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MSTed: "A New Generation" [8/10] (Ratliff)

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Jamie Plummer

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Jan 24, 1997, 3:00:00 AM1/24/97
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> Chapter Seven
>
> When the Enterprise-F had reached the region above the planet's
> north pole, she had stopped.

Crow: *Not* going there!

> The Romulans had eagerly moved

Mike: Damn Vulcans lowering the property values again.

> to bracket
> her,

Tom: Looks like the Romulans went throughh the Packwood Mentoring Program.


> inside the remains of the Enterprise-E and her victims. They never
> even thought to look for the presence of fighter craft.

Crow: Were their *prescence* in their stockings?
<Beat>
Crow: Hah!

> This was one of those ideal conditions for the use of fighters.
> In a debris cloud, above the magnetic pole of a planet, it played to
> all their strengths. Scanning above (or below) the magnetic pole of a
> planet was never easy,

Tom: Oh, i can see how that plays to their str -- huh?

> but this planet made others look like a cakewalk.

Crow: That planet is one bad...
Mike: Shut your mouth!
Crow: Just talkin' bout... um, what am I talking about? What's going on?!
[sobbing] Make it stop, please, make it stop!!

> The Romulan targeting system was off line and even the advanced system
> on the new Enterprise was taxed.

Tom: If this were an L. Neil Smith story, the advanced system would find
something to do about that...

> It was a point and shoot situation.

Crow: Yeah, but if Neil wrote this, he'd spend the next three chapters telling
us exactly how to "point and shoot." Count your blessings.

> Fighters had always been better at this, and in a debris cloud,
> maneuverability was at a premium.

Mike: How many green stamps does maneuverability go for?

> Almost two hundred and fifty fighters swarmed around the two
> warbirds, pounding them, sending shudders down their spines.

Tom: Oh, they're organic ships...
Crow: Maybe they're partly based on Vorlon technology.

> Shields
> failing,

Mike: Oh, Ratliff must have seen "Brenda Starr."

> the Warbirds lashed out with their disrupters. A half-a-dozen

Tom: ... of the other.

> fighters perished, but this was their last act as the Enterprise
> pulled off a shot on each Warbirds' shielded hulls.

Crow: PULL!

> The fighters had pulled away when the Warbirds finally lost
> cohesiveness, exploding in balls of fire.

Tom: Diarrhea is like a storm raging inside you.

> Their remains

Mike: ... will be lying in state at Grace Bros. Funeral Home Friday afternoon.

> joined those
> of the Enterprise-E and it's victims in polar orbit.

Mike: I don't know, they seem to be taking this whole "What would you do for a
Klondike Bar?" thing a bit too far.

> Meanwhile the
> Enterprise-F stood alone,

Crow: Ah, the cheese stands alone.

> collecting its fighters.
>
> On the Starbase, Rear Admiral William T. Riker entered the
> captured Command Center. Burnt patches adorned the walls, and a thin
> haze of smoke was present at the ceiling.

Tom: Oh, Rod Serling was here.

> "Mister Worf, can you
> figure out how to contact the Enterprise?"

Crow [Worf]: c/o Paramount Studios, Hollywood, CA

> "Aye sir," Worf replied, taking to the controls. After a moment
> he announced,

Crow [Worf]: "I've downloaded the new Street Fighter."

> "I have Captain Picard."

Mike: ... in a can.
Tom: Then you better let him out!
Mike: Ah. The "Prince Albert" routine, everyone, the "Prince Albert" routine.

> "On Screen," Riker replied. Captain Marrissa Picard's young
> face appeared on the viewscreen.

Crow: Wocka-
Mike and Tom: DON'T.

> "Admiral Riker, I see you have everything under control on
> your end," Captain Picard commented.
> "Yes Captain," Riker replied. "I assume you've come to pick
> us up."

Mike: Riker fancies himself quite the ladykiller!

> "Yes sir," Marrissa responded. "Are you ready to beam aboard?"
> "Yes, a thousand twenty-three to beam up," Riker answered.
> "A tall order, but I'll see what I can do," Marrissa said
> swiftly.

Tom [Marrissa]: "Would you like fries with that?"

> "I'll be in range in twenty seconds, Enterprise out."
>
> On the bridge of the new Enterprise, Alexander was monitoring
> the transport proceedings. According to specifications it was going
> to take a little over five minutes to recover the crew of the
> Enterprise-E.

Crow: They really need to upgrade to a 33.6.

> At Tactical, Lieutenant Shayna Sachs wasn't sure that
> they were going to have half that time.

Mike [flat]: Oh, the suspense.

> "Captain, three Warbirds entering the system, uncloaked,"
> Lieutenant Sachs announced. "At 86 mark 4,

Tom [Don Adams]: Would you believe mark 2?

> distance 3 A.U.s."

Tom: Would you believe *five* A.U.s?

> "Alex, time to full recovery?" Captain Marrissa Picard
> asked.

Tom: How about two cops in a rowboat?

> "Four more minutes, Marrissa," Alexander replied.
> "Three more, 266 mark -4, distance 2.8 A.U.s," Shayna Sachs
> informed.
> "Adding cargo transporters," Alexander responded,

Mike: "Click the manufacturer and model of your cargo transporter. If your
cargo transporter came with an installation dusk, click Have Disk."

> anticipating his Captain's call for him to speed up.
> "Three more, 184 mark 0, distance 2.1 A.U.s," Sachs announced
> urgently.
> "Just one more minute," Alex asked for.

Mike: "The school bus will be here in 'just one more minute,' young man! GET
OUT OF BED!"

> "Three more, 356 mark 0, distance 3.4 A.U.s," Lieutenant
> Sachs informed more urgently.
> "All personnel aboard," Alexander responded.
> "Tactical, raise shields," Captain Picard ordered. "Clara,

Crow: Clara Peller, raise panty shields.

> secondary warp power to deflector dish. Alexander, hail the Romulans."

Tom: Remus is dead! Long live Romulus!

> "Romulans refuse to respond," Alexander said as the Romulans
> closed rapidly on the Enterprise.
> "Open a general channel," Marrissa ordered.

Mike: "All I can find is the MacArthur Network!"

> "Channel open," Lieutenant Commander Alexander Rozhenko announced.
> "To all Romulan vessels, this is Captain Marrissa A. Picard of the
> Federation Starship Enterprise," she began.

Crow [Marrissa]: "I demand the pestle in your vessel!"

> "We are about to depart this
> system for home with our recovered crew. I suggest you leave well enough
> alone and don't get in our way.

Tom: ... the recovered crew hasn't been Scotch-Guarded yet!

> Enterprise out."
> By now the Enterprise was surrounded on four sides by the
> Warbirds. The forward ones competing with the Starbase for room.
> "Conn plot us a course out of here..." Marrissa began. "Up or
> down," Ensign Maharaj asked.

Crow: I didn't know Starfleet Academy had humanities majors...

> "Neither," Captain Picard replied. "Through the center of
> the Starbase."
> The ensign turned around to look at his Captain. "Don't
> worry Ensign,

Tom: It's a creamy, chocolatey center!

> it won't be there when you get to it. Clara, begin
> firing deflector dish on my mark,

Tom [Clara]: "Sure! Your beauty mark, or your birthmark?"

> and Ensign, better make sure that
> course is a straight line until we pass the remains of the Starbase."
> "Aye sir, course laid in, heading reached," Ensign Maharaj
> said, shaking her head.

Crow: Whoa! Insert your own joke here, folks.

> "Clara, engage, Conn,

Tom [Alexander]: "Captain, Clara is already engaged. She's a married woman!"
Mike [Clara]: "To whom?"

> ahead one fifth impluse until we pass
> the Starbase, then full impluse

Crow: I just bet Alexander's hoping she doesn't egt one of those Manassas
"irresistible impulses."

> until we clear the system," Marrissa
> ordered.
>
> Out its deflector dish the Enterprise spewed a bright blue
> beam. The beam hit the center of the Starbase, boring down to it's
> core. The Enterprise moved closer and closer. Suddenly the Starbase
> exploded ...

Tom: So this is how DSS works?

> debris heading outward. Now the Enterprise dove into
> the mess, her deflector

Crow: Deflector? I don't even know her!

> beam clearing the way. Above the base, three
> Romulans were not so lucky, the debris tearing though their hulls.

Mike: Those are three *hurting* Romulans!

> Behind the Enterprise, three Warbirds attempted to follow her though
> the storm. However the shock waves of the Warbirds' destruction
> doomed them as well.

Tom: Damn Netscape plug-ins.

> Onward the Enterprise moved, exiting the
> explosion, heading out of the system.

Crow: I'm telling you, those Nova ships go right through me!

> Behind her six Warbirds pursued, out of range for the moment,
> and damaged from their fellow countrymen's debris.

Tom: When will people learn to *recycle*?

> Closer they came,
> closing on the Federation's Flagship.

Mike: Oh, they're playing Capture the Flag.

> Now the Enterprise warped out,

Tom: Now the author changed tenses.

> heading across the Romulan Neutral Zone, no longer quite so neutral.

Crow: (It's still receiving the hormone therapy).
Tom: On that note, let's get out of here.


[1-2-3-4-5-6]

[Crow and Tom are playing with their Kids' Crew action figures]

Mike: Hey guys, still playing with your action figures?

Tom: Sure are!

Mike: Um, why?

Tom: I don't know. They're fun!

Mike: So, Crow, what do you have there?

Crow: Oh, I sent away the proofs of purchase, and I got this bonus! It's the
Stephen Ratliff workstation!

Mike: Uh-huh.

Crow: See, here's his reference shelf: The Star Trek Omnipedia, The
Nitpicker's Guide to the Next Generation, The Novelization of ______
...

Mike: What? He calls himself a writer? Where's his Roget's, his OED, his
Strunk and White??!

Crow: What in the name of Judge Luther Charbonnet would Ratliff do with those?
Read them?

Mike: Good point.

Tom: You know, this is why I can't help but feel sorry for these characters. I
mean, there they are, minding there own business, happily existing in
the script-by-committee world of the Mountain, and then all of the
sudden their very souls are twisted, and they're transported into some
warped facsimile of their own world by some drooling, semi-literate
fanboy!

Crow: Poor slobs. The thing is, it's not just pity I feel. There's empathy,
too.

Tom: Yeah, me too. Why do you suppose that is?

Mike: You've got me. I feel certain bond with them, too. Weird.

<Beat>

Tom: So. Who wants strawberry juice?

Crow: Oooh, me.

Mike: I'm in!

[Commercials]
[Continued in part 9]

Jamie Plummer jc...@virginia.edu http://faraday.clas.virginia.edu/~jcp9j
"It's merely symptomatic of our postmodern ennui. There are no
absolutes unless you perceive our world as meaningless when it's
really your own freedom you detest. I like pork." -- Brak

Jamie Plummer

unread,
Jan 24, 1997, 3:00:00 AM1/24/97
to

Crow: *Not* going there!

> to bracket
> her,

> Shields
> failing,

Crow: PULL!

> Their remains

> "I have Captain Picard."

> distance 3 A.U.s."

> "Clara, engage, Conn,

Tom: Damn Netscape plug-ins.


[1-2-3-4-5-6]

Tom: Sure are!

Mike: Um, why?

"Disaster" ...

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