[MiSTied] Darkest Days part 5

[Claye Hodge]

[SOL]

TOM: Mike, Star Trek wasn't.. well, isn't that bad of a show. If you want
to include Deep Space Nine into the discussion, although most of its
storyline is very dry.
MIKE: I know that, Tom. What I'm talking about are these people who go to
the conventions and dress up as the characters, but aren't entered in
the costume contests or if there weren't any contests they still
dress up. Along with these clubs that are around, Klingon Camp, AND
let's not forget the various newsgroups on Usenet such as
alt.startrek.creative. I like Star Trek myself, but don't you think
that this is above the norm??
CROW: I see what you mean, Mike. It isn't just Star Trek. There's Dr.Who,
The X-Files, and other shows that have this kind of stuff too. Did
you even know that there's a group of tv show fans who make fun of
Usenet postings???
[Mike and Tom look at Crow, then to each other.]
TOM: Ahem, uh... yeah, whatever Crow. You're right, Mike. That kind of stuff
IS a little bit crazy.
[All of a sudden Mike, the bots, and the bridge almost go vertical, like
the special effect seen on Star Trek; The Original Series.]
ALL: WOOOOOAAAAAAAAHHH!
MIKE: CAMBOT! GIVE ME ROCKET NUMBER NINE! PRONTO!
[Beside the Satellite of Love is a small flimsy, and cheaply made version
of a Federation Starship you'd see on Star Trek, TNG or DS9.]
TOM:[during outer image of the SOL.] What is that thing?
[interior.]
MIKE: Hey, something's coming up on the Hexfield viewscreen.
[Hexfield viewscreen opens. There are two guys, one who is wearing a blue
Star Trek;TOS uniform, and fake Vulcan ears. The other one is wearing a
visor, like LaForge's, and a red Star Trek;TNG uniform which, either is too
thin, or he's chubby to the point of seeing his gut sticking out.]
VULCAN: We come in peace, we only wish to greet you fellow travelers.
MIKE: Well, uh.. Hi. Where are you from?
CHUBBY GUY: We are from Vulcan.
CROW: You mean, there really is life on other planets?!?
VULCAN: Well... uh... no, we're really from Earth. We use the planet Vulcan
as the name of our fan group's home planet.
TOM: Fan group? Uh.. hehehe..
CROW:[to Mike.] Here is exactly what you were talking about, Mike.
VULCAN: You dare mock us, man of metal??
MIKE: NO, no.. uh, He wasn't mocking you, WERE you Crow?[Puts hand on Crow's
shoulder.]
CROW:[nervously.] AH! No, no.. I wasn't mocking you at all.
TOM: So, um.. Do you think you could help us down to Earth?
MIKE:[quietly to Tom.] Tom, come on! You know that the satellite is two or
three times bigger than that ship.
CHUBBY GUY: No.
TOM: Yeah, you're probably right. Our ship is bigger than yours, and it
would probably need more power to get us down.
VULCAN: You dare make fun of us, because of the size of our ship???
MIKE: No, no, no.. He was just saying that our satellite is bigger than
your ship, and in order to take us home. Your ship would need a lot
more power to carry us.
VULCAN: Ooohhh.. So, NOW you think that we are powerless. We shall see about
that! Lieutenant, change the course heading to directly towards that
ship.
MIKE: NO! Wait! We were only..
CHUBBY GUY: But Sir?
VULCAN: SILENCE! DO IT! Engage to Warp 8!
MIKE: NO! STOP!! You'll never survive!!
[hexfield viewscreen closes.]
MIKE: Cambot, Rocket Number Nine!!
[Exterior. We see the Starship turning towards the satellite, and then it
goes forward, crashing into the satellite. The Starship disappears in a
quick flash of light, flash paper.]
[Interior.]
CROW: Way to go Mike.
MIKE: You're the one that got him emotional!
TOM: Oh sure.. Blame it on the robots, Mike.
[post sign lights flash.]
MIKE: OHHH WE'VE GOT POST SIGN!!!!!

7...6...5...4...3...2...1...

[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]

MIKE: Crow, You're the one that had to say they reminded you of fans who
go over the edge.
CROW: But, you're the one who told them that we had more power.
TOM: Guys. Guys! Come on, let's just get this post over with.

>Path:
news1.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!das-news2.harvard.edu!casaba.srv
cs.cmu.edu!nntp.club.cc.cmu.edu!godot.cc.duq.edu!news.duke.edu!news-feed-1.peac
hnet.edu!gatech!howland.reston.ans.net!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.umbc.edu!usene
t
>From: Praetor Corbett <sco...@gl.umbc.edu>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: STAR TREK : DARKEST DAYS (5)
>Date: Fri, 4 Nov 1994 16:19:55 -0500

MIKE: Well, we now see what she does on weekends.
TOM: OHhhoohhh.. POW!! Good one, Mike.

>Organization: University of Maryland, Baltimore County
>Lines: 144
>Message-ID: <Pine.SGI.3.90.941101...@umbc8.umbc.edu>

CROW: Is this what they call stardates?

>NNTP-Posting-Host: f-umbc8.umbc.edu
>Mime-Version: 1.0
>Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
>X-Sender: sco...@umbc8.umbc.edu
>
>
>
> [BEGIN PART V]

TOM: Starring Marc Singer.

>
>
> CHAPTER SEVEN
>
>
> "Task Force Alpha has begun to take shape in orbit above Golondin

MIKE: From a trapezoid into a square.

>'Cor, Admiral." the officer said, troubled by the fact that most of those
>on the ships in the task force weren't going to be coming home.

TOM:[panting.] Boy, THAT was a mouthful.

> "Inform the Fleet Museum that that warp core is ready to be lifted

CROW: Into the new display, it's going to look FABULOUS.

>in," Admiral Necheyev said back to the young Bolian officer. She had full
>control of every aspect of the mission,

MIKE: Except her bodily functions.

> and her own fate, the reason she
>decided to stay behind and let Jean-Luc take it.

TOM: Because she's a tired, old, lazy bum, and she knows it.

> He really doesn't like
>me, she thought, Good, all the better.

CROW: Oh, so this DID have to do with getting rid of Picard.

> And she meant it.
> "Aye, Admiral. Transmitting message, now.".

TOM:[Necheyev] Captain Picard?
MIKE:[Picard] Yes?
TOM:[Necheyev] I gave you this mission because this is all the better of
getting rid of your pompass self.
MIKE:[Picard] Oh, well thank.. ut.. tha. uhh.. HEY!

>
> *** *** ***
>
> Ben Sisko slid down the back of the couch, he was exhausted by

CROW: Crushing his spine and ripping his pants in the process.

>the drills and inspections he had given, by StarFleet order of course.

MIKE: Of course.

>These are dangerous times, he thought, and everyone in danger, here, is

TOM: WOW! FOUR commas in one sentence. Amazing!

>my responciblity. Damn.
> The chiming of the door brought Sisko back to reality, from the

CROW: I wish we had something like that to bring US back to reality.

>dreamy state he had been sliding into. Damn, he thought. "Yes," he said,
>"Come."
> The door slid open, in the light of the hall was silloquetted a

TOM: SilloQUETTED???
CROW: Everything seems to be sliding in this fanfic.

>tall, bulky figure that the commander didn't recognize. He couldn't see a
>face. "Commander Sisko?"
> "Yes, what can I do for you?" was all he could say. There was no

MIKE: That was the only thing he could say, he hasn't gotten that Hooked
on Phonics program he ordered, yet.

>worry of possible attack, he had Odo issue a secret officer to each
>person on the station that seemed even remotely sispicious. He sat up a

TOM: It's sad, really. All of these spelling errors.

>little straighter, but made no move toward the individual.
> "Commander...I have some information you may need..." the

CROW: Call this toll-free number, and you'll get a free walkman set with
your order.

>individual said in a raspy tone. He was obviously using something to
>disguise his voice, and doing a damned good job at it too.

TOM: Why??? Because he was using the Jack Palance Impersonator Kit!
MIKE: Misssssssed Caaaaall..

> "And what might that be?" Ben asked. This is getting interesting,

CROW: No it isn't.

>he thought. And here I am half a sleep, and barely paying attention.

TOM: Saaay, that sounds like a good idea. What do you think Crow?
CROW: I like it.
MIKE: Hehehe..

> "It has become known to those on 'the other side' that the Borg
>and Jem'Hadar are pulling their forces together to come and conquer the
>Alpha Quadrant." the large person said, being sure to keep the lights to
>his back and in the commanders eyes.

MIKE: How can it be to his back, and in the commanders eyes at the same
time, eh guys? Guys??? [He turns to look at Tom and Crow, who are both
asleep.] Doh! Guys, Wake up!! [Mike wakes the bots up.]
BOTS: WHA???

> "That hardly sounds like the Borg, to me."
> "All I can say, is that it is...true. The Founders came to an
>agreement to let the Alpha Quadrant be completely assimilated by the
>Borg, if they would agree to leave the worlds of the Dominion alone." the

TOM:[sarcastic.] Ohhh.. You can destroy THEM but leave us alone.

>figure said. "I'm sorry, Commander, but it seems you're the first line of
>defense for the Federation, for when they do come."
> "Who are you?" Sisko asked, knowing he wasn't going to get an

CROW: I'm your worst nightmare.

>answer. I need to rattle the guy a little, he thought, but just keep him
>here. At least until someone passes in the corridor, he thought.

MIKE: Passes what?
[Tom makes a rude noise.]
CROW: I don't think that is what they meant, Tom.

> "I'm sorry." and the figure dissappeared, he just dissappeared as
>if beamed off the station, but without the effect. Gone.
> Damn.

CROW: Hoover Dam.

>
> *** *** *** *** ***
>
> "No, sir, no one beamed off the station at that time. No, none."

MIKE: Not even that guy I saw in your quarters.

>O'Brien told him. Sisko had dragged himself up to Ops., he needed to find

TOM: Sisko ought to be nice to his workers.

>out who the mysterious person was, and most importantly if what the man
>said was true.
> "Okay...well, look, I know what I saw," Ben Sisko said, worried

CROW: A pink elephant.

>and irritated. Damn, he thought, why couldn't he wait 'til morning.
> "I find it hard to believe that someone appeared in your doorway,
>then just dissappeared." the Constable said. Odo was not happy with all

MIKE: And I find it hard to believe that you know how to do your job, you
pile of goo.

>of the StarFleet personnel that had been arriving on the station. There
>seemed to be twice as many in those uniforms, than there ever was in
>Cardassian chest plates.

TOM: Well, I doubt the Federation was a member of the Cardassians.

> "Dax, contact StarFleet HeadQuarters" Sisko ordered, "I want to
>talk to someone.

CROW:[Dax] How about a psychiatrist??

> When you get them, pipe it through to my office."
> "Understood, Commander."
>
>
>
> CHAPTER EIGHT
>
>
> The ship slowly moved forward,

TOM: Oh, faster than this fanfic, I bet.

> the first time her impulse engines
>had tasted the hydrogen gas for fusion in almost seventy years. A new

MIKE: And it tasted just like copper.

>warp core, upgraded weapons and shields, newer, better sensors, that's
>all she needed to be brought into the twenty-fourth century.

CROW: That and a green card.

> Just because
>somethings old, that doesn't mean you throw it away.

ALL: RECYCLE!!!!
CROW: Give a hoot. Don't pollute.

> Sitting at the helm console was a young cadet straight out of the
>academy, obviously a history major.

TOM: Obviously?? Could've fooled me.

> Seated at the communications console,
>directly behind the center seat, was a large, burly Klingon officer. He

MIKE: Obviously a mathematician.
TOM: DOH!

>would be most likely the first,

TOM: Either he was or he wasn't. MAKE UP YOUR MIND!

> and the last, Klingon to ever serve as an
>officer on board a Constitution Class vessel. When this ship was built,
>his people were at war with the Federation, something he was not quick to
>forget.

CROW: They lost 32 to 27 in overtime.

> Seated in the center seat was Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

MIKE: The hero of our story.

> "Mr. Worf, contact Utopia Planitia, give them our ETA and explain

TOM: Extremely Terrible Acting??
CROW: Evil Twisted Aliens??

>that they don't have much time to install the Warp Drive." Picard said,
>spinning the large, bulky, underpadded chair,

MIKE: An underpadded chair in an OVER-padded story.

> around a full hundred and
>eighty degrees.

CROW: I don't feel so good...

> Why couldn't they make them like this, he thought, it

TOM: Yeah, and why don't they look?

>would be so much easier than standing to talk to someone behind me. But
>then, Picard realized, I don't have a ship anymore.

MIKE: He doesn't have a life anymore.

> "Aye, sir" Worf said from the undersized chair that was constructed
>for obviously smaller people,

TOM: This post is OBVIOUSLY boring.

> in a different era. "They could have
>upgraded these systems, if they wanted to make this mission easy." he
>mumbled.

TOM: But NOOOOOOOOO. So it would be hard for me, they didn't change a single
thing.

> The consoles, except for the helm, had been untampered, the same
>switch boards, the same overhead monitors, the same damned blinking
>lights, gave the bridge of the USS Exeter the same feel it always had.

CROW: The same three lines worth sentence.

>"Mr. Worf, this vessel is an antique...be proud to just be aboard,"Picard

CROW:[Worf] I'm already proud that this ship isn't falling apart on us.

>said turning back to the smaller than expected Main View Screen.
> Worf nodded, then set to making the call to Mars.

TOM:[operator.] Hello, AT&T.
MIKE: Uhh... Yes, I'd like to make a long distance phone call to Mars..

> "Sir, we are clear of the Museum, course heading, sir?" the young,
>red-headed officer said, from the helm. His eyes were lit, as if he had

TOM: They were on fire.
CROW: FIRE! Hehehehehe..

>made a great discovery, a feeling that Picard had felt years earlier.
> "Ensign Topper, best speed to Utopia Planitia." Picard said, as he

MIKE:[Picard.] Enga.. HEY, where did Topper disappear to?

>stood to leave the confines of the drastically small bridge. Damn, he

CROW: This must be a cruel world, everyone is da..
MIKE: Don't say that word, Crow.
CROW: I'm just making a point that everyone is doing it to everyone else
and everything.
MIKE: Ok.

>thought, no ready room. "Oh, Mr. Worf, make sure that

TOM: No one mentions "Bathroom".

> our Chief Engineer
>is ready, and on time, when we get to the Yard." he said turning his
>attention back to his security/communications/weapons chief. A nod from
>Worf, and Picard entered the sole turbolift that led to and from the

MIKE: Lame turbolift. It only goes one floor.

>bridge.
> He grasped the thick handle,

TOM: OoooOOOooOoOoOhhhhHHhhHhhh...
MIKE: Tom, don't. Please?

> "Level Four" he said to no one. This

CROW: And no one answered.

>mission was difinitely becoming interesting.

ALL: NOT!

> He was the greatest starship
>captain of the twenty-fourth century, on his way to lead a task force
>against the Borg, in Romulan space, in a hundred year old starship. I
>don't belong in the seat,

TOM: I don't belong here. I'm from another dimension.

> he thought, Kirk does. This was his kind of
>ship, not mine. Why, he thought to himself.
> The doors swooched open to the fourth level of the saucer, an

MIKE: Now, everything is swooching.

>angular hallway stretched out before him. At least I'll have a little of
>an advantage, he thought, but one like Jim Kirk would. I'll have to
>manage, if I want to survive, if we're all going to survive.

TOM:[singing.] I WILL SURVIVE!!

>
>
>
> [END PART V]
> [GOTO PART VI]

TOM: Do not pass go, do not..
MIKE: We did that joke already.
TOM: Oh.

>
>
>
>
>

CROW: Padding, padding, AND MORE padding.

>
>
>
>
>
>

[Commercials.]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[continued in part VI.]

Claye Hodge

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