MSTed: Night of the Next Generation 1/14

[John Nevins]

a Nevins/Malcom joint

My MSTING: To boringly go....

>Path:infoserver.bgsu.edu!magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu!math.ohio-sta
te.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.cac.psu.edu!usent
>From: "Todd A. Bobenrieth" <TAB...@PSU.EDU>

Mike: Y'know, the only guy I ever knew named "Todd" was this
guy in high school all the jocks used to make fun
of and stuff into their lockers.
Tom: Was he the one you were telling us about - the AV geek?
Mike: Yeah. I think Todd ended up going to jail - something
about farm animals and laws of nature. I hear he
married his cellmate, too.
Crow: Oh, just like Amy Fisher.

>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creativ

Crow: The existence of this newsgroup is proof of Satan's
work on Earth.

>Subject: REPOST:Night of the Next Generation (1/14)

Tom: I don't know what's more depressing - that there are
fourteen parts to this, or that *Todd* thought it
was somehow worth reposting.

>Date: 27 Mar 1996 21:47:29 GMT
>Organization: TAMBOFILMS

Mike: Wherever bad films are shown.

>Lines: 127

Crow: Whew! As long as it isn't another 500 line monstrosity
like "The Enemy Without..."
Tom: Quality, not quantity, Crow. Remember - "Catching
Trouble" was only a short, too.
Crow: Oh yeah. *sighs heavily*

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Tom: Mozilla - what you call corn.

Here by request is part 1 of 14 of Martin Richadson's Night of the

Mike: Oh, have the voices in your head been asking you to do
stuff for them again?

Next Generation. My sequel to his story called "Dawn of the Next
Generation" will follow.

Tom: (voice-over announcer voice) And don't miss "Wee Small
Hours of the Next Generation," coming soon.
Crow: Well, at least we know Shatner's not in this.
Mike: See, you guys - there's always something to be thankful
for!

nIGHT oF tHE nEXT gENERATION

Tom: Torgo's in this! NOOOOO!
Crow bursts into tears & starts sobbing.

By Martin Richardson

* DISCLAIMER *
This may turn a few stomachs so please feel free not to
read if you are squeamish...

Mike: Or appreciate good writing.
Crow: C'mon, Mike, at least he gave us a dreck-ahead warning.

I

Crow: Claudius?

Captain's log Stardate 47342.3 - Starfleet has assigned us to

Tom: There's something about the words "captain's log
stardate" that just sucks the life from a room,
y'know?

investigate the mysterious disappearance of the NCC-709 Hyman G.

Mike: *immediately puts his hands over Crow's beak* NO, Crow,
no.
Crow: MMMPPHH!

Rickover, the first sub-galaxy class starship.

Crow: Mike, what's a "sub-galaxy"?
Mike: Got me. But I wish they'd run silent and run deep.

It was first launched two months ago with Commander Bruce Lemkin as
Captain. It's maiden assignment, to explore the recently
discovered Hiaratu Nebula.

Tom: (Bob Hope voice) Lucky Hiaratu - I wish a maiden would
explore my nebula...

Due to nebula interference,

Mike: Isn't that against the Prime Directive?

contact with Starfleet could only be made at pre-appointed times.
Eight days ago, the Rickover missed her weekly contact. After
dropping Counselor Troi off on Betazed for shore leave,

Mike: See, guys - Counselor Troi's not in this fanfic, either.
Again, you have to learn to be grateful for the
little things.
Tom: Great, Mike, just great - I'm grateful that I won't have
to put up with another token character.
Mike: Look at it this way, Tom: would you rather have her
here?
Crow: (Troi voice) Captain, I'm sensing that my cleavage is
uneven.
Tom: Umm....okay, you're right...I still don't like this,
though.

we have arrived at our destination.

Tom: What - the stars?
Crow: Don't even _mention_ Star Trek in the same voice as
Alfie Bester, Tom. That's like mentioning Jackson
Browne when you're talking about Elvis Costello.

Sensors are nearly useless in the nebula, which I fear will make
for an extremely long and tedious search.

Tom: That about sums up our feelings about this fanfic, too.
*Todd*.
Mike: Didn't he say that some guy named "Martin" is writing
this?

* * *

"Captain to the bridge," Commander Data's voice suddenly

Crow: I thought they played poker, not bridge?
Tom: Yeah, but they probably need a dummy. And Wesley's not
here.

sparked over Picard's comm-badge. The Captain closed out the log

Tom: EEEWWWW!

and headed for the door of his ready room.
On the bridge, Data was poking over one of the sensor consoles,

Mike: Data! I know you miss Tasha Yar, but couldn't you at
least mate with a human?
Crow: This is pretty racy stuff for a Trek fanfic.
Tom: Uh-oh. Mike, there's no K/S literature for The Next
Generation, is there?
Mike: Umm...actually, I think there is...
Tom: Mike, why does God hate us so?
Mike: That stuff shows up on alt.startrek.creative.erotica,
though, so don't worry about reading it. Even Dr.
F couldn't stand wading through all that....

rapidly typing in figures faster than the human eye could follow.
"Sir, I believe we have found her."

Crow: Why can't you paparazzi leave Garbo alone???


"Only our first day out at that. Outstanding Mr. Daa,"

Tom: (moron voice) Daaaaaa....t'anks.
Crow: If "Daa" turns into "Daiei," and we have to deal with
Gamera, I'm going to jump out an airlock.
Mike: You'll have to get in line behind me, little buddy.

complimented the Captain. "Let's have a look on the main viewer."
Data punched a few more keys

Mike: I'd like to punch him.

and the forward display kicked to life. The interference caused by
the nebula only allowed the bridge crew to catch a few brief
glimpses, but what they did see did not look too promising.

Crow: That's what you get for buying an illegal cable
descrambler.

"Data freeze an image of that ship on screen so we can get a better
look," ordered Riker.

Tom: He probably thinks they've tuned into the showers on
Betazed, the space slut.
Crow: I thought that was Shatner?

"Yes sir." Data pressed a few more times on the control pad and
the image of the Rickover came into full view.

Mike: (Data voice) Fascinating, Captain - how long has
Starfleet been painting pink racing stripes on
their starships?

The ship hung lifeless

Tom: (Big Sally voice) Such a disappointment for a girl...
that's all right, dear, we'll try again in a
minute, we can cuddle for now...

against the mauve background of the nebula.

Crow: (female voice) No, no, no - mauve is just *not* your
color, darling. It makes you look all limp and
lifeless. A nice burnt orange blouse and an umber
skirt would make you look *much* better.


The starboard nacelle was badl damaged, and plasma gas still
trailed from behind it.

Tom: Musta served chili for lunch.

All that was left of the port nacelle was a black stub. There were
large gaping holes in the outer hull, and various debris from
inside the ship was now floating about on the outside.

Mike: I coulda told you it was a bad idea to launch the
Starship Titanic.

The bridge had been completely obliterated.

Tom: I hate to sound like William Safire or Edwin Newman,
guys, but--
Crow: No, you don't.
Tom: Shut up, Iris. But "completely obliterated" is completely
REDUNDANT! Doesn't anybody _read_ anymore?
Mike: This _is_ a Star Trek fanfic, Tom - the author probably
hates reading `cause his lips get tired and he has
to look up all those big words.
Crow: Yeah, and since they stopped printing the Star Trek
comic books, he's got nothing to look forward to.
Mike: Except the X-Men comic books.
Tom: Hey! Even Trekkies aren't _that_ lame.

"Good lord," muttered Picard. "Data, any life signs?"

Crow: (Data voice) Negative, Captain. Your career remains
dead.
Tom: Shoulda stuck with Shakespeare and bit parts in Steve
Martin movies, ya toff.

"Negative sir," the android answered, "but with the nebula
interference, these readings ar only 32.4% accurate at this range."
"Those holes!" exclaimed Riker. "Those weren't caused by
something hitting the ship, that hull looks like it exploded
OUTWARD."

Mike: (Scandahoovian voice) Oh, why must he shout?

Suddenly the console beeped. Data spun around.

Tom: *singing* Fevuh night fevuh night fevuuuuuuh....

"Sensors have detected something floating close to the Enterprise,"
he reported. "Sir, it appears to be a humanoid body."

Tom: Umm...hello? Explosive decompression? HELLO?
Crow: Oh, leave *Martin* alone, Tom.
Mike: Yeah - he's about as scientifically accurate as most
Star Trek writers.


"Beam it directory to sickbay," ordered Picard. He tapped his
comm-badge. "Dr. Crusher, stand by for an emergencytransport."
"We're ready, sir," came the reply.
"Number One, come with me. Data, you have the bridge. Alert
me immediately when you find anything else." Picard headed for the
turbolift with Riker at his heels.

Crow: (Picard voice) Number One, are you a member of the
Light-Year High Club?
Tom starts humming bow-chicka-bow-bowwwww theme music.

"Affirmative, sir." Data turned back to the console and resumed
scanning.

Mike: I'll get this web page up and running if it *kills* me.

* * *

Beverly Crusher didn't know what to expect when the Captain
had notified her of the beam in. She sure as hell didn't expect
this.

Tom: Oh, yuch - it's a picture of Shatner with his shirt off!
Mike: Gives new meaning to the phrase "love handles," eh,
guys?
Crow: More like love platforms.

Several orderlies standing around here ell to their knees, a couple
held their mouths and headed for the rest room, the rest simply
stood there, as she did, an unbelieving stae blanketing their
faces.

Crow: Well, watching Cubs games will do that to you.

"Oh sweet jesus," whispered Crusher. Suddenly, she grabbed her own
mouth, and raced for the sick bay doors,

Mike: (jock voice) Last one to the head has to buy the next
round! Whoooo!

running smack into Captain Picard as he came walking in.

Crow: (Picard voice) How about a little sugar for the Captain
of your ship, Beverly?

"Beverly! What is going on here?" he demanded.
"Jean-luc... it's... it's..."

Crow, Tom and Mike begin humming the Monty Python theme.

she began, and then fainted dead in his arms.

Tom: I see that Martin's got as much respect for Beverly's
skills as a doctor as the normal writers of Next
Generation do.
Crow: Oh, how I wish Joanna Russ was here to read this...

"What in blazes..." Riker's words trailed off. His gaze had
shifted to the containmnt field behind which the body had been
transported. He noticeably blanched.

Mike: Actually, I see him more as Stanley Kowalski...

"Oh my god," muttered Picard as he walked over to the table.

Crow: (muttering Picard voice) It's Olivier. I can't have
another British actor here - they'll notice I'm not
really that good.

The body, if you could still call it that, was badly mutilated.
The left arm had been ripped out of it's socket and all that
remained were strands of veins, the right arm was simply shredded
and all that was there now was ripped muscle and pale bones. Ribs
showed clearly through gaping wounds in the upper torso, and a
large hole where the heart should have been showed nothing but an
empty cavity. Belo the waist, the legs had been stripped down to
the muscle and the pelvic bone showed where the genitals should
have been. The right eye was punctured and now dangled loosly from
it's socket and most of the flesh had been removed from the head
showing mostly a red-stained skull. This clearly had been ahuman,
but as what sex--it was anyones guess.

Tom: Sounds like Lucille Ball. *Martin*, it's a woman!
Crow: (Lucille Ball voice) Ahhh, Ricky, I was never funny,
ahhhh....

Dr. Crusher, now conscious, stood wavering beside the Captain.
"What in God's name happened to him?" said Riker.

Crow: He had to watch _Voyager_, poor bastard.

"Beverly?" asked the Captain.

Mike: Hills, that is. Swimming pools, movie stars.

Gathering up her courage, Crusher opened her medical tricorder and
scanned the body.

Crow: (Crusher voice) It appears to be a Mr. L. D. Silver, and
I...oh my...excuse me, Captain, I'm going to have
examine this body alone. And I'll have to remove
my uniform to do so....

"Ssevere l-lacerations both inside and outside the body. Several
main organs missing.

Tom: Well, when the Steinway is gone, you might as well bury
the body, I say.

Enormous blood loss." Crushers face suddenly took on a puzzled
look. "No, this can't be right."
"What is it, doctor?" asked Picard.

Mike: (voice of foppish guy from _Airplane_ movies) "It" is a
pronoun used as a subject or direct object or
indirect object of a verb or object of a
preposition, usually in reference to a lifeless
thing.

"I am reading traces of human DNA in the wounds," she scanned
downward fom the chest. "DNA different than this one, but human
none the less. Wait, there's something here."

Crow: (Beverly Crusher voice) I could be mistaken, but I think
there's an alien wearing a top hat inside his
chest, getting ready to burst out and sing "Hello,
my baby."

The tricorder stopped above the abdomine.

Tom: Ah, yes, the "abdomine" - located on the human body
between the "cheste" and the "pelvise."
Mike: Maybe he thinks he's Geoffrey Chaucer?
Tom: In which case we can hope God calls him to account for
the Miller's Tale...

Beverly reached down between what had been the legs of the body at
the pelvis.

Mike: *Martin* just can't stop degrading Beverly, can he?
Crow: I get the feeling Beverly is the narrator's "me"
character in this, don't you?
Tom: Y'know, guys, much as I dislike this fanfic, I'm hoping
Dr. F sends us the rest of it; *Martin* certainly
deserves to be mocked.

She searched for a second, an finally came up with a small, pale
object.
"What is i?" inquired Riker.

Crow: (Beverly Crusher voice) It's an aggie - I needed one to
complete my collection! Cool!

"It's a molar. Oh god in heaven, it's a molar," whispered the
doctor. She turned to Picard. "These wounds. They're bite marks.
HUMAN bite marks!"

Mike: Maybe the Trekkies finally got ahold of Weasel Wheaton.
Tom: We should be so lucky....

Picard frowned. "Number One, prepare your away team," he orderd.
"Full space dress.

Tom: (Picard voice) And don't forget your petticoats - I
don't want Riker catching glimpses of your naughty
bits. And no showin' your buzzom afore three
o'clock.

I want to know what the hell happened over there."

Crow: (singing) And don't come back `til it's over, over
there....

"Aye, sir," said Riker, and he swiftly exited sick bay.

Mike: Well, that wasn't so bad, was it, fellas?
Tom: Yes.
Crow: I'm with Tom on this one, Mike. Yes, it was.

What do you think, Sirs?