last effort, Vader ripped apart a large amount of metal railing
>with the Force and hurled it at his advisory. "Stop it, already!" The
>railing fell to the floor. "Your puny Force is no match for me! Now pick
>yourself up, Tin Can Breath. I wouldn't want you to wrinkle that stunning >outfit."

CROW (effeminate voice): Oh, you look absolutely fabulous!

> "Who are you?" Tarkin managed to repeat himself amongst the havoc.

CROW (Kosh): Who are...
MIKE: Enough with the "Babylon 5" jokes.

> "Ah, yes, that again. Well I guess I've kept you in the dark long >enough."
>He cleared his throat. "My name his," trumpet fanfare came over the intercom
>speakers, "Q."
> Tarkin was taken aback, "Who?"

TOM: Who Q? Where Q?
MIKE: Bring that up again, and I'll shoot you out the airlock.

> "No, Q," Q corrected him. "It sounds like 'who,' only it has a hard 'C'
>sound at the beginning." He turned to all of the officers sitting at their >posts. "Lets all try it."
> "Q," all of the officers said in unison.

ALL: Hooked On Phonics worked for me.

> "There, that was easy," he turned back to Tarkin. "Now see if you can
>do it."

ALL: (Cough nervously.)

> Tarkin was furious. Never before had he possessed such fury.

MIKE (monotone): Taste my steel.

> But
>he realized that this Q character had extraordinary powers, evident in the
>fact that he had defeated Vader quite effortlessly and by the fact that he
>apparently held all of his bridge crew in some kind of spell.

ALL (singing): Abra- abracadabra, I'm gonna reach out and grab 'ya.

> As obvious
>as it was to him that he was outmatched, he was still Grand Moff Tarkin,
>the Imperial fleet commander of this entire sector. He had been through
>years of military training to become third in command of the Empire, and
>he was not going to be made a fool of simply because Q wanted to have fun "I >refuse to play your silly games," he said in a violent whisper.

CROW: "Violent whisper"? Wasn't that a Dean R. Koontz novel?

>"And I resent your actions greatly." Q began a response, but was silenced
>by a violent arm gesture by Tarkin.

TOM (Tarkin): To the moon, Q.

> "You trespass on my battle station >insult Darth Vader, take control of my staff, and you treat me like a child. >Do you know who I am?!"

MIKE: What's my name?
BOTS (singing): Snoop Doggy Dog

> Q sighed, "You are Alexander Drean Tarkin. Commander of the Imperial
>fleet in this sector. Your are fifty-seven years old, one point seven six
>two meters tall, and weigh one hundred eighty-two pounds. Your parents
>were Drean Alexander Tarkin and Senoran Fameal Nista-Tarkin, however your
>biological father was actually Smenker Strist, a flight technician your mother
>had an affair with while your father was on the Histophina raid."

TOM: This week, on "Biography".

>A few officers gasped at this last bit of information. Tarkin ignored them and
>dismissed the information as a fabrication meant to put him off guard. "And
>you wear size nine-and-a-half boots." Q smiled, "Is that enough, or should
>I continue?" Tarkin simply replied with a surly grunt.

CROW (grunting Tarking): You mean. You go away.

> Q took the grunt as a "That's enough," and made his way over to
>the comm and chair on the bridge. As he settled into the heavily >cushioned >chair, he swiveled away from Tarkin and Vader to gaze out at the star lines of
>hyperspace.
> "Why are you here?" Tarkin ventured.

MIKE: Philosophically speaking?

> Q kept his back turned to him, "Actually, although I don't like to admit
> it, I'm being punished."
> "You sure do have a funny way of redirecting your punishment."

TOM: Tarkin has gone into full Picard mode.
CROW (Picard): Set phasers to "apathy."

> Q chuckled and swiveled to face him. "That was good, definitely a
>better sense of humor than Picard." Q stood and straightened his uniform. "I
>was sent here to teach me humility. Apparently someone thought I was a
>little too full of myself."

TOM: I can think of something else you're full of.

> "Imagine that."
> Q ignored him. "But as you said, it might not be a bad idea to redirect
>my punishment. You Imperials could use a good lesson in the area of
>humility." Q walked down the steps that led up to the command chair. He
>walked toward Tarkin. Vader quickly stepped in front of Tarkin, placing him
>self in-between the two.

MIKE: Darth Vader and Whitney Houston in "The Bodyguard".

> "No," Q said, "I already gave you your lesson,
>oh great Lord of the Sith." Vader, quite unwillingly and not under his own
>power, stepped aside.

ALL (singing): Master of puppets I'm pulling your stings, twisting your
mind and smashing your dreams.

> Q stood a meter in front of Tarkin. "Let's see, where shall we start?"
> "You can start by leaving my battle station," Tarkin said defiantly.
> "Ah, the battle station." Q clasped his hands under his chin. "Excellent
> choice."
> Tarkin took a step closer to Q. "The Death Star will pass any test you
>give it - as long as it is fair."

CROW: The Death Star got a 1600 on its SATs.

> "Admiral," the officer sitting at the navigation post turned to face Q,
>"we are dropping out of hyperspace."
> Tarkin who had turned to look at the navigation officer, now turned back
> to Q.
> "As you requested, Alex. A test," Q smiled. "A fair test." Q made a
>sweeping gesture toward the officers. "I return your crew to you."
> "Sir," the sensor officer said, this time to Tarkin not Q, "sensors
>report five ships dropping out of hyperspace about one thousand kilometers
>away."
> "Identification."

MIKE (nerdy whine) : I'm the sensor officer, sir.

> "Unknown, Sir. Sensor logs have no record of these ships. However,
>the sensors are able to pick up the ship design." The officer turned away
>from his instrument panel to look at Tarkin. "They are giant cubes, Sir."

TOM: When Rubix Cubes go bad...

> "Cubes?" Tarkin turned to look at Q questionably.
> "Cubes, Alex." Q held his hand flat and a small image of one of the >ships rotated in the air a couple centimeters above his palm.

CROW: It's a rotating gif.

> In a mocking
>whisper he said, "They should be no problem for your mighty Death Star.
>Go get 'em."
> Tarkin turned away from Q, went to his command chair, and looked
>out into space at the approaching ships. Sure enough, they were cubes,

TOM (Tarkin): Picasso. I hate Picasso!

>very small in comparison to the Death Star, which itself was capable of
>destroying planets many times its own size.

CROW: I bet you wish you could get your hands on one of those babies,
huh Mike?
MIKE: Will you stop that already, Crow.

> These puny ships should be
>no problem As they drew nearer, Tarkin could see that the surface of
>these ships looked like a half-hazard mesh of pipes, wires, and metal
>plates.

TOM: They're being attacked by the French navy.

> They looked like big cubes of junk floating in space. Heremembered
>the Corellian freighter he had destroyed earlier, and smiled to himself. "
>Weapons, target the closest ship and fire when ready."

CROW: Push the button, Frank.
TOM: You don't do that voice as well as you used to, Crow.

> A few seconds later the tremendous beam lanced out of the
>Death Star and connected with one of the cube ships. The ship illuminated
>with a spectacular light and a fraction of a second later, vaporized.

ALL (singing): Love, love, love.

> Tarkin
>turned away from the window to look at Q in triumph. Q's face was
>unreadable. He turned back to the window. "Fire at will."

TOM: Riker's on board?
CROW: Yes! Shoot him, shoot him!
MIKE: Guy's that's not what he meant.
BOTS: Oh.