[MISTED] Q-Force Part 1 of 2.
zhi...@my-dejanews.com
fact rather than a plea for the mercy I don't really want.
Feedback- positive and negative - is appreciated. Don't flame
the host segments TOO much. However, I have finished this only a
couple of days before I'm due to go on holidays for a month.
So I may not see/reply to feedback for a while.
One further note- while inserting direct quotes in the middle of paragraphs
and not on separate lines is a feature of the author's style, some
formatting problems were caused by the copying between word processor and
e-mail and news windows. I think I fixed them all, but...
let's press on, shall we?]
[SOL. Mike is literally digging into a sandpit set into the floor.
Tom is sitting next to the pit egging him on. A huge pile of sand is on
the other side of the pit, indicating that Mike has done a lot of digging.
Crow is nowhere to be seen.]
MIKE: Tom, are you SURE that Crow is under here?
TOM (solemnly): I told him that it was a quicksand pit, but he wouldn't
listen!
MIKE continues digging.
TOM: His cries for help as his head went under were heart-rending! Oh, the
humanity!
MIKE digs even faster. He doesn't notice TOM's giggles.
CROW enters behind MIKE.
CROW: Mike! Whatcha doing?
MIKE: Crow! I can hear you at last!
CROW: Of course you can Mike!
MIKE: But I haven't been able to hear you for the last three hours! I've
been worried!
CROW: You missed me that much while I was playing
Sailor Moon Quake? I'm impressed!
MIKE stops digging.
MIKE: Tom?
TOM: So that's where he was! I knew he was either with his new game or
in the sandpit!
CROW: Are you guys making a sand-castle?
MIKE turns to get TOM, but slips and falls into the pit.
The Bots laugh as Mike pulls himself out. Mike is literally covered
in sand- he looks like a cross between a short wookiee and a generic
walking statue.
MIKE: I can't see! I've got sand in my eyes!
TOM: You're a sight for sore eyes, Mike!
The Bots laugh again.
GYPSY enters.
GYPSY: What's wrong Mike? You've made a mess all over the floor!
MIKE: I can't see!
GYPSY: I'm sure it'll wear off.
TOM: Aw, stop complaining Mike. It's just a little bit of sand. (beat)
Want a sandwich?
The Bots laugh again. Mike splutters and ineffectually tries to brush some
of the sand off.
[The mad's light lights up, and a solitary buzzer goes off.]
MIKE: Great, Carol and the Brady Bunch are calling and I can't even
see properly.
TOM: Still, at least you won't have to look at Bobo.
[Crow hits the button with his beak.]
[Castle Forrester]
PEARL: Hello there, Partridge Family! Feeling well?
[SOL]
MIKE: Not really. I've got sand in my eyes and I can't see properly.
[Castle Forrester]
PEARL: And Bobo had just dug up an attempt at writing he did a
couple of months ago. But since you're not in a position to appreciate it,
I'm going to spare you that one- just remember, as soon as you can see
again, you get a Sailor Moon/Deep Space 9/Highlander/Super Mario
brothers/Bobo self-insertion crossover.
[SOL]
MIKE: Gypsy, is there anyway I can prolong having sand in my eyes?
CROW: That's the spirit Mike!
[Castle Forrester]
PEARL: Brain Guy! When did the Jackson Three up there get a sandpit?
OBSERVER: The red one bet me that I couldn't create a bottomless
sandpit- I proved HIM wrong!
PEARL: Get rid of it! And then send them the back-up!
Observer does his routine. The sandpit disappears. The fanfic turns up in
the theatre. A commercial flashes across the screen for no particular reason.
Where in Hades will you go with Microsoft today?
[SOL]
ALL: We got fanfic sign!
Mike stumbles around until Gypsy nudges him in the right direction.
Somehow, he manages to pick up Tom.
[Theatre]
Crow takes his usual place. Mike stumbles in, still being pushed by Gypsy.
Eventually, Mike and Tom end up in their proper seats. Gypsy rolls out.
The fanfic rolls up.
> Title: Q-Force
> Description: Q and the Borg vs. Grand Moff Tarkin,
> the Death Star, Darth Vader, the Emperor and
> Luke Skywalker.
TOM: We're sure that brain guy didn't send up Bobo's work?
CROW: Wait for the author line.
> Catagory: Star Wars / Star Trek Crossover
> E-mail address: stu9...@gcc.edu
>
>
> Q-Force
> by David A Pontier
BOTS: Phew!
MIKE rubs his eyes
MIKE: I can see! I can see!
(beat)
MIKE: There's no need to tell Pearl that.
>
>
> "Luke. Use the Force. Let it guide your actions."
> Luke Skywalker, last of the Jedi Knights, reached over and
>switched off his targeting computer. As he raced down the trench,
>he grabbed his weapons control stick and closed his eyes. 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 (Han Solo): Depressing buttons is one thing. Depressing the
living- that's something else.
TOM: Although numerous writers have done both with ease.
> Nothing happened.
> Luke was yanked out of his trance and looked at his control
>panel. A blinking light told him his proton torpedo tubes were
>jammed.
CROW (as light): The tubes ain't working kid!
> 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: Familiar, Mike?
MIKE: (grumbles).
>"I'm sorry Ben," was all he could mutter before his X-wing exploded against
>the Death Star.
TOM: What, he couldn't just pull out? He had to just smash into the
end of the trench?
MIKE: Don't complain- do you WANT Luke Skywalker in the story?
> Five seconds later, the Death Star emitted an intense beam of pure energy
>that totally annihilated the fourth moon of Yavin.
CROW: I'll bet THEY never voted for the Empire again!
>
> Grand Moff Tarkin smiled to himself as he saw the work of his
>new battle station. The Emperor will be pleased, he told himself.
>He turned away from the window and looked back at the collection of
>his best officers
MIKE: Tarkin only had to collect the rare "Admiral Piett" card
before he had a full set!
> sitting at their posts, waiting to carry out his every command.
CROW: Nothing like having willing slaves...
TOM: Like you'd know.
> He smiled again. There was no way he could have lost.
MIKE: Except for the way he lost in A New Hope.
> Now nothing could stop the Empire from ultimate conquest.
TOM: Do I spot ironic foreshadowing?
>"Are there any Rebels left?" He asked, returning to the business at
>hand.
CROW: No sir. We just finished the last of them. But we do have crispy
Federation officers!
MIKE: Tasteless.
CROW: I don't know- with the right sauce, they could be pretty good!
> "Sensors are picking up two ships, Sir. A crippled X-wing and
>a Corellian freighter." The officer checked the sensor screen
>again.
MIKE: Oh wait- and there's a whole fleet of cruisers as well. Almost
missed them.
>"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.
TOM: If it was that easy, WHY..
MIKE: Easy buddy.
> Shall I reel him in, Sir?"
> "Tractor beam two, lock onto same target, and together, both of you
>real him in."
CROW (as Tarkin): No, on second thoughts fake him out.
> "Yes, Sir." The two officers had smiles on their faces as
>they carried out their orders.
MIKE (stupid voice): Duhhh, carrying out orders is fun!
> Tarkin turned back to the window and saw the freighter frozen
>in space.
CROW (as Tarkin): The weatherman didn't mention a cold snap for this
part of 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.
TOM: I'm not sure that tractor beams are strong enough to tear a ship
in two, either.
MIKE: Let it lie- this isn't Trek.
CROW: Yet.
MIKE: Don't think about it.
> With satisfaction, Tarkin searched for the TIE interceptors and saw
>that they had just extinguished the last flame of the puny
>rebellion.
CROW: Famous last words.
> "Sir," a voice pulled him away from the window.
MIKE: That's a strong voice!
TOM (as Tarkin): Voice, how dare you lay your hands on me!
>"Lord Vader has just landed his crippled
TOM: Physically disadvantaged.
>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."
MIKE: As opposed to his neighbour's Dark Lord of the Sith...
TOM: Half-price Sith Lords- get 'em while they're hot!
> "Yes, Sir." Tallon rose to take command. "Orders?"
> "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.'"
CROW (as Tallon): And also tell them that their new Supreme
God-Emperor is me, Tallon, and that my favourite colour is blue.
> "Yes, Sir."
> Tarkin proceeded to the turbo lift and planned on how he would
>greet Darth Vader.
CROW (as Tarkin): Hiya, big guy! No... Salutations, your Supreme
Darkness.. no.. got it! I'll say "Welcome to my not-so-humble
abode!"
TOM: (as Tallon): Sir, he doesn't have a sense of humour.
> 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.
TOM: Although considering that it was the fighters that were the
threat...
MIKE: Tom- this is the author showing us how arrogant Tarkin is.
It's actual characterization.
TOM: It's been so long, I'd forgotten what it looks like.
> He had been taken out of the equation by a second rate smuggler.
CROW: Han Solo- mathematician at large!
> The real reason they had won was a simple weapons jam
TOM: It was so simple it contained only natural fruit and a little sugar!
>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, 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.
CROW: Which would be "We won. They're well done. We're going
home."
> The turbo lift came to a stop and opened with a swish.
TOM: Nike rules the Empire!
>Darth Vader stood before him, awaiting the lift.
MIKE (as Tarkin): Someone's got stuck in the lift again. You're going
to be waiting a while. Why not take my turbo speed elevator?
> Tarkin stepped away from
>the door and allowed Vader to enter. "Welcome back Lord Vader. The
>fleet is returning, and we are preparing to return to Coruscant."
TOM (as Tarkin): Also, the fighters are recalled, and we are
recalling the fighters to their hangars.
> "Good," his hollow voice responded as he stared blankly into
>the closing doors.
MIKE: You were meant to step through them Darth, not watch them!
CROW: Be nice to him- he's a little slow.
> He turned to face Tarkin. "Your people performed well, Grand Moff
>Tarkin. They should be commended."
CROW (as Vader): But they won't be, otherwise we won't get all the glory.
TOM (as Tarkin): We?
> "They have been, Lord Vader."
> "Interesting that you should compliment your men. You do not
>usually hand out praise so freely."
CROW (as Vader): I find that strangely attractive.
> "It was done by a Lieutenant Commander Tallon, whom I am
>grooming for future fleet command. It caught me by surprise."
MIKE: Here we see Tarkin refusing to take credit for the smart deeds of
his underling.
TOM: I'm starting to forget what it looks like again...
> "Intelligent man. By praising the men immediately after an
>enormous victory, you rase not only the moral
MIKE: Wow, Vader cares about the spiritual health of his underlings!
He wants to raise their morals!
TOM: No, he's razing morals. He wants to burn them.
CROW: No, moral is his horse's name. He's racing it!
M&T look at Crow strangely.
> but also strengthen
>their loyalty to the Empire by making them feel important and
>instrumental in acheiving our cause."
> "Even if they are not."
> "Yes, Grand Moff. Even if they are not."
CROW (as Marrissa): Who cares about the little people who just do
the actual fighting?
MIKE: DON'T remind me.
> The comunicator in the turbo lift beeped twice and Tallon's
>voice came over the intercom, "Grand Moff Tarkin, the fighters have
>returned, and we are ready for the jump to hyperspace."
TOM (as Tallon): Also, we're debating an important question- should
I call myself Supreme God-Emperor, or Ultimate Over-Deity?
> "At your word Lieutenant Commander."
MIKE (as Tarkin): I have to trust you, Over-Deity.
> "Yes, Sir."
CROW (as Tallon): No sir. Three bags full, sir. This is not fun.
I'm going back to being Over-Deity.
> A few moments later the turbo lift stopped and opened on to
>the bridge.
TOM: Unfortunately, Vader and Tarkers had got off at the last stop
by mistake.
> 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,
TOM: The dinosaurs rose again, another Ice Age began, and vinyl
flares with pockets in the knees came back into style.
> 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."
MIKE (as Grand Admiral): I nearly had a heart attack when I found
out I had to start here as a Lieutenant.
TOM (simultaneously): I should have stolen a higher ranking uniform.
> With a
> snap of his fingers the Grand Admiral uniform disappeared, and was
>replaced by a Supreme Fleet Admiral uniform.
TOM: Snapped his fingers...
CROW: I have a bad feeling about this.
> He looked down at his new attire.
> "This will have to do."
CROW (as Supreme Admiral): But remind me to pay a call on Garek later.
MIKE: Wrong universe.
CROW: Not for long.
> He turned back to Tarkin. "Where am I?"
> Not allowing Tarkin as much as a breath, he continued. "Let me
>guess. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away."
MIKE: That's "A long time ago in..."
TOM: Fanboy.
MIKE: Am not! Everyone knows that, like everyone knows that the full
name of that Ewok who helped Leia is Wicket W. Warwick!
BOTS: Faaaaanboy!
TOM (sings): Faaaanboy, the sheepish lion, faaaanboy was always
tryin to be a wild and wooly sheeeeeep...
> He shook his head in disgust. "I didn't think they'd actually do it. Oh,
>well," he sighed. "Might as well make the most of it."
CROW: Let's party!
> Tarkin finally spoke. In a controlled rage he said, "Who are
>you?"
TOM: Wouldn't you like to know?
> "Patience Tarkin, all will be made clear."
> Tarkin could take no more. "Lord Vader would you be so kind
>as to remove this pestilence from my battle station."
CROW: Dr Vader- medicine woman!
> 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.
CROW: This time, he could see AND hear it!
> He had never before seen anyone's entire neck simply collapse as
>this intruder's neck now did.
TOM: Maybe because Vader's using both fistS this time?
MIKE: Now who's the fanbot?
> The Supreme Fleet Admiral staggered and fell
> to his knees. He made a high pitched squeal, that was almost out
>of the range of hearing, as his veins in his head started to
>explode.
MIKE (winces): Ouch!
>Blood poured down his face and ran past his contorted facial expressions.
> He fell to the deck, quite dead.
TOM: So he's not absolutely dead, only quite dead. Sort of deadish.
CROW: Like that riff.
TOM: Hey!
> Tarkin walked over to the still corpse as it lay on its face
>in the growing pool of blood and kicked it brutally.
MIKE: Kicking a man while he's down? Be fair, Tarkin!
> It flipped over revealing the smiling face of the intruder staring up at him.
>Tarkin backed up, amazed.
TOM (as Tarkin): Wow, people have faces on the front of their heads!
> 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.
TOM: It is!
MIKE: It's the T-2000! An Ah-nold crossover!
CROW: No, Mike...
> All of the officers stood up from their stations
> and applauded loudly and emphatically. He turned and acknowledged
> their applause by bowing deeply. He turned back to Tarkin. "At
>least some one appreciates a good performance."
CROW Yes, it's Tarkin. He's the only one who turned his nose up at
that.
TOM: Although Tarkin apparently turns his nose up at most things.
MIKE: Perhaps because he hasn't seen a good performance?
> Vader charged with his lightsaber drawn and ignited. He swung
> down with a force that Tarkin had never seen before.
CROW: He was using the Grey Side.
> The intruder
>reached up and grabbed the blade in his hand. Vader had swung so
>viciously, though, that the blade broke away from the handle,
TOM: And it is possible to break an energy blade off it's handle
how?
MIKE: Smile and nod, Tom.
TOM: I would if I could.
> and Vader's momentum sent him to the deck.
CROW: It then sent him down to McDonalds for a burger, and down to
the newsstand for
MIKE: CROW!
CROW (without pausing): the newspaper. What, Mike?
> The Admiral side-stepped, avoiding the falling Lord of the
> Sith as he went sprawling and became tangled in his cape. One of
>the officers snickered to himself at the sight of the fallen Lord.
TOM: And the other officers marsed themselves.
MIKE: Marsed?
TOM: Marsed, snickered...
CROW: As long as no one gets Cherry Riped.
MIKE: I don't want to know.
> Vader looked up at him, and the officer was immediately incinerated in a
>ball of flame.
CROW: Ouch, that smarts!
> The Supreme Fleet Admiral looked over at the burning corpse.
TOM: I thought it was incinerated...
MIKE: It was probably only quite incinerated.
> "There now," he said in a mocking tone. "Was that really
>necessary.
ALL: YES.
> Now put away your toy," he squeezed his hand and the blade exploded
>into a shower of sparks,
TOM: I really wish I knew how you could do that to an energy blade.
MIKE: You dip the light saber in a plot hole before you use it.
> "before someone else gets hurt."
> In one last effort, Vader ripped apart a large amount of metal
>railing with the Force and hurled it at his advisory.
MIKE: Was it a bad advisory?
TOM: This advisory message brought to you by the Metalworkers Union.
>"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: I can just see Vader on a catwalk...
TOM (announcer): And here's glamorous new model Darthie Vader in a
suit by Versace!
MIKE AND CROW: (crowd noises)
TOM: Vader turns- note the stunning matching respirator!- and walks
back.
M&C: (cheers)
TOM: For our next new model, we have Sailor Mercury!
M&C: (whistles)
> "Who are you?" Tarkin managed to repeat himself amongst the
>havoc.
MIKE: I guess they heard us.
> "Ah, yes, that again. Well I guess I've kept you in the dark
>long enough."
CROW: Lights!
TOM: Camera!
MIKE: Action!
CROW: Not much!
> He cleared his throat. "My name his," trumpet fanfare came over
>the intercom speakers, "Q."
BOTS (sarcasm on high): Noooooooo.. COULDN'T be.
MIKE: It's Q? Not Arnold?
> Tarkin was taken aback, "Who?"
MIKE: He's on first.
TOM: I asked you who's on second!
MIKE: Who's on first!
TOM: I don't know!
ALL: THIRD BASE!
> "No, Q," Q corrected him. "It sounds like 'who,' only it has
>a hard 'C' sound at the beginning."
CROW: Oh that kooky Q!
> He turned to all of the officers sitting at the ir posts. "Lets all try it."
> "Q," all of the officers said in unison.
MIKE (as officers): Good moooorning, Mr Q!
CROW (as Q): Good morning children!
> "There, that was easy," he turned back to Tarkin. "Now see if
>you can do it."
TOM (as Tarkin): I think I can, I think I can...
> Tarkin was furious. Never before had he possessed such fury.
MIKE: He couldn't afford it until that last pay rise.
> 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.
TOM: This spell brought to you by the letter "Q".
>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.
MIKE: Rumours that he had become Mark Twain were greatly
exaggerated.
> 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
MIKE (sings): Oh, Qs just wanna have fu-un.
TOM (giggles): Mike IS Cyndi Lauper!
>"I refuse to play your silly games," he said in a violent whisper.
TOM: Your whisper needs counselling, Tarkin.
> "And I resent your actions greatly." Q began a response, but was
>silenced by a violent arm gesture by Tarkin.
TOM: Your arm gestures need counselling as well.
CROW (as Tarkin): I'm due to see Counselor Troi tonight anyway. I
suppose we could fit in some counselling as well.
MIKE: Crow....
CROW: What?
MIKE: Troi isn't in this universe.
CROW: Only a matter of time.
MIKE: I hope not.
>"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: No.
CROW (simultaneous): Do I care?
TOM (simultaneous): Hey, I recognise you! You're Tuxedo Mask!
[silence]
MIKE: That's so wrong.
> Q sighed, "You are Alexander
TOM: So Tarkin is a closet Klingon then?
> Drean Tarkin. Commander of the Imperial
> fleet in this sector. Your are fifty-seven years old, one point
>seven six two meters tall,
CROW: So Q has become Data?
> 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."
ALL: (exaggerated gasps).
> A few officers gasped at this last bit of information.
TOM: Copycats.
> 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.
TOM (as Tarkin, whisper): Here's 50 bucks. Who has Vader had an
affair with?
CROW (as Q, whisper): Ship's washing machine.
MIKE: What are you guys whispering about?
BOTS (radiating innocence): Nothing.
> 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,
MIKE: He did all that just so he got to sit on the comfy chair?
> he swiveled away from Tarkin and Vader to gaze out at the star
>lines of hyperspace.
> "Why are you here?" Tarkin ventured.
TOM: Well some say it's because of the random accretion of
probability particles...
MIKE: ... but others think it's due to a mysterious accident involving
a god, a sickle and a celestial cow.
CROW: Or a celestial crow.
MIKE: Don't get any ideas.
> Q kept his back turned to him, "Actually, although I
>don't like to admit it, I'm being punished."
CROW: I liked being serious so much that I'm being forced to come
into this fanfic and do strange stuff for no reason.
> "You sure do have a funny way of redirecting your
>punishment."
TOM: We agree. And I can't see Tarkin saying "You sure do."
MIKE: I'm forgetting what it looks like as well.
> Q chuckled and swiveled to face him. "That was good,
>definitely a better sense of humor than Picard."
MIKE: Not that that means much.
CROW (simultaneously): Unfortunately, I don't like that. Prepare to
die.
> 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."
MIKE: Imagine that.
> "Imagine that."
MIKE: Humph.
> Q ignored him.
BOTS: (chuckle)
> "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."
TOM: So Q is going to learn humility by teaching it?
MIKE: He's preaching what he's meant to practice!
CROW (as Q): Do as I say, not as I do!
> 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: I never saw Vader as the protective sort.
TOM: Considering what Q just did to him...
CROW: You're right. He's into...
MIKE claps his hand across CROW'S mouth.
> "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.
CROW: ...and fell right down the conveniently placed garbage chute.
> Q stood a meter in front of Tarkin. "Let's see,
>where shall we start?"
TOM (sings): Let's start at the very beginning- it's a very good place to
start.
>"You can start by leaving my battle station," Tarkin said defiantly.
TOM: Sisko speaks defiantly- Tarkin should speak deathily.
CROW: Or starily.
MIKE: Does that mean we should speak lovingly?
>"Ah, the battle station." Q clasped his hands under his chin. "Excellent
>choice."
MIKE: The battle station goes very well with the steak that you
ordered.
CROW: I'm going to have the fish instead.
MIKE: Then I suggest that a better choice might be the satellite.
It's lighter.
> Tarkin took a step closer to Q. "The Death Star
>will pass any test you give it - as long as it is fair."
TOM: Fair as defied by who?
CROW: Q?
TOM: Who?
MIKE: I don't know.
ALL: THIRD BASE!
[commercials. no funny ones this time, unfortunately]
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A Star Wars/ Star trek:TNG crossover.
MSTing by R. Kaplan.
Original Story by D. Pontier.