REPOST: ST:DRG "Jubilee" [MISC PG] 51/54

[Douglas A. McLeod]

Close-up of a Maquis rebel hauling back and planting a right
hook in the camera lense. Cut to another Maquis staggering
bloody-nosed away from the punch. The camera pulls back to take
in an all-out barroom brawl between rival Maquis crews. It's a
greatest hits of Star Trek stunt moves! We see a bat'telh-
wielding stuntman charge across the screen only to be laid low by
the old hands-locked-together double whammy. A mere slip of an
ensign fends off two burly opponents with a co-ordinated furly of
kick-boxing moves. A yelling stuntman charges at another who
crouches suddenly and stands, flipping him over his back.
Another yelling stuntman barrels across the room into a crowd of
opponents only to be thrown backward onto a table, which
collapses. A Maquis dodges a roundhouse punch by ducking under
it, then hooks a foot behind his opponent's ankle and lands him
on his butt. A brawler staggers within reach of a Vulcan, is
pinched on the neck, and swoons.
Commander Chakotay enters with his jaw thrust out and
nostrils flared. He unholsters his phaser and fires at the
ceiling. But phasers really aren't that noisy and no one pays
attention. He adjusts his phaser setting, stands back, and stuns
half the room. B'Elanna Torres runs in and stops short with her
mouth open. Over in the corner the Kilometres Davis Collective
survey the heap of bodies, pick up their instruments, and at a
nod from the trumpet-player, attack in mid-note the jazz riff
thing they had been repeating for the six hours previous.

"Crawlspace. The final frontier. These are the voyages of
The Door Repair Guy. His mission: to install and maintain
proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new
service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has
gone before."

A pair of Maquis raiders shoot by hotly pursued by a
Miranda-class Federation starship.

Star Trek: Door Repair Guy

Starring

Door Repair Guy as
Himself

The two Maquis shoot past in the other direction now with a
Cardassian Galor-class warship on their tail.

Also Starring

Martha Hackett as
Seska

Robert Beltran as
Chakotay

Tim Russ as
Tuvok

Roxann Biggs-Dawson as
Torres

The Federation and Cardassian ships nearly pile up chasing
Maquis ships into the middle of the screen. The Maquis loop
around and shoot off, one of them coming right past the camera
and leaving behind a glimmering ion trail which fades to:

[Commercial: Hikaru Sulu for Miracle Gro]

Chatokay and Maori Maquis captain Queen Victoria are seated
at the bar of the trashed and deserted saloon.
Chatokay: "It's time we made a few roster changes."
Queen Victoria: "I agree. But you should bear in mind that
if that doesn't work the next step is to replace the coach."
"It won't come to that if we do our job right. At the
moment our two crews hate each other. I don't know why. They
used to get along."
Seska enters and sits quietly. We notice Queen Victoria
notice that Chatokay seems used to having her around.
Queen Victoria: "It's the Indignants. Since we divided that
crew between us there has been nothing but unrest."
Chatokay: "A case of bad chemistry perhaps."
Queen Victoria: "Chemistry has nothing to do with it. There
was something going on on that ship, something like. . ."
Seska: "Sabotage?"
Chatokay turns, surprised.
"You didn't say anything about that before."
Seska: "Have you forgotten that the Indignant blew up five
seconds before Torres' warp core breach? Didn't that strike you
as odd?"
Chatokay (to Queen Victoria): "You suspected this? Is that
why you let me take most of them?"
Queen Victoria: "I watch my back."
Chatokay: "Who's the saboteur?"
Queen Victoria: "If I knew that would we be discussing it
today?"
Chatokay (to Seska): "Do you know?"
"If I knew wouldn't I have told you already, darling?"
"Was it that Romulan, T'Rul?"
Seska: "She only just arrived before she left. Did she
really have enough time to sow that much dissention or ingratiate
herself into a position of trust and authority in the engineering
section? I doubt it."
"She was a Romulan spy."
"She was a Romulan."
"You're splitting hairs. All Romulans are spies. Besides,
we caught her in a lie."
"We have all lied. Have you never lied?"
He takes a drink.
"I've lied." He stares off into the distance, then comes
back to the present. "This is getting us nowhere. We suspect
there is a saboteur, but we don't know who it is. It's probably
someone from the Indignant. The best thing we can do at this
moment is to shuffle people around and disturb his plans."
Seska: "His?"
"All right, all right. Or her plans."
She smiles: "Thank you."
Queen Victoria: "I'd say the gender imbalance on you ship
has been rectified, Chakotay."
They all laugh. For different reasons.

Shot of Torres leading Door Repair Guy through the narrow
corridors of a Maquis ship.
Torres: "Here's your billet. Stow your stuff in there."
DRG: "It's not very big. I've got room for me and my
toolbox and that's about it."
"We're not running a cruise ship here. If you want to play
table tennis go back to Starfleet. If they'll take you."
Murdoch the Scottish-Benzite engineer shoulders past with
his duffle bag.
DRG: "Hey, aren't we going to work together?"
Murdoch: "Ach, I canna. I've been traded to the
Humuhumunukunukuapua'a."
DRG: "Wow. You're pretty good. And so clean. Who'd they
get in return?"
Torres: "You."
DRG: "But he's an engineer."
"I thought you said you were an engineer."
"I said I was an ingenue."
"Rrr!!

[Commercial: Quark for the Gold Digger]

Shot of a Maquis ship holding its station in space.
Interior. Chatokay crosses the flight deck, consults the
long range scanners, glances out the window and sits down
impatiently, deep in thought.
Tuvok: "The scanners are set to report automatically any
incoming vessel. There is no need for you to consult them every
seven minutes."
"I'm concerned about this away mission."
"Seska is by all appearances a resourceful and self-
motivated team leader. If anyone can highjack a runabout I am
certain it is she."
"I hope you're right. We need more ships, and fewer
casualties."
Beep beep beep.
Chatokay: "Runabout on long-range scanner. Stand by to run
for it when I give the signal."
"Evasive course laid in and ready. We have not been
hailed."
"That's according to plan. They should scan us and then
drop out of warp."
"As they have done."
"Good. Take us to their co-ordinates."
"Intercept course."
Seska appears on-screen.
Chatokay: "Any difficulties?"
Seska: "Like taking jumja from a baby."
"Excellent work. Beam over and I'll receive your report."
"On my way."
Seska and two others appear in a transporter effect.
Chatokay: "We'll leave a couple of your team on board for
the journ--"
The viewscreen whitens and puts everyone in black and white
relief.
Tuvok: "The runabout has detonated with four team members
aboard. It is totally destroyed."
Seska makes an angry sound and stomps off. Chatokay squints
at the spinning wreckage and then goes off after her.
Tuvok studies the screen with some concern.

[Commercial: Worf for the Garden Claw]

Torres comes down the narrow corridor and pounds on Door
Repair Guy's door.
Through the door: "Mmph. Hurmp. Who is it?"
"Torres. You're needed in the wardroom."
The door slides open to reveal a sleepy DRG. He rubs his
eye and squints into the corridor light.
"Big strategy session?"
"Don't flatter yourself. The door's stuck."
"All right! Real work!"
"Come on."
When they arrive it becomes apparent that there is in fact a
big strategy session in progress, but it's in recess because
someone has kicked the door off its track. DRG shoulders it back
into place, then stands in the room with his back to the other
Maquis to make adjustments.
Chatokay: "All right. The door is fixed. Thank you."
DRG: "I have to make adjustments."
"Is it important?"
"Do you want it to stay put during an explosive
decompression? Cause unless I calibrate it it might not."
"All right, all right. Perhaps we should just proceed."
Tuvok: "Are there any objections?"
Seska (eyeing DRG): "I see no reason why not."
Torres: "Fine by me. Even that guy isn't as annoying as an
explosive decompression."
DRG: "Thanks."
Chatokay: "Very well. We need more ships. Ships that don't
blow up so easily."
Seska: "These are two separate issues. Let me make a
suggestion. Why don't you leave me in charge of the sabotage
problem. I'll get together a team and we'll get to the bottom of
it. I'm still in a bad mood about that runabout."
Chatokay: "Very well. Who do you want?"
Seska: "I'll take Suter, and Dennis Madalone."
Tuvok: "What do you propose to do when you identify the
perpetrator?"
Seska: "I'll take the appropriate action."
Chatokay: "You look unhappy, Tuvok."
Tuvok: "By no means. I would merely point out that a
precipitous expulsion of the guilty party from the nearest
airlock could destroy evidence that might be used to lead us to
co-conspirators."
Chatokay: "Use your head."
Seska: "Don't I always?"
Chatokay: "Very well. Next order of business: ships. Any
suggestions?"
DRG (over his shoulder while he pretends to calibrate):
"What about Vulcan?"
Torres sits back in disgust. Chatokay, however, has a look
of concentration between his brows.
"All right . . . what about Vulcan?"
DRG: "Aren't they having that big anniversary party in a
couple of weeks?"
Chatokay glances at Tuvok.
Tuvok: "The term 'party' would be a misnomer. Undoubtedly
Mr Door Repair Guy refers to the upcoming jubilee observation of
the ten thousandth anniversary of the use of the metric system on
Vulcan. The Vulcan Science Academy has spent several years
preparing for a gathering of scientists from across the
Federation on that occasion. The opening ceremonies are to take
place twelve days hence. It is anticipated that three hundred
and seven vessels will participate in a grand orbital display.
The opportunity for a cutting-out raid cannot be denied. I must
adjoin, however, that Vulcan is situated in the very heart of the
Federation and that there are routinely dozens of starships
within a day's journey of it, not to mention the many Starfleet
vessels that will be on the scene. Under such unfavourable
circumstances the possibility of maintaining the element of
surprise would be small, and the chances of a successful getaway
negligible."
Chatokay: "Back up a minute. Ten thousandth anniversary?
The metric system was devised in France in the eighteenth
century, wasn't it?"
"Humans have no patent on the number ten. The superiority
of the metric system over other systems of measure is obvious to
every civilized culture, hence its adoption throughout the
Federation."
"But the system as we know it is based on Earth conditions.
How could the Vulcans have anticipated it?"
"Admittedly, there are differences. The system of metric
weight measurement created on Vulcan ten millenia ago is to all
intents and purposes identical to the human system, as both are
based on the properties of the water molecule. The Vulcan system
of temperature measurement, though based on a scale of one
hundred units, incorporates the freezing and evaporation points
of water as they occur at an average Vulcan surface atmospheric
pressure, which, as you know, differs considerable from the Earth
equivalent. And the Vulcan metric system of distance measurement
differs from the Terran in that the Terran metre is based
arbitrarily on the length of the arc from Earth's equator to its
pole, whereas the Vulcan metre derives from an arc stretching
from one pole to the other. It should be added that in the
interests of standardization Vulcan scientists converted to the
Earth-based system over two centuries ago. In summary, though
the practice may have differed from world to world the theory is
the same."
Chatokay does some mental calculations.
"Vulcan has a greater radius than Earth's. That would make
the tradition Vulcan centimetre over twice the length of the
standard Federation unit."
"That is correct."
"How long exactly?"
"Almost exactly an inch."
Torres: "This is all academic. There is absolutely nothing
to be gained from operating so far from the Cardassian border."
Chatokay: "I'm afraid I disagree. As long as the fight
remains on the borderline Starfleet Command will believe it has
it contained. A surprise raid on such a public event might jog
them out of their complacency."
Torres: "And bring them down on us like a tonne of bricks.
A metric tonne."
Chatokay: "Or bring them around. Don't underestimate the
influence of public opinion, or the morale-building effect a
successful raid would have. What was the name of that American
captain in the War of Independence who confounded the British
Navy by raiding in the Irish Sea?"
DRG: "James Earl Jones?"
Tuvok: "I believe the correct name would be John Paul Jones.
However, I must caution everyone here against the glamour of
comparing oneself to a dashing figure from the past. The
resemblance between that captain's situation and yours, sir, is
at best metaphorical."
"Still, it makes the blood circulate a little faster."
"A quick sprint would have the same effect."
"I can understand it if you are attempting to discourage
this proposal out of concern for your home planet."
"I am attempting to discourage it because it defies logic."
"And therein lies the element of surprise. Vulcan it is.
Please have the necessary departmental reports on my desk by 1800
hours."
Shot of the meeting breaking up around the very-slightly-
confounded-looking Tuvok.

[Commercial: Ugly Bag of Mostly Water for Valera-Kill]

Shot of Chatokay's ship moving at warp. Cut to Engineering.
DRG enters, makes eye contact with an instantly ill-humoured
Torres, goes to a work station, sits, and idly enters commands
into the computer console.
Torres (suddenly at his elbow): "What are you doing?"
"I'm activating my work station."
"And who said you could do that?"
"Murdoch had this station. You traded him for me. Ergo."
"Ergo nothing. That's somebody else's station now."
"No it isn't. There isn't a fingerprint on this console.
The last person to touch it was Murdoch when he took the Windex
to it. Look at Jonas's console. Grease city."
Jonas: "Oh thanks."
Torres (crossing her arms and looking at the ceiling): "I'm
calling Suter."
DRG: "vaj peghwIj vI'angQo'." ["In that case I won't reveal
my secret."]
Torres: "nuq? pegh yIja'." ["Eh? Tell the secret."]
DRG: "tlhIngan Hol vijatlhlaH." ["I can speak Klingon."]
Torres: "qeylIS." ["For Pete's sake."] "Jonas, keep an eye
on him and make sure he doesn't get up to anything."
Shot of DRG grinning at the irked Jonas.

[Commercial: Leonard Nimoy for Spore-Away]

Tuvok: "Target vessel is within sensor range. Long-range
scan confirms vessel to be the Landru, registered on Beta III,
crew complement of twenty-one."
Chatokay: "Well done. Drop out of warp. Release and
detonate antimatter pod. Transmit distress signal."
The bridge rocks at the antimatter explosion.
Tuvok: "The Landru is responding to our signal. They are
moving to assist."
"Chatokay to Seska. It's your show now. Prepare to beam
over. And remember what I said. Into the escape pods, not the
airlock. Make sure Suter gets that."
*Aye, aye. Transporting.*
Chatokay buries his chin in his hand.
Tuvok: "You appear to be preoccupied."
"I'm wondering where the saboteur is at this moment."
"It is conceivable that the individual in question died
accidentally onboard the runabout."
"True. Though I doubt it. I've been thinking, Tuvok. How
much would you like to bet Starfleet has a spy onboard?"
"I would not like to bet. However, I recognize such a plan
to be well within the scope of Starfleet's capability."
"I wonder who it is. Do you have any idea?"
"I am hesitant to point a finger at this time."
"I'll just bet it's that door repairman. His story is so
bizarre you feel it has to be true."
"An instance of reverse psychology?"
"Perhaps. Keep an eye on him."
"I shall assuredly do so."

[Commercial: Charlie X for Weed-Ex]

The observation lounge of the USS Endeavour in orbit above
Vulcan. Starfleet personnel in dress uniform and VIPs of all
descriptions stand in small clusters holding delicately stemmed
champagne flutes and conversing in a cheerful but indestinct and
residual-free murmur. Below them turns the red Vulcanian sphere
(actually Mars from Episode 047 blown up to twice the size and
the polar ice airbrushed out.) Outside, a nearly endless parade
of spacecraft from every corner of the Federation coast past
accompanied by small flotillas of shuttlecraft. The observation
lounge speakers keep up a continuous dialogue of ship-to-ship
greetings and navigational instructions. We see a mammoth battle
cruiser loom up and then veer away while launching a volley of
photon torpedoes which detonate harmlessly in a delightful
pyrotechnic display to the spontaneous applause of the assembled
dignitaries.
"Quite a parade."
Captain Picard's face goes from an expression of wrapt
enjoyment to a moment's consternation at the interruption and
suddenly to a wide smile at the sight of Commander Riker mugging
indulgently over his shoulder.
"Number One! How are you? Yes, it is a marvelous display.
I've been standing here like an eight-year-old boy for half an
hour, simply watching the ships go by."
"I'd say Starfleet has come along quite well since, well,
you know."
"Oh, no need to be shy, Number One. Everyone knows what
brought about the rebuilding programme. I'm quite gratified to
see the number of ships coming out bearing the names of vessels
lost at Wolf 395. And there's even one named Resistance. I've
been invited to the launch. Isn't that marvelous?"
"Absolutely."
They gaze out the windows.
Riker: "I thought you'd like to see these."
The passes Picard a batch of photographs.
"It's the Enterprise-E! Where did you get these?"
"I know a web site."
"Absolutely magnificent! Look at that!"
"I thought you'd like them."
"You know, Number One, it's gradually dawning on me that we
live in the golden age of starship building. Someday, sooner
than we think, I'm sure, we're discover how to transport directly
from planet to planet, and that'll be the end of space-going
vessels as we know them."
"It'll be a sad day."
"For all we know, what we are witnessing today could be the
greatest assemblage of -- Now, what is he doing?"
A brightly painted freighter can be seen skirting the main
flight path and extruding a series of large sausage-shaped
objects from its stern. We see one of these twist free and bulge
into a letter F.
Riker: "They look like inflatable satellites of some kind."
Picard consults a handheld computer pad.
"The guidebook says it's the representative of the planet
Beta III, originally visited by the USS Archon in the 22nd
century."
"I've heard of them. They were ruled by a computer until--"
"Let me guess. James Kirk."
"Yes."
"Considering our past troubles with the Borg, I sometimes
wonder whether Kirk wasn't justified in his actions in that case,
Prime Directive or no Prime Directive. He had a way of getting
to the gist of a problem directly, and having been assimiltated
myself I can appreciate his antipathy toward any sort of
computer-dominated group mind."
"Thank God we're done with the Borg."
"Agreed. Oh my God, will you look at that!"
The freighter is apparently trying to lay a series of
inflatable buoys to spell the word FESTIVAL, but a number of the
letters have drifted free, and one of them has been snagged by a
passing nacelle. Picard and Riker stand there shaking their
heads while the balloon-embarrassed starship coasts by.
Riker: "Isn't that the Bozeman?"
Cut to the bridge of the ship in question. Captain Bateson
is standing at his chair, fists in the air, face as red as his
uniform, shouting: "Is there nobody among you landlubbers who has
the foggiest idea how to get that dirigible off my engine!!???"
Back on the Endeavour:
Picard: "Yes, I think it is the Bozeman."
"I hope he doesn't run into us."
"I think he's all right now. A quick phaser burst should do
it. Look out!" They duck as the beam shoots past the window,
then pick themselves up. Exterior shot of the letter rapidly
deflating on the Bozeman's nacelle.
Riker: "Got it."
Picard inhales in disbelief and holds the back of his neck.
Riker: "Captain, I wonder if you would care to join a number
of the Enterprises for supper this evening. Geordi will be
there, and Lieutenant Barclay."
"Delighted. But I don't want to hurry away. I understand
the Stargazer is due by at any time."
"The refit is complete?"
"Yes, after considerable delay. There were many in favour
of mothballing her completely, let me tell you, but I pulled some
strings, and I look forward to seeing her in service again within
the next several months. She'll be a fine command for some young
captain."
"I hope you don't-- "
"No, don't worry, Number One. You're much too tall for the
Stargazer."
"I'm glad you agree. Isn't that the Stargazer?"
"Where? Yes! Yes, it is! Look, they're performing a
manoeuvre of some kind."
"The Picard Manoeuvre, perhaps?"
"Do you suppose? They'll have to warp off a distance to
begin."
"There she goes."
View of the four-engined Stargazer rising out of the flight
path of the other parading vessels, turning, and jumping to warp.
"It should take just a moment."
They wait.
And wait.

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Written by Douglas A. McLeod, ai...@freenet.carleton.ca
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--
!!!!
http://www.consecol.org/~ajeanes/doorguy/intro.html
ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/parody/misc/DoorRepairGuy