MSTed: Aliens & TNG
Brian Henderson
<Int. SoL>
Mike: Hello everyone. My name is Mike Nelson and these are my bots. We're
stranded up here in space and forced to read really bad Usenet
articles.
Crow: Thank you, Mr. Exposition.
Mike: Anyhow, we're expecting a call from the evil scientists who keep us
up here in just a minute. They'll make fun of us, torture us, and
make our lives awful. Just watch and see.
Tom: Have we ever thought of suing them?
Mike: Quiet, Barney and Baby Bop are calling. [Hits button]
<Int. Deep 13>
Forrester: Good morning. I'm Dr. Clayton Forrester and I'll be your evil
influence. Ha ha ha.
<Int. SoL>
Mike: You're sure in a good mood this morning.
<Int. Deep 13>
Forrester: Frank has graciously offered to make me a special breakfast this
morning, and I was just so... touched... no one has ever done that
for me before. >sniff<. How's it coming, Frank?
Frank: Just fine, Clay. Soon, you'll be feasting on TV's Frank's Mother's
famous omlette. [Frank drives by in the background with a forklift.
On the pallet are gigantic eggs.]
Forrester: Anyhow, your article this week is called "Aliens vs. TNG" and
is about... well... Aliens and TNG. Hope you enjoy...
[Frank goes running past with something attached to his face.]
<Int. SoL>
All: Aliens *AND* TNG?!?!?!?! ARRRRRGGGG We've got Usenet sign!!!!
<Int. Theatre>
>Organization: Freshman, Mathematics, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA
>Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!darwin.sura.net!udel!roch
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Crow: Something tells me they need to rename the group. There is nothing
creative there.
>Message-ID: <ody63JK00...@andrew.cmu.edu>
>Date: Fri, 24 Apr 1992 15:26:13 -0400
>From: Sachin Anand Mhaskar <sm...@andrew.cmu.edu>
Tom: Is this guy supposed to be Vulcan or something?
Mike: Nanu Nanu.
>Subject: Aliens vs TNG
>Lines: 331
Tom: Waste of Bandwidth: 331.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Well, after reading the Galactica meets Enterprise by Jeff Standish,
Crow: I decided to rip off the idea and claim mine was original.
>I decided to write something myself, based on this "vs." idea that origi-
>nated in the rec.arts.startrek newsgroup. I have in mind to make this a
>3 or 4 part story, but if there is no response to it, then the story will
>end here.
Crow: I hope he meant _positive_ response, otherwise I think we're
responsible if this goes anywhere.
> This story is not for the squeamish (hah, that's a joke. My
>writing is nowhere near Steven King's nor Clive Barker's, so you don't
>have to worry!).
All: We weren't worried... <sigh>
> I reserve the right to use an SPD (Stupid Plot Device)
>whenever I feel it is necessary (such as explaining loose ends :^) ), and
>please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Anyway, enjoy, and
>please let me know what you think!
Mike: Great. SPDs being used in BTFs (Bad Trek Fanfics).
Crow: In his BVDs.
Tom: ROTFL.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> The Aliens meet The Next Generation
> by
> Chet "Cheesehead" Cuaresma
Mike: Shoulda known the Mads would send us something by "Cheesehead".
Tom: Sort of figures, really.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Captain's Log: StarDate 43451.2. By traveling through the Xenophobic
>star system,
Mike: What a wonderful name for a system. Now we need the U.S.S. Starship,
commanded by Captain Captain.
> an unexplored section of the Federation, our sensors have lo-
>cated what appears to be another starship, drifting ever so slowly through
>space. We are dropping out of warp to intercept and make possible contact
>with the ship.
Crow: After which we'll party like it's 1999.
> Picard looked up to see the streaking stars
Crow: Alright! A dirty story!
> on the viewscreen come to
>a halt as he completed his log entry. In the center of the screen was a
>ship, growing steadily larger as the Enterprise moved closer to greet the
>vessel.
Tom: <Beep> <Beep> "Hi!"
> "Open hailing frequencies, Mr. Worf," said Captain Picard, a twinge of
>curiosity in his voice.
> The tall Klingon silently depressed a key
Mike: I knew this was bad, but even the keys are depressed!
> to comply with the Captain's
>orders. It was less than a second when his low, baritone voice replied
>tersely, "Open."
> "Unknown starship, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard commanding the Fe-
>deration starship Enterprise. Our intentions are of a peaceful nature.
Crow: (as Picard) "And we'll have you home by midnight."
>Please, respond." Picard just stood there for a few moments, waiting for
>a response. When none came, he tried to contact them a second time, again
>resulting in silence.
> "Data, any life form readings?"
Tom: (as Data) "No sir... oops... I was scanning *OUR* ship!"
> Data looked at his console quickly, then replied to the Captain. "Our
>sensors do detect humanoid life form readings from the ship, sir. The ship
>appears to be equipped with some sort of fusion drive, which is supplying
>only enough power to maintain normal life support conditions and a few other
>sub-systems. The ship's design is similar to that of Earth vessels used in
>the 21st Century where..."
Mike: (as Data) "They wrote terrible fanfics about bad TV series..."
> "Thank you, Mr. Data," said Picard, realizing that Data was about to
>go off on another tangent other than the question he had asked. He turned
>around to face Troi, who was already concentrating on the ship. "Counselor,
>what do you sense over there?"
Crow: Millions of voices, suddenly silenced. There has been a great
disturbance in the Force.
> Troi stared intently at the viewscreen, a look of puzzlement appearing
>across her face. "I sense...despair, fear, and...death. Sir, these people
>want to die...they embrace it openly...no hope..." Deanna Troi looked as
>if she was going to faint. Picard quickly reached over and held her in
>place. Troi looked up at him and smiled. "Its okay, sir. I'm fine, now.
>Their emotions were so overwhelming..." Troi shook her head.
> "Why do they feel this way?" Commander Riker asked, turning in his
>chair to face the Counselor.
Mike: (as Troi) "Because they're on a dead-end show and can't get out of
their contracts. I often feel the same way."
> They know that they are going to die, and they feel that nothing
>can change that. I just don't know what..." Troi looked back at the
>ship.
Tom: It's behind her? What is going on here?
> Picard followed the Counselor's gaze, returning to face the view-
>screen. Beside him, Riker appeared, getting up from his seat to also
>stare at the ship. It has a hypnotic quality about it, Riker thought.
Mike: As Riker popped some acid and watched the colors...
> Everybody on the bridge just stood there, looking at the object that
>was transfixed on the viewscreen. Seconds passed.
Tom: Until the director whispered the next line to Picard.
> "Ensign Crusher," Picard said, quickly cutting through the silence
>that was beginning to spread throughout the bridge. "Bring us within
>transporter range of the vessel." The young lad simply replied, "Aye",
>as Picard turned to face his First Officer. "Number One, I do believe
>this incident warrants an investigation."
> "Agreed. Permission to assemble an away team?"
Mike: (as Picard) "Arts and crafts time later, Number One."
> "Granted." Picard began to walk over to his seat.
> Commander Riker nodded, then started to select his away team members.
>"Worf, Data, come with me. Doctor Crusher, your presence is requested for
>away team duty."
> From out of nowhere came a voice, a voice that was distinctly familiar
>to all the bridge crew. "Understood."
Crow: And it turns out to be Ed McMahon!
Mike: You may already have won the Starship Enterprise!
> The doors to the turbolift closed slowly, concealing the members of
>the away team as they were being wisked away to the transporter room. Pi-
>card returned to looking at the viewscreen, staring inquisitively at the
>vessel as the Enterprise continued to close the gap that was between them.
> "Picard to transporter room."
> "Transporter room, O'Brien here." Good, our best transporter opera-
>tor, Picard thought.
Tom: (as Picard) "Isn't he a million light years away on a space station?
Oh well..."
> "Prepare to transport the away team over to the ship. And O'Brien?"
> "Sir?"
Crow: (as Picard) "Can you come to my cabin later?"
Mike: Crow!
> "Beam them out of there at the first sign of trouble."
> "Acknowledged." The communication channel closed.
> Picard sat back in his chair, his eyes trying to pry loose whatever
>secrets the ship was hiding. Why did he get the feeling that Riker and
>his away team were walking into a death trap?
Tom: Wishful thinking?
> Five glimmers of light appeared in a darkened corridor, shedding light
>to an otherwise dead ship. As the light grew in intensity, five figures
>began to form, slowly evolving
Crow: Back into primordial ooze...
> as Riker, Data, Worf, Dr. Crusher and her
>assistant, Ensign Ripley, began to look around. The corridor was barely
>lighted, but lighted enough so that the away team could make out the cor-
>ridor's many twists and turns. Riker surveyed the area slowly, taking in
>everything he could see, and boy, was it a mess. Metal grating was seen
>dangling from various points along the corridor wall, as were pipes and
>a variety of other objects. Poor maintenance? Riker quickly threw that
>idea out of his head as he ventured forward to survey the rest of the cor-
>ridor.
> Worf moved ever so slowly, looking intently for any hidden weapons or
>surprises that may endanger the away team. Indeed, it looked as if a
>battle had waged itself throughout this whole corridor, Worf thought. He
>wondered if the rest of the ship was like this, when something caught his
>eye. "Commander."
> Riker turned from his current position, and walked over to where Lieu-
>tenant Worf stood. "What is it, Lieutenant?"
Crow: (as Worf) "I need to go potty..."
> "Take a look at this." Riker knelt down to examine the hole that Worf
>was pointing his flashlight through. Besides this hole, there were other
>holes, directly below the one he was looking at. Each of these holes seemed
>to go through many levels of the ship, Riker thought. He then looked up, and
>saw more holes directly above his position. What did this?
Tom: Sorry... beans for dinner...
> "Commander." Beverly was studying her tricorder rather seriously,
>as if hoping the thing would give her more information. "Life signs,
>in that direction." She pointed opposite of where Lt. Commander Data
>stood. Data was looking at what appeared to be some sticky substance
>that was on the floor.
Crow: I can't touch that one with a ten foot pole.
Mike: If you did, you'd get time-outs for a month!
> "Alright, let's go," said Riker,
Crow: I think someone already did!
Mike: That's it... you're in trouble!
> who was gesturing everyone to walk
>towards his direction. "Doctor, you lead the way."
Tom: (as Beverly) "But I'm not wearing red."
> Beverly nodded, as she and the rest of the team adventured forward.
>In what seemed an eternity, they traversed endless corridors until they
>reached a door which the Doctor's tricorder did indicate was in the
>direction of the life signs. As they were going to open the door,
>Riker's combadge chirped.
Tom: His insignia does birdcalls?
> "Riker here," he said,
Mike: Where else would he be?
> motioning everybody to stop what they were
>doing.
Crow: As the crew fell over because they had stopped breathing.
> "You had us worried, Number One," Picard said. "We were expecting you
>to contact us quickly, but I guess this expedition is turning out to be a
>real puzzle." Picard's tone of voice was filled with concern.
Crow: Tricorders are expensive.
> "You're right about that, sir," Riker replied, slowly surveying the
>area around him. "The ship is a real mess, akin to Mr. Worf's descrip-
>tion, as if a battle was waged throughout it's interior."
Tom: What, is Riker a telepath now? Worf only THOUGHT that!
> Riker looked
>at Worf, who was now examining the door. "We are just about to check
>out the life signs on the ship."
> "Do you require any assistance?" Picard said, who sounded relieved
>that nothing had happened to the away team.
Mike: (as Riker) "Can you beam me to another show?"
> "Not yet, sir, but I'll let you know."
> "Be careful, Number One. Keep me posted. Picard out."
Tom: Of his mind... can we get out of here.
6...5...4...3...2...1...<>
[CC finally realizes that Ab Fab sucks. And there was much rejoicing...]
<Int. SoL>
Tom: Sheesh, Mike, do you think this Sachin person speaks English?
Mike: It seems pretty good to me. He knows how to capitalize, he can
spell, and the words almost make sense in the order he puts them.
Crow: That's what we mean! People who write Star Trek fanfics don't know
how to spell or write. He's got to be an imposter.
Tom: I think he's an AI program with an oversized thesaurus.
Crow: He uses too many big words!
Tom: It just doesn't flow like he understands what he is doing!
Crow: Besides that, who is this "Cheesehead" guy? Did Chet write this or
did Sachin? I just don't understand.
Mike: And it's best we keep it that way. We have Usenet sign.
[Mike hits button]
1...2...3...4...5...6...
<Int. Theatre>
> Riker centered his attention on the door. Data was hovering over
>some panel to the side of the door, examining it with his tricorder.
> "Will it open the door?" Riker asked Data, who folded up his tri-
>corder and turned to face the First Officer.
Mike: No, but this doorknob might do something.
> "It should, sir. I could detect nothing wrong with its circuitry as
>I scanned it with my tricorder." Data again looked at the panel.
> "Proceed then, Data." Riker stepped back from the door, motioning
>Dr. Crusher and Ensign Ripley behind him, while Worf took out his phaser,
>and stood just a few feet from the left side of the door. Data depressed
>something on the panel. The doors slid open.
> What appeared before them was something of a shock.
Mike: It was a Trekkie convention. They had walked in on a discussion
group on the size of Deanna Troi's breasts.
Tom: (disgusted) That's not too surprising...
> Beyond the door
>was another corridor, but one that was very different than the ones they
>were traversing before. Along either side of the corridor was a material
>that Riker couldn't make out; it looked organic in nature, and standing
>from the door and looking ahead, it seemed as if the corridor was alive.
Mike: With the sound of music.
>The material seemed to glisten as Worf's flashlight shone itself alongside
>the walls of the corridor.
> "The life signs are indicated in that direction?" said Ensign Ripley,
>a hint of fear in her voice as she pointed her finger in the direction of
>the corridor.
> "Uh-huh," Beverly said. "That's what the tricorder indicates."
> "Okay, everybody, let's go in," Riker said, his stern voice of com-
>mand seemingly bringing everybody out of a trance. "I'll take the lead,
>followed by Data, the Doctor and the Ensign.
Mike: The millionaire and his wife...
> Worf, you take the rear."
>Riker took out his phaser, and stepped forward into the corridor.
> They moved slowly, taking in everything as they walked closer and
>closer to the life signs mentioned by the Doctor's tricorder. The corridor
>seemed to expand wider as they continued their journey through the ship.
>Riker began to wonder whether this was all a dream, when Data got his atten-
>tion. Riker stopped moving forward, and turned to face Data, who was
>fingering some substance he took from the walls. "What is it, Data?"
Crow: (as Data) "Snot."
Mike: Ewwwww. Crow!
> "Sir, this is the same substance I found on the floor when we first
>arrived on the ship." Data continued to examine the substance, which
>looked like a collection of transparent fibers. It was similar to what
>Data had seen earlier on the ship.
> "A connection?" Riker asked.
> "Possibly. But the connection eludes me." Data dropped the sub-
>stance to the floor.
Crow: It bounced once and floated away.
Mike: Wow... flubber!
> Before they could even move, a sound erupted from somewhere ahead.
>It sounded unearthly, similar to the shriek of a wounded animal, but as
>to what the animal was, that was uncertain. It echoed throughout the
>corridor for what was an eternity, then faded into nothingness. A shiver
>ran down Riker's spine, as he thought of beaming back to the ship.
Tom: He knew they were having spinach fondue for dinner tonight.
> Star-
>fleet training quickly took over, however, and Riker was soon motioning
>the rest of the group forward.
Tom: As he got behind them. Riker ain't no fool.
> The corridor deposited them into a large chamber that was just a
>bit wider than the Enterprise's main bridge. The ceiling, however, was
>much higher than Federation starship designers would ever allow. Perhaps
>the most shocking thing in the chamber were the bodies found decorating
>the walls.
Mike: Something tells me these people need to get a professional
interior decorator...
> Some were decaying bodies, with large gaps found in their
>chest region.
Crow: Or was it their area?
> Others appeared to be alive, but in some sort of comatose
>state. They appeared to be encased in that same organic substance that
>decorated the corridor they had just traveled through. Those same fibers
>that Data had picked up before seemed to intertwine with their bodies.
>Riker began to wonder what could have caused those gaps.
Mike: (as Riker) "Gee, what could have caused those huge holes in their
chests? Hmmm... wonder if it's dangerous... duh..."
> "Please, help me." It was a soft voice, behind where Dr. Crusher
>stood. Immediately, she turned around.
> "God in heaven," she said,
Tom: Oh, come on. Any trekkie knows that all TNG characters are atheists.
> as she ran toward the wall where a little
>boy was hanging from, the transparent fibers seemingly holding him in place.
>Data got to the boy before the Doctor did, and began to tear away the organic
>substance that covered most of his body.
Tom: And in his haste, ripped the kid's head off.
Mike: (as Data) "Whoops!"
> Riker and Worf ran over to assist
>Data in his endeavor. As Dr. Crusher ran a diagnostic wand over the boy's
>body, he passed out.
Mike: Was he supposed to do that?
Tom: She didn't say the magic words! Abra Cadabra!
> "How is he, Doctor?" Riker asked.
Crow: The kid is crazy glued to the wall in the middle of a morgue, and
they ask how he is?
> "From the looks of things, the boy hasn't had anything to eat in
>weeks. He'll be fine, but I'll have to get him back to the Enterprise.
>I just don't...WHAT is THAT!?"
Crow: (as Riker) "Doctor, you've had children... you should have seen one
of those before."
> Riker turned around. The object that caught the good Doctor's atten-
>tion was oval-shaped, and looked just like an egg, except that it had a flat
>base.
Tom: Uh oh... mutation!
> "Data," he said simply, motioning the android to where he was stand-
>ing. "Come take a look at this."
> Data moved over to the First Officer's position, and began to ana-
>lyze it with his tricorder.
> "Well?" Riker was just as curious as the Lt. Commander in de-
>termining what the object before them was. "What do you make of it?"
Crow: I can make a broach, or a pterydactyl...
> Before Data could even reply, the egg opened up slowly, hiding
>something that appeared to be moving around in its interior. Data moved
>his head slightly forward to see what is was.
> "Careful, Data," Riker cautioned, "we don't know it..."
> Something jumped.
Mike: It was Brent Spiner's agent...
> It was lightening fast, whatever it was, and all Riker could see
>was a blur. He was going to shove Data aside...when he saw that Data
>had grabbed the thing in midair before it hit the android in the face.
>Great reflexes, Riker thought.
Crow: (as Riker) "Saaaay, Data, want to stop by my cabin later?"
> The creature appeared to resemble a spider, which still wasn't an
>accurate description of the life form. It's legs were moving about
>furiously, as if trying to grab hold of something other than Data's
>hands. The tail of the creature was lashing about, trying to wrap
>itself around anything for support.
> "Most intriguing, Commander," Data said, his child-like curiousity
>taking over the features of his face. "Notice the tubular projection
>from the base of the creature. I believe it is trying to attach itself
>to my face, for reasons I do not know. The creature is remarkable si-
>milar..."
Mike: (as Riker) "It's called a french kiss, Data."
> "Save it, Data," Riker cut in, in a tone of voice that found the
>creature unappealing.
Crow: Does this person speak English? His *TONE OF VOICE* found the
creature unappealing?
> He pointed over to a corner of the chamber.
>"Throw it in that corner over there, and I'll stun it."
Tom: Wonderful diplomacy there, Riker. Ever stop to consider that it might
not *LIKE* being thrown in the corner and stunned to submission?
> Data complied, throwing the creature in the corner that Riker men-
>tioned. As it hit the ground, RIker fired his phaser and hit it dead
>on. The creature remained still, and Riker thought about putting his
>phaser away, when it started to move toward them. He tried again, hit-
>ting the creature. The creature seemed to shrug it off as it continued
>to advance toward the group with increased speed. It was ready to jump
>when, from another direction, a beam of light hit the creature. It slowly
>faded away into nothingness.
Mike: Or blown into a million pieces?
> Riker turned in the direction of the shot. Worf was standing there,
>next to Ensign Ripley, and was looking at where the creature once stood. He
>then looked up at Commander Riker.
Crow: (as Worf) "Sorry Commander, I was aiming at you..."
> "I thought you could use a little help," he simply stated, as he put
>away his phaser.
> "Thanks."
Tom: So much for the Prime Suggestion.
> "Over here." It was Ensign Ripley, motioning Dr. Crusher over to
>join her. Ripley was already removing the organic material from some-
>one who was still alive when Doctor Crusher arrived.
> "It's alright. We're here to help you." Beverly smiled.
Mike: Just like the government...
> What he said next was something the good Doctor was not expecting to
>hear. "Please, kill me."
Tom: "I'm in this really awful Star Trek crossover, you see..."
> Beverly looked into the eyes of the man, whose eyes did not betray
>his true feelings, or the words he had just said. He really wanted to
>die, Beverly thought. She wondered why when his body started to con-
>vulse. He was in agony, thrashing wildly about, almost knocking Ripley
>and Dr. Crusher over. Beverly was about to reach for her hypo, when
>something happened.
Crow: It's about time.
> His body arced upward as blood started to erupt outward from his
>chest region. It seemed to fall apart, as if something was smashing up-
>ward through his chest, and a large gaping hole began to form.
Crow: Ahhhh! Premature eruption!
Mike: CROW!!!!!
> Worf shoved the Doctor and the Ensign out of the way as something
>came forward through the hole. It shrieked loudly, the same shriek
>that the away team had heard in the corridor, struggling to free itself
>from the confines of its host. It looked like a worm, but when the Klingon
>saw its hands and feet, he quickly dismissed it.
Mike: (as Worf) "Ok, Mr. Alien, you can go now."
> The alien thrashed wildly
>about, reveling in the blood that splashed all around it, when it sensed the
>security officer. The alien flashed it's teeth at Worf, as if proud of what
>it had just done. Worf could have sworn that it was smiling.
> The alien hissed at him as Worf pulled out his phaser. His mind was
>racing in a variety of directions, bringing him to memories he once remembered
>as a child that told of a similar creature, a creature that ate the flesh of
>living beings, a destroyer of worlds. It was...evil.
Crow: Evil I tell you! Ah hah ha ha ha ha!
> His eyes focused upon the alien in full detail. It looked as it it
>were laughing.
> "Die," he said, as the creature and its host vanished from sight.
Mike: No phaser or anything, he just says die and they both vanish...
Crow: Neat trick.
> Riker had seen all this as it had transpired around him, when he
>realized the purpose of the chamber. He felt like hitting himself,
Crow: But Worf was faster...
>thinking that he should have figured out this whole mess a lot sooner.
> "Worf, Data, everybody. Stand by for immediate transport." Riker hit
>his combadge, which chirped in acknowledgement. "Enterprise, this is Com-
>mander Riker. Six..."
Mike: (as Riker) "pack of Zima, beamed to my location please."
> Suddenly, all hell broke loose.
6...5...4...3...2...1...<>
[Penn Jillette explodes. Hurray.]
<Int. SoL>
[Crow is suspended by webbing from the wall. Red lights are flashing and
steam is everywhere. Tom enters wearing a bandolier of bombs, with a
flamethrower slung over his back.]
Tom: Crow! Where are you?
Crow: (weakly) Kill me... kill me...
Tom: I'm coming... whatever you do... stay alive!
[A giant egg comes on from off-stage.]
Tom: Aaaah... what is it?
[The egg splits open and Gypsy pops out.]
Tom and Crow: Aaarggggggggggggggggggggg!
Tom: I'll... [struggles]... I'll... I'd save you, but my arms are completely
useless!
[Gypsy falls over on button...]
1...2...3...4...5...6
<Int. Theater>
> "Away team, come in!" Picard immediately bolted up from his chair,
>eyes staring keenly on the ship that the Enterprise was investigating.
>"Transporter room, beam them up, now!"
> O'Brien's voice came through the bridge speakers, his voice filled
>with worry. "Sir, I can't get a transporter lock on them.
Mike: (as O'Brien) "It's a plot device, I'm sorry Captain."
> They're
>moving!"
> Picard's mind began to fill up with feelings of despair, feeling utter-
>ly helpless as the situation on the ship out there was deterioating rapidly.
>What the devil is going on, he thought. He turned to face Counselor Troi.
Crow: (as Picard) "Put some clothes on, Councelor... you're on the bridge!"
> Troi obviously sensed what question the Captain was going to ask,
>for she replied with the answer. "They are very afraid, sir, and in dan-
>ger. As to what the danger is that they feel, I'm afraid I couldn't say."
Tom: She's a *BIG* help...
>Troi's eyes revealed the exact same feelings that Picard felt, and seemed
>to reach into his soul, searching for that inner fire and strength that all
>starship Captains carried with them, hoping to gain support from it, and
>finding none there. Picard felt ashamed.
Mike: If I was in this thing, I'd be ashamed too...
> Turning around to face the viewscreen, Picard quickly did an about
>face with his emotions; feelings of despair were replaced by shining
>examples of hope, and Picard knew that he would get the away team safely
>out of danger, and home.
Tom: Yes, Picard is a manic/depressive whose emotions change at the drop
of a hat... These are the people who Starfleet puts in command of
their warships.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Does the away team stand a chance against the Aliens?
Crow: No, they're all doomed.
> Will Captain
>Picard rescue his comrades in time?
Mike: Hopefully not.
> Is Wesley Crusher a dork, or the key
>to this whole story?
Tom: You need to ask?
> Or will I use the SPD to get them out to safety?
Mike: This is Star Trek... what else can you do?
> HECK, WHO THE HELL KNOWS!! :^)
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike: Who the hell cares? What do you think sirs?
<Int. Deep 13>
Forrester: Not bad, not bad...
Frank: Clay, I don't feel so well...
Forrester: Not now, dingleberry. So, Mike...
[Frank starts to shake and a chest-burster... uh... bursts through his
chest. Blood sprays everywhere, covering Forrester.]
Forrester: I have to go, boobie. I think Frank... um... needs me.
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/ | \
/ | \
>From: Sachin Anand Mhaskar <sm...@andrew.cmu.edu>
> I reserve the right to use an SPD (Stupid Plot Device)
>whenever I feel it is necessary (such as explaining loose ends :^) ), and
>please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors.
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/ \ Brian Henderson - MiSTie at Large #43521 / \
\ / "I wanna decide who lives and who dies!" Crow \ /
| - | Internet: Brian.H...@ectech.com | - |
| = | FIDO: 1:207/241 RIME: #687 | = |
TURN DOWN YOUR LIGHTS
(Where Applicable)
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* * * "Instant theatre! I love it!" -- TV's Frank, MST3K
* RM 1.3 * Eval Day 0 *