[MiSTing] Mercator: Into the Void [TNG, XOVER, MEMIST] [CASTLE] [3/4]
David Thurston
believe me, well think about this one: Coleman Francis IS Torgo
in Red Zone Manos.
Woah, sorry for that mental image.
If you are just joining me, then you might want to back up a few
steps. This is part three of a four part MiSTing of my own piece
of tripe called Over the Edge, which was originally supposed to
be novel one of a series called Star Trek: Mercator.
If you're lucky, I'll show you what I have of book two, Kobe, which
is tripe, AND angst. Gee, Red Zone Manos doesn't sound so bad after
all...
**************************************************************************
[Commercial break ends to reveal the trio standing on the bridge of
the Satellite. We appear to be catching them mid-conversation.]
Mike: Oh, hi there. We've been discussing people vanishing and stuff.
Well, anyway, we have progressed to talking about the technology
needed to make someone vanish.
Crow: You see, Mike, it's not all that hard. The camera just stops
filming for a moment, everyone stands still except the person
who needs "disappear," who carefully, but quickly removes him or
herself from the picture. The camera starts again, and the
person is gone. Unfortunately, it often makes a bit of a seam
when this occurs. They use the same technique, in reverse, to
make someone or something appear in the shot.
Tom: Well, that's all fine and good...in fact it's a rather well-known
and common sense technique. The more difficult trick is to
actually disappear and reappear. That takes skill.
Mike: Yes, sure sure.
Tom: I'm quite serious. Watch this.
[Tom disappears. At the moment he does, both Crow and Mike change
positions just enough to make it apparent that a film cut was
used.]
Crow: Woah!
Mike: Well, I'll be, I didn't think he had it in him.
[Suddenly Tom is back. Mike and Crow again move, this time more
apparently, as Mike's arm suddenly lifts, and Crow shifts right
about three inches.]
Mike: My little red friend, you can paint me quite impressed.
Tom: Oh, it's no big deal. All robots are programmed to do it.
Crow: Really?
Tom: Sure, just think really hard...
[Crow vanishes. Mike and Tom actually don't change in posture at all,
but they do exactly trade places. Oh, and also Mike is wearing
the leftover prop head that TV's Frank wore in Atomic Brain, and
Tom has been repainted to look as though he is wearing a jumpsuit.]
Tom: [in Mike's voice] Wow, how long have you two been able to do this?
Mike: [lip-syncing (badly) to Tom's voice] Oh, Joel thought it would come
in handy. I guess we just never had a reason to use it until now.
[Crow reappears, Tom disappears, Mike shifts to Tom's position, the prop
head gone, but now he's wearing a penguin costume from Screaming Skull.
Gypsy appears, hanging from the ceiling.]
Mike: Qwaaaack! Well, that is quite interesting. You just manage to pop
in and out like that with nothing else changed.
Gypsy: Oh dear, I need to get out of here!
[Gypsy vanishes, as does everyone else. In their place are the three
mads. The lights and buzzers go off.]
Bobo: [Tom's voice, imagine that.] Oh great, and now we have movie sign.
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... ...]
[Although it was the mads to scramble to the sign, it is Mike and the Bots
who file into the theater, chatting as if nothing odd had happened.
Tom then gets placed in Mike's chair, while Mike takes Crow's, who
crosses across to Tom's.]
Mike: Oh, wait, yes, we have to turn the continuity filters back on.
[There is a popping sound, and the three shift to their correct chairs
in one final camera cut.]
Tom: We have continuity?
>Chapter Twelve
Tom: We'll cool our dance, start rockin' round the crap again.
>
> All Hurr could see was blackness coupled with the throbbing red
>in his eyes
Crow: So it was a reddish blackness?
> from a headache that he couldn't remember.
Mike: From the vodka that helped him forget.
Tom: Been there, Mike?
> Instinctively
>he reached up to massage his brow, the awkwardly thunked his hand
>against the visor of his helmet.
Tom: I won't comment that "awkwardly" is an adverb, and the sentence
should be "the awkward thunked," I will ask, though, what a
thunked is.
Mike: I'll tell you when you're older.
> Then Hurr realized where the pain had come from,
Tom: Probably from that thunked that ran into him.
> as his
>cybertronic right eye appeared to have overloaded and gone offline.
Crow: Hurr rethinks that the fuse was .500A, not 500A.
>Memories slowly came back to him,
Mike: Any "Cats" songs, and we find out how many ways to skin a robot.
Tom: I thought you liked show tunes.
Mike: Exactly why.
> and he then remembered the energy
>creature, and the trap, and the alien ship, and the Mercator.
Crow: Yeah, despite my attempts to forget, I keep coming back to the
painful truth as well.
> He slowly sat up, but as he did so, his headache exploded
>outwards,
Tom: Doesn't he realize exploding heads are really an overused
cliché?
> sending pangs of agony over his body.
Mike: Until he discovered that he was actually enjoying it...
> He arrested that
>movement,
Tom: Yeah, well other movements will rise up and destroy the pigs!
> and lay back down for awhile, fumbling for the mini first
>aid kit standard in the environmental suits.
Crow: Unfortunately he had already used the morphine up.
> His fingers hit a series of small cylinders,
Mike: The change dispenser which also comes standard in the
environmental suits.
> and he pulled out
>the hypospray and the cartridge of painkillers from their assigned
>compartments.
Tom: Was someone *really* thinking when this decision was made.
Crow: [Toker] Hey, man, feelin' no pain. Shoot 'em if ya got 'em!
> He loaded it as well as he could with his eyes now
>closed, and pressed the spray into his left shoulder.
Crow: Damn, that was the estrogen hypo.
Mike: Dosages? We don't neeeeed no steenking dosages.
> Then he put his
>head down, and waited patiently for the pain to subside.
Tom: The Starfleet drug culture has really been ignored for the most
part.
Crow: I dunno, ever read the original "Edge of Forever" script?
> For all directions he slowly became aware of noises,
Mike: Apparently he uses Ratliff's poor taxed spell checker.
> and the
>stirrings of the other members of his away team.
Tom: So they're men, not mice.
Mike: I would ask for clarification, but I probably don't want to know.
> Not wanting to crane
>his neck to see them, he instead tried to pick them out by their
>voices. Miller appeared to be up, and on his feet. Nicholson was
>awake, but not moving.
Crow: Well damn, go Miller!
> He couldn't hear Markham, so he figured that
>the chief medical officer might still have been out.
Tom: So he won't be using his vial of painkillers...
> This supposition passed, however, as he slowly opened his eyes, >and saw
Markham poised over him,
Mike: YAA! What a sight to wake up to.
Crow: Dammit, doctor, can't you go back to where you once belonged...
or at least a few inches *away* from me.
> reaching into a medical bag that he
>had brought slung over one shoulder.
Tom: Of course, we know that Hurr's focus is that there is a medical
bag, which happens to be attached to a doctor at the moment.
> "Try to relax.
Crow: Relax? Man, I'm beyond relaxed. But maybe you should lie
down, your face seems to be melting.
Mike: I'm more focused on how they eat and sleep.
> You biomechanical eye overloaded your cerebral
>cortex starting in the vision sector.
Mike: Or, translated for Hurr, "owie in the think-think."
> The headache should pass as the
>synapses return to normal,
Mike: Yeah, I've had mornings that I wake up and can feel every synapse.
Black coffee usually helps.
> but for now I want you to lie still until
>we can get you to the Mercator, and into sickbay to check for any
>serious damage."
Crow: To Hurr's brain, doubtful.
> Being in little position to argue, the first officer closed his
>eyes, and asked, "what's going on?"
Tom: Well, first the earth was a molten ball, but then it cooled off,
and the dinosaurs appeared, but they all died, and turned into
oil...
> "The trap that Miller devised worked, and the energy creature
>seems to be gone.
Mike: But the guy with the chainsaw...
> Miller is trying to get into the alien computer,
>but with little luck.
Crow: Just like with Nicholson.
> There is still no word from the Mercator; we
>appear to still be cut off from them."
Mike: Still no consensus on whether that's good or bad, we need your
tie-breaking vote.
> Hurr in no way liked that last sentence.
Tom: [Hurr] Really, semicolons have they're place, but in informal writing
just seem pretentious.
> No away team ever wants
>to be cut off from the ship,
Crow: Funny, every time they send an away team to Risa, it gets cut off
in record time.
> but if they hadn't gone anywhere in
>space, and there is no power on this ship-
> "Dammit! It just doesn't add up!"
Mike: Sorry, Hurr, the correct answer is that one plus one adds up
to two.
Tom: [Hurr] Dammit, I'm a first officer, not a mathematician!
> Hurr willed his headache
>away, and slowly stood up, ignoring when he almost blacked out. He
>staggered a bit, pushed Markham's helping hand away,
Tom: I'm cerfectly paclapable of walking on my own. Just stop
the shoody blip from moving
> and worked his
>way over to Miller.
> "Miller, this is wrong.
Crow: Do it AGAIN.
> Every bone in my body says that this is
>wrong.
Mike: Well, except my left femur.
> How were we cut off from the Mercator if this ship had no
>power? What the hell is this ship?"
Tom: Not wanting to push a point, but I believe it's a...ship.
> Miller looked up from the screen he had been typing into asking;
>"you want my-professional opinion?"
Mike: How come no one wants his unprofessional opinion?
> "Yes, Miller, what do you think?"
Crow: I think it is a poorly written plot, based around ideas in an
adventure game of choices and dialogue, trying to create
tension out of what would better be a one-person attempt to
solve the situation.
Mike: Feel better?
> "I think it's a test. Someone is playing a game with us here.
Tom: And, unfortunately, I think it's Parcheesi.
Mike: Point for Crow.
>It's just too uncanny that there were so many choices of everything
>laid out for the repairs when only one would work. It all seems so-
>planned."
Crow: Unlike, say, the story line here.
> "That is exactly what I was beginning to think. But if this is a
>test, if this is a game, where is the finish?"
Mike: I'm not sure, but it probably isn't that area of black and white
checkered tiles.
> "That's what I'm hoping to find in here, sir."
Tom: That explains why he's looking for "Madonna Bondage Goat."
> Miller turned
>back to the screen, and typed in a few more commands,
Mike: Hmm, it appears that the password is "isosceles."
[Tom goes flying off shot once more.]
> and stepped back
>at the screens in all of the room lit up.
Crow: Only to go directly into a blue screen of death.
[Tom slowly hovers in.]
Tom: Did you enjoy that, human?
> "OK, I think this is quite
>possibly a good thing."
Mike: Ah, famous last words.
> "Maybe it is, Ensign, but how do we interface with it?"
Tom: Maybe you should buy it dinner first.
> Why not ask it?
Crow: Yipes! Who said that?
Mike: Ah, a little visit to the happy land of second person narration.
> Hurr was shocked to see these words lit up on one of the screens
>that surrounded the room. "Computer, provide vocal interface."
Tom: I hate to be a drag, but should I point out that it already
responded to spoken word?
> You didn't say please.
Mike: I didn't say "now, or I turn a phaser on your systems," either.
> Hurr sighed. "Computer, please provide vocal interface."
> You didn't really mean that.
Crow: What, is he interfacing with Marvin?
Tom: [Marvin] Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and it's always
'Provide a vocal interface, Marvin...' Gawd I'm so depressed.
> Hurr looked over at Miller who returned a shrug as a response.
>"Computer, will you please provide a vocal interface?"
> Vocal interface unavailable, sorry.
Tom: Wha? Hey!
> Hurr felt his headache beginning to return, but decided to ignore
>it. "Computer, how can vocal interface be unavailable if you are
>responding to my spoken questions."
Tom: Yeah, how come?!
Mike: Tom, you're starting to side with the fanfic...
> Processing.
> Processing.
> Damn.
Tom: [Manos girl] Yeah, life's a bitch, daddy.
> "Computer?"
Mike: That's the mouse you're talking into.
> You got me.
Tom: [Bad western twang] *Gasp...* I'm a goner!
> You're faster than the others, you may just be
>acceptable.
> "Dammit, I am sick of this, end this test, and return us to our
>ship!"
Crow: It's always confusing when the narrator and the characters
squabble.
> End the test? You are faster than the others.
> The words slowly faded from the screen. Hurr looked around the
>room, and at each of the members of his away team.
Mike: [Nicholson] Oh, am I in the shot?
Tom: [Miller] When's breakfast?
Crow: [Jojo, to himself] If ya wannabe my lover, you have got to give...
> Nicholson folded her arms in front of her. "Now what?"
Tom: [John Cleese] And now, a Scotsman on a horse.
> As if to answer the question, a report card came up on the
>screen.
> "You have GOT to be kidding me," Doctor Markham muttered to
>himself.
Mike: Grammer C+, Science C, Creative Writing, D-...
> Fatality avoidance 80%
> Test one; repairs 100%
> Test two; survival 100%
> Test three; interface 95%
> Test four; test recognition 100%
> Subjects acceptable.
Tom: So a 20% fatality rate is considered acceptable?
Mike: That, and apparently survival is different than fatality
avoidance.
> "Well, that's good to know." Hurr was now quite impatient with
>everything that was going on.
> It was then that the world began to come apart around them.
Crow: Well, that'll happen to ya...
>
> Thorn looked up, excitedly, "you have them?"
Mike: Yup, two Carl Yaztremski error cards.
> "Yes, sir," Jons replied.
> "Transporter lock, get them the hell out of there!"
Tom: I think he needs to switch to decaf.
> "We are having a bit of interference, it will take a moment to
>strengthen the confinement beam."
> "Interference, what fro-mon dues!"
Crow: [Jamaican] Ya mon, dues interference!
> Thorn had looked back at the screen, and seen the alien vessel
>beginning to slowly fade out of existence. "Get that lock, now!"
> Jons saw the screen as well, and his fingers flew over the panel.
>"We have the lock, sir, beaming them out now."
Mike: So, um, would this be tension.
Tom: I'm afraid so.
> A tense moment passed
Mike: Yup, sure enough.
Crow: Glad he told us.
> as the transporter beam took effect, and
>the alien ship completely faded from existence.
Tom: I'm melting, meeeelting, what a world, what a world....
> "Sir, we have them all on board...sir?...sir!"
Crow: Sir...sir...sirsirsirsirsir.
Mike: What?!
Crow: Can I have a cookie?
> Jons looked up, and saw the astonished captain vanish at the same
>time as the alien vessel.
>
>Chapter Thirteen
Crow: Lucky us.
>
> "Commander Hurr, you are needed on the bridge immediately."
Tom: And what's the magic word...?
> Hurr, knowing that the doctor would be on him in a moment
Mike: This is a side of the Mercator I didn't want to see.
>demanding the first officer report to sick bay,
Crow: [Lisping] Tho you can get your thhots, you bad boy!
Mike: If anyone needs me, I'll be in the shower.
> got out of the
>transporter room as quickly as he could. He walked along the corridor
>at a slightly accelerated pace, hindered only by the fact that he had
>not stopped to remove his environmental suit.
Tom: He's always been a bit paranoid like that.
> There would be time for that on the bridge.
> He was needed on the bridge.
Crow: Actually, no he's not, but it's good for his morale.
Tom: I think that would be a common problem among First Officers.
> He reached the turbolift. Hurr never understood how the
>turbolifts could sense when he was in a hurry.
Mike: The same way computers sense your impatience when you pound the
Escape key over and over.
> However they did it,
>these were the only times that he ever had to wait for one to arrive.
Crow: You must admit, he's making some good observations about televised
Trek.
Mike: Stop kissing up to the author.
Crow: But he has such good RAM chips.
>He removed the suits helmet while he waited,
Tom: Choked, and died of asphyxiation.
Mike: I did say you could turn dark in double-digit chapters, didn't I?
> and was onslaughted, as
>he had still had the visor a bit tinted.
Crow: Well, since he had it completely tinted, I am not impressed by
his inability to notice that.
> His headache made an effort
>to return, but the Bolian tried as hard as he could to ignore it.
Tom: And wondered why *she* couldn't ignore hers last night...
> When the turbolift finally arrived, two science officers stepped
>off of it, brushing by Hurr as he tried to get on. Apparently neither
>had recognized Hurr,
Mike: Blue guy with a fake eye, yup, I can see him blending in.
> nor saw his rank insignia, but he saw no need to
>press the point, especially if he was needed on the bridge post haste.
Crow: Yeah, it'll all just become post waste, I know it.
> Just as the wait for the turbolift always seemed to take longer
>when he was in a hurry, so did the actual ride itself.
Tom: Of course *everything* seems longer in this piece.
> He wished that
>the car could move faster,
Mike: I wish this chapter would begin to make some point.
> he tried willing it to go faster, but there
>was nothing he could do but wait for the ride from the starboard wing
>down to the central pylon to take place.
Tom: Mike, just wake us when this turbolift ride is over, okay?
Mike: Sure.
[The bots both lean in on Mike's shoulders.]
> Hurr tried to be patient,
Mike: As he fingered the bulge under his jacket. Soon they would pay,
they would *all* pay!
> but as he did not know what he was
>needed for, patience was not a virtue easily found.
Mike: Someone needs more Book of Virtues!
> He watched the
>lights that flashed by the window change from moving horizontally to
>vertically.
Mike: When they started swirling, he knew he *had* been sold the "good
stuff."
> He knew he was now in the main pylon, but still had some
>decks to go.
> He cursed to himself at how slowly the lights were passing up the
>window. 'Come on, COME ON!'
Mike: Woah now, mister!
> At last the doors opened into the bridge.
Mike: Alright guys.
Crow: [Waking] Wow, that was restful, thanks Mike.
> He pawned the helmet
Tom: I bet they look down on the fencing of Starfleet property.
>off on an ensign that was walking by,
Tom: Then pawed the ensign walking the other way.
> and headed down into the main
>body of the bridge. He looked around, and noticed something was
>missing.
Crow: His "Women of the WWF" collector's plates.
> "Where's the captain?"
Mike: [Abbott] No, Where is Ops, Who's the captain.
> An uneasy look got passed around the bridge,
Tom: Smith goes deep as T'Pat tries to allude the tackle. The look
is up...and intercepted by Hurr!
> until it got to the
>emotionless face of T'Pat. "He vanished, sir."
> "Vanished?"
Crow: No, sorry, "varnished," doesn't the wood railing look so supple?
> Hurr looked around the bridge, and no one seemed to have a better
>explanation.
Mike: Though Smith's "he go bye-bye" came darn close.
> "All right, just tell me exactly what happened."
Tom: He vanished, sir.
> The story was related to him from the point that he left to go to
>the alien ship, to the point contact was lost, to the point all hell
>broke loose.
Crow: All in the first 30 seconds. The bridge tends to have mood swings
like that.
> Hurr say,
Mike: Gentlemen, I believe that we have just witnessed the final
degradation of language.
Tom: Hulk SMASH!
> and slowly absorbed it all with much interest,
Crow: Or at least feigned to.
>not wanting to miss a single piece of information.
Mike: So wait, was he inhaling or exhaling at the time.
Tom: Well, he was holding his breath at the moment, but he had last
inhaled.
> "All right," Hurr thought for a moment, planning exactly what he
>wanted to do,
Crow: [Hurr] Sleepover!
> "Can you pull up the internal and external sensor logs
>starting just before the captain disappeared?"
Tom: Who sees this one coming?
Crow: How many paragraphs until they realize Ytterbic radiation?
> Miller, who was reassuming his post,
Mike: Isn't that still illegal in 12 states and the District?
> and T'Pat obliged him by
>bringing up the sensor readings for the last half hour,
Tom: Just make the fragments WORK! That's all I ask!
> enough time to
>see the beam over of the away team, and the disappearance of Thorn and
>the alien vessel.
Mike: You don't suppose it was just coincidence, do you?
Crow: That was one.
> Hurr watched the information run across the screen.
Tom: See information, see information run, run information run!
Mike: No, I think that's still a bit above Hurr's level.
> It took one
>or two play throughs before Hurr could see all of the information that
>assaulted him from the various sensor outposts, but it eventually all
>became clear.
Mike: As mud.
Crow: Two, but a slight gleam of recognition.
> Miller suddenly stared agape at the readings, and started
>muttering to himself "How did I over look that?"
Tom: It's so...BIG!
Crow: Hard return, it counts, that's three.
> Hurr looked down again, and saw a spike while the captain had
>slowly faded from existence. Then the two men looked at each other,
>and gasped with a single voice:
Mike: Redrum!
Crow: And four. Four paragraphs to reach the obvious.
Tom: What's worse is your desire to sit and count them.
> "Ytterbic radiation."
Crow: I'm going to look up and see if Ytterbium is even radioactive
at the break!
> Hurr looked down at the tactical display one more time, then
>called out, "Sensors on maximum range, scan for any traces of Ytterbic
>radiation."
Mike: Well, Ratliff used a dartboard to determine Marrissa's love of
Strawberries, maybe we're dealing with something similar.
Tom: Oh, I sure hope so.
> "I have a large source, bearing 152-mark 12, extreme long range."
> "Helm, lay in a course to that source, warp 8, engage."
Crow: Damn the captain, full speed ahead!
> The Mercator coiled back, and shot off into the darkness of
>space.
Tom: Never to be seen again.
Mike: Dreamer.
>
> Cunningham no longer knew exactly where he was.
Crow: It was this big place with books...it was like nothing he had ever
seen!
> The surroundings
>were like no place he had ever seen, like no place he had ever heard
>of.
Tom: But, oddly, like a place he had once smelled.
> But he knew it was one of their tricks.
Mike: But, and we must stress, he is not paranoid!
> He knew that they were testing him, probing him,
Crow: And he oddly enjoyed it.
> looking at his
>mind, piece by piece.
Crow: A very quick process.
> He was not going to let them.
> He did not want to let them.
> He could not let them,
Mike: I think this is subtle foreshadowing that he's going to let them.
> for to do so would mean they had won, and
>he was dead.
Tom: Yeah, I hate that.
> He then began to yell out, not with his voice, but with his mind.
Mike: These Cunningham scenes are just terminally weird. I think I'd
prefer Skolnick.
> He began to change where he was, morph it, affect it,
Crow: [Chef] Hold it, caress it, make sweet love to it.
> turn it
>into something he did know, some place he had seen.
Mike: The boudoir at Starbase Four.
> They were getting stronger, making it harder for him to work his
>will.
> However, he, too was getting stronger.
Tom: [He-Man] By the power of Numbskull!
> The battle raged.
Crow: We'll just take your word for that then?
>
> Thorn looked around, and saw nothing but blackness everywhere he
>looked.
Tom: Well, except the bright yellow "Have A Nice Day" face.
> He attempted to take a step forward, but with no discernable
>landmass, he found it nearly impossible.
> Then there was a light, a bright, warning light, one that seemed
>to draw him forward.
Mike: Didn't we do this already?
Tom: Ah, a warning light, about time this work set off one of those.
> He let it, moving from the cold darkness into the warming light.
Tom: Darn, I liked it better before, I pictured him floating towards
a glowing red oil can.
>
> He now knew where he was.
Crow: Kennibunkport.
> Cunningham ran forward, through the land that now surrounded him.
Mike: Why do I get the impression that if there was a soundtrack, it
would be Chariots of Fire right now?
> He felt them trying to change the land back, to loose him again.
Tom: Even if he did mean to say "lose," it still makes no sense.
Crow: I think they were trying to lose on purpose. Just like Marrissa.
>Things grew, shrank, altered, and flickered.
Mike: Oh, he's having *that* problem.
> Objects appeared in his path, and all he could do was tell
>himself that they weren't there, that they did not really exist.
Crow: And since that was his normal coping method, it came easily.
> Objects became more and more real; they became bigger and bigger
>threats. Then there was something there that seemed almost too real.
>
> Thorn opened his eves, and saw a freight train barreling towards
>him.
Tom: Been there.
>
> Cunningham hit the object, this time it was real.
>
Crow: Or was it Memorex?
> "Cunningham?"
>
> "Thorn!"
>
Mike: Alright, say it.
Tom: CHIEF!
Crow: MCCLOUD!
>Chapter Fourteen
>
> The Mercator sped through space at top warp, stars streaking
>around it,
Crow: [Minnegwan] Simply indecent! They allow this filth?
> forming strangely beautiful spectral patterns. Many who
>experienced warp travel for the first time would stand transfixed,
Tom: Ah, I was wondering when we would have a pointless side discussion.
Mike: This whole damn thing is a side discussion. Wasn't this originally
a treatise on Geopolitical Borders and the Feudal System?
>awestruck by the view and the knowledge of what was occurring around
>them.
Crow: Hurr, though, was only able to mutter, "Ohhh, shiney!"
> To start, every star within view would stretch into a rainbow,
>going al the way back to infinity.
Tom: Well, to do that, each color in the spectrum would have to be
divided into infinity, but since infinity divided by an integer
is still mathematically considered infinity, than each color
would be infinitely long, thus rendering any rainbow pattern
impossible to discern.
Mike: I like you better when you're bitter.
> Then they all exploded in a flash
>of light as the craft entered the warp tunnel.
Crow: Unlike the Lincoln Tunnel which, due to traffic jams, nothing has
apparently entered since 1954.
Mike: I don't know if you two are old enough to learn about things going
into tunnels.
> From there,
>Einsteinian physics went out the window,
Tom: So then they *CAN* break the laws of physics. Who knew?
> as the speed of light was
>left far behind. From then all the stars shot by the ship, forming a
>blue shifted spectrum before disappearing into the wake of the ship.
Crow: Just because a picture says a thousand words, one shouldn't
include one thousand meaningless words in a text medium to
replace the special effect.
> The novelty, however, was completely lost to Hurr, as he sat in
>the center chair, pensively watching each star fly by. What many used
>as a stress-decreasing device, equal to night insect noises and beach
>recordings,
Mike: Or, the last in the series, "In the Midst of Grizzlies."
> only caused distress in Hurr's mind.
Crow: He should really think about some relaxants.
> The urgency of the
>situation would not, and could not let him relax and enjoy the sight.
>Somehow the harsh glow from each star as it registered to his
>biomechanical eye did nothing to elevate this feeling.
Mike: Gee, he's just a big blue mound of no fun!
> Only two people watched the screen with absolute dispassion.
>One was the Vulcan Ops officer; the other was the human John Smith,
>sitting at helm controls.
Tom: I thought he was the eager and upbeat one.
Mike: I love when the author has problem characterizing his own creations.
> Something about the calmness of Smith
>disturbed Hurr deeply.
Crow: The steady calmness of his eyes as he sharpened the blade...
> Maybe it was just envy that the Ensign could
>be this calm in such a situation. Hurr doubted this, though, guessing
>that his feelings came because of a slightly more sinister reason.
Mike: Is paranoia contagious?
> A last minute addition to the crew, Smith's file had not been
>one of those that Hurr had been able to review before the mission, as
>it simply was not there.
Tom: I don't really like where this is going.
Mike: Cross-posting alt.startrek.creative, alt.conspiracy
> In fact, Hurr thought, that file had still
>not come through from Starfleet, despite multiple requests on his
>part.
Crow: Nothing like making a conspiracy blatantly obvious, if that's the
case.
> Smith was an enigma, a void, almost as though he didn't exist.
Mike: Or at least his mind was.
Tom: Ah, we have a void then? So this is about Smith?
> Hurr thought back, and could never recall seeing Smith anywhere
>but the bridge.
Tom: And the mess hall...and the gym...and the holodecks...and sickbay
...and the hydroponics lab...
> He was never in the officers' mess,
Crow: Well, that's why they spread out the officers' newspaper on the
officers' floor.
> nor the general
>lounge.
Mike: Or the lieutenant lounge.
> Hurr never even accidentally passed the helm officer in the
>halls during off shifts.
Tom: Smith's such a lucky guy.
> Hurr tried not to think about all of this, but there was little
>else to occupy his mind.
Crow: He should get Free Cell.
> They were chasing a trail of Ytterbic
>radiation, and little else.
Mike: Chasing radiation, and hanging their dreams on a star.
> Miller and T'Pat were at their stations,
>going over the data from the captain's disappearance, in case they
>possibly missed something; anything.
Tom: Well, anything *would* be something.
Crow: While they're at it, could they look for some logic; any logic?
> John Smith was sitting in the helmsman post,
Mike: Just when the story gets going, we get half a chapter of scene
setting.
> watching the trail
>of Ytterbic radiation, making any changes that were needed to their
>course. Deep within his mind he knew he was supposed to be
>distraught,
Crow: And knowing is half the battle.
Tom: Isn't Barclay in this story?
Mike: Get over it.
> but that never really surfaced. He was more concerned
>with the task at hand.
Crow: Lessee, red five on black six, and turn over a card...
> The Mercator he knew had stumbled too fast upon what they were
>never meant to stumble across at all.
Tom: Ladies and gentlemen, we have pointless conspiracy off the port
bow.
> All he could do now was to
>watch; a passive member of a crew that he was sure was flinging itself
>to its own destruction.
Mike: As long as it's nothing major.
> He looked up from his console and back to Hurr, then around the
>other members of the bridge crew. The poor sobs.
Crow: He's stuck in the story too, or did he not realize that.
> If only they knew
>what was lying in store for them ahead.
Tom: One mean rabbit.
> Of course, he also knew what >was
awaiting himself, and that put an inkling of fear, which also was
>unable to surface, instead it was repressed under years of specialized
>training.
Mike: Roundabout way of going nowhere. Reminds me of Nascar.
> His eye returned to the console.
Tom: [Smith] Damn, fell out again, Commander Hurr, could I borrow your
implant?
> He saw the radiation trail
>begin to swerve away while he was thinking, and quickly adjusted.
>Almost too quickly.
Crow: I guess we ran out of Star Trek cliches, and had to move on
to general ones.
> But he was safe, no one had noticed.
[Commercials]
>
> Neither Cunningham nor Thorn knew what the other was doing in
>this place.
Mike: Cause it was their idea.
Tom: But why are their kids there?
Mike: Cause grandpa couldn't babysit.
Tom: And why was grandpa there?
Crow: Cause Jasper didn't want to go alone.
> Thorn had no idea what this place even was.
Crow: But then, he gets lost in his own quarters, so don't mind him.
> Cunningham's presence had always been a comfort to Thorn. But
>he's dead! Does that mean I'm...
Tom: Yes Mr. Narrator, what do you want to tell us.
Mike: I think it was just another odd tense shift.
> Cunningham had assured Thorn that he was, in fact, quite alive.
Crow: Yup, alive as a doornail.
>Only the definition of alive was a bit different in this place.
Tom: Alive, adjective, the act or state of weaving macramé.
> There was something different about Cunningham, something
>distant, knowledgeable,
Crow: Alluring, feminine, sexy...
> as though he had the experience of the
>lifetime of the universe.
Mike: Are we speaking in relative terms?
> Thorn looked about the place, not believing that it wasn't real,
>though Cunningham had also assured him that everything here was in his
>imagination.
Crow: I've always felt that life was a demented figment of my own
imagination. Of course, for that to be true, I must be a masochist.
> Does that mean...?
> No, I'm real; everything else is your imagination.
Tom: This has more perspectives than a Picasso!
> Thorn did not know weather or not to believe.
Crow: Believe the lies!
Mike: retteb snrub tuis siht.
> Part of him saw
>that this was his oldest and dearest friend. Another part said that
>this could all be alive.
Tom: Alive, not a lie. I figured it out, he used Dragon Dictate on
a cheep fifty cent microphone!
> Cunningham told him that nothing here is
>real except the two of them, but was it really only one of him?
Mike: What do *you* think?
Crow: Ah, sweet Centron.
> Thorn looked at Cunningham for a moment. The visage of his
>friend was haggard, tired.
Mike: Is your visage tired, sagging, lacking pep...?
> Beyond tired, it looked spent and
>exhausted in a way he had never seen before.
Tom: I really don't like the turn of this.
> His heart went out to
>the specter beside him, weather it was Cunningham or a figment of
>whatever delusion he was trapped inside of.
Crow: Not really a delusion, more like a mild daydream.
> Suddenly Cunningham stood up.
Tom: Rapid-Fire Standing Action!
> Thorn began to look around,
>wondering what was occurring.
Mike: He stood! This is all so confusing.
> He felt like he was at his first days
>of the academy again, as though there was something very important
>that was going on that the upperclassmen wouldn't let him in on.
Crow: Good ole hell week.
> Cunningham said nothing, but extended his hand palm up, then
>folded his fingers: "stand."
Tom: Mike, you have working hands, I don't quite follow that.
[Mike holds his hand palm up, then folds his fingers.]
Tom: Nope, still don't see how that's "stand."
> The he turned and beckoned Thorn to
>follow, which he did.
Crow: Thorn's never been much in the free will department.
> Thorn felt that he couldn't even trust his own senses, or his
>own thoughts even, so he needed to be able to trust this figure.
Mike: This crude map with "You Are Here..." marked on it.
> His
>only fear is that his trust had been misplaced along the way.
Tom: Nope, just got rerouted to Denver.
> Cunningham suddenly began to run very fast, and Thorn began to
>pump his legs to keep up.
Crow: So in the future, Nike pump implants spread with alarming
results?
> He had never seen his friend capable of
>such speeds, and began to feel a burning in his legs.
Mike: And we are all thankful that the words "groin" or "loins" were
not used.
> He tried to
>ignore it, and it was gone, as if there were no legs, and he was
>simply flying forward at warp speed.
Tom: And we now loop the chapter back.
> The surroundings began to streak past him, little more than
>blurs. He wondered what the necessity was for such speed, when he
>looked behind him and saw a large crimson shadow begin to cover the
>landscape behind them.
Crow: Well, that will do it.
Mike: Oh yes.
>
>Chapter Fifteen
Tom: And the hits just keep on coming.
Mike: Excuse me?
Tom: Well, if I had done the appropriate anagram of "hits," we'd
lose our PG rating.
>
> Thorn looked around his surroundings. They had failed in the
>flight from the crimson shadow.
Crow: Ah, good, saved by the Red Death.
> Suddenly something compelled him for elsewhere.
> "Yes, I understand."
Mike: That makes one of us.
>
> "Commander Hurr, the Ytterbic radiation is getting stronger, we
>appear to be reaching the source, and..."
Tom: Well, I guess that's it, really.
> Hurr looked up at Miller as the Ensign's voice trailed off.
>"Yes, ensign?"
> "Sir, we have a strong reading of Ytterbic radiation in the
>holodeck. Wait, it's gone now."
Crow: No wait, it's back...no, it's gone...back...gone...and...
BACK...no...gone.
> At that point the interior alert warnings began to scream, and
>the ship sent itself to full red alert. "Miller! Report!"
> "We have an intruder alert in the holodeck!"
Tom: Two guesses on who or what it is.
> Hurr cried into the intercom unit
Mike: He doesn't handle stress all to well.
> "Security team to holodeck, we
>have an intruder alert,
Crow: What was that?
> I repeat: an intruder alert!"
Crow: Oh, thanks.
Mike: Don't read ahead.
> "Intruder alert in holodeck, aye sir, we're on it." Amy
>Nicholson took the report,
Tom: [Nicholson] File in triplicate just to respond to an emergency,
outrageous!
> and grabbed two guards that were standing
>near to her office,
Mike: We won't go into why they were there, though...
> and ran towards the holodeck.
Crow: Usually I don't mind scenes of women running, but with this
text based medium, it just makes me even more depressed.
> On the bridge Hurr was motioning Miller to follow him.
Tom: I won't ask.
Mike: Good, cause I won't tell you.
> Jons took
>over the tactical station as the two left in the turbolift.
Crow: Great to have a Utility Infielder.
> They rode
>down the turbolift, and once again Hurr felt that it was taking
>entirely too long.
Tom: And I, for one, agree.
> He grabbed out his phaser,
Crow: Please, this is not the time or the place.
> and checked its charge
>to help pass the time, and in a hope that it would speed up the
>process.
Mike: So he hopes to threaten the turbolift if it won't speed up?
> The doors finally opened, and the duo sprinted down the hall
>towards the holodeck.
Tom: Flabman and Sobbin'
> As they got closer, they saw Nicholson waiting
>for them, flanked by two rifle-totting security guards.
Crow: Or is she just happy to see them.
> When the
>security chief saw them coming, she yelled out "Miller!" and tossed
>him a mag-force to use on the door.
Tom: So then her big strong rifle-totting guards can't manage to
pry one little door open.
Mike: No, she just keeps them on the team as eye candy.
> With Nicholson on one side, and Miller on the other, that left
>Hurr to coordinate.
Crow: He seems the middle-management type.
> Even though the door was completely soundproof,
>Hurr still only mouthed the words "On three, one...two..."
Tom: Five!
Mike: Hmm, now what comes after two...?
> Three!
Crow: So was that first, or another illusive look into second person?
> Miller and Nicholson strained on the mag-force units, yanking the
>holodeck doors open.
Mike: I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with Crow. With the
physical activity, but no visual, it is rather depressing.
> Once there was a gap large enough for them, the
>two security guards ran in, with their rifles at their hips, fingers
>on the trigger.
Tom: Or are they just REALLY happy to see...
Mike: Just drop that one, please.
> "Down, get down!"
Crow: Uh! Get down! Touch yourself.
> Hurr waited for a moment, and walked in, seeing the two security
>guards looming over, pressing their rifles into a doubled over figure
>dressed completely in gray.
Tom: I would like to take this moment to point out that my head has
not once exploded in this piece, thus stopping the spread of
cliches...no matter how hard it is.
Mike: So we're trying to stop cliches?
Tom: Yup.
Mike: Isosceles?
[Tom makes another unscheduled trip to the rafters.]
Mike: I love not having budget restraints.
> "Alright, men, back up a little."
Crow: This appears to be the Spider Island program running. Amy,
put on a bikini, and investigate. Us men will look for ammo,
leaving you unaided.
> Hurr watched the guards back
>up a few steps, never taking their rifles off of the cowering figure.
Mike: Must have long arms.
[Tom wanders back in.]
Tom: You know, oddly that isn't as bad as sitting here reading this.
>Hurr grabbed under, and lifted the gray-clothed figure by his collar.
>"All right, speak, how are-"
Crow: [Koch] How m'I'doin?
> Nicholson gasped as she saw the weather worn face of her captain
>slowly raise his eyes to make contact with her.
Tom: Touchy-feely type, that Thorn.
Crow: Really, I was going to call him a prick.
Mike: I should have known that would eventually come.
> He tried to open his
>mouth, but was only able to let out a troubled wheeze.
Tom: Oil can!
> "Sickbay, we have a medical emergency in the holodeck!
Crow: [Hurr] He's still alive!
> Get a
>team up here, stat!"
Mike: I'd prefer stet.
> Hurr released the captain, who crumpled back to
>the ground.
Tom: Hurr then picks up the captain, and begins to act out Shakespeare
with his limp form.
> Hurr leaned down, and put a comforting arm on the saddening
>figure of his captain.
Crow: Of course, Thorn being saddening isn't a new thing.
> The man who was lying on the floor seemed to
>be nothing of the captain full of energy he had seen just a day
>before.
Mike: Gee, by my count it hasn't been more than an hour.
Tom: I think he's going be perceived time.
> Now Thorn seemed older, tired, something about him was just
>depressing.
> Hurr tried to get the captain to say something, but did not want
>to press him into anything. "Captain? Captain, are you
>alright...captain?"
Crow: Brilliant line of questioning, Holmes!
> The captain looked up at Hurr,
Mike: Auntie Em?
> yet his gaze seemed to cut right
>through the Bolian commander.
Tom: Now he's screwing up his cliches.
> Thorn's eyes seemed deeply tired, and
>they appeared to be looking somewhere deeper, somewhere that no one
>else could see.
Crow: And all the pink fun-bunnies that lived in that magical realm.
> The captain then tried to stand up, much to the dismay of Hurr.
>"Captain, please, don't strain yourself,
Mike: Just release yourself from the misery.
Tom: And you call me dark?
> you look as though you have
>been through a lot. Just rest for a moment, Doctor Markham is on his
>way."
Crow: Is that supposed to make him feel better?
> "Must get to the bridge."
Tom: Must...talk like Shatner.
> The captain's voice was ragged and
>airy, but there seemed to be an urgency in it. "No time to delay, I
>must get to the bridge."
Mike: "Me, me, me," this is all about you, isn't it?
> The captain's strength seemed to be returning in waves, but Hurr
>still tried to hold him back, to keep him here in the holodeck until
>medical help arrived.
Crow: Exciting waiting inaction!
> As though he had wished them into existence,
>the medical team rushed in,
Tom: [Hurr] Damn, I wished for a pony!
> led by Markham, who was opening up his
>tricorder to scan the captain.
Crow: Careful not to trip over the commas and asides.
> "The captain has lost some minerals,
Mike: And essential Ytterbium!
Tom: Don't you start.
> and he is very dehydrated,
>but otherwise." Markham looked into the captain's eyes, trying o read
>what was there.
Crow: Let's see, "it was the best of times..."
> "But otherwise he's, here..."
Tom: Usually I don't like women who finish my sentences, but in this
case, I think we should set Jojo up with one.
> Markham got up, and
>tapped some commands into the arch, using the holodeck as a giant
>replicator.
Mike: I hate to nitpick, but isn't that what it is?
> The bowl he proffered Thorn had a yellowish color,
Crow: Wait, isn't the patient supposed to provide the doctor with
yellow liquid?
> and a
>slight sent of chicken to it.
Crow: That can't be healthy.
> "Here, captain, its some bouillon, it will help to replenish what
>you've lost."
Tom: Chicken Soup for the Captain's Soul.
Mike: So then it's enriched with dignity?
> Thorn took the container, giving Markham a weak smile,
Crow: He's a good kid.
>and sipped at the salty soup.
Mike: Let it slide, boys, let it slide.
> He drank slowly, gaining energy with
>each sip of the broth.
Tom: If he does any Popeye on spinach movements, I leave.
> Thorn then tried again to stand, and Hurr looked over at Markham,
>hoping the doctor would give him some reason to not let the captain
>up.
Crow: Finding none, he broke the captain's legs.
Mike: That was randomly harsh.
Crow: Yeah, but my resentment towards these characters has turned
into full physical hatred.
> Markham simply shrugged apologetically, as his readings showed
>there was nothing wrong with the captain.
> "So, shall we get to the bridge?"
Tom: Hmmm, pass.
Mike: One club.
Crow: Dang, pass.
Gypsy: [Peaking on screen] Two spades.
All Pass.
> Hurr reluctantly followed the captain out of the holodeck, then
>quickened his step to be walking beside Thorn. "Captain, what is
>happening here, where were you?"
Tom: [Hurr] I did good while you were gone. Can I have a cookie?
> "Now, now, commander, there will be time for all questions later.
Crow: Why?
Mike: Because I'm in a hurry.
Crow: Why?
Mike: Because...look, I'm not going here.
Crow: Why?
>Right now we should be picking up a trail of Ytterbic radiation, and
>we need to follow it."
> "We already are, captain, but what does this all mean?"
Tom: Absolutely nothing. This is fanfic, after all.
> Thorn looked at Hurr. "You're already following the radiation
>trail? That is wonderful!
Crow: [Snagglepuss] Stupendous, even!
> I knew I made a good choice in you as my
>first officer."
Mike: Good boy, here's a biscuit!
> Then he started walking off again, leaving the Bolian
>behind for a moment.
> Hurr caught up with Thorn just as the captain entered the
>turbolift. With the breif command of "bridge" the doors closed, and
>they were gone.
Tom: Never to be seen again.
>
>Chapter Sixteen
>
> "Captain, I think we need to talk."
Crow: [Hurr] I've been having these...feelings, and I'm all confused.
> The turbolift doors open, revealing the Deck 4 bridge of the
>U.S.S. Mercator. Hurr stepped out of the 'lift as he was saying this,
Tom: "Lift"? Is he trying to add a British colour to this?
>and made an arm gesture towards Thorn's ready room.
Mike: Yeah, I have an arm gesture for the lot of them!
> "I don't really think that's necessary, Hurr." Thorn now had an
>almost serene calm about him. Hurr didn't like this, but tried to
>keep it to himself.
Tom: What ya gonna do about it, cry baby?
> "Captain, please."
Crow: Please please please me.
> Hurr didn't wait for an answer, but simply
>walked into the captain's ready room. The ready room was an
>offbranching of the Captain's quarters that connected to the bridge of
>the Mercator.
Mike: Darn, just when I thought I wouldn't need the CAD/CAM anymore.
> It was felt that this close proximity would mean that
>even when off duty, the captain was never far from his post.
Tom: Gee, lucky him. I'm sure he's thrilled the crew can come and
bug him with the smallest problem at any moment.
> Thorn shrugged his shoulders, and followed Hurr in, taking a seat
>behind a low set table,
Crow: So there's also an "offbranching" Japanese restaurant?
> as opposed to behind his desk. Hurr took a
>seat across the table from the captain.
> "Sir, I think I am entitled to know exactly what is going on
>here."
Tom: So you want answers?
Crow: I think I'm entitled to them.
Mike: Ok, lets stop this now.
> Hurr looked a bit impatient, and he knew it.
Crow: And knowing is--
Mike: You did that one.
Crow: Damn, these long pieces always stretch my material.
> He did not try
>to correct himself, though, as impatience was all that he had at the
>moment.
Tom: So no dignity, sanity, or modicum of intellegence?
Mike: Guess not.
> Thorn, however, acted as though he had all the time in the world.
Crow: I guess [singing] Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime is on his siiiiide.
>He stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked out through
>one of the transparent aluminum windows.
Tom: Cause aluminum windows keep your crew cooler, and create a
better refreshment factor.
> "They're really quite pretty, aren't they Hurr.
Mike: Isn't this the "I'm quitting the MIB" speech?
> It's been so
>long since I have just taken the time to stand and look at the stars."
Crow: Maybe they'll neuralize us, and wipe out any memory of this
fanfic.
Mike: No good, Pearl would just see that as an excuse to send it again.
>Thorn stood there, looking out at the vast starscape, enjoying each
>dot of color, and trying to pick out the ones he recognized.
Tom: And now, a list of the ones he knew...
> At this distance, though, he could not locate many. He easily
>picked out the bright green glow of the Orion star,
Crow: Having had many experiences with their main export...
> but all the others
>stood there, as if mocking his inability to put names to them.
Mike: When you think the stars are mocking you, it's time to call the
funny farm.
> Then
>something else appeared in the image, Hurr's reflection as he stood
>and walked over to the captain.
Tom: That's enough to unsettle you.
> "Captain, what is it that we are doing out here, where were you,
>what did you see?"
Crow: And did you bring me anything?
> Thorn stood there for a moment, looking out among the stars in
>the distance, and those much closer that were streaking by the window.
Mike: That's indecent!
> "Hurr," he said, turning to face his first officer, "why don't
>you tell me why we're out here?
Tom: Cause we were sent out as the B Ark to populate a new world,
cause the federation was doomed or something.
> What is it that we are supposed to
>accomplish? What is our mission?"
Mike: To destroy the evil overlord!
Tom: And who is the evil overlord?
Mike: The identity of the evil overlord will not be revealed until
all the Chimpoko Mon are bought by one Cimpoko master! Ohh!
> Hurr sighed, then began to quote Starfleet's general order, the
>speech that every cadet knew by heart by the end of his or her first
>week at the academy.
Crow: "Thank you sir, may I have another?"
> "'To explore strange new worlds, to seek out new
>life and new civilizations, and to boldly go where no one has gone
>before."
Mike: Let's see, no new worlds, no new life, and they've sortta wimped
around the edge of known space. I'd say they've failed across
the board!
> Thorn turned back to the stars, and began to laugh.
Tom: Sorry, just remembered Marmaduke was a riot this morning.
> "You know,
>Hurr, I have always loved that speech.
[Crow provides a tear filled singing of the Battle Hymn of the Republic]
> The tops minds at Starfleet
>spent weeks trying to get the exact wording that they wanted, and they
>still got it wrong."
Mike: Actually, didn't Gene write it during lunch on a napkin?
> Hurr looked at the captain a moment, "sir?"
Tom: Or ma'am, as the case may be.
> "'To boldly go' my goodness, Hurr, it is the most famous
>mutilation of the English language I've heard.
Crow: He's one to talk.
> Any fifth grader knows
>you aren't supposed to split the infinitive. 'To boldly go' ha!"
> Hurr's patience was now completely gone. "Sir, I did not come in
>here to discuss semantics or grammar,
Mike: Rather etymology and lexicography!
> I came in here to discuss where
>you were and where we're going."
Tom: [Thorn] Oh drat, I thought you knew!
> "We are going to fulfill what we were sent out here to do. You
>want new life and new civilizations, well, that's what we have
>stumbled across.
Crow: [Hurr] Well, OK, as long as it isn't some slimy, icky new life.
> There is a civilization out there at such an
>advanced level that we could not imagine them in our wildest dreams.
Mike: Which is good, since my wildest dreams usually aren't about
technology.
>Or, for that matter, in our wildest nightmares either."
> "Sir, I don't understand."
Tom: That's cause you're a dense, stupid man.
> "Neither do I, Hurr, and that's what makes this all so wondrous.
>All I know is that they need us.
Crow: Deeply and passionately.
> They need our help or they will be
>most certainly destroyed."
> "How do you know? Sir, where were you?"
Mike: Shreveport.
> "I was with them," Thorn replied, sweeping his hand so as to take
>in all the stars out the window.
Tom: You know, I'm really worrying about that boy.
> "I was with them, and I saw them.
>They spoke to me, and they told me that they need us, that they will
>be destroyed if we do not help them."
Crow: At this point, one can do no more than smile, nod, and slowly
back away.
> Hurr looked out the window for a moment, trying to piece together
>what the captain was saying in his mind, but failing.
Tom: Let's see, I W-A-S W-I-T-H...nope, not getting it.
> "I don't
>understand, sir, how could they need us? I thought you said that they
>were advanced beyond our comprehension."
Mike: What is more troubling, Thorn's wild tale, or Hurr believing
him?
> Thorn leaned his head against the window, and looked down at the
>engineering hull of the Mercator. "They advanced too far, Hurr, and
>in doing so they lost something.
Crow: Their keys.
> They lost what we have, imagination,
>wonder, amazement, and that is what is leading them to their downfall.
>They did not think they needed imagination, or illogical reasoning, so
>they discarded them. They need us to supply this to them."
Tom: That'll be an ego bruise for the Vulcans.
> Some of what the captain had said was now hitting Hurr,
Mike: Ouch.
> and he
>began to understand the rush of the situation.
Tom: I'm sure glad someone here does.
> "Hurr," the captain said, lifting his head from the window and
>looking straight at the Bolian first officer,
Crow: [Thorn] If you got married, would your towels say Her's and Hurr's?
Mike: How long have you have that one saved up?
> "this is perhaps the
>oldest civilization in the universe. Their loss is the universe's
>loss. Their destruction is the universe's destruction. Don't you see
>the importance of this situation."
Tom: Old as dirt civilization, save the whole universe, yup, standard
fare. I thought you were going to challenge us.
> Hurr did see the importance, and was now standing in a somber
>silence.
Crow: Note "somber," not "sober."
> He looked out at the stars going by the window, hen back at
>the captain with one last question.
Mike: Buuu-caw?
> "But sir, where are they, how do
>we help them, "
Tom: [Hurr] What do I do with my punctuation?
Crow: They need to help us help them.
> Thorn did not know how to answer this question. It was not as if
>he was being led on by instruction, more like instinct.
Mike: When the bozos come back to Capistrano...
> He just had
>this feeling deep down that he would know. "It's difficult to
>explain, Hurr.
Crow: [Isaac Hayes] Maybe this song would help.
> Would it be too much to ask you to just trust your
>captain for awhile?"
Tom: On the Ship of the Damned Fools, yes.
> Hurr looked back at the starscape, as did Thorn. Hurr couldn't
>help but feel that not all was right in the universe as he looked out.
Mike: One dead giveaway was the giant rift of dark matter.
>He changed his focus to look at the captain's reflection, which
>suddenly began to glow with understanding.
Crow: Or Ytterbic radiation?
> "Its time. Were here."
Tom: Honey, I'm home!
> Hurr was about to ask how Thorn knew, until he looked out and saw
>what had tipped the captain off.
Mike: The large "If you were here, you'd be saving the universe by now."
> Out the window a giant rectangular silhouette began to black out
>the stars behind it.
Tom: No, OK, no! I sat through this, but if we're turning into a 2001
crossover, I will not stand for it.
Mike: Maybe this would be a good time for a break.
> Hurr turned, and followed the captain's rapid
>retreat from the ready room.
[Mike turns, and follows Crow's rapid retreat from the theater.]
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... ...]
[Bridge of the SoL. Mike has his guitar. He strums a few cords,
stops, strums them again, curses a bit, then finally gets a
good rhythm going. What he starts into is Green Day's "Time
of your Life." Crow comes in shot.]
Crow: Another crossover
A fanfic poorly wrote.
It grabs you by the throat
And chokes you as you go.
So make the best of this host seg
Don't ask why.
It won't last long
So be thankful for repreive.
It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's tripe.
The bum road of a crossovered life.
Tom: So take two good series
logic it won't apply.
Don't mind what's good of each,
you're writing on the fly.
And when you're done
We'll despise them both the same.
Now they're ruined,
and won't be the same again.
It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's tripe.
The bum road of a crossovered life.
Bots: It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's tripe
The bum road of a crossovered life.
[The commercial light flashes, and the meatball spins over the
last few chords Mike plays.]
----
End Part Three.
We're most of the way there. What's scary is that (if I remember
correctly, as I fear reading it) it gets worse from here. Right
now would be a good time to take a reeeeaaaaaaaal deep breath,
and prepare for the horror ahead as this is
Concluded in Part Four