MSTed: Way of Harmony Pt 1 (2/2)

[DynaYellow]

(Door sequence. Back on the Command Center)

TOM: So Mike, what is the deal with this Ensign Im?

CROW: Yeah, he's the most interesting character so far, and they don't
even give him any dialogue.

MIKE: Well, actually guys, I think it was an error in the posting. This
Cream@applelink guy posted the story, and for some reason, the apostrophes
just didn't take.

TOM: Oh, but Mike, that just can't be! The Pathos, the humor, the quiet
wisdom that *is* Ensign Im!

CROW: Not since Shakespeare's melancholy dane has a character been so
fully realized on screen!

TOM: And that's why Crow and I have prepared a little tribute to the best
character ever to appear on Star Trek DS9: Ensign Im.
(Begin triumphant music)

CROW: Ensign Im joined starfleet on stardate
1.000.3..39.765.fitang-fitang, ole.biscut-barrel, where he quickly moved
to the top of his class at speed-memorization of technobabble.

TOM: Despite his obvious expertise in all areas of space travel, Im's
career was best remembered by a long streak of lucky breaks. Serving with
the original Enterprise crew, Im transferred out of security shortly
before the arrival of Captain James Tiberious Kirk, a move that
undoubtably saved his life!

CROW: Shame struck Ensign Im's career, however, when he refused to sign
the ship's log following the "Spocks' Brain" episode, calling the whole
incident "Far too dorky for words."

TOM: But Im continued to serve faithfully, until, once again he got a
lucky break when he retired from Starfleet only seconds before "Star Trek
V."

CROW: Here's to you, Ensign Im!

TOM & CROW: The Pride of Starfleet!

MIKE: Well, guys, I must say. . . That was really lame.
(Fanfic sign. All Panic. Door sequence.)

>
>Station Log: Stardate 46601.7. My son has been missing for two
>days.

TOM: I suppose I should mention it to someone, eventually.

> Constable Odo has conducted several searches of the station;

CROW: Including three passes through Dax's underwear drawer.

TOM: Grrrr!

>repeated sensor scans for his life signs have turned up nothing.
>Chief OBrien, who has just returned from Earth, checked all the
>transporter logs before he even unpacked. We have contacted every
>ship that has docked here in the past week hoping for some news of
>him with no result. Somehow he has disappeared without a trace.

CROW: How can they tell he's missing as opposed to his regular appearances
on the show?

TOM: Uh... I don't know.

>
> Commander Sisko, this is Quark.
> Yes, Quark, what is it?

MIKE: Pagemaker's been in here giving me problems again.

> I have something I need to discuss with you. In private.

TOM: Bomp-chicka-Wern!

> Come to my office. I can only give you a few minutes.
(All clear their respective throats and whistle)
> It might be better if you came down to the canteen.
> Im very busy right now, Quark.

TOM: Well, why don't you come, instead?

> I cant get free just now...
> Its a matter of the utmost personal concern for you, Commander. I
>really think you ought to come down. Now.

MIKE: (Quark voice) It's about my... little problem...

> Im on my way

TOM: (Sisko voice) And I'll be there, too.

> ... Kira, you have Ops. Im going to get a drink.

CROW: Well, Im deserves it, he's been working hard lately.

>
> Alright, Quark. what is it?
> Rom, get in here and draw the curtain.

CROW: And stop killing the Dire Wraiths, they're paying customers!!

> Now tell the Commander what you were
>telling me.
> You are looking very well, Commander. Do...do you find your drink
>satisfactory?
> Rom!
> Alright! My boy is a good boy, you know, Commander.
(All make "randy" noises)
> Sometimes subject to high spirits, but you know what its like to be
>a father to a young boy.
> Rom, Id appreciate it if youd tell me what you brought me down
>here for.
> For the past two days Nog has been moping about our quarters.
>Hes hardly eaten- hardly said anything, although even normally far
>be it for him to have a conversation with his own old man. Why, I...
> Stick to the subject, brother.
> Quark, weve already asked Nog several times if he knew anything
>about Jakes whereabouts, and he said he had no idea. Are you
>withholding something? Do you expect some kind of ransom or
>reward?

MIKE: For my kid? Forget it!

> Quark: Not this time, Commander, though I wouldnt want to say I
>was above it. This time I have all our interests in mind. You see, Nog
>came home in better spirits today, and he was wearing...a new set of
>clothes.

TOM: And driving... a new car!
(Crow makes cheering noises)

> Is there supposed to be something sinister in that?
> Commander, like every Ferengi father, Ive tried to raise my boy
>right. Give him standards; pass down some wisdom. We tell our
>children, when youre suffering from a guilty conscience, whistle a
>happy tune and try to find a way to profit from what youve done.
>Nog has obviously found a way to deal with his feelings, and get his
>hands on a little swag.

ALL: Dennis Moore! Dennis Moore! Riding 'cross the land!

> I dont have to be a mind reader to put two
>and two together.

CROW: Just an abnormally smart Ferengi.

TOM: Hey, man, that's anti-Ferengi!

> We have another saying: you covet what's under your eyes.

MIKE: Your nose?

CROW: Your chin?

TOM: That little bumpy ridge above your mouth?

> Now
>Nog wouldnt ordinarily buy himself new clothes with a fresh batch
>of cash, unless he were in a clothing shop. I know the smell of the
>other dealers on this station, and I know that Cardassian tailor
>Garek is involved.

TOM: Oh, what the hey, let's bring *another* supporting character in.

CROW: Just so long as it's not another Kid's Crew...
(All shudder)

> If the Cardassians had a part in Jakes
>disappearance, this thing could rapidly go from an occurrence to a
>situation, or even to an incident.

MIKE: Or maybe even something happening!

TOM: In this story? Dream on!

> Maybe you can do something
>before that happens. If the Federation and Cardassia resume
>hostilities, this station wont change hands peacefully again.
> Thats all we know, Sisko. Fair warning. Im just acting to protect
>my own skin. I certainly wouldnt want to be in yours.

CROW: Not until we can be alone, that is...

>
> Thanks for coming over, Nog.
> What did you want, Mr. Sisko? Is there any news about Jake?
> No, but Im sure hell turn up.

MIKE: It's already here.
>Hes a pretty tough kid. I was just wondering if youd do me a favor until
he gets back.

ALL: Heh-heh-heh...

> What?
> This is his baseball glove. Its made of what we call cowhide,
>something that used to be made from animal skin.

TOM: I thought it was... oh, never mind.

>Its got to be used every day to maintain its suppleness and its shape,

MIKE: (Warning) Crow...

CROW: Too easy...

>or itll get stiff and hard to play with. It can take months to break in
>a good glove, and Im sure Jake would appreciate it if youd work
>with it so itll still be good when he gets back.

CROW: That Im is so sensitive...

TOM: He's my favorite character so far.

> Well, why dont you do it?
> My hand is too big. See, heres my glove. Youre just the right size.
>Will you do it for me?
> S...sure.
> Lets toss a couple around; Ill show you how its done. My wife
>would never let Jake and me throw the ball in the house, but I think
>now we can get away with a few.
> Slap!

TOM: (falsetto) Fresh! Don't you *ever* try that again!

> Good catch. Dont close your eyes, though.
> Slap! Whoa! A little wild, but OK. Heres another.
> Slap! Hows school coming?
> Okay, I guess.
> Slap! Jake and you study together a lot?
> Slap! Sometimes.
> Slap! Mmm, smell that leather oil when you make a good catch.
>Always makes me think of Jake. Know what I mean?
> Yes.
> Slap! Wheres Jake, Nog?
> Nog throws down the glove. Hes DEAD, okay?! Dead!

MIKE: (Sisko voice) Well, darn... Okay! Batter up!

> Kira, Odo, Dax - OBrien,

TOM: When did Dax and O'Brien get married?

>meet Lt. Primmin of Starfleet Security - heres the situation: the
>Ferengi boy Nog reports witnessing my son disintegrated by a new
>and unknown Cardassian weapon in one of the off-limits sectors of
>the station.

TOM: And I'm torn up about it.

> He smuggled this item into his quarters, and contacted
>the Cardassian Garek to extort money in exchange for keeping
>it secret, and to negotiate its resale to the Cardassian government.
>The item is now sitting in the bottom drawer of my desk,

MIKE: Under my Playboys.

> and the
>boy is under house arrest.
> Primmin: My condolences on the loss of your son, but let me
>suggest that it may be in the best interests of the Federations
>security to let this transaction go through without the Cardassians
>knowing that we ever learned about it, and get the thing off the
>station.

CROW: Oh my god! Do we actually know who's talking?

MIKE: Careful, people, it might be a trap...

> Thank you for your condolence, but I havent accepted that my son
>is dead.
>We have to make a thorough examination of what this item is and
>does in order to find out exactly what happened. Chief OBrien....

MIKE: I'm sorry, but Lieutenant Letterman is doing much better in the
ratings.

> With respect Sir, thats exactly what we cant afford to do. If this is
>a new Cardassian technology, its a state secret which we have to
>respect.

TOM: Well, we've lost the speaking voice.

> Odo: Thats a strange attitude for an intelligence agent.

TOM: No, wait...

MIKE: Somebody adjust the rabbit ears.

> Commander Sisko, I know you want to do right, but you know the
>political situation here. Its incredibly volatile. Bajor is at the
>outermost pickets of the Federations territory, but its near the
>breast

TOM: Say!

> of some of Cardassias most vital interests. Its the most febrile
>strategic point between the two powers. The only reason we were
>able to get a treaty signed is that we managed to convince an
>important faction of their military government that we were
>genuinely only interested in peace, coexistence, and detente. Salem
>One, Camp Khitomer, Narendra Three, Galorndon Kor,

MIKE: Kent State...

TOM: Chicago Democratic Convention...

CROW: Cedar Point...

MIKE and TOM: Huh?

> all our past
>history paid off for us. They believed that our offer to administer
>this system neutrally was on the level, and the compromise of
>making Bajor a nonaligned planet bought us the treaty. But
>there are major factions that will never trust us. If they get any hint
>at all that were exploiting our presence here for military advantage,
>its war again, so fast that our bodies will be cooling in space before
>we even know what happened.
> Thats what Im here for.

MIKE: He's my best officer. Thank God I brought him along.

>For every formal protocol of a treaty there are a thousand unwritten
ones.

MIKE: Like high school.

> If the Cardassians get the impression that were combing the
>wreckage of this station for military secrets, theyll go ballistic.

CROW: (surfer voice) And that would be most unrighteous, dude...

>I think your son, rest his soul, would be content with a cenotaph
>rather than a gravestone in exchange for avoiding a war.

MIKE: If he knew what a cenotaph was...

> Kira: I dont agree, Commander. If the Cardassians go back to war,
>it wont be for rational reasons. Wed be fools not to exploit every
>advantage that comes our way.
> Sisko folds his hands before him, then unfolds them, then folds
>them again.

CROW: (Sisko voice) Look, I can make a butterfly!

>He scans each face at the table, lingers at the end on Daxs eyes.

ALL: Heh heh heh...

>He brushes back his almost nonexistent hair.
> Alright, here it is. Cardassia is a long way away. Earth is even
>farther.

MIKE: And an comprehesible structure to this story? Don't even ask!

>I dont give a damn about war,

CROW: Oh, he's a Republican.

> I dont give a damn about military
>advantage.

TOM: No, he's a Democrat.

> This station is my command, and I am responsible
>for it and everything on it. It is my responsibility to find out what
happened to Jake Sisko, son or not, and not to give up until I have proof
that hes dead.

MIKE: (Sisko voice) All I want is a finger, an organ -- a peice of brain!
Is that so much to ask of you people?

>It is my responsibility to discover the function of the object and
>gauge what threat or boon it presents while it is here.

CROW: It's just a bidet!

> I will not hide
>my head in the sand and hope everything turns out okay.

TOM: Like the author of this fanfic did.

> I will
>execute

CROW: The author.

> my command and carry out my responsibilities, to the
>bitter end if necessary.
> Commander, thats unbelievably reckless.

MIKE: But that's why I love you!

> Thats command, Primmin, what Ive been trained and tempered
>for. OBrien, you will go into my office, take the object and subject it
>to a complete analysis.
> Yes, Sir.
> Odo, you will apprehend Garek and quarantine him. We will
>attempt to learn what the Cardassians know and prevent them from learning
anything more.
> Odo dips his head in his gesture of submission.

TOM: Whoa, we're getting into a whole weird area, here...

>Computer, locate the Cardassian civilian Garek.
> Garak is not aboard the station.
> Where is he?

MIKE: (computer voice) Bodysurfing off Big Sur.

> Ship manifest records indicate he was on the 0800 passenger liner
>headed for the Malenka sector.
> Bloody Hell. Well Primmin, welcome to Deep Shit Nine.

TOM: I don't remember that from the show...

CROW: Well, it's appropriate.

MIKE: HEY! (baps Crow, knocking off his headpiece)

> No? What do you mean, no?

MIKE: "No" means "no," Sisko.

CROW: It's probably the Doctor hitting on Jax again.

> I mean, I love you Ben, but I dont want to marry you.

CROW: What the hey? Are we getting riffback?

> But Jennifer, I love you too, more than Ive ever loved anything in
>my life. It seems to me that when two people love each other
>getting married is the obvious thing to do.

CROW: Next to...
(Mike glares)

CROW: Shopping!

> Oh Ben. If I were interested in marriage, I might marry you. But it
>would be a dull world if the only thing worth

TOM: ...reading was this fanfic.

> committing yourself to
>was another person. Im an artist, Ben. You said thats one of the
>things that attracted you to me. But you have to accept that Im
>serious about it;

MIKE: (Sisko voice) Im?! How can I compete with him! (Sobs)

> its not just something I do to intrigue men.

MIKE: That comes later.

> And you prefer to dedicate your life to making pots?
> You make it sound like theyre just holders for bean dip. You know
>better. Look at this Japanese piece. It has *wabi*, the wildness of the
>struggle for existence. Its bowl is bits of flimsy something trying to
>keep a purchase on the nothing it surrounds. Like the thin mold of
>life grasping on the skin of Earth with numb outer space at our back.
>The art of pottery is more than making clay knick-knacks. Its a process
of negotiating the terms of my existence with the universe.

TOM: And now, pottery subplot theatre.

>Its a motivation I feel I have to follow,

MIKE: (artsy voice) What's my motivation?

>and its more basic than the motivation to have a home and family.

TOM: (documentary-style) Anthropologists today confirmed that the urge to
make pottery is more primordial than reproduction...

> How can you negotiate the terms of your existence with the
>universe when youve never been off Earth? Come with me,

CROW: That'll be a first.

MIKE: Okay, that's one.

CROW: For what?

MIKE: For ripping off Rocky Horror.
(Crow mumbles under his breath)
> Ill
>acquaint you with the universe. You cant imagine the adventure...

TOM: Certainly not in *this* story.

> Ben, lets be realistic. In the year since Ive met you, weve really
>hardly seen each other. You can only get a furlough every few
>months. The correspondence weve had has been wonderful, but I
>hardly think were ready to get married. What do we really share?
>Everybody has the right to follow their own destiny; I respect your
>choices, even though I dont understand why anyone would want to
>join Starfleet and spend their lives in space.

MIKE: Right on!
(Bots cheer)

> I expect you to respect
>mine.

TOM: (falsetto) And stay out of my sock drawer.

> You can take me to dinner later if you want. But right now Ive got
>to teach my class. Ill see you later.
> Ben Sisko clutches the tiny box containing the ring. He sits on a
>bench and hangs his head low. He stares at the ochre color of his
jumpsuit sleeves and feels real despair.

TOM: As he reads this fanfic...

> Excuse me, Mr. Sisko?
> Hmm...uh, what?
> Sorry, Sir. Im Alan Ruck, Im in Miss Jennifers pottery class. I was
>hoping to talk with you because, well, youre the only Starfleet
>officer I know. Do you have a minute?
> Sure. Sure, I guess I do have a minute.
> See Sir, I want to apply to Starfleet Academy. But my parents dont
>want me to go into the service, and the Academy says I have to get
>their permission before my application is considered. I was hoping
>you could give me some advice, and maybe talk to my parents. You
>can show them you dont have to be crazy to want to join Starfleet.

MIKE: And if not, can I borrow that disintegrating ball thing?

> Yeah, well, Ive got news for you kid....

TOM: There's not much advancement in Starfleet for potters.

> Jennifer keeps saying everyone has the right to follow their own
>path. I figured you feel the same way, being her boyfriend and all.
> Did she tell you to come talk to me?
> No, I havent mentioned this to her yet.
> In that case, come here.

MIKE: Sit on my lap.

>Yes, okay. I have a plan. If you really want to get into the Academy,
>youll do what I say. Now...listen carefully - heres what I want you to
>do.
> Ben learns that despair is just hope with bad lighting.

TOM: What--the hell--does *that* mean?

MIKE: Let's get out of here...

CROW: Wait there's more...

MIKE: Jeez... AOL, man...

>----------------------- Headers -----------------------
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Path:
>search01.news.aol.com!hp81.prod.aol.net!uunet!mdisea!lego.wes.mot.c
>om!macdyn6_226.pb.wes.mot.com!user
>From: cr...@applelink.apple.com (Cream)
>Subject: DS9: The Way Of Harmony(1/3)
>Message-ID: <cream-
>050494100933@macdyn6_226.pb.wes.mot.com
>
>Followup-To: alt.startrek.creative

TOM: Creative. Ha!

>Sender: ro...@wes.mot.com (Operator)
>Nntp-Posting-Host: macdyn6_226.pb.wes.mot.com
>Organization: Computer X
>Date: Tue, 5 Apr 1994 15:16:46 GMT
>Lines: 447

MIKE: Let's go...
(On the bridge)

TOM: You know, Mike, that fanfic really wouldn't have been that bad,
except it was missing apostrophes and we had no idea who was talking.

CROW: Yeah, no Ratliffian plot holes...

TOM: Not that many misspellings.

CROW: And most importantly, no Kid's Crew!

TOM: And yet, I still want to blow my brains out.

MIKE: Hmm, that's neat. You guys want these? I found them in the 'fridge.
(Mike pulls out a box of RAM chips. Bots look at Mike. Pause)

CROW: Aren't you going to ask us to come up with something good about the
experiment?

MIKE: Why would I do that? Dig in! What do you think, sirs?
(Bots go nuts. Cut to Deep 13. Dr. F and Frank are drinking coffee.)
Dr. F.: This tastes funny, Frank, did you put cream in it?
FRANK: Well, I couldn't find any cream so I used this special
Cream@applelink substitute I found.
DR. F.: You did what? Do you realize what that stuff does? It breaks down
all sense of dialogue.
FRANK: Oh, dont be ridiculous, Dr. F. Thats impossible. It couldnt happen.
No, you dont understand, Frank! Ive seen this stuff in action! Its
horrible!
Well, whatre we going to do?
I dont know... why dont you just go ahead and push the button, and Ill
get the belt sander for your face.
Okay, Steve.
(Pwoosh!)

THE CREDITS:
'Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations
are trademarks of and (c) 1995 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.'
'Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks
held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.'
My thanks to the original author of the story. This MiSTing was all in
good fun, and should not be viewed as an attack on him/her.
Keep circulating the posts...

> TIE fighters at two oclock!