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Mystery Science Usenet Theater 3000:
"Hail to the Queen" by Rob Tounts
Based on "The Marrissa Stories" by Stephen B. Ratliff
Misted by Matt Blackwell, Doug Earlham, Michael K. Neylon,
Bill Livingston, Steven Savage
[Note: This takes place just after Episode 822: "Overdrawn at
the Memory Bank"]
[Season 8 Opening.]
[The Bridge of the Satellite of Love is a mess. There are
streamers hung one the walls and balloons are scattered about
the Bridge. Confetti is everywhere. On the far wall is a banner
proclaiming "Wrap Party!" Mike walks in and is startled to see
that Cambot is active.]
Mike: Oh, hi everyone. I'm Mike Nelson, and welcome to the
Satellite of Love. Pearl threw a party for us last night
after her successful beg-a-thon, and I'm afraid that
we're still not quite up to speed today. And I'm pretty
sure that Pearl doesn't have anything else to show us
for another few months, but you're welcome to hang around
if you'd like.
[Tom walks on screen, humming a tune.]
Tom: Hi Mike. Have you seen the coffee?
Mike: The hazelnut, the Brazilian, the Vanilla, or the
Mochachino strawberry surprise?
Tom: The motoroil flavored. [Tom walks offscreen.]
Mike: It's in the cupboard by the box of Yummy Mummy.
Tom: [Off screen] Found it!
[Appearing on screen again with a cup of coffee.]
Say, what's Cambot doing on?
Mike: He was on when I came in. Maybe we're doing another
special.
Tom: Another "Little Gold Statue" maybe?
Mike: [Shrugs] Could be.
[Crow walks onscreen. He's wearing an ascot, and a monocle and
he's smoking a cigarette through a long cigarette holder.]
Crow: [Speaking in a fake uppercrust English Accent.] Top of
the morning to you chaps. Smashing party last night. Why,
who would have ever thought that Pearl was such a
talented dancer? And those blasted Mole Men kept droning
on and on and on and on. . .
Mike: Crow, we're on.
Crow: I beg your pardon? Michael, whatever do you mean that
we're. . . [He turns to Cambot.] Yikes! [Normal voice]
Oh, hi everyone! Um, Breasts?
Tom: Busted.
Crow: Knock it off Tom! I'm, uh, getting into character for my
one man play celebrating the life of Noel Coward.
Tom: Suuuure Crow.
Crow: That's it! You're going down Gumball boy!
Mike: Hold it guys. I think an explanation is here. [He hits
the light.] Hello?
[The Studio]
[The scene shifts to the studio where Pearl held her fund-
raiser. Pearl stands uneasily in the middle of the floor,
while Bobo ,The Observer, and Ortega stand in the background
looking very glum.]
Pearl: [Monotone] Good Morning fellow employee of Amalgamated
Diversified Compudyne Research, Entertainment and Pets.
And how are you today?
[SoL]
Mike: Pearl, are you okay?
[Studio]
Pearl: Of course, fellow employee. All is well here today. How
is productivity in your area?
[SoL]
Mike: We don't have any products, Pearl.
Tom: Well, I've been selling Magic cards over the Internet.
Does that count?
Mike: No, Tom. What's going on?
[Studio]
Pearl: [Normal voice] All right, I'll come clean. After Clayton
became a space baby, I sold Deep 13 to some investors to
earn money to find you. Well, they're still around, and
it turns out that they own the satellite, the studio,
and even the Widowmaker, lock, stock and barrel. And
they're not too pleased with our ratings.
[A middle aged man clad in a yellow and black checkered
sportscoat appears next to Pearl, flanked by what looks to be a
stagehand.]
Herb: Hello, Mr. Nelson. Love your work. It's really funny
stuff. However...
[SoL]
Mike: Hold it. What do you mean? This isn't a show! I'm
trapped up here on a satellite and they've been
torturing me by showing me bad movies! It's not a show!
[Studio]
Pearl: Actually Mike, Clayton put a video camera on board and
sold tapes of the experiments to his fellow scientists
when money ran low. Then Frank would squander the money
on duct tape. [mumbling] That little weasel. [normal
voice] So, there is a show.
Herb: Anyway, it's really funny stuff. But, we're having
problems with the show's demographics. You're not
pulling in the male 18-30 year olds. So, we're going to
have to replace one of you with a new character.
[SoL]
[All aboard are visibly nervous.]
Mike: Replace one of us? Who?
[Studio]
Herb: That purple one, Gypsum.
[SoL]
[Gypsy pushes past Mike]
Gypsy: What?!
[Studio]
Herb: [shrugging] The kids just don't understand her. Besides,
we need some sex appeal for the show, so we've arranged
for you to gain a new companion.
[SoL]
Gypsy: I'm not going anywhere! I run this satellite! Everyone
aboard will die without me being here! Besides, I've
got a contract! Where's my agent?!
[Curtis, the stagehand, appears from off screen.]
Curtis: Come on. Your contract's been picked up by "Jenny."
Gypsy: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Gypsy and Curtis disappear off stage.]
Crow: Well that sucks.
Tom: Hey, we won't work without Gypsy here! We can just wait
this out until she's back here. Well, Mike will die of
asphyxiation in a few hours, but we can wait forever!
[Mike visibly pales.]
[Studio]
Herb: Relax guys. The ship's functions will be taken over by
some good Unionized help. We'll have her replacement
there in a little while.
Pearl: By the way, to celebrate your new shipmate, we've got a
special piece of work for you today. It's a piece of
fan-fiction.
[SoL]
Tom: Uh-oh.
Mike: Stephen Ratliff didn't write this by any chance?
[Studio]
Pearl: No, no.
[SoL]
Mike: Whew.
Crow: Thank goodness.
[Studio]
Pearl: It's called "Hail to the Queen" by Rob Tounts, and it's
actually a fan-fic of a popular series of fan-fiction
stories. [She grins evilly] The Marrissa Stories to be
precise. Enjoy, Michael.
[SoL]
Crow: Marrissa fan-fic fan-fic?
Tom: Oh look, that seventh seal is being broken.
[The lights begin to flash.]
Mike: Too late guys. We've got Marrissa sign!
[The bots race around while Mike hits the lights. The door
sequence begins.]
[6. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . . ]
>--=====================_884558027==_
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
>From: Ron Tonts <rtonts@direct.ca>
Tom: Well, my respect for that country just went down the
drain.
Crow: First "Kids in the Hall," now this.
>Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen
Crow: ...not to mention sleet, lightning, sheets of flame from
a clear sky...
> 1/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa Stories)
All: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
>Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 00:00:00 GMT
Tom: Midnight, the witching hour! BOO-WAH-HAH-HAH-HAHAHAHAHA!!!
>Message-ID: <34B680F9.3BCB0AF2@direct.ca>
>X-Priority: 3 (Normal)
>Mime-Version: 1.0
Crow: In Mime 1.0, the mime will still occasionally speak.
Tom: They'll fix that feature in 2.0.
>Reply-To: rtonts@direct.ca
>Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="------------
5A807124EEAB09BA89D59BC5"
Mike: BC5? Isn't that that sci-fi show by that guy who used to
write for "The Real Ghostbusters?"
>Organization: XSM Systems Inc.
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Tom: [Jack Nicholson] I have given a name to my pain...and it
is a.s.c.
>
>
>
>--------------5A807124EEAB09BA89D59BC5
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac-
>type="54455854"; x-mac->creator="4D4F5353"
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
>
>
> Star Trek
Mike: Where our motto is "We'll keep this series on the air
until Rick Berman runs it into the ground!"
> Hail to the Queen
Tom: The Queen Latifah Story!
Mike: The Freddie Mercury Story!
Crow: The Majel Barrett Story!
> A Marrissa Story
Crow: I bet she can't sing "Fat Bottom Girls" as good as
Freddie.
> by Rob Tonts
Tom: Didn't the header say that his name was Ron?
Mike: Tom, he knows what his own name is. I hope.
>Disclaimer:
Mike: Gene Roddenberry should not take the blame for this.
> Paramount owns Star Trek. To my knowledge,
>Marrissa and gang are property of Stephen Ratliff,
Mike: I take it Rob has never seen the episode "Disaster".
Tom: Lucky Rob!
> and the story is
>mine. I promise to return the characters in an almost intact
>condition.
Tom: Well, okay, my dog chewed Marrissa's head off. Is that a
problem?
> Any mental or
>physical damage sustained from reading, holding, or
>downloading this story, is your own stupid fault.
>
Crow: I hear that was going to be the new disclaimer on the
McDonald's coffee cups, only with "coffee" instead of
"story".
> This Story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
>and incidents
Tom: Have been changed to protect the galaxy.
> are either a product of the author's
>imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
>actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
>entirely coincidental. Although if there was, I would panic.
>
Crow: You and me both, pal.
> This story is dedicated to the following:
> My Family (because they're my Family)
Crow: Er, does he know he used a capital 'F'?
Tom: Maybe it IS the Freddie Mercury story!
Mike: Uh...oh. Should we be riffing on a story by a made guy?
> and Stephen Ratliff (the inspiration for the story)
[All visibly shiver]
Tom: Shouldn't Satan be on that list too?
> This story is set shortly after the Marrissa story
>Return to Glory. I'm afraid it isn't out yet, but should be
>one day.
[All scream]
Mike: Oh, what I wouldn't give for a good cancel-bot about
now....
Crow: Actually, it takes a little bit of chutzpah to write a
sequel to a story that hasn't happened yet
Tom: Especially a Marrissa story! [shudders]
> This is my FIRST FANFIC!!
All: Uh-oh.
Mike: This is bad.
Tom: If this is a self-insertion fic too. . .
> Comments and Questions
>are welcome.
>Please send them to rtonts@direct.ca . In addition, for
>those people over at rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc,
Mike: Huh? Who's he talking about?
Crow: Oh, probably a group of unclean, unshaven college
students hovering about a computer in the basement of
some dorm somewhere.
> this is NOT a
>parody like Borged to Death. I didn't even know about it
>until I read it.
Tom: Well, now you know.
Mike: And knowing is half the battle!
> And if you are going to MiST
>this story, please let me know.
[All smirks]
Crow: Poor, innocent *us*? Nooo....
Tom: Uh-hum.
Mike: What's MiST? That prequel to Riven?
Tom: We'll tell you later.
> I worked very hard on this
>fanfic, so enjoy!
>
Crow: [Falsetto] Eat! Eat! How're you boys gonna keep up your
strength if you don't eat?!?
> Prologue
>
Tom: It was a time of war, it was a time of peace...
>Time: Shortly after Star Trek: First Contact
>
Tom: Riker has been placed in command of the next half-dozen
sequels, Data has been possessed by the katra of John
Adams, and Lily has escaped to HBO and collected several
CableACE awards.
Mike: Nice to know *someone* besides Larry Sanders is!
Crow: Bitter much, Mike?
Mike: Oh, just a tad.
> The scream was heard across the galaxy by the Collective.
Crow: Somewhere, one of the Borg had assimilated the complete
works of Pauly Shore.
> It
>knew at once, their Queen was dead.
Mike: There would be no more Bohemian Rhapsody any more.
Crow: Okay, enough Queen riffs. Agreed?
Mike: Okay.
Tom: Well, I guess. But I had a great riff using "Another One
Bites the Dust" planned.
> The race known across the
>galaxy as the Borg
Mike: I'm sensing a strong "across the galaxy" motif here."
> was thrown into chaos in the span of ten
>minutes.
Mike: There's an implant sale at Bloomingdales!
> This turmoil was started by the only race to repel
>the Borg to this point, the Humans.
Mike: [pointing to his left] First the Tholians repelled them
to that point...
[pointing to his right] then the Ferengi repelled them to
that point...
[pointing straight ahead, at the Borg] and now the Humans
have repelled them to *this* point. Any questions?
Crow: Just forget the sacrifice of Vulcans, Betazoids, and
other members of the Federation.
Tom: Oh, yeah, those Humans are sooooo great . . . oh, sorry
Mike.
Mike: Don't worry about it.
> More specifically, Jean-
>Luc Picard/ Locutus was the one who had removed the Queen from
>her hive.
Tom: Wearing a black veil and spraying in a lot of smoke first,
I'd guess.
> The Borg could sustain itself until a new queen was
>created, but the process took time.
Crow: There were forms to fill out, and the Borg HR department
had budget cutbacks.
>There was only one quick, easy solution,
Tom: They would have to go to Queens.
> assimilation.
Crow: Isn't that Microsoft's job?
Tom: Geez, that's the Borg's answer to everything!
Mike: Well, you have to admit it did work up to now.
> Using
>the all encompassing knowledge of the race, the Collective
>searched through records regarding races from Earth, the
>Delta Quadrant, and anywhere in between.
Crow: Results: "assimilation," 41511 hits; "Federation," 613351
hits; "Marina Sirtis+nude OR naked," 31515782 hits.
> The whole process
>took a mere hour,
Mike: And 45 minutes of that was just trying to connect onto
"Borg On-Line."
> when a candidate was found.
Tom: But before that, the Borg would be forced to endure ten
months of campaigning.
> The irony, the gains, the sheer power that could be gained
>from the assimilation of this one human.
Tom: Anyone else getting a cold, queasy lump right in the
middle of your stomach?
Mike & Crow: Yes.
> The target was
>selected, and seven functional Borg cube ships moved towards
>it.
Tom: Yeah, FULLY-functional Borg cubes, if you know what I
mean!
Mike: Tom is there NOTHING you can't make sound dirty?
Tom: Only 672 things.
Mike: I'd say you're being anal but you'd probably make that
sound dirty too.
> Chapter 1
>
Mike: Call me Ishmael Amber Flores Picard. . .
>Time: After Return to Glory
>
Crow: Not the most exciting sequel ever made, since everyone
died at the end of "Glory," but the studio insisted.
> Cruising along the former Romulan Neutral Zone,
>the fleet led by the Enterprise-F was on simulated night.
Mike: So they had their brights on, and they accidentally
blinded the planet of Argus V.
> They
>were escorting a convoy of twenty Romulan Warbirds through
>Federation space to the point where they could go it alone.
All: o/~ We've got a great big convoy, traveling through
the night... o/~
Mike: Hey, wait a minute! This is the plot for 'Battlestar
Galactica!'
Tom: Great, now we remember Battlestar Galactica! We could have
used those riffs in 'Space Mutiny!'
> The
>Enterprise-F was top-of-the-line quality in all fields
>imaginable.
Mike: It took them 5 tries to get it, but, mind you, it was
top-of-the-line!
Crow: Scrimshaw?
Mike: Yep.
Tom: Web page design?
Mike: Yep.
Crow: Slugging averages?
Mike: Yep.
Tom: Singing the blues?
Mike: Yep.
> The ship was undeniably effective in both war and
>peace time.
Crow: Since the latter only lasted about five minutes when it
was around, no one was truly sure.
> Systems on board were like muscles of a finely
>toned athlete.
Crow: They were filled with steroids.
> In comfort, the mile-long craft was unsurpassed.
Tom: I have this horrible, horrible feeling that any second
now, Richard Simmons and Kathie Lee Gifford are going to
show up.
> Yet,
>not even the ocean soundtrack,
Mike: The Enterprise has a SOUNDTRACK? Of the Ocean?
Tom: After all these years, that Celine Dion song is *still*
on top of the charts?!
All: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> soothing temperature-controlled
>pillow, or silky blankets could hold off what was coming.
Tom: The entire ship is coated in silky blankets?
Crow: Maybe there won't be the usual level of Marrissa-
intensive violence.
> "WWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,
>WAH WAH WAH WAH!"
Tom: SAILOR MOON, NO!
Crow: But enough about Hanson...
> pierced the simulated night of the Quarters.
>Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard of the Starship
>Enterprise-F,
Tom: ...Once and Future King...
> heir to the throne of Essex,
Crow: Keeper of the Sacred Rings of Betazed...
Mike: ...holder of the sacred chalice of Riix...
>and former Commander in Chief of the Kids Crews,
Mike: CEO of General Motors...
Crow: Queen of the Silver Dollar...
Tom: Owner of the largest ball of twine in Minnesota...
Mike: I'll say this, Tonts knows his source material.
> stumbled from
>her bed to answer the call of the only being that had any
>true power over her.
Mike: Stephen Ratliff?
Tom: No, Mike, even Ratliff cannot control the force that *is*
Marrissa anymore.
> Sarah Alara Picard, her baby girl.
Tom: First name after Fergie, middle name after the elf NPC
Stephen had a crush on in his junior high D&D campaign.
Crow: I notice the kid doesn't get Jay's last name.
Mike: Are you really surprised?
Crow: Well, no.
> The crib was set up as a partial bio-bed that allowed the
>parent to discern why the baby was malcontent.
Tom: Specifically, it emitted a high-pitched "WHAAAAAAAH!!"
noise.
Mike: "Malcontent?" So she's unhappy with the Federation
government?
Crow: Don't forget, Lwaxanna Troi's running it now.
> This particular
>case was because the baby was hungry.
Mike: Uh, oh.. I don't like the way this is going...
>It missed its evening feeding due to a Romulan skirmish that
>Marrissa had effortlessly beaten down.
Crow: Like her husband Jay.
> The baby began to
>suckle its mothers bosom,
All: ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGH!!! [All make retching noises]
Tom: This is the *LAST* thing I needed to see!
Mike: I think I'm going to be sick!!
Crow: Should I go get the milk of magnesium ?
Tom: AARRRRGGGGH!!!!
> just as a computer began to
>signal an incoming message. With a sigh, Marrissa made her
>way to the terminal holding the child,
Crow: The terminal is holding the child, and Marrissa is
nursing it but she has to walk over to it? Either that
kid has long lips, or...
Mike: For the love of Pete, stop right there.
> and answered the call.
Mike: If she left the video on, someone's gonna get a surprise.
Crow: Let's hope that's not Cal on the screen, else, calcium.
Tom & Mike: ARRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!
> "Attention all starships.",
Mike: [Picard] I regret to report--YAUUGH!! Marrissa, for God's
sake, cover yourself!
> Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard's
>visage appeared on the screen.
Crow: I mean, it's not like I'm milking this for all it's
worth...
[Tom is visibly shivering on his seat]
Mike: Crow, that's enough for now...
> "A colony on the outskirts of
>the Federation was destroyed this morning.
Crow: Suddenly, a bare chested Riker pops up besides Picard,
with "Soy Bomb" painted on his pallid, doughy torso,
and begins gyrating suggestively.
Mike: Well, thanks for permanently putting me off my feed,
Crow.
Crow: Any time, Mike.
> All indications
>point to a Borg ship.
Mike: Since there aren't any other known murderous simple
geometric shapes.
Crow: Plus they spray painted "Borg Roolz!" on the colony
walls.
> Please route any ships available to
>Earth.
Tom: [Picard] Your assignment: evacuate the Picard family wine
cellar.
> I will lead the assault personally.
Crow: No ship, no space suit, no nothin' - just Jean-Luc and a
slingshot.
Mike: [Picard] I have just been handed a correction. I will
lead the assault with the aid of a starship and fifteen
hundred crewmen.
> Starfleet out."
Tom: So, Harry Kim sent the message?
> The terminal turned off, as Marrissa let out a sigh.
Crow: [Marrissa] I guess it's up to little ol' me to save the
day again...
> Her fleet
>was capable of taking on even the strongest renegade Romulan
>attacks. But such an attack seemed like less of a worry.
>After the Romulan attack on the Sol System, and the conquering
>of the Romulan Empire,
Tom: ... Life just didn't seem to be interesting, so she took
her own.
> the Romulans began to run low on
>warbirds.
Mike: Too bad the Romulans didn't have access to "Voyager
Shuttlecraft" technology.
Crow: Yeah, then they'd be up to their prominent eyebrows in
warbirds!
> Having the Warbirds allowed as home defence, resulted
>in tight registration and tracking procedures, which cut off
>renegade Romulan resources.
Crow: So there's a five-day waiting period before buying a
warbird now?
Mike: Remember, when warbirds are outlawed, only outlaws will
have warbirds!
Tom: [Charlton Heston] Join the National Warbird Association
today.
> The Romulans still needed to be
>escorted back home.
Tom: So Marrissa's running an escort service now?
Mike: You know, your head just twists right off, Tom.
Tom: Okay, okay, it was just a joke! Sheesh!
> As a result, about five of her ships, including the
>Enterprise could make the battle. She got on the comm and
>called the Captain of the Elizabeth,
Tom: Montgomery?
Mike: Hurley?
Crow: Shue?
> one of the two new
>Sovereign class vessels that arrived the previous day.
Crow: Well, someone's literal-minded. I suppose the other one
is the "Mary" or the "Victoria" or something?
Tom: Just once I'd like to see a ship named after Mad King
Ludwig.
> "I have
>received a message from Starfleet command.
Crow: [Marrissa] From now on we are to be known as the
"Dil-rats." What the--?!
> We are to proceed
>to Earth in order to stop the Borg." The same order went out
>to the Captain of the Nelson.
Crow: It was named after some clod who manned a space station
and watched movies.
Mike: Watch it.
> Marrissa selected the two final
>candidates for the fleet.
Tom: Yeah, but then the USS Perot entered the race...
> The Defiant class Henson,
All: [snort in amused disbelief]
Mike: [Link Hogthrob] First Mate Piggy, what do the sensors
say, hmmm?
Tom: [Miss Piggy] Hm? Oh, I'm sorry, I was just admiring my
reflection in these readouts. What did you say?
Crow: [Julius Strangepork] I'm detecting an inappropriate
reference to port,Captain.
> and the
>Nebula class Merrimac.
Tom: Where they continued to *monitor* the situation!
> The Defiant class had been mass
>produced as of late, and it didn't need to worry about lack
>of comfort for personnel.
Mike: Yep, it's war, but at least we've got our Playstations.
> This was thanks to the mass production of neural nets
Mike: All their tuna is brain-cell safe
> by
>SoongCorp, run by Data,
Tom: So, it's an information based corporation then?
> located on Omicron Theta. After being
>promoted from First Officer of the Enterprise- E, Data
>commanded the USS Andromeda on several exploration missions in
>the remainder of the Alpha Quadrant.
Mike: ...what was left of it after Berman got through, anyway.
> He was credited with
>discovering and inducting five new species into the
>Federation.
Crow: All of which he'd invented himself.
Tom: SoongCorp, when you need a new species overnight.
> After this mission, Data was promoted to
>Admiral and placed in command of Developing Technology.
Mike: Looks like the same guy names their departments that
names their starships.
Tom: [George Takei] This is Lieutenant Sulu, of the Driving the
Ship department.
Crow: [James Doohan] I'm Commander Scott, of the Fixing Stuff
department.
Mike: [Marina Sirtis] Counselor Troi, of the Showing Cleavage
department.
>After spending a year behind the desk, Data began to feel
>trapped in a dull
All: Fanfic?
> role.
Tom: He longed to reprise his role on Night Court and asked to
be killed in the next movie.
> Even after his withdrawal from
>Starfleet, Data was still bombarded by despondent emotions.
Crow: Including an as-yet-unexplained obsession with Angora.
>The feelings propelled him to return to Omicron Theta, his
>birthplace.
Crow: Data's going to spawn?
Tom: I certainly hope not! We've already seen the spawn of
Marrissa, and that's all *I* need to see today!
> Searching through the equipment left behind, Data found
Tom: Another brother, Hearsay. Or so I'm told, anyway.
> records on the creation of his neural net.
Crow: The original CFV for alt.fan.pale.androids.
> Recalling one of his father's wishes,
Mike: ...he finally got around to mowing the lawn.
> Data requested
>a grant from Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard to follow his newly
>chosen path.
Tom: [Picard] I agree you should be free to pursue your dreams,
Data, but is "Second star to the left and straight on 'til
morning" really practical?
> This path was one his father had wished, and yet
>still followed his Prime Directive, to aid and make life
>better for sentinent life forms.
Mike: Yet all his attempts on Marrissa's life had failed.
> Using himself, his brother
>Lore, and his failed experiments with Lal as prototypes, Data
>built replicas of the neural net that was used as a brain.
Mike: So a third of the technology is based on an unsuccessful
model, while another third is based on a murderously
psychopathic model?
Tom: If I didn't know better, I'd think Data was suffering
aftereffects of Ratliff Gas exposure.
> These electronic brains were attached to anything with
>computers, allowing them to think on their own.
Tom: I seem to remember them rejecting the idea of a whole race
of Datas on the grounds that robots shouldn't be slaves.
Crow: Something I heartily agree with, by the way...*Mike*.
Mike: Well, invent a self-cleaning load pan bay and we'll talk.
> In the
>Twenty-fourth century, almost everything has a computer
>attached to it.
Tom: Which gave a whole new sense of adventure to the use of
prophylactic devices.
> From farming machinery, to starships.
Tom: Boy, this mall's got everything.
> The nets
>could also be attached to service robots that could be used
>to operate a ship.
Mike: Now, who would be stupid enough to put a robot in charge
of a ship?
[pause]
Tom: No slamming old sleepy eyes, Mike.
Mike: Oh. Sorry.
Crow: She's gone! And we'll never see her again!
WAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Mike: There, there. I'm sure that we'll see her everytime
"Jenny" comes on.
Tom: So, we might see her two or three times again?
> These new robots could be put on
>less-than-plum assignments,
Mike: Prunes, for example.
> such as the mothballable Defiant
>fleet, and older, less reliable ships.
Tom & Crow: Booo!
> This group could be
>active in war, and inactive in peace
Mike: And semi-active in the hearts of its countrymen.
> without protest, since
>modifications in their neural nets prevented emotions and
>ambitions.
Tom: If they wanted people without emotions and ambitions, they
should have just hired someone from a temp agency.
Mike: Keep it up and you'll never see a RAM chip again.
> In addition, each Defiant had a senior staff of
>members of the Humanoid races, since this bond between
>Organics and Machines increased efficiency.
Crow: [snort] For the Organics, maybe.
Tom: Ha! The Federation'll show those Borg - they'll assimilate
themselves first!
> Data was
>attempting to build androids to aid humanity, but to date all
>his attempts failed.
Mike: WE DON'T CARE. SHUT UP! SHUT UP!
Tom: Has anyone even *thought* of going back to Mudd's Planet
and seeing what makes *those* androids tick?
Mike: They can't risk unleashing the Stellas on the galaxy.
Crow: [Stella Mudd] You lazy good for nothing-
Mike & Tom: SHUT UP!!
Crow: [fading] thing- thing- thing-
> Feeling the baby stop nursing,
Tom: Bored to sleep by the backstory.
> Marrissa put Sarah back
>in the crib. Being unable to sleep, Marrissa went to the
>computer and called up a history of all the Borg battles
>fought.
Mike: Search - FLEET BORG BUTTS WHUPPED.
Crow: [as Marrissa] Gee, no wonder we always lost! These
Captains never had a 21 minute Kobiyasi Maru time!
> Staying up for two hours devising tactics to use
>against the Collective,
Tom: Well, if you can call playing "Borg" deep planning.
> her power to stay awake dropped like
>bricks on Jupiter.
Crow: Through clouds of hydrogen?
> Staggering back to bed, Marrissa prepared
>herself for the next day and the upcoming battle.
>
Tom: Sacrificing virgins, performing dark rituals, the usual.
> The following morning, the Earth Defence fleet had gathered
>into position in the middle of the Borg Cube's path.
Mike: Why not? Let's make it easy on the Borg!
> Fleet
>Admiral Jean-Luc Picard sat in the command chair of the
>Sovereign class vessel, USS James T Kirk.
[Quickfire...]
Tom: With separable "Toupee" section!
Crow: And extra "below deck" capacity!
Mike: Plays "Rocket Man" 24 hours a day!
Tom: But, wait! There's more!
Crow: It comes with the fantastic "Stutter" warp drive!
Mike: The entire TekWar library at your fingertips!
Tom: Now how much will you pay!?
> So much like the
>Enterprise-E, he couldn't help think.
Mike: Help think what?
Crow: I guess he's no longer a casual thinker, he's addicted.
> The entire fleet
>represented the indomitable willpower of the Federation,
Tom: Is this the same indomitable willpower that wimps out at
any application of the Prime Directive?
> consisting
>of some of the more advanced starships of the time. Composed
>of Five Sovereign class Battleships, seven Ambassador class
>Cruisers, a Galaxy class ship,
Mike: Ooooh...I bet the Borg are just quaking in their cubicles
over that one.
> five Nebula class Cruisers, the
>Nova class Enterprise,
Crow: Insert standard "exploding star" joke here.
Tom: Insert standard "it doesn't go" joke here.
Mike: Insert standard anti-Chevy joke here.
Crow & Tom: Huh?
Mike: Sorry, sorry. [clutches head] I'm turning into my Ford-
drivin' friends from high school.
> and the main body of the force was the
>twelve Defiant class Destroyers(sans cloak).
Tom: Why would the Federation build something to destroy their
own ships?
[Mike whispers in his dome]
Tom: Oh. Never mind.
Crow: This is the trekkie equivalent of guys who love to
discuss gun types and bullet sizes, isn't it?
>The Federation fleet waited, until a large object entered
>their sensor range.
Crow: [Picard] Open fire! No, wait...it's just Shatner's ego.
> It came in without fear, like a grim
>spectre of death.
Mike: Now would this be the likable if morose Death of Terry
Pratchett?
Tom: How about the petite, attractive Death of Neil Gaiman's
Sandman?
Crow: Guys, it's the grim spectre of death of mediocre
writing, get over it.
> The Borg opened the battle, not with cutting lasers or
>tractor beams, not even the customary "Resistance is Futile"
>speech, but instead scanning each of the fleet ships. The
>vessel moved against the two targets first, the Kirk, and the
>Nova class Enterprise.
Crow: Having detected a major character on at least one.
>The battle commenced, with the Federation gaining an advantage
>almost immediately.
Tom: Just trust us on this one.
Crow: Well, he's got the gist of the Ratliffian battle scenes
at least.
>"Launch all fighters" Marrissa called.
Mike: The Federation fighter program's motto: "If one really
big phaser blast won't get through their shields, maybe a
bunch of tiny ones will do something."
> Responding to the order,
>a squadron of Essex class fighters streaked from the Fighter
>Bay.
Crow: Essex class. Named after a backwards quasi-medieval
planet. Wonderful.
Mike: Quick! Fire your crossbows at the Borg and ready your
mace launchers!
> Swarming around the cube, the fighters fired phasers and
>mini-torpedoes. The results of the efforts were small pocks
>and scars across the hull.
Mike: Sounds like a bad case of acne.
Tom: Oxycute them!
> Determined to put more than the
>minor dents in the hull, the Capital ships opened fire.
Mike: USS Newt Gingrich, fire!
Tom: USS Strom Thurmond, this is USS Ted Kennedy, I'm sinking
fast!
Crow: Oh no! USS Dick Armey & USS Dick Gephardt have started
firing on each other!
> "This is the Kirk,
Tom: [Nomad] I am the creator. The Borg are imperfect. They
must be sterilized.
> to all ships. Target the following
>coordinates." ordered Jean-Luc Picard.
Tom: It may be better to target a ship.
> The Federation ships
>lanced out with phasers and Quantum torpedoes, while fighters
>from the Enterprise ran interference. Despite the severe
>beating the cube took, it only attacked the Kirk and the
>Enterprise, soon just ignoring the Kirk.
Mike: Just like the Grammys. When will the Transformed Man get
the respect that it deserves?
Crow: Quiet Mike.
Tom: I'm sure that the rest of the Federation wishes they could
ignore Kirk.
Crow: [Shatner] Look, I'm dead again! Now I'm alive again! Now
I'm dead again! Huzzah!
>The Enterprise took the shots, and lost its shields in the
>process.
Crow: Hey, is this an actual battle scene?
Mike: I think so.
Tom: Well, it can't be a Ratliff story, then.
Mike: It's *not* a Ratliff story - it's just an incredible
simulation.
> The Borg began beaming into locations throughout the
>Enterprise; Engineering, the fighter bay, and the Bridge.
>Five Borg appeared on the Bridge.
Crow: They've assimilated the Jacksons!
Mike: Well, at least Michael's skin won't get any paler.
> Putting into practice the
>security measures, Marrissa had devised, she ducked out of her
>seat,
Mike: Ah, our fearless captain shows her true colors!
> reaching for something under the cushion.
Mike: It's where she stores her used Juicy Fruit for safe
keeping.
Crow: [Marrissa] Ooh! A quarter! Now I can pay the security
staff this week!
Tom: If relying on your captain to duck and reach under her
hemorrhoid ring is a security plan, I'm not impressed.
>Hand secured around the object,
Tom: Oh! It must be her life vest!
Crow: [Marrissa] Woman and children first! And since I'm both
of those, CLEAR THE WAY!
> Marrissa blasted the first one
>she could, using the phaser rifle that was stored under her
>seat.
Mike: I see that Marrissa has been preparing 'just in case'
someone disobeys her.
> Five more appeared and were blasted again by Marrissa,
>Jay, and Shayna.
Crow: Leaving the first four that Marrissa ignored, of course.
> Compartments such as the one under the
>cushion of the Command chair,
Crow: Which, of course, could also be used as a floatation
device...
Tom: Commas such as this one, were scattered randomly through
the sentences.
> were placed throughout the bridge.
Mike: So... there were random cushions placed about the bridge?
Crow: Apparently so, Mike. But most of the Bridge crew had
filled the compartments underneath with liquor.
Tom: What type?
Crow: Er, blue.
> Another wave of the drones appeared on the bridge.
[Mike enthusiastically waves at the screen.]
>Keeping with the training on fighting the Borg everyone
>received, they believed the phasers were useless.
Mike: And if they aren't, that training stank.
> The blank
>minded drones
Crow: I know Bertie Wooster isn't very bright, but isn't that a
little harsh?
> moved up closer to use their nanite injectors,
>and were met with clubs in the form of phaser rifles.
Tom: Looks like the Borg forgot that solid matter setting
again.
>Marrissa took a mighty swing with the butt of her rifle,
Tom: But there was no joy in Muddville that day ... the mighty
Marrissa had struck out.
> that
>shattered the back of the unfortunate drones skull.
Mike: Fortunately, the Borg had video taped the entire thing.
Tom: Unfortunately, Marrissa's trial took place in Simi Valley,
Essex.
Crow: "Can't we all just get along?" the Borg drone later
asked.
> Another
>Borg was stumbling up behind Marrissa,
Tom: [singing] Stumblin' in...
> and on instinct she
>turned and fired the phaser into the cybernetic zombie.
>None of the expected defence shields popped up to intercept
>the angry red beam of energy, and the victim was vaporised in
>a flare.
Tom: [Borg drone] Strategy is irrelevant.
Crow: Looks like common sense is irrelevant too.
> Other bridge members noticed
Tom: [monotonous] Oh, look, we're in the middle of a battle.
> and resumed firing the
>weapons into the vessels of the Collective.
Mike: [snorts] They're shooting out the windows at the Borg
ships? I think this is a new low...
> The Kirk
>manoeuvred into a better firing position,
Tom: [as Shatner] Must get...to...executive...producer!
> as Admiral Picard
>listened to the Borg collective.
Crow: The Borg collective is not in right now. If you leave
your name and number, we will assimilate you at your
convenience.
> The weak areas were
>highlighted in his mind, with one point over all.
Crow: [Picard] It all hinges on tapioca. I have no idea why.
> The massive cube grabbed hold of the Enterprise,
>and was about to begin the assimilation. The plans were
>terminated when the cube burst into a ball of fire and
>debris.
Crow: Oops. The Borg must have assimilated Ted Kazinsky.
> Thanks to the Kirk's Quantum torpedo that struck home.
Crow: Not to mention.
Mike: All of those.
Tom: Random sentence fragments.
>The remaining drones aboard the Enterprise were slowly but
>surely eliminated by the angry red phaser beams.
Crow: Unfortunately, they were stopped by the cheerful yellow
shields, and everyone was slaughtered by the melancholy
gray drones.
Mike: *Angry* phaser beams?
Tom: Sure, Mike! And happy phaser beams are the ones that will
give you a back rub and a soothing foot massage before
they vaporize you.
> The Borg had lost the battle, but at the same
>time, had come closer to winning the war. The cube had
>accomplished its job, diverting the Federation from the
>neutral zone long enough for the six vessels to sneak into
>Romulan territory.
Mike: Since we all know that the Romulans never watch their
borders, after all.
Crow: Too bad there's no sort of *sensor* that could detect
ships...some sort of *sensor* would come in handy
here, huh?
> Head Preador Stovin
Crow: So what, exactly, is a "Preador"?
Tom: I think it's one of those other guys in a bullfight -
y'know, matador, preador, stevedore.
> watched in terror from
>the Command centre.
Mike: [Stovin] Oh no! I'm a male Romulan in a Kids Crew story!
I'm dooooooomed!
Crow: Centre?
Tom: Canadian author.
Crow: Ah.
> After the Federation had taken over, they
>had allowed a number of Warbirds to be kept as a Defence
>fleet. This way they could defend Romulus without diverting
>any Federation craft. No one could have predicted how soon
>they would be needed to fill that role.
Tom: Yeah, the role of "target."
> Romulan Warbirds swarmed over the cubes,
Crow: They've got discontinued Beanie babies on those warbirds!
Get them!
> as they moved
>relentlessly towards Romulus. As if swatting flies,
All: RAAAAAAID!!!!!
> the Borg tractor
>beams swung out grabbing Warbirds.
> Instead of slicing them into a ring of debris, the Borg
>pulled the ships onto their surface. The whole Warbird armada
>was stuck to the cubes like flies to flypaper.
Crow: What's with all the insect references?
Mike: [giggling] If I could, I'd just squash this fanfic flat.
Tom: [giggling as well] I'm just bugged out by the whole thing.
Crow: Ha-ha, very funny.
> The now
>undefended world of Romulus then prepared itself for the
>horrors of assimilation.
Tom: [as Borg] You will like Kenny G. Resistance is futile!
>Yet, the only other notice that the Borg took of the planet,
>was launching an Electromagnetic pulse at the surface, sending
>all the electronic equipment off line.
Mike: And with all the electronic equipment knocked out, the
entire Romulan Empire was left without access to reruns
of CBS's Friday night Block Party.
> After a day or so, the Warbirds removed themselves
>from the cubes and merged together.
Crow: Wow. The action.
Mike: The tension.
Tom: The brevity.
> The Borg were once again
>with seven ships.
Crow: Soooo, this is Snow Marrissa and the Seven Borg Cubes?
> Their business with Romulus complete, the
>seven ships used their newly acquired technology to cloak and
>move off towards the Federation Border.
Mike: Er, haven't the Borg assimilated all sorts of stuff
anyway? I mean, you think they'd have a Cloak.
Crow: Maybe they needed to assimilate the "ON" switch.
Tom: Y'know, if they'd just thought to bring two more ships,
they could merge into one real big cube.
> Chapter 2
All: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!
>
> Rejoining the fleet had been dull and uneventful.
Mike: Much like--oh, you know the rest.
> The group of ships had just sat there the whole time with
>nothing occurring.
Mike: Well, that does describe dull and uneventful rather well.
> The Romulan ships moved away from the
>fleet, heading into their territory. The Romulan Empire had
>been stripped of it's war machine without causing any odd
>behaviour in the Federation.
Mike: What exactly IS odd behavior for the Federation?
Tom: When they act rationally.
> The fleet moved off along a
>patrol route.
Crow: Somewhere, a nightingale sang. A frog is dissected.
Pinkerton does not return.
> In the evening, in the lounge room of the
>Enterprise, Jay Gordon stumbled towards the bar, dark bags
>under his eyes.
Mike: Well, sleepin' with Marrissa'll do that to a guy.
Crow: If he looks like that, he should LEAVE the bar.
> "Coffee, 50% caffeine, black." Jay mumbled to the
>Replicator. His voice slow and sluggish from fatigue.
Crow: 50% caffeine? Why not just ask for a bag of crack and
some crystal meth and be done with it?
Tom: Unfortunately he forgot to specify "hot" so it'll come
out all lukewarm and stuff.
> "Having trouble sleeping, Captain?" inquired
>Counsellor Martin Sussex, with a grin on his face.
Mike: A song in his heart and a knife in his pocket.
> He was
>seated at a nearby table. Jay stumbled towards the table and
>sat down.
Tom: [Jay] Ask me that again and I'll kill you, doe-eyes.
> "Oh yes," replied Jay. "Marrissa forgot the evening
>feeding for the kid again.
All: [screaming] WAAH!
Tom: Marrissa would probably stop a war, *just* so she could
feed her child!
> Woke up at two in the morning
>bawling.
Crow: And she cried so hard that Sarah woke up. Sarah went
right out again, but I was up all night trying to put
Marrissa down again.
> Stayed that way until three."
Crow: [Jay] That's when I realized I can't nurse.
> "What happened then?"
> "I took Sarah to her, so she could feed it and stay
>in bed."
Mike: It? Jay refers to his daughter as it?
Tom: I detect a Dark Marrissa moment coming on. . .
Crow: Ahhhh, nothing like breastfast in bed, eh guys?
Mike & Tom: [groaning and moaning] ARGGHH!
> "Sounds like the only thing different from
>Marrissa's lifestyle, is that the baby's on the outside now,
>hmmm?" Martin inquired, with the smile spreading wider.
Crow: You know any moment the top of his head is going to fall
off.
> " I guess."
> "By the way, I've been giving some thought to that song
>we've been practising. Maybe there's something wrong with the
>lyrics or chords.
Tom: So, basically the entire song's messed up then?
> Maybe You, Me,
Mike: ...a dog named Free.
> and the band can get together
>tomorrow.
Mike: Can you see the light?!
Tom: THE BAND! THE BAND!
> How about after Alpha shift?"
Crow: Jay has a band?
Tom: I'm detecting major wish-fulfillment here. Mike.
Mike: [Weeping Silently]
> "No good. Marrissa's dragging me off to show Sarah
>what Earth looks like, on the Holodeck of course."
Crow: [Marrissa] Sarah, this is what Earth looks like on the
Holodeck. You can't see it because there aren't any
windows. Okay, here's what Vulcan looks like on the
Holodeck...
> "Oh, how about this upcoming weekend?"
> "Sorry, diplomatic function. We're meeting with a
>Garidian ambassador. He requested the presence of the
>'Admiral who conquered the Romulans'. I was going to
>be exempt, but Marrissa said he wanted the family."
Crow: [Martin] Jay, uh...you do know that Garidians like the
taste of humans?
Tom: [Jay] Who cares? What about the music!? Can we get a gig
at the function?
> "Look," Martin's voice dropped to a whisper, and his
>face lost the smile. "I didn't want to tell you this, but
>you have to stand up for yourself in front of Marrissa."
Crow: Y'know, I like Martin!
Tom: Too bad his sacrilege has doomed him to die Real Soon Now.
Mike: [Standing] Yes! We have something approaching reality!
Crow: [To Tom] That brought him back!
> "WHAT?!?" Jay yelled incredulously, all signs of
>fatigue gone from his visage.
Mike: Replaced by fear and terror.
> "Keep your voice down" Martin whispered.
Crow: Ooooh, please tell me they're planning a coup! Oh please
oh please oh please!
> "She
>presently sees you as a lackey,
Mike: Well, so do we.
> and she's used to you waiting
>on her whim because of the pregnancy. You've got to break out
>of the routine. My guess is that for every time she's woke up
>to feed the kid, you've woke up twice as many times, if not
>more.
Mike: Now all Martin has to do is get rid of Marrissa's
deathgrip on the Federation and bring back the millions
she's slaughtered and it'll all be okay!
> "That's true, poor Sarah can't get back to sleep
>without me singing to her."
Mike: Yeah, a few bars of some dear old favorites, like "Smells
Like Teen Spirit" and "Jeremy", and she's out like a
light.
> Martin nodded, then went on.
Tom: [Martin Lawrence] WAZUUUUUUUUP?!?!!???
> "And since she ranks
>you, you've probably been bossed around quite a bit lately.
Mike: Yes, using a very, very, very, very, broad definition
of "lately"!
> And Marrissa's probably a little more aggressive about
>getting what she wants, right?"
[All smirk and giggle]
Tom: That's quite an understatement there, Martin.
> "What should I do?" Jay replied, a little embarrassed
>" I'd like to have some control over the relationship, I mean,
>even last night she was telling me what to do during ..."
All: EWWWWWWWWWW!
Tom: Geez, Rob, are you *trying* to blind us?!?!
Mike: Not a word, Crow.
Crow: What?
> "Shut the heck up!" Martin interrupted,
[All cheer]
Mike: Oh wow. That was fun. I can see why Marrissa likes doing
that. Let me try some more. Sit up straight! Clean the
room before I get home! Fix me Dinner!
Crow: Mike. . . .
Mike: Turn off that stupid holodeck! Watch the kid while I go
out with Clara!
Tom: Mike. . .
Mike: Stop practicing your stupid guitar! And when are you
going to get a real job instead of that stupid temp job?
Bots: Mike!
Mike: Huh? What?
Tom: [To Crow] We need to up his dosage again.
Crow: [To Tom] Agreed.
> surprised at the
>dialogues new course. Calming himself, he continued "Sorry,
>but I don't need to hear that,
Tom: Neither did we!!!
Mike: This story is just probing the dark steamy underside of
the Marrissa universe that we never wanted to see!
Crow: We'll probably learn about Marrissa's hot flashes
next....
Tom & Mike: AIE!!
> it's a little too personal.
Tom: And this is the ship's *counselor*?!?
Mike: Yeah, and the ship's doctor doesn't like to do invasive
surgery, it's too icky.
> Anyway, what I think you should do, is go back to your
>quarters, ask Marrissa to feed the kid, then have a heart to
>heart. Sound like a plan?"
Mike: [Martin] When I snap my fingers, you will wake up and
have a backbone. Three...two...[snap]
Crow: [Jay] YES! I WILL THINK FOR MYSELF! What next, Martin?
> With that, Martin got up and left, while Jay finished
>his coffee. That's what I'm gonna do, kept running full tilt
>through his brain. Maybe those tabloid reporters were right,
Tom: [As Jay] Maybe Marrissa WAS Bigfoot...
> maybe they got married too young.
Mike: Again, that's quite an understatement.
Crow: Keep this up, and the Marrissa line is going to be
retiring before they're 8.
Tom: Theirs Was A Love That Spanned The Stars, But Society Said
They Were Too Young. Read "Jay And Marrissa: Thank You,
Ma'am, May I Have Another?" in "Dark Mansion of Forbidden
Love" from DC Comics.
> Back on the
>Endeavour there was romance and flowers and love gushing from
>every pore.
Mike: [Jay] No, wait, that's not love. Ewww...
Crow: It's the Loooooooove Boat, the Next Generation!
> Now it became more routine, less special.
Tom: [Jay] 1800 hours: Have dinner. 1900 hours: Argue with
Marrissa. 1930: Make love to Marrissa. 2000 hours: Fall
asleep.
> He wondered if he even loved Marrissa anymore.
Mike: Jay's finally sorted out the difference between love
and lust and fear.
> The coffee was
>gone,
Crow: Where's that donkey when you need him?!
> and Jay marched back to his quarters. His head was held
>high, both from the courage he gained, and from the caffeine
>entering his system. The doors slid open to reveal Marrissa
>once again nursing the child
All: [scream again] WAAAH!
Mike: [panting] Come on, guys, we can do this! It's not like
we've never seen this before...
Tom: Actually, Mike, this is our first time.
Mike: Oh. Then prepare for EXTREME PAIN!
All: [scream again]
> with a surprised, and vaguely
>annoyed,look when she saw Jay.
Mike: Fortunately, Jay was used to this.
> "Where have you been, Jay? I had to get up and feed
>Sarah.
Mike: What? Like it was *his* turn to feed Sarah?!
> I need my beauty sleep." Said Marrissa. Jay couldn't
>help but remember a joke involving an old childhood story
>about Rip Van Winkle.
Tom: Sooooo, apparently, if Marrissa sleeps too long, she
becomes a 70 year old man with a long white beard?
Crow: Hey, Jay! Get the sleeping gas now while you have time!
> "Besides, you know our poor wittle babykins can't get to
>sleep without you singing to her.
Crow: If Jay strangled her right now, there's not a jury in the
galaxy that would convict him.
> Why she likes 'Achy Breaky
>Heart', I doubt I'll ever understand." continued Marrissa.
[appalled silence]
Crow: That sound you just heard? Everything good & decent in
the universe dying.
Tom: Yep - joy, laughter, kindness, warmth - all gone!
Mike: Man, I *hate* when that happens.
> That was true enough, Jay decided. He should have
>stayed home to get the coffee, but he needed a social
>atmosphere.
Tom: Like an empty bar?
> Too late to worry about it now, though. Jay was
>>about to launch into the speech he concocted, when the call
>came through. "Attention all hands. Shift change.
Crow: go from lowercase to ALL CAPS. THAT IS ALL...
> Alpha Shift
>to duty stations."
Crow: [sleepily] Time to make the donuts. Time to make the
donuts.
Mike: Jay, return your manhood to it's previous position.
> "We'll talk later, Jay." warned Marrissa. The ice in
>her voice made Jay wonder if he could apply for a transfer.
Mike: [Jay] "Power Rangers", "Space Cases", "Saved by the Bell"
- there's *got* to be another series I can sneak into!
Crow: You know, this really is a shocking and unsettling turn.
Tom: I know. I appreciated it when Jay was so P-whipped you
could use him as a harem guard.
> They prepared for another day on the job, and made their
>way to the Bridge. All the way, Jay felt as if Marrissa had
>the pull of a planet's gravity,
Mike: Which would have promptly caused the Enterprise to
implode, and ended this little fanfic.
Tom: Unfortunately, for us, this was not the case.
> and was going to yank the
>rebellious thoughts from his mind.
Mike: She's a P-12. Call the Psi-Corp!
Crow: Wrong show Mike. Unfortunately.
Tom: Could you imagine Marrissa on Babylon 5?
Crow: Only in an airlock.
> On the bridge, Jay tried
>to bury himself in his duties,
Crow: Let's hope that doesn't include Sarah's diaper duty.
Tom & Mike: Ewwwww!
> yet continually felt the glare
>of his wife
Crow: MAKEUP! Could we have some more pancake on Marrissa?
We're still getting a terrible glare off her.
> burying into his back.
Mike: Yep, the marriage has NO effect on the efficiency of the
command structure whatsoever.
> He was almost happy when
>something happened in the Neutral Zone.
Mike: [as Helmsman] Oh, wait, sorry, just a sensor blurp.
Something didn't happen.
Tom: [as Jay] Oh, damn!
> The feeling dropped
>when he saw what it was. A decloaking vessel, too big to be a
>Romulan, appeared in front of them.
> "Shields," Marrissa barked.
[All do dog barking noises]
> "Weapons to full power, all
>fighters stand by to launch."
Mike: Where they'll just go "plink plink plink" against the
inside of the shields. Want to rethink that order,
Marrissa?
> The bridge crew stood in shock as the ship became fully
visible, it was a Borg Cube. The crew came to its senses and
Crow: Threw Marrissa overboard & joined the Borg of their own
free will.
> moved to obey their Commanding Officer.
Tom: The two parts of that last sentence do NOT make sense.
> The Borg came through on all channels.
Tom: [as Borg] This has been a test of the Emergency Borg
Systems. In case of an actual Borg attack...
> "We are the Borg.
Tom: [Borg] Stand by for an important announcement concerning
your life insurance.
Mike: [Borg] Wolf 359 veterans cannot be turned down for this
offer.
>lower your shields and surrender your vessels. We will
>acquire the future queen of the Borg. We shall then
>assimilate the remaining individuals.
Crow: We will then download the "Salvage Starship" objective
and assimilate your ship. Do not attempt to make your
Enterprise-E staffing icon backwards-
compatible. Downloading "Sense the Borg" is futile.
> Resistance is futile."
Mike: Second verse, same as the first.
> Then, behind the first cube, the six others appeared.
Tom: [Borg] We will telegraph our plans. We will make
ourselves vulnerable. We will display the originality of
"Family Matters."
> The Federation fleet attacked, with the unfortunate effect
>of being set adrift by electromagnetic beams.
Tom: Why do the ultra-adaptable Borg never learn that no one
ever believes that resistance is futile?
Mike: Or that you don't mess with Marrissa?
> Soon, only the
>Enterprise was operable, but loosing shields.
Mike: Man, the action doesn't let up. Of course it never
really begins either.
>Marrissa took a lucky guess and managed to destroy the cube
>formerly made out of Warbirds, by breaching their warp core.
Mike: Oh, like that one little weak spot in "Generations."
Toughest ships in the galaxy, but one little tap and
BOOM!
Tom: Hey, the djinn in the "Arabian Nights" had the same
problem, y'know.
> The
>victory was ruined when they recalled the six other cubes
All: [shouting] YAHTZEE!
>had taken out the shields and were beaming aboard.
Mike: "Recalled?" Forgot to mention that little detail, Rob?
Crow: Either that or this crew has lots of severe memory
problems.
> A group of
>ten appeared in engineering.
Mike: Amway salesborgs! Run!
> The Security teams fired
>repeatedly at the Borg who still would not adapt,
Crow & Tom: HELL, NO, WE WON'T ADAPT! HELL, NO, WE--urrrrrk...
> taking down
>five while the other Borg grabbed random engineers and
Crow: ...subjected them to a fascinating survey about George
Wednt and beans!
Tom: [as Borg] Resistance is futile. You will be surveyed.
Mike: Actually, that would explain a lot at the mall...
>injected their nanites into them. The infected engineers
>stood in shock, trying to differentiate between their own
>motives and the Collective's,
Crow: [trance-like] Regular or decaf?
> then took up phasers
>against the security team.
>
Crow: Which was actually pretty fun!
> On the bridge, Marrissa was trying everything she
>could think of to try and defeat the over whelming odds. She
>flipped the ship,
Crow: Oooooh! Marrissa's from New York! That would explain a
lot!
> rolled the ship,
Crow: o/~ The captains in Starfleet, they say they're
mighty fine/They'll flip you for a nickel, and roll you
for a dime/I don't want no more Starfleet life... o/~
> beamed Quantum torpedoes
>onto the Borg ships,
All: *snort*
Crow: Hi, I'm putting a bullet on your shoulder. You die now,
okay?
> and even tried the Shelton slide
>manoeuvre,
Mike: Then the Mashed Potato, followed by the Boot-Scootin'
Boogie, the Smurf, the Batusi, and even -
Tom & Crow: NO!!!
Mike: Yes - *Lambada*, the Forbidden Dance!!!
> all to no avail.
Tom: And she did all this herself with no help from the crew.
Crow: Unfortunately, most of the crew died while trying to
untangle the extra vowels from the author's spelling.
> The Borg seemed to be able to anticipate the moves
>then halt them.
Mike: That's what happens when your fight scenes are
choreographed by Paula Abdul.
> The Borg beamed in next to the security
>personnel posted at the doors of the bridge. Instead of
>the assimilation tactics used in Engineering, the Security
>team was vaporised, and the other members of the bridge
>scrambled to react.
Tom: Laughing proved ineffective so they tried different
reactions.
Mike: Didn't Sun Tzu say that it was better to capture your
opponent's resources than just destroy them?
Crow: Well, unlike you, the Borg didn't learn everything they
know about tactics by playing "The Ancient Art of War."
> Marrissa took up the phaser rifle once
>again and managed to take out two of the cybernetic terrors,
>who were replaced with more of the same. The Borg fired
>again, killing the helm officer.
Crow: Oh my God! The Borg killed Ensign Kenny! You bastards!
> Alex, who had grabbed his
>phaser rifle, avenged the officer's death by firing a
>vaporising blast into the Borg that killed him.
Tom: Another Borg grabbed the rifle and shot Alex. Patterson
grabbed the rifle and killed the Borg. A third drone
grabbed the rifle and killed Patterson. Jay grabbed the
rifle...
Mike: Thank you, Thomas Malory.
> A Borg
>materialised behind him, then in front of him, the whole
>Bridge was crawling with Borg drones.
Tom: Jim, this bridge is swarming with Borg drones!
> Marrissa couldn't stand
>it.
Mike: Thus Marrissa achieves empathy with her audience.
> Remembering an old Schwarzenegger movie
Crow: Pumping Iron?
Tom: Twins?
Mike: Jingle all the Way?
> she saw as a kid,
>she cried
Tom: [Ahnuld] It's not a too-mah!
> "Everybody Down!!!!" at the top of her lungs.
Tom: Yep, all that Starfleet training and she turns to
Schwarzenegger for inspiration.
> The Bridge crew dropped to the deck, as Marrissa fired at
>full power. She was surrounded, but pirouetting like a
>professional dancer while firing, she cut the Borg down to
>ribbons.
[All laugh hysterically.]
Mike: If I spin fast enough they can't hit me!
Crow: Oh, sure, Starfleet won't mind the ring of burn marks in
the walls around the bridge.
Tom: I won't bother adapting to her frequency, she couldn't hit
a Horta at this dist--
Mike: This is the weirdest and most violent version of Swan
Lake I've ever seen!
Crow: If I cover my head you can't see me!
Tom: Sylvester Stallone *IS* Tara Lipinski in "Rambo IV: Death
Lutz"!
> The crew was safely on the deck, under the wave of
>Marrissa's killing fire,
Mike: Which was a welcome change.
> even managing to fire at a drone, on
>occasion.
Crow: And Marrissa mixed with 20th Century ideas save the day!
> With all the drones cut down around the bridge, a
>wave of fatigue washed over her like a tidal wave on a beach.
>
Tom: Covering a psychic Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr.
> Just then a final Borg appeared about two meters in
>front of her. About to fire without a second thought,
Mike: That's our Marrissa!
> Marrissa
>noticed it was female, with blond hair streaked with grime and
>oil.
Mike: Courtney Love, no!
> In one arm the Borg was cradling a small blanket that
>sent waves of fear through Marrissa,
Tom: Her worst dreams had come true. The Borg had assimilated
Linus.
> the blanket was Sarah's.
>Rage swelled up inside her like a over-shaken pop bottle.
Mike: I hope that she hasn't had any Pop Rocks.
> She
>raised the rifle to avenge her child's death,
Mike: Anyone feel like a game of chess, all of a sudden?
> and in response
>the Borg moved itself so she could see the infant was
>unharmed. But the Borg indicated that it would not stay that
>way if Marrissa fired, by raising her arm and extending the
>nanite injectors over the baby's head. The rage evacuated
>her,
All: EWW-W-W-W-W!!!
> leaving only a sea of relief.
Crow: What's with all the water references?
Mike: Urrr, I shouldn't have had that Big Gulp before we came
in the theater...
Tom: Once her child was assimilated she could kill her and
finally get some sleep at night.
> The choice seemed fare to her,
Tom: Homophones: Your Guide To Quality Fanfics.
>
the drones life for her childs, a diplomatic trade off.
Mike: 'Course, it doesn't take nine months to make a new drone.
> Resigned, Marrissa lowered her rifle, and Jay remained on
>the deck in shock.
Crow: Pretty much Jay's usual bridge station.
> A cry of warning came from Jay's lips as another
>Borg appeared behind Marrissa. But it was too late.
Crow: Galaxy threatened, Federation in danger, Marrissa lets
her personal life interfere.
> As Marrissa whipped around,
Tom: o/~ Whip it! Whip it good! o/~
> the Borg extended the
>injector, and pumped Marrissa full of the microscopic,
>assimilating robots.
[Suddenly, balloons and confetti fall from the theater ceiling,
and Mike and the bots dance around cheering]
> This wasn't right,
Crow: Sez you!
> Marrissa's mind screamed
>out.
Crow: Her first thought as the Borg, and it's the most sensible
thought she's had!
> A cheap shot, a low blow,
Mike: Poetic justice...
> call it what you will,
Crow: How about "Eunice?"
>but the Borg had pulled it.
Tom: Pull the other one, it's got bells on.
> The nanoprobes assimilated the
>blood cells one by one, and the rest of her body couldn't take
>the stress, and shut itself off.
Crow: The nanites considered this "slumming"
Tom: Mike, is it OK to be enjoying this so much? Shouldn't I
feel guilty, or pity, or something?
Mike: Nah. She's had this coming for YEARS.
> Collapsing to the floor, the bridge crew stared in
>shock at the image of their fallen leader.
Mike: Then spontaneous cheers erupted throughout the ship!
Crow: The Federation declared a galaxy-wide day of celebration!
Tom: And cards of condolence poured into the Borg.
Mike: [Alexander] Dibs on her bike.
> The female Borg lowered Sarah to a now vacant seat,
>then assisted the other Borg in lifting Marrissa.
Crow: "Lifting Marrissa" - the new sequel to "Raising Arizona"
> The three
>then beamed back to their cube, followed by the Borg in
>engineering. In space, the Borg once again cloaked and moved
>away from the fleet. They had what they came for.
Mike: Cheez-Whiz. Crates of it.
> They had
>their new Queen.
>
Crow: I think the Borg HR department is gonna catch a lot of
flack for this.
Mike: So now Ru Paul's messed up in this?
Tom: Let's go.
[They file out of the theater.]
[1. . . 2 . . . 3. . . 4 . . . 5. . . 6 . . .]
[Mike, Tom, and Crow stand behind the control console. All
three look rather glum. Stereotypical movie crew union people
drinking coffee and eating danishes lounge around the trio.]
Mike: [Sigh] Things just aren't the same up here without Gypsy.
Crow: [Sigh] Yeah, the bridge seems more crowded somehow.
Tom:[Sputtering] Of course it's more crowded! We're surrounded
by union thugs!
Shop Steward: Hey, our contract specifically states that we
are to be referred to as "union hooligans" not thugs.
Mike: Whatever.
Tom: Where did those danishes come from?
Shop Steward: Catered. We'd offer you one, but only dues paying
members get them.
Crow: Blast.
Mike: Look, this is silly. I'm going to call Herb and see if we
can get Gypsy back here.
[Mike hits the view screen button.]
Mike: Hey Herb! Herb!
[Studio]
[Herb is reading some papers. Pearl is nowhere to be seen.]
Herb: Oh, hi Mike. I was looking through your Arbitron numbers.
They've been pretty good.
[SoL]
Mike: Yeah, that's great Herb. . .
[Crow darts in front of Mike.]
Crow: What's our share?
[Mike pushes Crow aside.]
Mike: Look, we don't want these union guys aboard. [Turns] No
offense guys.
Shop Steward: None taken.
Mike: We just want Gypsy back. Send her back up, okay?
[Studio]
Herb: No can do, Mikey. She's already working on "Jenny" as
Jenny's wacky neighbor. Anyway, I've come up with an even
better companion for you. She's on her way now.
[SoL]
Tom: We don't want a better companion! We want Gypsy!
Crow: Well, let's not be hasty here. . .
[Studio]
Herb: Whoops. Gotta run. I'm doing lunch with Kevin Bacon. You
can thank me later. Toodles Mike.
[SoL]
Mike: Great.
Crow: This sucks.
Tom: Well, let's just make the best of this then. I'm going to
get one of those danish. . .
[Suddenly, the Satellite is rocked, Star Trek style, by
explosions. The union crew scatters.]
Tom: What the?
Crow: It's not me! I'm not scheduled to buffet the ship with
explosions for another few days!
Mike: Cambot! Give me rocket #9!
[The scene shifts to the outside of the Satellite of Love. A
Borg Cube is hanging, motionless, just outside the SoL. It
appears to be firing on the SoL.]
Crow: Mike! It's the Borg! They're out to get us!
[A transporter effect begins behind the trio. A humanoid figure
begins to materialize.]
Tom: Look! They're sending a boarding crew aboard! You've got
to stop them, Mike!
Mike: We have no weapons! What do you want me to do? Wave my
hand and say "Borg begone now!"
[Mike waves one of his hands and places the other on the
control console. Suddenly, the scene shifts outside. The Borg
cube is struck by a massive bolt of energy. The cube then
explodes in a gigantic fireball, which is sure to have used up
all of the special effect money for season 9 and 10.]
[Back on the Bridge, Tom and Crow stare at Mike, who stands
there sheepishly.]
Tom: Mike Nelson, Destroyer of Worlds strikes again.
Crow: We stand humbled in your presence, Oh Mighty One!
Mike: Knock it off you two. I'm sure that there's some rational
explanation for this.
[Mike begins to examine the console. Meanwhile, the humanoid
figure behind Mike finishes materializing. It's a Borg. A
female Borg, who begins to walk intently towards Mike and the
bots, who are unaware of her presence.]
Mike: [Staring at the console] Look! The nanites added an
"Anti-Borg ray" to the control console when we weren't
looking. Say, there's an "Anti- Shadows " ray too. And an
"Anti-Team Knight Rider" ray . . .
[The Borg drone is now mere feet away from the trio, who now
look up and see her.]
Tom: AHHHH!
Crow: Hey look! A Borg boarding party! You don't see many of
those around here.
Mike: [Hesitantly] What do you want?
Borg: We. Can. No. Longer. Hear. The. Collective. What. Has.
Been. Done?
Mike: Well, uh, I. . .
Tom: Mike blew up your pathetic little cube!
Crow: Yeah! So back of unless you want the same done to you,
pal!
Mike: Guys, stop helping.
Borg: The Collective is no more? We are alone? Without our
crewmates to assist us? This unit must continue its
existence. This unit must adapt. . .
[The Borg wanders off stage.]
Crow: Mike!. You scared her off ! Way to go!
Tom: Yeah, good job Big Guy!
Mike: But I didn't do anything! I just stood here and
stammered!
Tom: Come on! You scared her off!
Crow: Don't sell yourself short. The bald guy himself couldn't
have done better.
[The Borg returns from off-stage. She no longer wears the Borg
prosthesis, rather she now wears a silver-gray form fitting
bodysuit, leaving little to the imagination.]
Borg: Oh. Hello again Michael.
[The trio stands speechless for a moment.]
Mike: Um, hi.
Crow: [drools]
Borg: Although I am saddened that my presence in the Collective
has been terminated, I am quite happy to be spending time
among my new crew mates.
Mike: Um, yeah.
Tom: Who are you?
Crow: [drools]
Borg: I have long ago forgotten my birth name. Among the Borg,
we are simply referred to by number.
Crow: [Snapping back to life] You mean like 134,592,943 of
403,116,986?
Tom: Or Square Root of 13 of 47?
Crow: Wait, I thought she was Logarithm of 4 of pi to the
fourth?
Tom: No no, you've got it all wrong, she's Fourier Series of
Sin 2*x of the number of 1997 Denver Nugget losses.
Mike: Guys. . .
Crow: No, she's 36 of 24 of ...
Mike: Crow!
Crow: Come on, Mike. She's a babe!
Borg: [Angrily, grabbing Crow] Golden one! Are you making a
derogatory comment about me? Are you, perhaps comparing
me to a child?
[She drags Crow off-stage. Loud noises can now be heard as Crow
is tossed about.]
Tom: Gee Mike. Do you think that we should keep the Borg from
turning Crow into scrap metal?
[Crow shrieks as more crashes are heard.]
Mike: I suppose. Hey, Borg person!
[She reappears, still grasping Crow by the neck.]
Crow wasn't insulting you. He was comparing you to a
beloved character of children's films.
Borg: [Dreamily] I remember watching this program with my
grandparents before my assimilation. It was one of the
happiest moments of my young life. Then the Borg
killed them in a raid. Still, the Borg made wonderful
latte. And bear claws. . . [She continues to mumble]
[Tom looks at Mike, then the Borg, then Mike again.]
Tom: Mike, do you have any missing relatives?
Mike: Oh Borg? Booorg?
[She snaps back to reality.]
Borg: Oh. Yes. Sorry. I have considered the Golden One's
words, and I will gladly accept the moniker that he has
given. I will proudly bear the name of that brave little
pig.
[She drops Crow to the floor.]
Mike: Well, that's great, um, Babe.
Tom: Glad to have you aboard.
Crow: [Still on the floor] Erf.
Babe: [angrily] What was that, Golden One?
[The lights begin to flash.]
Mike: Whoops. That'll have to wait. We've got fan-fic sign!
[Mike and Tom rush about while Babe stands aside, confused.
Crow's still on the floor.]
[6 . . . 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1 . . .]
[The trio enters and sits down.]
Tom: Wow. We've got our own little pet Borg now. Isn't that
cool?
Crow: I miss Gypsy. She didn't hit me quite as hard.
>From rtonts@direct.ca Fri Jan 09 13:58:47 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen 2/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa
>Stories)
>From: Ron Tonts <rtonts@direct.ca>
Tom: Oh, so Rob is sending *direct* caca.
>Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 19:58:47 +0000
>
>
>--------------2775F4753112E659C8F739D3
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac-
type="54455854"; x-mac->creator="4D4F5353"
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
>
> Chapter 3
>
> Jay had retrieved his child from the seat, proceeded to his
>quarters, and placed the child in its crib. He then proceeded
>to throw the largest tantrum since the last time he thought
>Marrissa was dead.
Mike: Which was last night, when Marrissa wandered off to the
bathroom without telling him.
Tom: [Jay] I wanted to kill her! I wanted to kill her!
> This time it was even worse though. She was
>alive,
Tom: Even worse than being dead...she's alive!
Mike: I hear ya.
> she could come back, but she was a member of the Borg.
>Now in order to retrieve her, he had to defeat her. It was no
>good, she could do anything better than he could.
Crow: Hey, he's singing Marrissa's theme song!
Tom: [Marrissa] o/~ Anything you can do, I can do better, I can
do anything better than you! o/~
Mike: [Jay] Yes, dear.
> The Kobayashi
>Maru time, the command experience, even being a parent seemed
>to come naturally to her.
Crow: Somehow, it *always* seems to come back to that Kobiyashi
Maru score.
> There was no way to win, and the
>Federation would be assimilated.
Crow: Yep, without Marrissa the damn Federation Janitors
couldn't work . . .
> If an entire fleet could
>barely stop the Borg when they had one ship and was unified,
>how could they stop six ships? The questions kept him awake
>through the night.
>
Mike: Uh, no, Jay, that's the baby.
> On one of the cloaked Borg ships, Marrissa
>was placed, well, more like thrown,
Tom: Well, more like tossed upward, rebounding off the
backboard, hitting the blimp, bouncing off Morn, off the
replicator, nothing but net.
> on a table, ringed with
>various equipment. The Borg nanites
Crow: Hmm. The Borg must have been at that Carnival too.
> were flowing through her
>blood stream now, spreading numbness where ever they went.
Mike: Marrissa's being assimilated by Cure fans.
> Her uniform was removed
Mike: Boy, who'd've thought the Borg were such perverts?
Crow: [Borg] Clothing is irrelevant. We will--hey, nice ones!
> and replaced with a form-
>fitting, black jumpsuit.
Crow: So, did Herb help with this story too?
Mike: Say now...
Tom: Mike, we have our own one of those now out on the Bridge.
Mike: Yeah, you're right. I better go check on her. Um, just to
see if she's okay, of course.
Tom: Oh, of course.
Crow: Stay away from her Mike. She's trouble.
Mike: Yeah right.
[Mike exits.]
Tom: So, will she kill him or just maim him?
Crow: My money's on 'kill.'
> The only area that was yet to be
>affected by the nanites, was the brain region.
Crow: Which, eclipsed by her glands, was easy to miss!
> As the loss of
>feeling spread up her spine the last bit of consciousness that
>was Marrissa closed its eyes
Tom: And floated out of Marrissa's body to inhabit a nearby
ventriloquist's dummy.
> and cried out in pain and anguish
>as it slowly was cut off from its senses. In its place was
>only the Collective, needing a leader and an icon.
Tom: Oh, just paste it into the Get Info window..
Crow: [mumbled] MacBoy.
> The logical part of the mind accepted this as a
>challenge to over throw, and submersed itself in its task.
[Mike re-enters]
Crow: [To Tom] Damn. He's alive.
Tom: Back so soon, Mike? Did you forget about the lack of
atmosphere on the Bridge again?
Mike: No. Herb added some atmosphere for the union people.
Crow: Well then, how did it go with Babe?
Mike: I didn't see her.
Tom: So why are you back then?
Mike: The union people. They. They, they had their shirts off.
[All shiver uncontrollably.]
>When her eyes reopened, there was emotions, passions, values,
>and memories of her past life that seemed distorted.
Tom: Well, yes, looked at logically Marrissa's values and
passions do seem a bit distorted.
Mike: Almost as if they were written by a fanfic author...
> She
>wondered why she waited to attain what she always wanted.
>Power.
Crow: Boy, Rob's characterization of Marrissa is right on the
money!
> The Collective answered saying she was weak then, but
>now she was strong, now she had the power.
Mike: [standing and holding his arms over his head] BY THE
POWER OF THE COLLECTIVE...
> There was the Borg,
>the Queen, and they were surrounded by Chaos.
Mike: See? There's Elric standing over there by the Borg coffee
table.
> Chaos must be
>brought to the order of the Borg. Marrissa accepted the power.
>
Crow: So pretty much par for the course then.
Mike: Like you said, he has some good insights into the
character.
> Images and memories flooded over Fleet Admiral Picard's head.
Tom: [as Picard] No! No! Not the OJ Trial again!
> The horrors and pain he felt when he was a part of the Borg.
>Now his adopted daughter Marrissa was part of the Collective.
Crow: [Announcer] Today, you too can own Daughter Marrissa in
this fine line of Borg collectibles from the Franklin
Mint. Only 4 easy payments of $29.95!
> On his screen, he could see that admitting it pained his son-
>in-law Jay Gordon.
Crow: [Jay] The trouble is, she's not actually legally dead, so
I can't inherit yet...do you suppose we could at least
have her declared incompetent?
> But the worst part was that Marrissa had too
>much access to Starfleet defences and other secret operations.
>She knew weaknesses on all the ships that have come out.
Tom: Like, if you promise the crew of the Bozeman that you'll
send over nude gifs of Denise Crosby if they drop their
shields, they'll do it. Stuff like that.
> And she had a brilliant strategical mind.
Crow: And a psychotic disregard for all life, something he'd
never managed to achieve.
> "Jay, what are the most likely places for the Borg to attack
>now that they know about the Federation?" inquired the Fleet
>Admiral.
Tom: *Picard* is asking *Jay*?!?
Mike: That's sorta like Steven Hawking asking advice on quantum
mechanics from Gilligan!
Crow: So, the Borg didn't know about the Federation before?
Tom: [as Borg] Why are all these different ships attacking us?
It can't be some sort of federation of planets or
anything...
> "Well, the only targets that I can think of that they would
>hit, are Earth for the population, and since they always have
>seemed to go for it.
Mike: They're just funny that way.
> Mars and the Utopia Planitia shipyards in
>order to get the technology there. Vulcan because its a major
>keystone in the Federation.
Crow: Vulcans are from Pennsylvania?
> They might also try for the Essex
>Fighter facility. Oh, SoongCorp on Omicron Theta also has a
>large variety of technology along with the Defiant shipyard in
>orbit."
Tom: What a wonderfully contrived list of targets!
Crow: [Picard] And, since SoongCorp is an invention of this
author, I'm betting on that one.
> Jay listed.
[Mike, Crow, and Tom all speak at once. Mike holds up his
hands.]
Mike: Were we all just about to make jokes about Jay leaning to
one side?
Bots: Yes.
Mike: Well, let's just take them as read, then.
> "Is there some middle ground?
Crow: Nope. The Republicans and the Democrats are still at an
impasse.
Tom: Remember Crow, it's a Canadian story. Their political
parties are the Lumberjack Party and the Hockey Player
Party.
> A point where we can gather the
>fleet and get to all those points within an hour?" Inquired
>Picard.
Mike: Once again, that pretty much describes "Middle ground"
doesn't it?
> "Now this is rather ominous, but the best location happens to
>be Wolf 359."
Crow: Great! We can hide in the wreckage of their last
invasion!
> "How soon until your fleet can get there?"
Mike: Well, there's a pile up on the Vogon transpatial highway
so it'll be a while.
> "About a day or two. The Borg managed to cut the power
>supplies for most of the ships. They're recharging through
>the use, well, I don't understand the whole process,
Crow: [Jay] It's called the "Clara Sutter Handwave Procedure."
Mike: Recharging through use?
Tom: Obviously there's some piece of trektrivia we missed.
> but they
>should be ready for action soon.
Crow: Stand by for ACTION!!!!
>The Enterprise was damaged badly, and lost most of our
>engineering staff during the fight.
Mike: We're down to Ensign Dilbert and Wally.
> We can get the shields up
>in about an hour, but they'll only be at twenty percent.
>After that, we should get 100% shields in about eight hours."
Tom: Raging statistical action!
> "All right, we'll gather the fleet at Wolf 359. And pray
>that the results won't be the same as last time.
Crow: [Jay] Sir, this is Star Trek. Religion is considered
silly and irrelevant.
> And in
>addition, since there's no one in charge of the fleet, I'm
>promoting you to Rear Admiral."
Mike: And the vicious cycle continues.
Tom: Since Marrissa has you grabbing your knees all the
time . . .
Mike: Tom!
Tom: Oh, you thought it too.
> "Confirmed. Thank you, sir. Gordon out."
Crow: So Chief O' Hara, do you think that Batman can defeat the
Joker's nefarious plan?
Tom: Oh, faith and begorra Commissioner. We can only hope so.
> Jay switched off
>the connection. The loss of Marrissa was too much to bear, he
>was too depressed to even realise what the Fleet Admiral had
>said.
Crow: [Jay] What'd he say? Something about dogfood and Mel
Brooks? Ah, the heck with it!
> Sitting in the Ready Room of his wife,
Tom: I've never heard of that part of female anatomy before.
> brought back waves
>of emotion.
Crow: Fear, impotence, failure, humiliation.
> He felt he was going to cry, again, when Clara's
>voice came through the intercom.
> "Jay here, what can I do for you Clara?" Jay answered
despondently.
Crow: [as Clara] I need a man! Quick!
> "We're back up, and ready to kick some Borg tail.
Crow: [Jay] The Borg don't have tails, Clara.
Tom: [Clara] Well, then, I'll have Dr. Johnson attach some!
Crow: [Jay] Make it so.
> Your
>orders, Captain?"
> "That's Rear Admiral.
Tom: [Clara, muttering] Yeah, you're half right, anyway!
> Keep the teams working on the Shields
>and Weapons. The Borg don't seem to adapt to our weapons
>anymore,
Mike: ...since that would be sensible, after all...
> so lets just focus on getting as much power to the
>phasers and shields as we can."
Tom: So, let's exploit the plot contrivance as long as we can.
> "Well, sir, I think that we've come up with a method to
>increase the amount power we produce. Right now, we have four
>cargo bays completely empty."
Mike: [Clara] We can put some extra power there!
> "So?" Jay said. He failed to see the point Clara was
>making.
Tom: [as Clara] Think "T.G.I. Friday's!"
Crow: Or, we could fill them full of hamsters on treadmills,
all connected to tiny, tiny dynamos!
> "Are you familiar with the old papers on cold fusion?"
Tom: [Jay] Yeah, it was a pretty good Web management system!
> "Ah, yes. We tried it back in the 21th century, right?
Tom: No, I think it was the 20st. Or maybe even the 23nd.
> They couldn't find anything cold enough to contain the
>reaction."
Mike: Um... well... um... how about *space*?
Tom: Nope, not cold enough.
Crow: Did they try a dish of Klingon revenge?
Tom: I always pictured that as being like cucumber soup.
> "Well, we were going to set up fusion batteries in the Cargo
>Bays, and flood them with liquid Nitrogen. Then expose the
>cargo bay to deep space.
Mike: ...which will suck everything *out* of the bays...
> The result should be a system that gives us lots of
>power, and doesn't suck up the juice we make."
Mike: That wouldn't happen to be strawberry juice?
Tom: Err, doesn't the Federation use anti-matter for internal
power? That's a lot more efficient than fusion, hot or
cold.
Crow: Fan-bot.
> "Wait a moment, from what you're telling me, the system will
>need hydrogen and nitrogen in order to run. How will we get
>those?"
Tom: Oh, I dunno, maybe if you had some WATER and some AIR you
could get some?!?!
> "The replicators in the cargo bays can be set to continuously
>produce those substances.
Mike: Here's another box of nitrogen, sir.
Crow: Good. Now get some jars of hydrogen!
> They can be powered by the
>batteries too. It's like the heart pumping blood into
>itself."
Mike: [Clara; waving his hand] We call it the "By-our-
bootstraps Method."
Tom: Good thing she waited until the last minute to invent
perpetual motion.
> "You're too damned smart, Clara.
Mike: Report to Sickbay for a lobotomy.
> Keep it up. Jay out."
>Maybe things might not be so bad after all, thought Jay.
>
Mike: But they probably are.
> Hours later, the fleet moved off towards the rendezvous point
>at Wolf 359. Jay was in command, with Alexander fulfilling
>the duties as First officer,
Mike: Being a whipping boy for the Captain?
> and Ops.
Tom: Hey, who's this Ops fella? Seems like a regular sorta
guy.
> Everyone else remained at
>their posts.
Crow: [with a lisp] Don't evther sthick your tongue on cold
posths.
> "Clara to Bridge, were turning on the fusion batteries."
Tom: Bucka-WOW!!
> A gasp arose from the Crew as they waited to see if
>Clara's idea vaporised the lower portion of the ship.
Crow: And it did. Hundreds of crewmembers were sucked out into
the endless void of space. Including one Ensign Adolphus
Throwaway Jr.
> The batteries turned on, the power grid surged with new
>found life. The entire ship held its breath for nearly three
>minutes.
Mike: ...killing most of the crew due to asphyxiation.
> They worked! Jay looked around eagerly for
>something to fire at, wanting to test the power of the
>Enterprise.
Mike: A starship captain with a battery is like a little kid
with a hammer.
> The fleet moved to Wolf 359.
>
Crow: Where they met the gang from Beverly Hills 90210.
Mike: I don't think this guy could write tension to save his
life.
> On the Borg ships, the Borg Queen Marrissa was orientating
>herself to the powers and collective thought of the race she
>had joined. The Borg did not touch her face or hair, as they
>understood that she had quite a reputation.
Tom: [Marrissa] And I want a big bowl of M&M's in my dressing
room, with all the yellow ones picked out, a dozen fresh
roses every day, and a CD player cranking out Smash Mouth
& Chumbawumba 24-7!
Mike: [Borg] Are we sure we can't just clone Alice Krige?
> Perhaps they could assimilate worlds just by showing that
>they now had her as one of them.
[All guffaw.]
Mike: Hey, Cardassians, we've got Marrissa now!
Crow: Hey, cool! Sign us up!
> The collective wanted the
>Earth in their iron clad order, but Marrissa wanted to have
>some fun first.
Tom: So fun isn't irrelevant?
Mike: Decent continuity certainly is.
> As her mind sent the order to the collective,
>the unseen ships moved towards a local colony world. The
>citizens were shocked and scared witless when the cubes
>emerged from deep space.
Crow: The citizens were confused. The cubes usually arrived
from one of the holes leading to the planet's hollow
center.
> Moving into orbit, one ship moved out
>of formation, and landed on top of the main colony.
Tom: Bambi Meets Godzilla, the Next Generation.
> The
>assimilation took place quickly, with the largest colony
>absorbed in about half an hour. The colonists then expected
>to meet the same fate, or be spared. But the Borg had other
>plans.
Crow: They involved strawberry juice and a planet-sized Super-
Soaker.
> A single torpedo was fired at the surface, as possibly a
>warning shot.
Crow: [Borg] We are Borg. We are capable of hitting the broad
side of a barn.
> But the true motives became apparent when the
>casing cracked open, and unleashed a virus upon the world.
Mike: They all got an e-mail titled "GOOD TIMES - JOIN THE
CREW!"
> The cells in the body would turn against each
>other, tearing each other apart. Resulting in a slow, painful
>death.
Tom: So this fits the Borg style of assimilate-and-use HOW?
Mike: I don't think they're really doing that; they're just
telling Marrissa this to keep her happy.
> From the safety of her cube, Marrissa watched the plague
>spread across the puny planet.
Tom: Hulk smash puny planet!
> With a voice that could drop
>the temperatures of the depths of space, Marrissa laughed
>aloud.
Tom: I don't think power's really changed her...she's just more
obvious about it now.
> Her next target, something vital, something no one would
>expect.
Mike: In a wartime situation, I don't think those two things
can be the same thing.
> Something that wasn't a small, fledgling colony along
>this strip of space called the neutral zone.
Crow: Someplace with a mall!
> Searching through
>the data and her memories, she found the perfect target.
>
All: Broadway!
Crow: Coming this fall, "Marrissa the Musical!"
> "Captain's log. We have arrived at Wolf 359. The place is
>mush
Mike: Q! How dare you turn an entire system into pudding!
> cleaner than it was after the last get together the Borg
>held here.
Tom: So, were the Borg having a block party?
>Most of the ships were taken to the smelting yard. I hope
>that once we're done here, there'll still be a Federation to
>haul the debris back to a smelting yard.
Crow: That's right Jay, think optimistic! [mumbling] Poor
deluded bastard.
> Moral is at an all-
>time low.
Crow: Wild, random sex in the hallways is rampant, commandments
are being broken around the clock and I don't think a
single crew member is fully sober.
Tom: Oh, like in "The Naked Now."
> Especially since the Borg have attacked a small
>outpost. They assimilated the main colony, and destroyed the
>rest with some type of biological weapon.
Mike: [Jay] Fortunately, we were able to cure everyone with the
biofilter in the transporter.
Crow: Oh, like they ever repeat a trick like that.
> If this
>ruthlessness is any indication, the entire galaxy is in more
>danger than ever before."
Crow: Yeah, because of your wife, pouf-pants.
> Jay sighed as he finished the log.
Crow: And flushed.
Mike: D'oh - Crow!
Crow: Relax, that was just for old time's sake.
>The fleet was impressive, he'd give it that. The Earth
>defence fleet led by Fleet Admiral Picard in the USS James T.
>Kirk was in attendance, along with the Defiant fleet
Mike: [Picard] Attack the Borg!
Tom & Crow: [fleet] No!
> from
>Omicron Theta. There were two Stargazer class carriers, the
>twelve Defiants,
Tom: Doesn't this kind of defeat the purpose of giving them
names?
> Two Nova class Carriers including the
>Enterprise, seven Nebula class cruisers, two Galaxy class
>Cruisers, nine Sovereign class Battleships, four Ambassador
>cruisers,
Mike: Two and a half Maltin Review Vessels. . .
> and twelve Excelsior class cruisers.
Tom: I hope you got all that, because there's going to be a pop
quiz later.
> There was even
>five Klingon Vor'cha battle cruisers. In total, fifty-five
>ships gathered at the rendezvous.
>
Mike: Nice Hot Wheels collection Jay's got there.
Tom: Yup.
> The fighter squadron was out running manoeuvres. "This is
>Ground control to
Crow: Major Tom?
Mike: Too obvious.
> Fighter Squadron Alpha. Come in Alpha
>leader."
> "Roger that, Control. What can I do for ya?" Came the reply.
> "How are the manoeuvres going?"
Tom: [Alpha leader] That depends - what's a "manoeuvre"
Crow: It's the plural of "man ovary". Good gravy, Jay's
pregnant!!!
Mike: Settle down, it's just creeping Canadianism.
> "We've hit two of the five waypoints, and are moving around
>the far side of the Moon now.
Mike: [Alpha leader] We have "The Wizard of Oz" loaded in the
VCR, and are prepared to start the CD on the third roar
of the lion.
> Hold on a minute, there's a
>massive subspace anomaly dead ahead."
Crow: Damn jumpgates and stargates, it's not safe to travel any
more.
> "What is it?"
> "I dunno.
Crow: Just your typical massive subspace anomaly. You haven't
been on Star Trek long, have you?
> All fighters, proceed to the following
>coordinates." The fighters remained in a tight diamond
>formation, as they banked towards the anomaly.
Crow: It's a chance to get killed, hurry!
> "Can you scan it yet?"
> "Yeah, we're starting now. What the @#^*&#(!%#@(*$%(@^"
>static replaced the message.
Mike: Heyheyhey, watch your language - there are kids here!
Crow: Yeah, and they're your bosses!
Mike: Good point.
> "What do ya suppose that was all about, Fred?" the Radio man
>asked his partner.
Crow: And now we seem to have wandered into a Stan Ridgeway
song.
Tom: [partner] Sounds like they're playing Q*Bert. And not
doing too well.
> In a moment the question was answered, when the Borg
>fleet appeared in the sky above.
>
Mike: Well, technically it wasn't "above," because there's no
up or down in space, and it wasn't the sky because there
was no atmosphere, but other than that it's basically
accurate.
> "Sir, we've just received messages about the location of
>the Borg fleet." Said the Tactical officer on the USS Kirk.
Mike: They're in front of Fred. Beyond that, it's not too
clear.
> "Pass the coordinates on to the rest of the fleet. Helm,
>maximum warp. Engage." Picard ordered, reminding him of his
>days as a Captain of the Enterprise.
Mike: [Picard] Make it so! Come! Tea, Earl Grey, hot!
> The fleet moved off towards
>the confrontation.
>
Tom: So, apparently, no one cares what planet the Borg are at.
Crow: [Picard] To Planet Generica! Maximum Warp!
> Queen Marrissa had a special room constructed for her in the
>very heart of the Cube.
Crow: The Rubix Cube?
> The room had a chair,
Tom: Wow! Not even the Tsars dreamed of such luxury!
> and a large
>viewscreen.
Crow: [Marrissa] Boy, on this thing Brad's butt is the size of
a Buick.
> All her implants were able to connect and
>disconnect to the chair at will for feeding, resting, and
>commanding.
Tom: Well, it's not an interocitor, but I guess it'll have to
do.
Crow: But not excreting, so as usual, she was still full of
crap.
> The viewscreen showed the target planet in the
>background, and with the fighter craft they had just
>captured in a picture-in-picture display.
Mike: [sobbing] Picture-in-picture...next thing we'll find out
it has a Sega...
Crow: It also had stereo sound, VCR-Plus, a built-in DVD
player. Plus, a hammock for all the stuffed animals she's
assimilated.
[Mike begins to sob harder]
Tom: Don't taunt him like that.
> The pilots were
>pathetic, not knowing anything about the structure of the
>security grids, or anything of relevance.
Crow: Y'know, I never noticed this before, but Marrissa has a
bit of an attitude, doesn't she?
Tom: Wow, Crow, you're right! She certainly keeps it well
hidden.
> They were added to the
>Collective. Sitting back in the iron throne, she contemplated
>her next move. To assimilate, or obliterate. That is the
>question that plagues her thoughts.
>
Tom: Whether 'tis nobler to compose a fanfic,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To write, to type,
Aye, there's the rub; but in these fics of fan
What implausibilities may come must give us pause.
Who would Kids Crew bear, or Marrissa read,
When he could his quietus make with a delete key?
> The fleet dropped out of warp to find the Borg sitting in
>orbit behind the outer moon. A shudder ran through Jay's
>system as he recognised the Borg's newest target. The planet
>Essex.
>
Mike: Oh, they're going to excavate the ending to "A Royal
Mess" so we finally get to see it.
Crow: No, not even the Borg would be that sinister.
> On the bridge of the Kirk, Picard sat contemplating his next
>move.
Tom: Geeez, the only thing people are doing are sitting around
and contemplating their next move!
Crow: This is the Star Trek equivalent of "Waiting for Godot."
> It was odd, he always heard the Borg after the
>encounters. His mind was alone, with only himself and no Borg
>directives or other thought entering his mind.
Tom: [Picard] Y'know, I think I really like vanilla.
> "Sir, there's a message coming through from the Borg." the
>Tactical officer announced.
Mike: Will you accept the charges?
> "On screen." Picard ordered.
> The space view of the Borg armada switched to the inside of a
>cube.
Tom: [sports announcer] You're looking *live* at sold-out Borg
Cube Arena...
>"We are the Borg. This is a message for Locutus.
Crow: [Borg] Bob called. He'd like his hedge trimmers back,
and wants to know if you're up for bowling Friday night.
Oh, yeah, and resistance is futile.
> You destroyed
>the Queen,
Tom: [Mandy Patinkin] Prepare to die.
> but have also given us a replacement."
Tom: It's Troi! Ahh! Oh wait. Why are we afraid of her?
> The screen
>then shifted to the interior of the room where Marrissa sat.
>Her face was untouched by the Borg implants that sprung
Crow: Hey, it's "The Number of the Beast!"
Mike: No, there's an "r."
> from
>her body, covered by the black jumpsuit instead of the usual
>Starfleet uniform.
Crow: Great, now Marrissa's a mime.
> Tubes and wiring connected the chair with
>her form, in an eerie mesh of Biological and Technological.
Mike: Hey, she's a dual major! Typical overachiever.
Tom: Akira!
Crow: She's Metron!
> Despite the horrors she was subjected to, she almost lounged
>casually in her seat.
Tom: Just ignore the margarita she's holding.
> Watching on the bridge of the
>Enterprise, Jay felt like throwing up every bit of matter in
>his digestive system.
Crow: [as Jay] *Gag*! Marrissa, black just *isn't* your color!
You're more of a spring!
> "Ah, greetings Locutus. Or should I say, Father?" the New
>Queen started "As you can see, I've now joined the Borg in
>their quest to bring order to the galaxy. Not only that, but
>I get to have some fun on the side."
Crow: [Marrissa] Oh, and Jay? I'm seeing Six of Two now. Hope
you understand. Buh-bye.
> a smile crossed her face,
>and a chuckle escaped her lips.
Tom: [Jay] Funny, I'd have thought being assimilated would have
changed her personality a *little*!
>"Your puny fleet is no match for us, and you've been
>disconnected from our Collective.
Crow: To get reconnected, there'd be a $45 hook-up fee.
> Resistance is now truly
>futile." With that, the channel closed,
Crow: Throwing Herzog and his cronies out of work!
[All cheer]
> and the attack on
>Essex began.
>
Mike: Yep, sadism. Really makes your species more efficient,
doesn't it?
> The Borg moved towards the Planet, leaving one ship in orbit
>to cover them.
Tom: One ship to watch them all, one ship to cover them,/One
ship to guard them all and hover in space above them.
> The one ship fired every weapon in its arsenal at the
>Federation Fleet. From shield drainers to cutting lasers.
Mike: Even the kitchen sink!
> The Federation belted
Crow: Tsk. Tsk. Drinking while fighting the Borg.
Mike: Actually, that's kind of sensible.
> areas where the weak systems
>were supposed to be, only to find a new weapon port, or extra
>armour placed around it.
Crow: Hey, the Collective finally assimilated a clue!
Tom: Oh, that's what we were doing wrong! We were ignoring the
weaknesses of our own ships! No wonder we keep losing!
> The ships were rewarded by getting
>blasting or immobilised.
>
Mike: I've heard of better rewards.
> On the planet of Essex, Queen Victoria and her Counsel were
>huddled in a bomb shelter under the palace.
Tom: And they are not amused.
Crow: Meanwhile the general populace died horribly. . .
> The Borg positioned
>themselves above the palace, and beamed down to assimilate any
>one they could find.
Crow: [Borg] You will be assimilated.
Mike: [Borg] I am *already* assimilated, you big doof.
> In the bomb shelter, two Borg appeared
>and began to assimilate the Counsel. Queen Victoria cried in
>terror, but became relieved when she saw Marrissa's visage
>behind the two Borg.
Mike: That's odd. Most people scream in terror when they see
Marrissa, and are relieved when the Borg appear.
> "Greetings Victoria." As the Borg assimilated the
>people, Victoria could see the rest of Marrissa, and
Crow: ...she LIKED what she SAW!
Tom: Sure, if you're into tubes.
> what had
>happened to her. "It looks like I'm the Queen now, hmmm? Of
>Essex, and of the Borg.
Mike: Coming soon to theaters near you: Marrissa: Queen of the
Essex!
> Soon, the galaxy will be mine!"
Mike: She's crossed the line that separates ordinary villainy
from cartoonish super-villainy.
> With
>that, Marrissa unleashed the laugh that chilled the room.
Crow & Tom: o/~ Oh, the laugh that chilled the room was the
start of the Revolution... o/~
> "You'll never manage to fully assimilate me, you bitch!" spat
>Victoria,
Tom: So, she crawled into her Power loader and forced Marrissa
away from Newt.
>using all her inner strength to build up her courage. "My
>spirit will not accept the bonds that you place on my mortal
>body."
Crow [Marrissa]: Okay, then we'll just shoot you
> "Such petty words, from a petty being." Marrissa sighed.
>Her voice suddenly took on a Peaches and Cream tone.
Tom: I'd sing here, but I can't remember anything that they
sang.
> "Now my dear Victoria, what would possess you to think I
>would allow the Borg to assimilate you?"
Mike: [Dustin Hoffman] Are you trying to assimilate me, Ms.
Picard?
Crow : We have SOME standards.
Tom: So if she's assimilated, would she be Victoria Borg?
Crow: [Victor Borge] Rezhistance ist futile. *KEEK* Ve vill add
your biological, *GLICK* und technological, *GLICK*
dishtinctiveness to our-r-r-r-r own. *KEEK*
> "You-you mean you won't ..." stammered Victoria, amazed and
>relieved at the same time.
> "No, I wouldn't let them." Marrissa interrupted, in the same
>friendly tone. "Not when I could savour this type of moment."
Crow: [Victoria] Hey, baby, where does this tube go?
> With that, Marrissa drew a Romulan disrupter from a holster
>that extended out of her hip,
Mike: Suddenly, she's "Robocop", too.
> and aimed it at the former Queen
>of Essex. With a cry that stretched across eternity,
Tom: These stories are just getting longer and longer.
> Victoria
>became a small pile of dust.
[Once again, more balloons drop from the ceiling of the
theater, and Mike and the bots dance around again.]
Crow: No, no. First she has to turn her into a dodecahedron,
then she can crush her and turn her into a pile of dust.
Tom: Mike, can this be happening? Are our dreams of a
Marrissa-free universe coming true?!
Mike: It sure looks that way, Tom...
Tom: I wonder if this is officially in Ratliff continuity?
Mike: Official Kids Crew canon. Now there's a scary thought.
Crow: Hey, this means Ratliff has to drop "Heir to the Throne
of Essex" from the introduction scenes!
> The newly acquired Borg and
>Marrissa beamed back to their Cube, which then set down on top
>of the palace, assimilating the entire structure.
>
Tom: In the U.S. we call it "crushing."
Mike: Yep, the cube now has stables and fountains, but who
cares, they'll assimilate ANYTHING.
> Meanwhile, back in orbit, the Federation fleet was making
>some progress. However the cost was too steep.
Mike: Well, sure, if you get the leather interior and 6-CD
changer.
> One heavily
>damaged Ambassador class ship
Crow: The U.S.S. Jim Carrey.
> rammed into the Borg vessel,
>breaching the hull, and exposing a weak point.
Crow: One of many in the plot.
> The area was
>now the prime target, and the Borg defended it as such.
>Twenty-one ships died before the final Quantum Torpedoes
>struck the vulnerable area, destroying the ship.
Mike: Duck, more numbers!
> The fleet
>turned it's attention to the planet of Essex, where the key
>areas and cities were already absorbed. The ships moved into
>orbit, where they bombarded the surface with several
>torpedoes.
Tom: Why is the Federation attacking Essex?
Mike: I think "the fleet" means the Borg.
Crow: I thought the proper term was a gaggle of Borg.
Tom: No, a pride.
> The torpedoes impacted, but instead of exploding or
>unleashing a biological weapon,
Tom: ...they broke open to expose a creamy nougat filling!
> they began to super-heat the
>molecules in the air.
Crow: Quick! Get the popcorn!
> Fires broke out across the globe.
Mike: Mass choirs of "Row Row Row your Boat" shortly followed.
Crow: Sales of marshmallows and hot dogs increased
dramatically!
> Eventually even the very earth molecules began to
>heat up.
[All guffaw.]
Crow: Hey, Mike, I can't find "Earth" on my periodic chart!
Tom: Sure you can. Right next to "Fire" and right under "Air."
> The once thriving world of Essex became little more than
>a miniature burning sun for a brief moment, and then remained
>a small charred cinder.
>
Crow: Wow! Marrissa's reaching heights of destruction even
*she* never dreamed of!
Mike: Ratliff must be so-o-o-o-o jealous right now!
Tom: Wow. I enjoyed THAT.
Mike: You know, except for WHO she kills, Marrissa is pretty
much the same.
Crow: Yeah, and we do have the bonus of watching the
representative of an outdated system of government be
killed off.
All: Hmmmmm . . .
> Jay watched as the world of Essex became a black ball of ash.
>He was stripped of all his grief and sadness, and cloaked in
>anger.
Mike: So he's nude and pissed?
Crow: Not a BAD metaphor.
> "Helm, take us to the nearest cube.
Tom: [helmsman] Course set for planet Rubik, sir!
> Clara, get those
>batteries attached to the phasers and shields. Shayna, arm
>all weapons.
Mike: [Jay] Alex, whine about your father. Patterson, find out
whether you're a man or woman today.
> Keep the phasers and shields on a rotating
>modulation. If they can adapt, lets not give them the
>chance."
Mike: Ooops, too late, we're dead.
> The Enterprise moved off, with the fleet calling after it.
>Within moments, one of the huge cubes filled the viewscreen.
Mike: "Objects in the viewscreen may appear larger than they
really are."
>The Enterprise fired all of its weaponry into the former
>strong areas of the cube in hopes of hitting a vital system.
>The cube merely sat and absorbed the punishment.
Tom: Ahhh, apparently, the Borg are in to S&M!
Crow: "Whip me! Harder! Harder!"
Mike: Ok, guys, we're getting into a really weird area here...
> With only small scratches to the hull, the Borg
>returned fire with a cutting laser,
Crow: So they're gonna slash the Enterprise's tires?
> but not directed at
>Engineering, or the bridge, but at the cargo bays.
Mike: So, the Borg apparently no longer have any sense of
what "Vital ship systems" are?
> The Fusion
>batteries took direct hits and overloaded.
Mike: Whoops. Forgot about those. Sorry.
Tom: Starfleet announced the tragic death of the Puttermans
today. . .
> This sent a massive
>surge though the power grid, overloading the phasers and
>shields. In such a vulnerable position, the Borg could have
>made short work out of the ship.
Tom: Bwow-chicka-bow-BWOW!
> However, it cloaked and
>moved off to join the rest of the group.
>
Crow: Because otherwise it would have bogged down the plot.
> After the fleet limped back to Wolf 359, and Jay received a
>harsh lecture from the Fleet Admiral about running off with
>the ship.
Mike: [Admiral] Young man, what have I told you about borrowing
the ship without permission?
Tom: [Jay, contrite] Sorry, Dad.
Mike: [Admiral] No raktajino for a month!
Tom: [Jay] I'd be upset if I knew what the hell raktajino was.
> The fleet was stumped. There was no indication of
>what target they would go for next. As a result, the only
>option was to sit back, wait, and lick their wounds.
Crow: My wound tastes like pus, what does yours take like.
Mike: [Retching Noises] Thanks . . .
> Chapter 4
>
> EARTH
Tom: Final Conflict!
> EARTH
Crow: Versus Soup!
> EARTH,
Mike: "Earth 3", the new series directed by Steven Spielberg
coming to NBC this fall.
> was the call that continually ran
>through Marrissa's mind.
Crow: [Jan Brady] You're always talking about Earth! Earth
Earth Earth!
> The Collective wanted to stop this petty attack on
>small colonies and planets that could easily be assimilated
>after Earth. The Queen mentally screamed at them to shut up
>while she decided what to do next.
>
Crow: Naturally, no one heard a mental scream, so she resorted
to the low tech method of screaming aloud.
> Jay awoke from a restless sleep when the baby's cry broke
>out. Cradling the little infant and feeding it from a bottle
>seemed foreign to him.
Mike: Wait, Jay usually breast-feeds his daughter?
Crow: Hey, this is the 24th Century. Can't the doctor make him
lactate?
> He never really took the time to spend
>any time with the child lately.
Tom: Court orders and such, you know.
> With his duties and a Borg invasion that hung over
>him like a giant fly swatter,
Mike: Wow! What a simile. I'm in awe.
> he didn't get time for the little
>things.
Mike: [crewman] Sir, the Borg have invaded, the Federation lies
in ruins, and certain destruction is imminent!
Tom: [Jay] Ensign, please, this is my little "me" time - just a
bubble bath and a pint of French Vanilla Haagen Dazs.
> He scooped up the child and decided to watch a home-holo.
All: OH NO! HOME MOVIES!
Mike: I think we've seen enough of this 'other' side of
Marrissa for a life time!
> There was Marrissa pre
Crow: Geez, even in the 24th century, they're *still* making
Prefontaine movies!
> and post pregnancy,
Tom: However, she'd hurled all the during-pregnancy holos out
the airlock, screaming "I'm a blimp! I'm a blimp!"
> with Himself,
Mike: Who, God?
Tom: Yes, Marrissa is Bethany in Kevin Smith's Dogma.
> Fleet
>Admiral Picard, Jackie, and everyone else having a good time
>at the family vine-yard in France.
Crow: [as Jay] Oh, look how little Sarah liked to be pressed
with the grapes! Oh, and there's Alexander after downing
6 bottles of wine - only took 20 guards to stop his reign
of terror! Oh, and there's me digging up the charred
remains of Picard's in-laws... "
> Jackie. Suddenly a light
>switched on inside his head,
Mike: Close your mouth, Jay.
> and he replaced the infant in it's
>crib.
Mike: Replaced it with a toaster, in fact. Jay doesn't cope
well with loss.
Tom: Her! Her! The offspring of your union, the fruit of your
loins has gender, you repressed, p-whipped mealymouthed
moron!
> He then got on his uniform and ran for Jackie's
>Quarters.
Mike: Oh - my.
Crow: Ahem!
Tom: At least he's not wallowing in his grief.
> Unlike most of the other members of the ship, Jackie
>was enjoying a happy, peaceful sleep.
Crow: Ahhhh, the wonders of Prozac.
> So it was rather
>obvious that she would be cheesed off when the doorbell rang.
> "Who the hell is it? It's three in the morning."
Tom: Jackie's pretty scrappy for an eight-year-old.
Mike: Eight?
Tom: Well, she can't be more than twelve or so. Either way,
Jean-Luc and Beverly aren't raising her very well.
> Jackie
>moaned, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Jay opened the door.
> "Jackie, listen. Is there any way for you to hack into the
>Borg Collective?"
Crow: Sure. It's in UNIX, right?
> "Maybe," she said, stifling a yawn, "I would need an access
>point though."
Crow: And a Powerbookc.
Mike: Well, that goes without saying.
> "You mean, like a Borg Drone?"
Tom: Unfortunately, Borg drones are nine-pin and she only has
thirteen-pin cables.
> "Sure, why not. What's up?"
Mike: [Jay] Oh, nothing much, just the tiny little matter of a
MASSIVE BORG INVASION, YOU GIT!!!
> "As near as I can figure, the Borg are allowing Marrissa to
>feel emotions.
Crow: Which is strange since all she was ever good at was
smugness and anger!
> That way she can use them to help her plans
>like anger, desire, lust
All: WHOA!
> for power,
All: Whew...
> and so on.
Tom: In other words, how Marrissa feels on an ordinary day.
> But if we can
>input things that produce positive emotions, she might stop.
Mike: [Borg drone] Miz Picard? I brung you some purty posies.
> Or at least get confused."
Crow: Yeah, positive emotions certainly messed her up in real
life!
> "Yeah, that might work," Jackie figured, "And if it doesn't,
>we could still hookup blueprints and weak points of the cube
>ships."
> "Great, we can get to it, as soon as we find a Borg."
Crow: Try Borgmart.
Tom: Or World of Borg.
Mike: Don't forget Borg Club.
> "Ok, now if ya don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep."
> "All right, see you in the morning." With that, Jay left the
>quarters, and Jackie fell back into a deep slumber.
>
Mike: Yeah, we'll save the universe after our beauty sleep.
> Eyes showing dark bags from lack of sleep over the past
>couple of days,
Crow: Sleep is irrelevant.
Tom: Can't she just prop herself up in one of those little
closets for a couple of hours?
>Marrissa still pondered her next move. Should she finish off
>the Romulans? The Klingons? Perhaps the Cardassians with the
>Dominion?
Tom: The Narn?
Mike: The Martians?
Crow: The Chicago Bulls?
Tom: Vorlons?
Mike: Rutans?
Crow: Cylons?
Tom: Hey, Cylons versus the Borg! That'd be...redundant.
>NO, she screamed at herself, why was she putting this off?
>Why didn't she want to end the Federation? She was weak then,
>but now with all this power, she didn't want to remove the
>people who limited her? Why?
Crow: It's the evil power of Viacom.
Tom: "We won't let you kill a main character. Unless their
contract is up, of course."
>In order to let the Collective believe she was listening, she
>let two of her ships head towards Wolf 359. The fleet could
>die first, then the Federation.
>
> The morning awakened the crews of the fleet,
Crow: Morning, in space?
Mike: Haven't we been over this before, Crow?
> who proceeded to
>their stations, expecting another dull day of waiting.
Tom: [as generic crew] Ho-huh, another day of waiting.
> The days had been spent modifying a Borg idea. The EMP
>weapons used in the previous attacks could be toned down to a
>hand-held rifle.
Mike: Yeah, that's bright. Fire anti-electronic weapons on the
bridge of a starship.
> It was the development team's hope that they
>would get to run the final tests today. Instead, the two Borg
>ships appearing in front of the fleet shattered that hope.
Mike: Actually, it looks like they'll be getting their chance,
so...
> The Enterprise began firing Quantum Torpedoes
>at the ship, in any area that became exposed.
Mike: Apparently, the Federation is unalterably opposed to
Buffalo shots.
Crow: Well, that's one good thing about them.
> The fleet
>reacted as well, by launching an astonishing amount of
>firepower at a cube.
Tom: The Federation meets the threat of beef bullion head on!
> All to no avail. The Cube taking the
>damage was nearly destroyed,
Mike: Fortunately, it rolled 3d8 against firepower and got
a good save.
> but began regenerating, after
>it's counterpart used an EMP burst to short out the
>electronics on all the ships.
Crow: Wanna bet that the lack of life support doesn't
*actually* kill everyone on the Enterprise?
Tom: So no one in the 24th century has ever heard of shielded
wiring?
Mike: Remember, they don't know about fuses either.
> The Enterprise was barely
>functional when a Runabout holding Alexander, Shayna, and a
>Security Detachment headed towards the intact cube.
Mike: I'd say they're escaping the action, but I don't think
there was any.
Tom: [as Shayna] Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
>
> The damaged cube ship was vulnerable, the other ship could be
>dealt with as a combined effort, Admiral Saavik Jeric decided.
Tom: Jeric?
Crow: So is this Kirstie Alley or Robin Curtis?
Mike: Let's hope it's Alley. Rrrrowl!
>This division had arrived just after the Borg attacked. They
>transported everyone in the command bunker up to the lead
>ship. At Preador Stovin's
Mike: Once again, it's "How Many Ways Can You Spell The Title
of the Romulan Leader!'
Tom: Ratliff's influence strikes again.
> request, and in her own quest to
>reclaim the glory she lost, she hunted them through Federation
>Territory.
Crow: Wait, in Ratliff's universe isn't Saavik head of
Federation Intelligence?
Mike: Yeah, she's the J. Edgar Hoover of the Federation.
Crow: Oh, she wears women's clothes? [Guffaws, then breaks
off] Wait a second...
> "All ships prepare to decloak and attack
>the damaged cube on my mark!" Saavik ordered. Out of the
>corner of her eye, she noted Preator Stovin sat in an
>unoccupied seat on the bridge.
Crow: Reading a magazine.
>A smile spread across Saavik's face as she formed the word in
>her mouth. "ATTACK!!"
>
Mike: Actually, she never actually *said* the word, she just
kept mouthing it over and over.
Crow: Sad, really.
Tom: Well, that truly was a pointless scene.
> The Away Team beamed on to the undamaged Borg cube with no
>difficulties.
Tom: The author couldn't imagine any in other words.
> Alex held his EMP Rifle uneasily, knowing that if
>the team failed, there'd nothing to go home to. Also, if
>these new gadgets didn't work the way they were supposed to,
>they were going to be joining the Collective as Marrissa's new
>shoe-shine drones.
Tom: It's Underborg! Disguised as humble shoe-shine drone. . .
Mike: They'll shine shoes, and they'll LIKE IT VERY MUCH!
> He missed Clara and Alexis, and he feared
>for their safety.
Crow: [Alex] Sure hope they fix the life support before they
left. . .
> He only went on this mission because he was
>the only available executive officer.
Mike: Funny, this is beginning to sound like the setup for
Enterprized!
> The mission was to
>retrieve a Borg Drone, and at the same time disable or
>distract the cube.
Crow: Unfortunately, for Alexander, he was the one chosen to
dance in a hula skirt in front of the cube while singing
"Happy Talk."
> The poor lighting and steam were torture on
>the senses.
Tom: Oh no, they've wanted onto the Teenage Mutant Ninja
Turtles Set!
Crow: And goggles, rebreathers, and so on were completely
forgotten.
> Perspiration beaded across his forehead,
Mike: Ooh. Sweating Klingons. Not Good.
> the
>average temperature on a Borg ship was obviously too damn hot.
Crow: [as Alexander] Setting the temperature to 74 ? How dare
they!
>The smell was also repugnant, since the organic parts of the
>Borg were obviously sweating as well.
Tom: Ugh! Just so long as there's no baby oil involved.
Mike: My, what a pleasant image.
Tom: Be happy, the author got some emotional reaction beyond
boredom.
>Rounding a corner, and advancing to an intersection, the group
>found their targets. A Borg Drone just finished recharging,
>and several data conduits ran through the ceiling.
Mike: Hoping to escape the fanfic.
> Keying the
>return signals on the Transporter, the group took up their
>rifles. Pulling the trigger at one target after another,
>there was no beam to indicate the weapon's firing.
Mike: Saving up on the special effects budget, most likely....
> The only indication that they were hit, was that
>each of the Borg hit slumped over, the implants often pouring
>smoke.
Crow: Destroying valuable data and making them COMPLETELY
USELESS!
> The data conduits were also going off line, and Borg
>scrambled to stop the failure.
Tom: Great. If the freakin' *Borg* can't get reliable tech
support, what hope is there for the rest of us?!?
> The security team grabbed two
>Borg, beamed back to the Runabout two at a time, leaving Alex
>and Shayna alone, while the transporter recharged.
Crow: Make out time!
> The two
>stood back-to-back firing the new weapons repeatedly, Borg
>slumping over each other with each blast.
Crow: The dreaded "Drinky-Bird" effect!
> When the
>transporter became fully charged, Alex placed the rifle in
>overload, then beamed back to the Runabout, which flew back to
>the Enterprise.
>
Tom: Which promptly exploded when the rifle exploded. The end.
> The Romulan force of twenty ships was a welcome sight to
>behold, even more so as they blew up the damaged cube. The
>other ship was inactive since the Runabout ran away from it,
>about two hours ago.
All: [British voices] Run away! Run away!
> These new EMP rifles are just the thing
>for the Borg, Jay thought.
Mike: After all, the Borg were so hard to shop for. . .
> The Enterprise was backup at top
>condition, along with most of the fleet members.
Crow: Wow! Two hours for full repairs of a ship?! Bet that
you'll never see a car repair place get it done that
fast!
>Casualties were light as only one or two ships met with the
>Borg cutting lasers. The Romulans were an unexpected
>addition, but were welcomed into the fleet.
>
Tom: Gatecrashers!
Mike: Again, we have the olestra of action.
> In her throne room on the Borg cube, Marrissa was wailing
>like a banshee possessed by a demon who was about to be
>exorcised.
Mike: Exorcising the evil out of an evil being? Wouldn't that
make Marrissa good or something ?
Crow: But enough about Alanis Morissette...
> The destruction of those ships was as if she had an arm
>and a leg removed without pain killers.
Crow: Fortunately, for Marrissa, she had several clones of
herself premade to use to replace her appendages.
Mike: parts 2: the clonus horror in space.
Tom: What is this "in-ter-price"?
> She couldn't believe
>the Romulans helped the Federation. She would kill them all!
Mike: Ah, Marrissa's true personality shines through.
> Every last Romulan wouldn't even Have the honour of being
>assimilated!
Tom: And Marrissa's acting like she did in "Away From Home". .
Crow: Yep, the Borg REALLY whiffed it with Captain PMS here.
> The Collective tried to have Marrissa see they
>couldn't destroy them yet, by pointing out that the Romulans
>had not been assimilated into the Collective yet.
Mike: Even though, technically, they had, back in chapter one.
> The Collective cringed in pain and Drones felt
>horror spread through them for the first time since their
>assimilation.
Crow: What do you *mean* they put "3rd Rock" opposite "Drew
Carey"?!?
> The web of connections that was established
>under the previous Queen was torn apart and restructured.
Mike: Uh-oh, you know how long it's going to take to get to
Novell's tech support?
>Marrissa was now fully in command of the Borg, they would
>have difficulty to even refuse termination orders.
Mike: Marrissa - now the Overlord of the Galaxy.
Tom: Not quite yet, Mike ... she still has yet to take over the
Dominion or the Gamma Quadrant.
Mike: Please, Tom, don't give them ideas!
> The Borg
>fleet moved towards Wolf 359, to obliterate the last remnants
>of resistance.
>
Tom: Which, we should note, is still futile.
> On the 16th deck of the Enterprise, in room 1604,
Mike: Cubicle 17A.
>there was truly a sight to behold.
Tom: The Borgs, they had a new queen, who wouldn't do as she
was told.
They offered her Cardassians and Romulans for slaying.
"The Federation it must be" was all that she was saying.
Those Borg, they tried to bribe her through offers of
spelunking.
She just shouted "No!" and started screaming and
krunking.
> The Science Lab had been
>completely refurbished to meet the needs of the newly acquired
>"guests". The middle of the room now had two stations that
>held the two Borg in the middle.
Crow: Stations? What kind? Workstations? Gas Stations?
> The room was lined with
>computer equipment with a few personnel working at them.
Mike: And a pointy-haired Lt. Commander trying to read his
e-mail on the food replicators.
>Every so often, one of them would cast nervous glances at the
>two drones held in the force fields. There was no way they
>could get out of the fields, but that fact did little to calm
>the nerves of the group.
Tom: If you can't trust your own science, who *can* you trust ?
>Jackie was among them, rigging special data flows to use on
>the Borg.
Mike: AOL connections?
Tom: [computer voice] Welcome! Resistance is futile! You've
got mail!
>Normal hookups couldn't be used in the process, for fear the
>Borg would gain access to the ships computer. The new hookups
>would link the drone to a neural net, that would then lead
>back to the ship computer. were completed,
Mike: Ok, and that's different HOW?
> now they just had to
>wait for Jay and the files.
Mike: You mean, this is a Men In Black/X-Files crossover as
well?! AIE!
> Jay entered, holding isolinear
>chips holding the information they required.
Tom: What? No dip!?
Crow: No, Jay's the dip!
>Jackie lowered the force fields and hooked up the first drone.
>Sitting down, she began her programming.
Crow: Yeah, like trying to reprogram the Borg with COBOL is
going to help.
Mike: Probably still haven't fixed the year 2000 problem.
> "All right, judging from the logs Data used, the
>neural links will be connected in three stages. Data's neural
>net was much better at processing information then this
>replacement, but it shouldn't make that much of a difference."
Tom: [Jackie] I just said that since the author thinks Data is
so cool.
> She began the process, slowly moving into the layers of
>the Borg Collective.
Crow: Like big cybernetic matroushkas.
> The relays between the Borg and the
>computer were not operating as well as it would if a link up
>between an android and the Collective was used. It began to
>show as the hookups, and the implants they were attached to,
>began to glow white hot.
Mike: Okay, okay I may not know much, but isn't it bad for the
Borg if their various cybernetic doohickies DON'T HAVE
FUSES!
Tom: Mike?
Mike: Yes?
Tom: Chill.
Mike: Ok.
> The emergency lights switched on as
>soon as Jackie reached the second link, and the Drone began to
>shake worse than someone with fifty shots of espresso under
>their belt.
Mike: "First Contact", starring Too-Much-Coffee Man!
> The force fields snapped into place at the last
>moment, just as the Drone overloaded and blew up. The neural
>net sat in its compartment and began to smoke and spark.
Crow: Ohh! They used a neural HAIR net, those dopes.
> Looking upon the smoking pile of ashes that was their
>former test subject, Jackie remarked.
Tom: [as Jackie] Well, that went well. Who brought
marshmallows?
> "I think were going to
>need some help on this one."
Tom: And a bigger boat.
> After attaining permission from Fleet Admiral Picard,
>the Enterprise broke fleet formation and warped for Omicron
>Theta.
>
Crow: [as Jay] We'll be back in a year! Seeya suckers!
> Within the hour, the Enterprise dropped out of warp beside
>the massive automated factory that managed to produce three
>Defiant class warships every month. Data extended his
>greetings to the young Rear Admiral,
Mike: In the middle of space, apparently...
> and asked what he needed.
Crow: Jay's going to ask Data for love advice?!
> "Data, you've probably heard that the Federation is under
>siege by the Borg.
Crow: [Data] No, sorry, I missed that - I've been just so
caught up in this whole "kidnap/evil twin" storyline on
"Guiding Light".
> We've managed to capture two Drones, and were trying to
>hack into the Collective. The first try overloaded the link
>ups.
Mike: But we managed to tag the Pentagon, 4 NASA sites, and
the Mossad!
> We thought that you might be able to connect with the
>last one and do this yourself."
Tom: [Data] What is the term? Ah, yes - "AS IF!!!!"
> "It sounds like an intriguing quest. I will beam aboard
>immediately. Data out."
>
Crow: How's a 2x4 going to help them hack into the Collective
anyway?
> Back at Wolf 359, the battle of a life time began,
Tom: Actually, it was the battle of Time/Life.
Crow: Magazine was pitted against magazine in a horrible
conflict!
> as Marrissa
>and her ships decloaked and attacked the combined fleet.
Crow: Mike, is this when Sinclair fights the Minbari?
Mike: No, it's where we fight the urge to leave.
Tom: I'd rather have my ass kicked by the Minbari.
> Three warbirds, two Klingon battle cruisers, a Stargazer
>carrier, two Sovereign Battleships, and seven Defiant class
>Destroyers were wiped out in the first volley.
Tom: Okay, that's seven stargazers, three Klingon Battleships,
a Defiant Sovereign, and, uh...
Crow: No, it was a cruiser, two Defiant Carriers, three
Destroyer class Klingon Stargazer Battleship Volleys,
and, and, ummmmm...
>On the Bridge of the Kirk, Fleet Admiral Picard ordered the
>fleet to fall back while striking at any areas they could.
Tom: Picard on the Kirk! We're into some slash now . . .
> This tactic failed, as any ship about to go into warp
>received an EMP Beam from one of the Borg cubes.
> "All ships, initiate plan Delta Armego One."
Tom: Apparently, Picard's made so many plans that he's now
forced to make Greek letters up.
> Picard yelled
>over the tactical net.
> The operative ships responded by using streams of anti-
>matter, like the saucer section did when the Enterprise-D
>attacked the very first Borg cube.
Tom: Haven't seen that episode or don't remember it? Tough!
> The streams temporarily diverted the Borg attention.
Mike: Oh, no! The dreaded tickle beam!
Crow: "Tickle Me Borg", new from Playschool.
Tom: [as Borg] Ha. ha. ha. You will be assimilated.
>These were followed up with Quantum Torpedoes that did severe
>damage to the Borg magnetic shields.
Tom: Which had protected the Borg from all those iron
cannonballs they worried about.
> The counter attack was of
>the norm for the Borg,
Crow: [Borg] I am Norm of Borg. It is a targ eat targ universe
out there, and I am wearing Gagh underwear.
> grabbing ships with the tractor beams,
>and dissecting them with the cutting lasers. Instead of
>merely removing small plugs of the ships at once,
Mike: The ships decided on a tasteful toupee from the Shatner
line instead.
> however,
>the lasers ran through the length of the ship. Gutting
>the starships like trout.
Tom: They're just floundering around out there.
Mike: Yeah, the Borg really kicked their bass.
Crow: And they did it on porpoise!
> The cubes also fired an occasional
>round of shield draining torpedoes. The Kirk dived and weaved
>through the amazing amount of debris from all the craft.
Tom: Well, Shatner always did know how to dodge around his
acting skills.
Mike: [giggles]
>Only ten ships were left, with one of the cubes almost
>destroyed.
Mike: More hot statistical action!
> The Defiant class ship USS Henson
Crow: Mmm-bop.
Mike: Henson, not Hanson.
Tom: o/~ It's not easy being green. . . o/~
Mike: Sigh.
> went through stomach
>turning evasive manoeuvres
Tom: Remembre the priore occuerance that there was an
evasive manoeuvre?
Mike: Don't make fun of Canadian spelling.
> as the cutting lasers and tractor
>beams lanced from the three cubes. One was obviously heavily
>damaged, with large amounts of radiation leaking into space.
>The energy core could be hit with just the right amount of
>firepower, mused the Captain.
Mike: Whose name has been withheld pending an investigation.
> "Helm, position ourselves on a course towards the damaged
>cube. When we're on course, make the Henson look like a
>wayward piece of debris." ordered the Captain.
Tom: [as Captain] Just show them Fozzie the Bear's act, that'll
be dead enough...
> "Aye, sir." replied the multi-armed robotic helmsmen, its
>voice cold, and emotionless.
Crow [Robot]: Stupid Asimov and his stupid laws . . .
> The Henson moved out of the debris of its comrades, floating
>at full impulse towards the cube.
Mike: I'm feeling a full impulse too, if you know what I mean.
> The Borg fired on the few
>remaining fleet ships, using a cutting laser to separate the
>saucer section of the hull from the rest of the ship, then
>using the same beam to slice off a Romulan Warp Nacelle.
Tom: Would that be the white meat or dark meat of a Warbird?
Mike: More nacelles! Drumsticks for everyone!
> When in position, the Henson rose from the grave,
Crow: It's the USS Undertaker, then.
>firing wave after wave into the damaged area. The Quantum
>Torpedoes stripped away layer after layer of hull, until the
>energy core could be seen.
Mike: The torpedoes were all used up, but what a view!
> "Tactical, fire the remaining Torpedoes at will!"
Crow: But they already killed Riker!
> the Captain
>bellowed, a triumphant smile on his face. The smile turned
>itself upside down,
Mike: What's the matter, sad clown?
> however, when the droid
Tom: I hope it isn't that toady, R2.
Crow: That little brown noser.
> announced all the
>torpedoes were used to remove the hull.
Crow: I don't believe it. Big Face here called it!
Mike: Thank you, thank you.
> The Phasers were also
>offline, due to debris from the ships damaging the arrays.
Mike: So why don't they just create Booch-style objects?
Tom: Thanks for that obscure C++ quote, Mike.
Mike: Hey, the temp agency had me programming for a week. I
just took a bunch of commands that I heard the other
programmers use and strung them together.
Crow: And. . .?
Mike: I ended up writing "Outpost."
> "Computer, rig all auto-destruct packages for contact fuse.
Crow: If you can't win, blow em up!
Tom: [as Kermit] And now, the Great Gonzo will try to dismantle
a bomb while reenacting the monologue from Hamlet!
Yeaaaaaaah!
>Helm, take us directly into that power core."
Crow: Wedge! Follow me! Tycho, split up and head back to the
surface. And see if you can get a few of those TIE
fighters to follow you!
> The Henson moved into the Borg power core, collided, and
>destroyed the vessel.
Mike: I don't think your insurance will cover "willful
collision and self-destruction damage" for that...
> The action was in vain though, as the two
>remaining Borg ships continued to pound away at the few
>remains of the fleet.
Mike: And any possible sense of drama.
> On board the James T. Kirk,
Tom: Yes, you can certainly fit a lot of people on Shatner,
considering how he's grown.
> the bridge was dark, with only
>red lights keeping it illuminated.
Tom: Jean-Luc, it is NOT time to develop your film!
> Picard managed to command
>the fleet though the whole disaster.
Crow: Yep, when you want a successful fleet action, send in
baldy.
Mike: I wonder what Sheridan would have done here.
Tom: Run.
> Now it was only the Kirk
>and its sister ship the Elizabeth, the Stargazer,
Mike: the USS Saratoga,
>the Nova class Yorktown,
Crow: the White Star,
>a Klingon Battle Cruiser,
Tom: the Battlestar Pegasus,
>a heavily damaged Romulan Warbird,
Mike: the Terragen vessel Streaker,
>the Nebula class Phoenix,
Crow: a Mon Calamari Cruiser,
>two Ambassadors,
Tom: a Dahak class planetoid,
>and a Defiant.
All: [singing] FI-I-I-IVE NOVA CLASS...
Tom: Four Klingon K'Tingas...
Mike: Three Defiants...
Crow: Two Ambassadors...
All: *And a Warbird, damaged heavily!*
> "Admiral, the Elizabeth is saying that her shields have
>dropped, and Borg are beaming on board." announced the
>tactical officer.
Crow: [as tactical officer] They want to know if you know
anything about "Jehovah's Witnesses"?
> "Send the reply for an Omega destruct, move it towards one of
>the cubes.
Crow: Yes sir. They're marching gleefully to their deaths.
> What is the status of the rest of the fleet."
>Picard ordered.
Crow: Grated, sir.
> "Sir, the Borg are concentrating their efforts on the Romulan
>and Klingon ships."
Mike: So they're killing the extras then? Good riddance.
> On the viewscreen, the Borg had stopped firing at the
>Federation craft. Instead of using the sweeps of the cutting
>lasers, short bursts were used to puncture holes in the hulls.
Tom: [as Borg] Like shooing fish in a barrel. Ha ha.
>It was almost like they had stopped trying. Then tiring of
>the game, the Borg lead ship used their tractor beam and
>grabbed a hold of the Warbird. The cube then proceeded
>to carve it up like it was the Thanksgiving day turkey.
Crow: Turkey without stuffing?!
Mike: And cranberries?
Tom: And mashed potatoes?!
> Preador Stovin was terrified.
Tom: His agent had just told him that he was still in the
running for the role of "Neelix."
> He lived through two Borg
>attacks, one under Marrissa.
Mike: And lots of people weren't sure they could handle ANY
form of being under Marrissa.
> The beams slashed though the
>bridge, and Stovin lasted about two seconds before the
>decompression froze him to the bone.
>
Mike: Alas, poor Stovin. I knew him well. Well, actually,
not all that well...
Crow: Tom, wasn't that some drama?
Tom: Yeah, except decompression doesn't freeze you.
> Aboard the Enterprise, in the science room, Data was
>preparing himself to link to the Borg Collective. The
>procedure began as before, with little or no access to the
>Collective.
Mike: Busy signals are a real downer
Tom: Keyword: Jump BORG
> The third linkup was once again the break-through
>into the vast consciousness.
Crow: Data does peyote.
> The download began, and Data
>used his previous experience with the Collective to locate the
>Queen.
Mike: Then Data noticed that the Borg Queen had been buying ad
space at www.strawberryjuice.com, so he just followed the
link back to her.
> The first time Data accessed the Collective when he
>tried to save Locutus, he learned there were subspacial
>connections between each individual Borg.
Crow: It takes a village to raise a Borg.
> Those connections
>looked like a spider web, with each strand connecting a drone
>to the rest of the Collective.
Tom: So actually, kinda more like a big daddy longlegs than a
web.
> At the time, he was engrossed
>with the task of saving humanity, and didn't get a chance to
>follow a link that led away from the Borg ship. The second
>time he was a part of the Collective which was much more
>disorienting.
Mike: But the hours were reasonable.
>It was as if a human was trying to decode one of the magical
>3-D eye puzzles on a much larger scale.
Tom: And the award for "Oddest analogy in a Star Trek story"
goes to . . . Rob Tounts!
All: [Cheer]
> He managed to follow
>the links to the Queen, but noticed that she was outside it
>all.
Crow: He should have just gone through Yahoo
> Enforcing her will where necessary, leaving other areas to
>their preassigned tasks.
Tom: Marrissa had to become a Borg to learn how to delegate?
> This time the Collective structure was different. Each drone
>was connected to a focal point on each ship.
Tom: The Commissar.
> The focal drone
>was then connected to a location outside the ship. In the
>middle of it all, was the Queen, manipulating the Collective
>as she might an appendage.
Crow: But since this a family fanfic, we won't go into all that
right now.
> The downloaded information was guided
>through the links until it finally was on its way to Marrissa.
>Data then manipulated the areas of the Collective
Tom: As ordered by Fleet Admiral Pee-Wee Herman...
> devoted to
>ship building and planning. The blueprints for the two
>attacking Borg vessels were stored in Data's neural net then
>transferred to the ship's computer. Feeling the mission
>complete, Data disconnected himself from the access point.
Crow: But not before downloading the entire archive from
www.nudetrek.com.
Mike: Crow, what have I told you about going to that site?
Crow: Geez Mike. It was research. Where else am I going to
find nude shots of Mot the Barber?
Mike: [To himself] I don't want to know.
>Back in the science lab, the security team took an EMP Rifle
>and fired it point blank at the drone, then vaporised the
>remains.
Tom: [as Borg] I'm your unwilling drone to the Collective , and
this is the thanks I get? Geez...
> There was no point in allowing the Borg knowledge of
>who planted the information there.
>
Mike: That darned old Geneva Convention's so impractical, let's
just circumvent it.
> The Borg had smashed the main body of the fleet. Not to
>mention the Romulan portion.
Tom: Which can be returned for a full refund.
> Marrissa smiled as she watched the
>last Warbird expand into a cloud of fragments. It was almost
>like watching a fireworks display.
Tom: But with a higher body count.
Crow: And look! Dad just set the yard on fire!
Tom: Sound familiar Mike?
Mike: He only did that until the court order forced him to
stop.
> She hadn't destroyed this
>many ships since she and the Enterprise dissolved the Romulan
>Empire.
Crow: With a satisfied smile, she assimilated a cigarette.
Mike: You two are really on today.
Tom: Yeah, we've been following that whole Monica Lewinsky
thing a little too closely.
> The remaining ships were running away, but they
>didn't matter. If anything they would gather all of Starfleet
>in one location, where they could be wiped out with a slash
>of a cutting laser. She wished that her crew could see her
>now.
Tom: I'm sure they're aware of you, at least.
> Jay, Clara, Alexander, everyone. They too could revel in
>her triumph. Perhaps if she were to talk with them, reason
>with them, they could see the benefits of assimilation, the
>powers.
Mike: The 40% employee discounts...
Crow: Eligibility for Corporate Rate at all participating
Ramada Inns...
Tom: Use of the Borg Condo on Oclupuca VII...
> She could train her child to inherit the Collective
>when she was removed.
Mike: We have monarchy, we ARE in a Ratliff story!
> The datastream slowly came flooding
>Marrissa's mind,
Mike: They still haven't finished that 56.6 software?
> as possibilities for her former crew and
>family were brought forth.
Tom: [as Marrissa] A musical! That's the ticket!
> She went with the ideas, then
>wondered why she wished for it. Then she was weak, limited.
>They represented an aspect of her life, one filled with love,
>friendship, and other benefits.
Mike: Like fawning underlings.
Tom: Lots and lots of Strawberries.
Crow: And her large harem of stud muffins.
> They should be allowed to
>live free, but the Borg purpose was to bring order though
>assimilation.
Crow: Like Pat Robertson.
> The two directives battled with each other in
>Marrissa's mind, then spread through the rest of the
>Collective. Both equally powerful forces battled for
>domination of Marrissa and of the millions of Drones under her
>command.
Mike: Geez, talking about forcing your problems on others!
> The struggle mentally exhausted the Borg, and a
>cacophony of the Damned rose from each drone on every ship
>from the Alpha to the Delta quadrant.
>
Tom: [Borg] Shut. Up. Shut. Up. You. Dumb. Broad. Why.
Did. We. Assimilate. You?
> Feeling the pain of the Collective,
Tom: [Bill Clinton] Ah feel yore pain!
> and seeing the massive
>ships begin to drift, the Fleet Admiral managed to get the
>remainders of the fleet safely away. Finally, the Borg
>directive overthrew the dataflow, and the Borg reached the
>decision.
Mike: They'd go with the leather sofa in the rumpus cube.
> The people that were connected with their Queen's
>past were a threat to them. They were to be assimilated,
>or failing that, eliminated without question. The two ships
>cloaked and warped towards Earth.
Mike: So the Borg are worried that Marrissa's warm and fuzzy
feelings will endanger them?
> Chapter Five
>
> At the science station at the back of the Bridge, a display
>of a Borg ship dominated the screen.
Crow: Which ship? Who cares!
> The rendering of the cube
>was painted in an odd combination of green, yellow, and a
>single patch of red.
Mike: Q*Bert!
> The red point was the sole opening in the
>Borg defence grid that could be broken into easily.
Tom: So, let me get this straight. Data, an android, brought
them the plans to the invincible Borg Ship?
Mike: The Borg ship is heavily shielded and carries a firepower
greater than half the star fleet. Its defenses are
designed around a direct large-scale assault. A small
one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer
defense.
Crow: Pardon me for asking sir, but what good are snub
fighters going to be against that?
Mike: Well, the Borg don't consider a small one-man fighter to
be any threat, or they'd have a tighter defense. . .
Tom: All right, knock it off you two.
Crow: Hee, hee.
> There were weak points across the cube
>surface, but since Marrissa became the Queen they were
>reinforced or shielded.
Crow: No originality allowed without Marrissa.
> The spot was an exhaust port for waste
>methane, carbon dioxide, oxygen, and other materials that
>could effect the implants on the Borg.
Mike: So in other words things common in the damn atmosphere?
> It was all vented out
>into space through that one point.
Mike: Only a precise hit will set up a chain reaction. The
shaft is ray-shielded, so you'll have to use photon
torpedoes.
Crow: That's impossible, even for a computer.
Mike: [using a different voice] It's not impossible. I used to
bulls-eye womp rats in my T-16 back home. They're not
much bigger than two meters.
Tom: All right! Knock it off!
Crow: Hee, hee.
> There were no cutting lasers
>near the port, for fear of igniting the materials.
Tom: They're going to drop a cherry bomb down there!
> The shields
>were also void of the area, because if the wastes did ignite
>the shields would keep the fires in.
Tom: So the guys who can survive in the intense radiation and
absolute zero of bare space and shrug off anti-matter
blasts are worried about a grease fire?!?
Mike: Yeah, pretty much.
> The only way to use this
>weakness was to fire Quantum Torpedoes down the shaft. Once
>down into the pumping system, the torpedo would explode and
>ignite the wastes in the ship.
Crow: Then, they're going to go on a panty raid!
> That would of course take into
>account all the wastes weren't already cleansed, and the angle
>would not send the torpedo into the side of the shaft, but it
>was the best shot they had.
Mike: Well, since the UDP against the Borg didn't work. . .
> Jay moved away from the Science Station back into his Command
>Chair.
Mike: No one will be admitted during the "Moving Away" scene.
> "Shayna, open a channel to the fleet at Wolf 359." Jay
>ordered. "Tell them we have something they can use."
Mike: [Jay] They're gonna laugh, so repeat it several times.
> Shayna tapped the Comm channel
Tom: ...and cast a Hurloon Minotaur.
> and opened it to any ship at
>Wolf 359. Puzzled that there was no response, she tried again.
Crow: [as operator] SOR-rey, your party is no ANSwering.
Tom: You're not dealing with AT&T.
> "Jay, the fleet isn't answering." Lieutenant Sachs
>announced.
Crow: Do they have Fleet waiting?
> "Either they moved to another Borg attack location,
>or have ..."
Crow: . . . turned off their comm units to avoid letting the
Borg track them through their communications?
> "I doubt the second option very much." Jay interrupted,
>denying the possibility.
Crow: I refute it thus! [kicks the seat in front of him]
> "The fleet would have gotten off
>some sort of evacuation notice if it was destroyed."
Crow: Could you possibly hold off with that killing blow until
I can get a note off to the fleet? Thanks, you're a dear.
Tom: Poor deluded fool.
> "They also would have given us a message that they were
>changing their location." Countered Shayna.
> Jay sighed. The crew usually didn't question Marrissa.
Mike: Thanks to those disciplinary executions.
> "Alex, scan the fleet's last known position. See if there's
>some way to give us a visual of the area."
Crow: Turning on the viewscreen might help.
> "Yessir," Alex said, as he went to work at his console.
>"Visual coming through now." No one was fully prepared for
>the scene of carnage. The nearby space telescope
Mike: Hubble?
Tom: Nah, can't be. You destroyed that eons ago.
Mike: Hey!
> had picked
>up the last battle field of the Federation/Romulan fleet.
>Hulls and debris floated past the camera, with some of the
>names visible.
Mike: In other words, a literary interpretation of a cool
Director's shot.
Tom: Edmund Fitzgerald. Poseidon. Titanic. Marie Celeste. SS
Minnow...
> Holding down the meal he recently ate,
Tom: [as Jay] No one's getting my macaroni and cheese!
> Jay ordered with a
>wavy voice.
Mike: [Torgo] ThE mAsTeR wAnTs MaRriSsA, BuT hE cAnNoT hAvE
hEr!
Tom: *Now* who's dabbling in nightmare imagery!
>"Alex, can you take the debris and reform it?
Crow: Sure! I'll need an arc welder, some I-beams, some
rivets, maybe some transparent aluminum, but I'm not
really sure that this is a good time for a recycling
drive.
> Put it back
>into the fleet?" seeing the young Klingon at Ops nod his head,
>Jay continued. "Put the results on the main viewer."
Crow: I think that was an awkward description of using a
computer to reconstruct an accident.
> Alex nodded solemnly, and went about his duty. The main
>viewers star field was replaced with purple wire images of the
>fleet, and a green field of debris off to a side.
Mike: He needs to learn that effective Web Page design is more
than just yutzing around with HTML color options!
> The field
>of debris covered the ships in the fleet, changing the colour
>from purple to green, one by one as the computer sorted
>through the rubble.
Tom: [Barney Rubble laugh]
Crow: [Fred] All right, all right! Hoo-boy!
> At the end of the cycle, there was still
>a smaller field of debris, and a few purple ships left over.
Tom: His Royal Badness' imperial fleet [Prince] *Ooooowwww!*
Mike: We couldn't just estimate the mass of the debris and
compare it to ships sizes, no, we had to do something
fancy!
> "What could the rest of it be?" Jay wondered a loud. "Could
>the field be the other ships, Alex?"
Mike: Mass measurement! Mass measurement! Stop showing off!
> "If they were, the computer would have sorted them out."
>Alex responded. "It may be a Borg ship. Computer, match
>remaining debris on the viewscreen with the schematics on
>Science Station One."
> The debris shifted and moved around on the screen until it
>became the exact replica of the rendering on the rear station.
Tom: I don't want to know about anyone's rear station in this
fanfic!
> "That answers the debris dilemma." remarked Shayna. "But
>then where's the ships that survived?"
Tom: Meanwhile on Risa. . .
> "Jay, there are seven ships exiting warp, dead ahead." Alex
>noticed.
Tom: It's the cast of Battle Beyond the Stars! We're in a
crossover!
All: Aiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!!
> "On screen." The picture of the ships disappeared and showed
>the remainders of the fleet dropping from warp. Heads across
>the bridge hung in sadness,
Mike: Crap, they found us!
> seeing the once beautiful, majestic
>fleet, reduced to a rag-tag group of a mere seven ships.
Tom: But at least those non-human swarthy Klingons and Romulans
got their butts kicked!
Mike: How many times can Ratliff and his cronies destroy
Starfleet?
> Fleet
>Admiral Picard appeared on the main viewscreen. His eyes were
>heavy with exhaustion, and his uniform was creased and dirty.
Crow: Geez, Beverly's really wearing him out!
>The grubby look of the battered soul on the screen matched up
>with the shabby appearance of the vessels.
Mike: Designating them the "U.S.S. Dirty-Bum-With-a-Shopping-
Cart" class just didn't give the hoped-for morale boost.
> "Jay, I can believe that the Borg are too strong. The two
>ships that are left are proceeding to Earth at a leisurely
>pace.
Tom: They're stopping at every Stuckey's along the way!
Mike: Hmmm. They must be trying to assimilate the Pecan
Logs....
> I've diverted all of Starfleet to try and stop them.
Crow: Of course, it might have been wiser to attack the Borg
with all of the ships at once, but Jean-Luc would rather
let the Borg split them up and kill them off piecemeal.
> We
>can get there at maximum warp, just in time for the final show
>down.
Mike: Again, this is a no tension zone.
Tom: What convenient timing too.
Crow: Someday, we'll read a story where the fleet arrives early
or too late to stop the bad guys. But not today. Sigh.
> I assume you played your trump card while we were at Wolf
>359?"
Tom: Yes sir. We won the trick.
> "Yes, sir." replied Jay.
Crow: And, as usual, things went kinda crappy.
> "Good, that allowed the rest of us to escape. Is Data on
>board?"
> "No sir. He beamed back to the planet where he's trying to
>increase production on the Defiants in orbit. It may be a
>futile act, but at least it's something to do."
Mike: I sense a morale problem here.
Tom: "Something to do . . ."
> "Excellent.
Tom: [Mr.Burns] Smithers, release the hounds!
> The Phoenix is reporting some warp field
>problems, and the Yorktown needs to maintenance it's fighters.
>We'll be leaving within the hour. Picard out." The channel
>closed.
> "All right people." Jay bellowed. "This is probably the final
>round. Lets get every trick, every counter, and every sucker
>punch we can ready to go. I get the feeling we're going to
>need them."
>
Mike: Inspiring. Inspiring.
> Things were going well, thought Marrissa.
Tom: All tension had been avoided and the plot recycled
heavily.
> The fleet was in
>ruins, Earth was about to be assimilated,
Crow: Fox had finally stopped showing "World's Scariest Police
Chases MCIIVII", the Spice Girls had finally broken up. .
> and the last bits of
>Starfleet were going to try and stop them.
Crow: And Melrose Place was about to come on.
Tom: [as Marrissa] Today *is* a good day!
> The two ships
>dropped their cloaking shields,
Tom: I shouted, "Don't look Ethyl!" But it was too late. She'd
already seen their exposed warp cores.
> to allow the energy to be used
>for regenerating the ships' damage. Besides, Marrissa simply
>wanted to attract attention.
All: [dully] Again, we're shocked.
Crow: [as Marrissa] Yoohoo! A poor innocent little assimilated
Borg Queen that needs rescuing!
> A three ship grouping of Oberth
>Class vessels tried to slow them, but met the rest of the
>fleet in the great beyond.
Tom: Oberth Class ships? That's the starship version of the
red shirted security guy, right?
> A small portion of the Collective
>watched as their Queen took them on a romp through Federation
>space.
Crow: A *romp*?!?
Mike: Yeah, you know - a spree.
Tom: A gambol.
Mike: A revelry.
Tom: A frolicsome cavorting.
> There had to be some way they could regain some
>small amount of control over her, but direct confrontation was
>too dangerous. The ones that placed the odd recall program in
>the Queen's consciousness may be able to help regain control,
>or destroy it entirely.
Tom: Yep, the Collective's bitten off more than it can chew,
this time!
> At any rate, the best solution was to
>wait for an opportunity. The Borg continued to hop from
>system to system, intimidating the locals,
Mike: Darn you Duke boys!
Crow: "Intimidating the locals"? What are they, the Borga
Nostra all of a sudden?
Tom: [Borg] We are the Borg. 'Ow many tanks you got 'ere,
colonel?
> while making a
>beeline for Earth.
>
Mike: Or, in this case, Borgline.
Tom: Ernest Borgline?
Mike: Ha ha. Funny, Tom.
> The small remainder of Earth's starships warped away from
>Omicron Theta, driven by the desire to fight for their homes.
>If the Earth were to fall, then the Federation would crumble.
Crow: Again, humans are the center of everything, aren't they
Mike?
Mike: Leave me out of this.
> The Borg would assimilate everything, and everyone.
Tom: So the Borg are blind to the fact that the hand they hold
is the hand that holds them down?
Mike: Why won't they ever learn?
> Jaw set
>in firm determination,
Tom: After massive dental surgery.
> Jay ordered Red Alert.
Mike: Then, just in case, he ordered Counterstrike and
Aftermath too.
> The last of Earth's defenders were gathered at
>lunar orbit. The group included the ships from Omicron Theta,
>the USS Nova and five Excelsior class ships, with three Galaxy
>class vessels to assist them. Older ships manned by Data's
>androids also made appearances.
Tom: Otherwise known as slave ships!
> There were Miranda-classes,
>Oberths, Constellations that were half way through the
>transformation to the Stargazer class, and Ambassadors.
Crow: Yes, Shirley Temple Black is leading the attack on the
Borg.
>Another Klingon detachment was lent to the Federation,
>consisting of two Vor'cha class battle cruisers,
Crow: Oh, no! It really is a Babylon 5 crossover!
Mike: That's 'Vorlons', Crow.
> and ten Birds
>of Prey.
Mike: So while Stephen loves reciting names & ranks, Ron like
to tick off ships & ship classes.
> In total, there was thirty five ships meeting at Earth.
Crow: I thought they were down to just 7 ships.
Tom: Eh, starships are like paper clips - they multiply when
you're not looking.
>The orbital defences were armed and ready for battle, with
>Quantum Torpedo launchers and phaser banks mounted on
>communication and survey satellites.
Crow: Ah, remnants of the Soviet space program.
> The Borg came in with little attempt to conceal themselves.
Tom: Though two of them did disguise themselves as fuzzy dice.
>The fleet attacked with the weapons they had available.
>Phasers raked the dark black hulls of the Borg vessels,
>without any retaliation. The cubes sat there absorbing the
>punishment,
Crow: They were starting to enjoy it, actually.
Mike: I beg of you, Crow, don't go to that place!
> as if they were mocking the Federation craft. The
>Enterprise angled into an attack pattern.
Crow: Sigh.
Mike: Sigh.
Tom: Sigh.
> "Helm, initiate plan Beta two three niner. Shayna, aim the
>Quantum torpedoes and get ready to fire on my mark." Jay
>started to put the plan into action. The Enterprise began a
>gradual curve that would put them directly towards the exhaust
>port.
Crow: Where they would shove a banana up the tailpipe.
> The target cube rotated along the Y-axis on the screen,
>as the port came into range. Off to the left, a Miranda
>vessel was caught in a tractor beam, while cutting lasers
>sliced the Ambassador class USS Arkansas into titanium
>confetti.
Mike [Bill] You're sure you shredded all the evidence, Hillary?
Crow: [Hillary] Trust me!
> The port seemed to grow to fill the screen as the
>Enterprise set up a crippling shot.
>
Mike: Jim beam, everclear, and Robitussin!
> "Steady, steady" Jay repeated, as the side of the cube grew
>in size. "Fire phasers." Jay ordered. The energy beams
>streaked from their banks,
Tom: Then the exploding ink-packs detonated and stained the
loot.
> trying to mask the Enterprise's
>true intent. The Borg took sparse notice of Marrissa's former
>ship, as if it was little more than an insect.
Crow: [Observer voice] You are as an amoeba to us!
> "FIRE!!!!!" Jay screamed in a mix of anger and joy.
Crow: The same way he'd said "I do" at the wedding.
> The torpedo streaked from the launcher to the shaft.
Mike: Great shot kid! That was one in a million!
Tom: ENOUGH STAR WARS REFS ALREADY!
> Immersing
>themselves with dealing with the fleet, the Borg barely saw
>the torpedo fling into the vent. On the Bridge of the
>Enterprise, the crew held their breath. Seconds stretched
>into minutes as the torpedo moved along it's intended path.
Mike: Ah, this must be the Federation's new "Slow Detonation"
torpedo!
> Not truly caring of the attempt on their ship, the Borg
>continued to slash open Federation vessels. The victim of the
>torpedo managed to put away two Miranda class cruisers, along
>with a Galaxy class frigate.
Tom: So, the USS Enterprise-D was a *frigate*?
Mike: And the Miranda class, which is smaller, is a cruiser?
Tom: Starfleet's ship classification system seems a tad odd.
> A Borg Drone maintenancing the
>waste pumping systems noticed an odd increase in the alloy
>temperature.
Tom: Since no one noticed the torpedo going down the stupid
shaft . .
> Sending a notice to the ship centre point, the
>drone began scanning to try and discern the cause. The
>solution was found when the torpedo broke through the pump
>casing, and promptly detonated.
Mike: Yep, that'll do it.
> A ball of fire expanded from
>the waste disposal, igniting the gases in the Borg atmosphere.
>As each of the pockets of gas became patches of fire,
>organic parts of the Borg became the same texture as burnt
>marshmallows.
>
Mike: There's a Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man joke here somewhere,
but it just ain't happening for me.
> The fleet cheered as pyrotechnics erupted from the
>jet black cube.
Crow: If the Borg would just paint their cubes red, they'd go
much faster.
> There was only a single cube standing between
>victory and the Federation fleet. Judging from the damage the
>phasers were doing, Marrissa was on the last cube.
Mike: They also thought that due to the fact that that cube was
inscribing "I lost to a bunch of Borg" on the side of
the ships that it defeated.
Tom: Standard Star Trek logic: The main characters are always
on the last ship left.
> Marrissa watched during the Enterprise's
>assassination of her ship.
Tom: Assassination?
Mike: Someone used a thesaurus.
>Fires of rage burned within her. They would all serve her,
>they would all become drones.
Crow: So she'll marry them and make them like Jay . . .
> Then, at her whim, they would die.
Tom: In other words, same plan as always.
Crow: She needed to be a Borg for this to happen?
Mike: You know, is there any real difference between Marrissa
as a non-Borg or Marrissa as a Borg?
Crow: Not really. Except for that black bodysuit.
> The remaining ships needed to be out of the way. The cube
>was taking a pounding even as she was thinking, and the
>Enterprise could be seen lining up for another attack, this
>time on her ships exhaust vent. There must be some
>way to defend that weak point, and still destroy the fleet.
>The Collective debated,
Crow: Tastes Great!
Tom: Less Filling!
Crow: Tastes Great!
Tom: Less Filling!
> then decided on a course of action for
>her ship.
Crow: Um, didn't it occur to anyone that once they took out one
ship like that, the *just might* other might adapt? I
mean, them being Borg and everything...
Mike: You're talking about the Ratliff StarFleet here, Crow -
their motto is "One Thing at a Time".
> Jay was positive when the Borg ship swung to face his ship,
Mike: It's a cube. It's armed on all sides. Why would it need
to spin?
>the game had caught up with him at last. The Borg didn't stop
>spinning, in fact, they built up speed. Soon it was swirling
>on all of its axis like a gyroscope, with increasing speed.
Mike: Killing everyone inside due to tremendous centrifugal
forces.
Tom: Gatchaman!
Crow: Or else the Borg are getting ready to use the Death
Blossom.
> The fleet momentarily hesitated, but then continued to
>fire phasers into the swirling vessel. Not putting any faith
>into their "invulnerability", the Borg swiped at any vessels
>that were in range with the lasers. The blue beams of light
>slashed into the few android manned vessels. One last android
>manned Miranda was neutralised with an EMP burst, so the Borg
>could return and assimilate them at a later date.
Mike: Assimilate-On Dating. Your indicator of how fresh your
assimalations are.
> Klingon ships
>were the next to go, as two tractor beams grabbed hold of the
>bow and stern of a Bird of Prey,
Tom: Howard Stern?
> then pulled in two opposite
>directions. With only two Galaxies, an Ambassador, the
>Enterprise, the Kirk, and a Defiant left, the Federation
>fought with what little hope they had left. Stopping its mad
>spin, the Borg once again moved at Impulse
Tom: So, they bounced around hyperkinetically while accompanied
by an aged mentor?
> speed to Earth.
>Phasers licked at its heels, and Quantum Torpedoes lit the
>night.
Mike: Ah, like Marrissa doing a Schwarzenegger earlier.
Tom: I suppose it'll have to do for continuity.
> Tiring of the game, Marrissa took control to the
>penetrating rays and sliced them through the Galaxy class
>Cruisers pursuing her. The Ambassador and Defiant were
>dismantled with equal ease by the web of blue blasts.
>
Mike: See "Web of Blue Blasts" with "Dingos ate my Baby",
"Opie Gone Bad" and "The Cat Made Contact" live at the
Paramount! [Announcer Voice] Sponsored by KBCO.
> Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard had seen countless
>battles, endless diplomatic functions, met innumerous races,
Mike: And he did so irregardless of whether they were
inflammable.
Tom: Here's a hint, Rob - if you're gonna make up words, make
up ones that make sense, for crying out loud!
>and was subjected to the horrors of assimilation.
Crow: But he had yet to meet Bob Sagat.
> Never before
>had he felt so dismal, an entire fleet wiped out. The brave
>men, women along with all the innocent children that couldn't
>be gotten off the ships. All of them now were frozen pieces
>of meat floating in space.
Mike: How... disturbing...
Crow: What, Picard's going to open a deli after this is all
over?
Tom: StarFleet - it's what's for dinner.
> A message came in from Earth, and
>was put on screen. Captain Beverly Picard's face looked
>satisfied when she spoke to her husband.
Crow: How's the battle honey? Did you biff it again?
> "Jean-Luc, the Trinity, the Pasteur and the Intrepids you
>lent us have gathered as many people off Earth that we can.
>We're almost over flowing, but we managed to get a million
>people out. There's still lots left over, though."
Crow: Okay, so the earth's population today is -
Mike: About 6, 7 billion, give or take.
Crow: And by the 24th century, it'll probably be up around -
Tom: Even with colonization and emigration, probably about 20
billion.
Crow: And they managed to get a *million* people off? How?
Lottery? Random choice? People who owe Beverly money?
Tom: Yeah, and how do you hold back the unlucky ones?
Mike: I'm betting the ones left behind are the Induhviduals.
> Beverly
>announced. "Have we beaten them back yet?" Seeing the grey
>look on his face, she mirrored it.
Tom: [as Picard] Stop it!
Crow: [as Beverly] Stop it!
Tom: [as Picard] Stop repeating everything I say!
Crow: [as Beverly] Stop repeating everything I say!
> "The Borg have destroyed the fleet. Only the Enterprise
>and the Kirk are left. We're going to try and dispatch the
>last one with the exhaust vent attack." Jean-Luc looked his
>wife in the eyes before he went on.
Crow: I'm sorry it's the only plan we can come up with. Oh, and
is this a bad time to tell you I'm seeing another
woman?
> " In case we don't make it out, I just want you to know, I
>..."
Mike: [Picard] ...Am still waiting for that Minoxidil you
promised.
> The last words never got out. The computer terminal
>fogged over with static, obscuring the message.
Tom: Damn you Borg! I wanted closure on that scene!
> "Oh, am I interrupting?" came a mocking voice.
Crow: Q! [pause] Well, that's usually who the mocking voice is.
> Marrissa's
>visage appeared on the screen. "It looks like you've lost,
>Locutus. Your fleet is destroyed, and your homeworld is about
>to fall. Soon the Federation will know the order of the Borg."
Mike: [Borg] We are the Borg. We will have eleven billion
Whoppers, 3 billion without tomato, 9 billion fries, 14
billion cokes, and a vanilla shake.
Crow: And supersize it.
> "Marrissa, look inside yourself. The human part of you
>still knows that you will not win." Picard attempted to grab
>at an opportunity.
Mike: [Picard] Uh . . . oh yeah?
>"Think of what would happen if you did win.
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, I *am*, baby - I AM!!!
> Countless families
>would be subjected to a fate worse than death. You would be
>responsible for it. Could you really live with that knowledge?
>Could you live with killing off the resisting forces, knowing
>that your husband and child were with them?"
Crow: [Marrissa] So what's your point?
> "Your logic is unclear. To us the masses would not be
>killed, they will be added to the Collective. Their energies
>will be put towards more fruitful uses. They will help us
>attain perfection." The Queen argued.
Crow: I blame Pat Buchanan for this.
> "At what cost?" Picard retorted. "You want to strip
>them of feelings and emotions. How do you know that won't
>destroy the perfection you expect to achieve?"
Mike: A good point, but I think his move is still to bore her
to death.
> Marrissa seemed to be momentarily lost in thought.
Crow: Ah, unfamiliar territory.
>The collective recalled many of the races that they had
>assimilated. There had been many creatures with high
>emotions, such as love, hate, sympathy,
Mike: And appreciation for Garth Brooks music.
> and it
>was nearly their destruction. "Emotions have been proven to
>be counterproductive." The stone-hard face responded.
Mike: Marrissa only knows about emotions second hand, however.
> "Oh, really?" Picard smiled, he'd caught her. "If
>emotions are irrelevant to the Borg, why do you feel them?
>You are drowned in hate, desires that are not your own.
Mike: o/~ She's a brick and she's drowning slowly... o/~
> If you
>feel these emotions, then you are counterproductive to the
>Borg. You must be removed."
Crow: Score one for the Pic-man here!
Tom: Well, Rob may not have seen "Disaster", but he's obviously
seen "The Changeling".
> Rage danced across Marrissa's face, then halted.
>"Perhaps you are correct, Locutus.
Crow: As a side note, I always assumed that they picked Picard
to assimilate just because his head is easier to attach
stuff to.
> You would be valuable to
>have back in the Collective. Your knowledge and abilities
>would have greatly aided us. I will destroy you in a moment."
Crow: Oh, let me put that in my scheduler.
>The screen went blank.
Mike: The Borg's screen saver must be activating.
> Picard couldn't believe he'd just signed
>his death warrant. Marching out to the Bridge, Picard ordered
>the Tactical to fire all the Quantum torpedoes at the exhaust
>port when the cube stopped. The torpedoes streaked away,
Tom: Look at that, look at that.
> and a
>content smile came across Picard's face. Just then, a Borg
>disrupter lanced into the port nacelle. The resulting
>plasma feed back caused an explosion that killed off every
>last crew member, and annihilated the Kirk.
>
[Once again, balloons and confetti fall from the ceiling of the
theater. By now, the balloons are noticeably deep. Mike and
the bots dance around again.]
Crow: Hey, Marrissa! I know where Wesley is hiding!
Tom: Whoa!
Mike: So he killed off Picard?
Crow: Well, Ratliff DID waste Riker once.
Tom: Cool. For once, we get to leave on a happy note!
[The trio exits the theater.]
[1. . . 2. . . 3 . . .4 . . . 5. . . 6 . . .]
[The trio returns from the theater. The union members are
nowhere to be seen. Babe stands alone at the console, standing
at attention.]
Mike: Oh, hi Babe.
Babe: Hello, Mr. Nelson. Have you made any progress on
returning this unit to the collective?
Mike: Well, we still don't know where the collective is. . .
Tom: I do.
Mike: [aside] Shut up Tom.
Babe: Well, this unit will continue its exploration of what it
means to be human. By the way, is it customary for one
to leave their undergarments lying around on the floor?
Mike: [sheepishly] Sorry. Those are mine. I'm afraid that it's
been a long time since there were any other humans
aboard. I'll take those.
Crow: We wouldn't mind if you left *your* underwear lying
around though.
Mike: [aside] Shut up Crow!
Babe: This unit has already discovered the feelings of
"disgust." Perhaps this unit should investigate the human
means of reproduction.
[Mike blushes deeply while the bots make "bucka-wow" noises.]
Babe: I'll need a test subject. . .
Mike: Well, I guess that I can help you with that. . .
Tom: [snicker] Oh, this ought to be entertaining.
Crow: [snicker] Don't do anything that I wouldn't do Mike.
Babe: You! Gold One! You will assist me!
[Babe grabs Crow and drags him offscreen. Crow gives a shriek
of alarm as he's dragged off stage.]
[Mike stands beside Tom, stunned. Tom looks at Mike for a
moment.]
Tom: Boy Mike, just when you thought that your self esteem
couldn't get any lower, the only human female around for
parsecs chooses . . .
Mike: Tom, if you value your existence, shut up.
Tom: Yes, sir.
[Noises occur offscreen. We hear shouts of joy from Babe,
various crashing sounds, Crow yelling in terror, and a cuckoo
clock. Mike and Tom continue staring off screen towards where
Crow and Babe left the Bridge.]
Tom: That must have hurt.
Mike: Yep.
[A few moments pass. More things crash.]
Tom: Say, could you do that?
Mike: My joints don't bend that way.
[More crashes. Crow screams in terror again.]
Mike: Hmm. That'll leave a mark.
Tom: Yeah.
[Babe yells.]
Mike: Ooooh.
Tom: Ahhhh.
[A furious crescendo of noise erupts from offstage. When the
noise ends, Mike begins to clap loudly while Tom raises a
lighter into the air. Moments later, Babe walks back into view
with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and a smile on her
face.]
Babe: Well that was refreshing.
[Babe walks off screen. Crow wanders back into view, visibly
dazed.]
Crow: [Dazedly, but in a much deeper voice than normal.] So,
that's what it's like to ,um. . .
Tom: Engage in shuttlecraft operations?
Crow: Yeah, that euphemism will work.
Mike: Crow, I hate to break it to you, but that wasn't sex.
Crow: What?
Mike: That wasn't sex Crow. She was mostly pounding your head
against a wall.
Crow: Are you sure?
Mike: Believe me, there is a subtle difference between the two
experiences.
Crow: Bummer. [Pause] So, maybe on our second date?
[The fan-fic sign begins to flash.]
Mike: Darn. I guess I won't have time to answer, because we've
got fan-fic sign!
[The usual antics ensue. The door sequence begins.]
[6. . . 5. . .4. . . 3 . . .2. . . 1. . .]
[Mike and the Bots enter and sit.]
Crow: On the third date?
Mike: Crow, she nearly dismembered you.
Crow: Oh. The fourth date then?
Mike: Tom, talk to him.
>
>--------------2775F4753112E659C8F739D3--
>
>
>From rtonts@direct.ca Fri Jan 09 14:01:33 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen 3/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa
>Stories)
>From: Ron Tonts <rtonts@direct.ca>
>Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 20:01:33 +0000
>
>
>--------------C805BE2003FDFFEB827CF1D5
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac-
type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353"
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
>
Crow: Shave-And-A-Haircut: 2bits.
> Chapter 6
>
> Jay watched as the USS James T. Kirk was reduced to
>wayward particles of matter by the final Borg cube.
Mike: The horror was over!
> The stream
>of Quantum torpedoes impacted the surface along side the port,
>making the hull glow red hot. The torpedoes didn't actually
>make it through, but it did the next best thing.
Tom: They - or it! - managed to escape the fanfic.
All: Hooray!
> The port
>opening was now larger, and it would be easier to slip a
>torpedo down its gullet.
Mike: And, again, the Borg aren't the teensiest bit clued in to
the plan.
> Numbness spread through Jay's body as he spotted the
>weak area.
Crow: [chanting] Launch it, launch it, blow her up...
> He could save the Federation from certain
>destruction with a single torpedo.
Tom & Crow: [Chanting] Launch it, launch it, blow her up...
> But the cost, Marrissa, his
>soulmate,
All: [chanting] Launch it. . .
> his best friend,
All: [Chanting] Launch it. . .
> the mother of his child,
All: [Chanting] Blow her up...
> and lastly
>his commanding officer.
Mike: And the problem is...?
Tom: If this was the mirror universe, then Jay would be in
charge by now.
Crow: If this was the mirror universe, Ensign Throwaway would
have killed everyone by now. He's a knife man, you know.
> It was too high, he couldn't give the
>order.
Crow: The ending of Wrath of Khan, this isn't.
Mike: And Rob's seen "City on the Edge of Forever", too.
> "Admiral, I have the torpedoes locked on to the opening.
>Awaiting your orders, sir," Shayna announced from behind him.
Tom: [Jay] If you were m--
Mike: [Shayna, quickly] I'd ice the bitch, sir.
> Jay's mind exploded
Crow: Cool! Just like _Scanners_!
> into conflict
Crow: Damn.
> over his two ideals, the
>Federation and his love for Marrissa.
Mike: [Jay] Federation...emasculating ice queen. Federation...
emasculating ice queen. That's a poser, all right.
> Logic finally prevailed
>and said that his wife may as well be dead.
Tom: Yes-s-s-s!!! We've finally won the rest of the Kids' Crew
over to our side!
> "Shayna," Jay announced, "fire at will."
Mike: Ah, we've already done that riff.
> His voice was
>clear of the excitement and rage it had held earlier. There
>was only a hint of resignation under the cold visage. Shayna
>was also internally torn over her friendship for Marrissa and
>her duty to her uniform, but reached for the button anyways.
Crow: Then she shrugged. "What the hell. I've killed her once
already."
Mike: Torn for almost .68 seconds. For a Kids Crew member
that's nearly an eternity.
> Like a silver bullet streaking for a werewolf's
>heart, the torpedo crossed the vacuum of space and entered the
>expanded port.
Crow: And now, the award for "Most Freudian Image In A
Fanfic..."
> Embedding itself in the waste jettison unit, the
>warhead detonated.
Tom: Must be out of those slow models.
> Expecting a ball of fire similar to the last
>one, the Enterprise veered away from the cube. Instead of the
>armageddon that was expected, a single tongue of fire
>raspberried the remaining member of the Earth Defence Fleet.
Tom: [as Borg] NYeeeeeah!
Mike: I'd like you to meet my aunt...Rob Tonts, this is Auntie
Climax.
>The only explanation was that the Borg had expelled all their
>waste gasses before the explosion.
Bots: Ah--
Mike: Let it pass.
> "Helm turn us about. Shayna, fire all the weapons."
>Jay ordered, determined to go down fighting. The subsequent
>burst of weaponry was capable of laying waste to several large
>starbases,
Crow: Apparently, Jay goes around taking out random starbases
for fun.
> yet did little to injure the Borg. Some sort of
>energy projectile shorted out the Enterprise's external
>systems,
Mike: What was it? Even the writer doesn't know.
> deactivating the engines, and weapons. Sensors were
>still fully operational, and allowed Shayna to notice the
>Borg lowering their magnetic shields.
Tom: Too bad she was busy surfing the web for Matt Damon sites.
> "Sir," Shayna started to get Jay's attention, "call
>all the decks. Were going to have some visitors."
Mike: Okay. I'll get some extra chairs. Shayna, go put on some
CDs. Alexander, make some dip for the chips. Patterson!
Act androgynous!
> Chapter 7
>
> The branch of the Collective unaffected by Marrissa's
>revisions took matters into its own hands.
Mike: Revisions?
> Warring with
>Marrissa to destroy her former comrades didn't accomplish
>anything. Despite being added to the group mind, her
>constitution was still as strong as ever.
Tom: But her Strength and Integrity had been reduced to 5, and
her Cunning was only 7.
Crow: So what's her Yuta number now?
> Seeking an
>alternative solution,
Tom: The Borg decided to wait for the sanctions to work.
> Borg Drones began to beam over to the
>Enterprise. They could seek out and destroy the aspects of
>their Queen's former life.
Crow: Yeah, taking away everything she ever cared about will
make her well-adjusted.
> If the Queen wanted to know what was happening, they
>could say they were assimilating one of Starfleets most
>advanced starships. The Collective waited and guided at the
>same time.
>
Tom: And Marrissa, secure people will always obey her, didn't
notice.
> "Jay," Shayna called, "the Borg are beaming aboard.
>Sensors place them on decks 1, 5, 21, 30, and 68."
Crow: Bingo!
> The numbers were understandable:
Crow: They average out to 25, and since 2+5 is 7, and there are
7 letters in the name "Clinton", this *proves* the Borg
are controlled by the Tri-Lateral Commission!
Mike: What was *that* all about?
Crow: Just practicing up for the net.kook competition.
> deck one was directly
>below the bridge,
Mike: So, the bridge is on the hull?
> decks twenty-one through thirty were crew
>quarters, while deck sixty-eight was home to Engineering.
>Jay's face contorted with worry when he realized that his
>quarters, and his baby, were on level twenty-one.
Tom: Kinda slow paternal reactions there, Jay.
Mike: [Jay] No! Not my STUFF! [beat] Oh, and my kid, too.
> "Shayna, stop all the turbolifts and place
>forcefields on all decks. That should slow them down.
Crow: [Shayna] Us, too.
Mike: [Jay] Hey, there's drones going through my underwear.
You try thinking straight. Uh, password protect it. The
password is "nougat."
Tom: The Canadian spelling would be "Nouegat."
> Alex,
>encode the main computer. Everyone else, grab an EMP Rifle
>and start securing the bridge," Jay ordered.
Crow: Cover my ass since my screw-ups got us here!
> While the crew moved about at their tasks, Jay pulled back
>the bridge carpeting behind tactical to reveal a floor access
>panel leading from the bridge to deck one.
Crow: Huh? I thought the bridge *was* deck one!
Tom: American-built ships have "Bridge", decks 2, 3, etc.
British-built ships start with "Bridge", *then* deck 1,
then 2, 3, etc.
Mike: But neither has a deck 13.
> Seeing that no
>drones were waiting underneath, Jay looked back to the people
>in the bridge and got them to file through one at a time.
Mike: And now, a replay of "Star Trek: First Contact".
>Once on deck one, Shayna popped open an access port to a
>Jefferies tube. Everyone climbed into the tube and began a
>decent towards Engineering.
Mike: Well, that's an improvement. Everyone's moral was low,
but now they're decent again.
> On the way down, Jay took count of
>the deck numbers.
Tom: Looking for Gray 17?
> He knew he was the leader and that he rest
>of the crew depended on him,
Tom: So they're pretty much doomed then.
Mike: Yep, pretty much.
> and that he could even send a
>team of ensigns to get her,
Mike: ...somehow sending no-name cannon fodder after his kid
struck him as a bad idea.
> but concern for his child's well-
>being and the responsibility he felt made him decide to get
>her.
Mike: See, that refusal to send anonymous underlings to vicious
and pointless deaths is what's holding Jay's career back.
Tom: Yeah, how can you get to be a captain without killing off
your excess ensigns?
> At deck 21, Jay held back Shayna and Alex.
Crow: Yep, again, future of all the galaxy in your hands, save
one baby.
Mike: Maybe it's a STNG/Willow crossover ?
> "Shayna, Alex, this is our stop.
Mike: Get your cross-town transfers ready.
> We're getting out
>and going after Sarah and then Alexis.
Crow: Didn't they leave the kids with daycare or something?
Mike: And why can't they just use the transporters?
> Patterson, get everyone
>else down to Engineering and tell Clara what's happening.
Crow: And while you're at it, find out which gender you are
this week.
>Well let's go," Jay commanded. As ordered, the crew crawled
>off down the tube, while Jay and Shayna opened the access port
>to deck twenty-one.
Tom: [Flash Spazbo] H-hello? Mister Borg-thing-person, is th-
there, h-hello?
> The once beautifully designed, navy blue and tan
>corridor looked as if it had a fatal infection.
Tom: Uh-oh, wallpaper herpes!
> Black tubing
>and wiring sprouted from the walls and ceiling like some type
>of fungus.
All: Among us.
> There were no drones nearby, but a close inspection
>of the area showed fried circuitry and phaser burn marks.
>There was obviously a fight in the area.
Tom: Good heavens, Holmes! This is astounding!
Mike: What's more, I deduce from the state of the floor that
carpet-layers have been aboard at some point.
Tom: Amazing!
> Taking note of the
>section they were in,
Mike: Okay, we're in "Morn 47." Everyone remember that.
> the trio moved off in the direction of
>Jay's Quarters.
Mike: All of this just to save a coin collection.
> Progress was remarkably quick, since the
>force fields that were supposed to be in place had been
>shorted out or broken down.
Crow: Looks like those really helped.
Mike: [Jay] Nougat! Nougat! Look how fast this is! Whoosh!
Tom: Nouegat, Mike. Nouegat.
>The last hallway to his room was untouched by the implants,
>and still had the forcefield in place. After fiddling with
>the shut down code,
Mike: [Jay] Whaddaya mean "Control-Alt-Delete" won't work?!?
> the field dropped and Jay rushed into his
>nursery.
> Everything was in perfect order, and Sarah was found
>napping peacefully in her crib.
Crow: Sarah could probably sleep through a war! Oh wait, she
already did...
> Grabbing an anti-gravity
>stroller from nearby,
Mike: An anti-gravity stroller?
Crow: Do you think that the shopping carts in the 24th century
have a malfunctioning front anti-gravity unit, so that
the cart will wobble?
> Jay scooped up his child and moved back to
>the hallway.
Crow: It's Lone Wimp and Cub!
Tom: Unfortunately, he had the controls set too high and
flattened Sarah against the ceiling.
> In the mean time, Shayna and Alex were across the
>hall, looking for Jackie and Lynn. The only clue to their
>whereabouts was a note saying they went down to Engineering.
Tom: Although as clues go that's a pretty good one.
Mike: "Have gone to Engineering, will be back after while.
Leave implants on doorstep, we will assimilate ourselves
when we return. Love, J&L"
> After meeting back in the hall, the group
>once again climbed into the Jefferies tubes and headed for
>deck 30.
Mike: I'm real worried we were going to see a scene from the
Untouchables.
Tom: This IS untouchable, Mike.
> Deck 30 was in even worse of a condition than the last
>couple of decks. Borg electronics were covering the walls,
>obscuring any trace of its former identity,
Crow: The Bulkhead Formerly Known As "Prince."
> and blocking out the
>lights on the ceiling.
Tom: [Borg] Light is irrelevant. *thump* Ow!
> The environmental controls were also
>assimilated as well.
Tom: [Borg] I am Carrier of Borg. You will assimilate warmth in
the winter and cool air in the summer for only pennies a
day.
> The normally soothing, moderate
>temperature had been altered to the extreme.
Tom: [auto show announcer voice] Borg EXTREEEEEEEEEME!
Crow: We've taken your environmental settings and SPUN them
INTO THE EIGHTH DIMENSION!
Tom: Borg EXTREEEEEEEEEME!
Crow: This SATURDAY!
Tom: SATURDAY!
Bots: SATURDAY!
Mike: I thought you guys had gotten over that.
> It was as if an
>acidic tasting fog
Tom: Yum! Lemon zesty!
> had settled throughout the deck, and the
>heat was unbearable.
Mike: Why is setting the environmental controls to "L.A." going
to help?
> The team broke into a sweat just after
>setting foot on the deck.
Tom: [Jay] *huffhuff* Boy, guys, *wheeeeze* we're really,
_really_ out of shape! *GASSSP!*
> Making their way along the
>corridor, the team occasionally passed a drone or two, who
>paid little, if any, attention to them.
Crow: They were THAT boring.
Mike: [Borg] You just see someone?
Tom: [Borg] Nah.
> Upon reaching Alex's Quarters, they found Alexis
>crying and squirming.
Crow: She's never gotten over Blake marrying Krystle.
Mike: [Alexis] Father...you abandoned me in my hour of
need...*ack* I reject you and your values!
Tom: Like father...like daughter...think about it, won't you?
> Placing her in the stroller, the group
>made its way towards the nearest Jefferies tube. A horrific
>scream pierced the silence,
Mike: [Jay] You just hear a scream?
Tom: [Alex] Nah.
Crow: [Shayna] Nah.
> provoking a response from the
>adults in the group.
Mike: But enough about Marilyn Manson...
> After telling the positronic brain inside
>the stroller to head to Engineering,
Crow: Hey! Where the kid go? I'm sure I put it in here. . .
> the trio ran off towards
>the scream, while the stroller dutifully lowered itself into
>the tube.
Mike: Then the stroller, tired of being enslaved, sold out to
the Borg.
> Reaching the source of the noise, the group found
>themselves outside sickbay, confronted with three drones
>surrounding a lone individual.
Tom: They'd spaced themselves at even 120-degree angles. The
Borg are like that.
>The man was doing an odd little jig,
Crow: The Borg are assimilating the Lord of the Dance!
Mike: Good!
Crow: But that means once they've added his distinctiveness to
their own, there'll be trillions of Borg faux-Irish
dancing their way across the galaxy, all naked from the
chest up!
Tom: Yeah, but the infusion of ego will tear the collective
apart.
> as the Borg nanoprobe
>injectors continuously snaked out into his neck.
Tom: Ah. The Trek equivalent of the tentacle scene.
Crow: I see Marrissa taught them sadism as well.
> Taking aim
>with their Rifles, the three Borg dropped helplessly to the
>ground.
Mike: Wha-huh?
Tom: Did the Borg just shoot themselves?
Crow: Not the most effective shock troops, eh?
Mike: Crow, don't you start acting Canadian too.
> Only then did the victim take note of his rescuers.
Crow: Well, I'm glad that's ovYAAAAAAH!!! Don't sneak up on me
like that!!
>Immediately, Doctor Jackson Johnson tried to compose himself
>in front of his crewmates.
Mike: Myself. A composition by Jackson Johnson, the man with
Action Traction.
> "Doc, that was incredible. How did you prevent the
>assimilation?" Jay inquired incredulously.
Tom: And why didn't you TELL us you could do it?
Crow: I practiced safe Trek, and made sure all the implants
wore protection.
> "With this," the Doctor replied while holding up a
>hypospray,
Mike: I call it a "sonic screwdriver." Jelly baby, anyone?
> "I got the idea from the nanoprobes the Borg have
>been using. With some modifications, I enabled them to put
>out a profile that tricks the Borg probes into thinking its
>blood.
Tom: Hey probe! Your blood!
Crow: [probe] What about it?
Tom: Think about it...always rushing through your veins at
hundreds of miles an hour...
Crow: [probe] Yikes!
> Then, when they try to assimilate it, the probe holds on
>to the Borg probe, preventing assimilation. One of my probes
>can hold about ten of the Borg probes, so it should be
>adequate protection."
Mike: Other anti-assimilation measures work on the principle of
tricking the body into thinking it's been assimilated,
physically preventing the probes from entering the body,
or just applying lots of probicide. Some people try the
Rhythm method to avoid assimilation too.
> While he droned on,
Tom: Get it?!? 'Cuz it's Borg, see, and he's "drone"-ing on,
and, and, and - it's just FUNNY, is all!! LAUGH!!!
LAUGH!!!!!!!!
> Dr. Johnson injected
>the probes into the trio.
Crow: Dr. Johnson actually got the idea from the alien race
called the Plahts.
Mike: You mean?
Crow: Yes. [Brief pause] They're shooting themselves up with
Plaht Devices.
Tom: Mike, hit him. Hit him hard.
> "We should wait here a while longer, so I can whip up
>more probes for everyone else," stated Jackson, ushering the
>trio into sickbay.
>
Tom: Oh, and I cured cancer, extended the human lifespan and
found ways to double our intelligence. Sorry, forgot to
tell you.
> The one who would not assimilate was rescued,
Crow: That's my favorite bedtime story.
Mike: What?
Crow: "The Borg Who Wouldn't Assimilate." In the end he learns
to assimilate and the Borg Queen tells him how much she
loves him.
> thought
>the Collective. Clearly it was the Queen's former friends who
>did this. All across deck 30, Borg stopped what they were
>doing, and lurched off in the direction of Sickbay.
>
Crow: Whoops. The Borg must have assimilated some of Neelix's
food.
Tom: Wrong show.
Crow: Who cares?
> A loud rapping came on the door of sickbay,
Mike: Avon calling!
> just as Dr.
>Johnson had finished replicating the anti-Borg nanites and
>placed them in a duffel for easy carrying.
Mike: Of course, they all just fell through the weave because
they're MICROSCOPIC, but it's the thought that counts.
> From the large
>dents left in the door, it was apparent that it wasn't some
>crewman with a sprained joint.
Tom: Unless it was Lieutenant Bruce Banner.
> The doors gave and the first
>ave of drones were met with the invisible streams of magnetic
>pulse, dropping them to the floor. The next wave was a bit
>more discrete than the last,
Tom: Meaning that they were easier to tell apart. [begins to
hyperventilate]
Mike: Now, now, Tom.
Tom: I'm sorry, Mike, but they can't bounce off my Teflon
coating forever.
> and broke through the door to the
>Chief Medical officer's office.
Crow: Where they slipped on half-eaten cheese sandwiches and
piles of porno mags!
> They too, were felled with
>little effort. The signal the tides had turned, was in the
>form of a phaser bolt lancing into Dr. Johnson's left
>shoulder.
Tom: Damn! It's Dr. Pulaski! She's after your job,
Jimjamjingalong!
> The source was an former crew man who had met the
>Borg. His uniform was in untouched form, and he could have
>passed for any other Ensign, if it was not for the large
>chunk of metal protruding from the left side of his head.
Crow: It was shinier than most metal chunks lodged in the heads
of enlisted personnel.
Mike: Actually, the makeup department just ran out of latex.
> The plate had a small cord running from it down to the phaser
>rifle in the drone's right hand, probably to relay targeting
>information to the Collective.
Mike: Maybe it was just brake fluid.
Crow: Nope, just the 110 volt adapter.
> Jay's guard dropped as he rushed
>to help Jackson, but couldn't get past the phaser beam that
>continuously landed in front of him. Shayna continued to hold
>the horde as much as she could,
Mike: I will love him and hold him and squeeze him and stroke
him and call him 'Borg.'
> while Alex opened a nearby
>Jefferies tube.
Crow: [Alex] Okay, line up the little arrows and - d'oh!
C'mon, you...
> Jay had managed to fake out the drone
Tom: [football announcer] And Gordon fakes to left...he weaves
right...
> and
>began dragging the Doctor to the port,
Tom: ...suddenly he makes a break to the left, with Johnson in
tow!
> when the drone shot at
>full power.
Tom: But it's no good! The drone fires a pass! It's not
looking good for the Federation!
> The crimson red beam hit square in the chest, and
>vaporised Doctor Johnson.
[Balloons fall from the ceiling again.]
Tom: Hey, he killed a Kids' Crew member!
Crow: First Dark Marrissa, now the Borg. Guess no one could
stand that accent.
Mike: Wow, we're getting *really* bloodthirsty!
Crow: [sniffling] Goodbye, Dr. Jackson Jones Jimmy Joe Jerry
Johnson - you were loved!
>The duffel bag he carried dropped to the ground, and Jay
>stooped to pick it up. The phaser-toting drone was taken out
>by a discrete
Tom: AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!
Crow: Hey, at least he's consistent.
Tom: Oh, you'll get yours someday, Crow.
Crow: Hey, man, you may be Teflon, but I'm Kevlar. Nothing
gets to me.
Tom: Shari Lewis!
Crow: Yipe! [dives beneath the seat]
> blast to the head
Tom: *Blast to the Head!*
Mike: Maybe it's just me, but I've somehow always considered
the terms "discrete" and "blast to the head" mutually
exclusive.
> causing a miniature fire
>works display,
[Crow re-emerges. All hum a quick snatch of "The Stars And
Stripes Forever."]
> courtesy of Shayna. Alex was well into the
>vent, with Jay close behind. As Shayna entered the tube, she
>pulled out a photon grenade she kept with her for special
>occasions.
Mike: Birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, weddings...yes, friends, nothing
says "I love you" like a lethal blast of photon
radiation!
> Leaving the armed grenade behind, and shutting the
>access port, she retreated down the tunnel with a gratifying
>explosion ringing in her ears.
All: Whew!
Mike: That was one long and boring paragraph.
> Getting to Engineering was a simple task compared to
>what the trio had been through. Opening the doors to
>Engineering was
Crow: ...a task beyond nine out of ten ensigns, but not our
intrepid heroes.
> met with the muzzles of several EMP and phaser
>rifles pointed in their direction.
Tom: [Ace Ventura] I'm looking for Ray Finkle - and a clean
pair of shorts!
> Jay could see Clara
>attending to an anti-gravity stroller nearby, and felt an
>amazing amount of relief knowing his child was safe.
Tom: Amazing? Wow, really sensitive guy.
Crow: Yeah. "Whoa, I'm even more gratified than I expected to
see my offspring alive."
> "Clara, what's been happening?" Jay questioned.
Tom: Yeah. What's the buzz? Tell him what's happening.
> "We beat off the Borg on this deck, deck one and deck
>five.
Crow: [nervously] They b--hm. So...how 'bout those Dodgers?
Tom: That's it, Crow. *Sweat*.
> But there's still fighting on the twenties.
Mike: There's dead flappers and bootleggers everywhere!
> The Borg may
>have over run them all by now."
> Jay nodded in acknowledgement, and extended the
>hypospray bag.
> "Distribute these to all the members of the crew.
Mike: Most of them are anti-Borg spray, but a few have Dr.
Johnson's "special blend." You'll still be assimilated,
but you'll feel like you're french-kissing Saint Peter
while they drill into your eyes and tear out chunks of
your brain.
>It'll help protect them against assimilation."
Mike: Like the guy in engineering?
> Looking around
>Engineering, Jay called over the nearest Vulcan.
Crow: One of the selling points of the Enterprise-F is its
convenient "Vulcan in every room" feature.
> "What are the odds that we can repel this attack at our
>present rate." Jay wondered.
Mike: Never tell me the odds.
Tom: [whimpering] Please no more Star Wars, please. . .
> "Approximately 1349.264 to 1, sir" the Vulcan replied
>after a moment of calculation.
Mike: [Jay] Darn it, man, don't give me these generalities, I
need cold hard numbers!
> "In other words, not good.
Crow: Still, it's better odds than you'll get at most casinos.
> Shayna, you said earlier that the
>Borg were creating gaps in their magnetic field to beam over
>the drones. Could beam over through one of the gaps?" Jay
>continued.
[Pause]
Mike: I guess we don't get to find out what he said when he
continued. Rats.
> "Maybe sir," Shayna confirmed.
Mike: I may not have done well in English, but that was not a
"confirmed."
> "All right; Kathy, Clara, Shayna, and Alex.
Crow: [Jay] Under Anime Five-Character Theory, I'm the hero,
Alex is the big guy, Kathy is the chick, Clara is the
other guy and Shayna is the pet. Any objections?
> Get a Security
>team of volunteers together.
Mike: Okay. Set a course for Nashville.
> From there, we're going to stop at
>the weaponry and pick up some goodies," Jay paused and looked
>into the eyes of everyone gathered, "We're beaming over to the
>Borg ship."
> Chapter 8
>
> From the incredulous stares that bombarded him from
>every corner of Engineering, Jay knew he'd have to explain
>himself.
Tom: But instead he stonewalled, hoping he could keep that up
until the end of his term.
> "All right listen," Jay began, "we've got a situation just
>like the one on the Enterprise-E. Back then, it was pointless
>to try and fight them aboard the ship.
Mike: Even though Picard seems to have iced all the ones that
he came across, and he's such a good fighter...
> In the end, Admiral
>Picard had to go in there and take them out on his own. Do
>you know how he did it?
Mike: Well, he convinced the Borg to drastically increase their
fat intake. They then dropped dead from heart attacks
forty years later.
> He cut off the snake's head. He killed
>the Queen.
Crow: To do so, he had to use the magic reflective shield that
the gods had given him to avoid being turned to stone.
> Now if we can do the same thing here, I bet we can
>win," Jay looked around the room and saw many people nodding
>their heads in agreement.
Tom: A chance to kill Marrissa? Sure!
Crow: It's the dream of every citizen of the Federation, after
all.
> "Computer, activate Kid's Crew,"
All: AHHHH!!!
Mike: No! The nightmare continues!
> Jay announced, as the
>volunteers stepped forward to go along with Jay's senior
>staff.
All: OH NO!!!!
Mike: That's it, they're doomed.
Crow: Who, the command crew?
Mike: No. The Borg.
> "Transfer of Command confirmed. As of this Stardate,
>Ensign Jacqueline Picard now commanding U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-
>1701-F," the computer announced in its calm, feminine voice.
Tom: Which belied its feelings of sheer terror at even having
to say the words.
>The entire ship, or what was left of it, was now in the hands
>of Jay's sister-in-law.
Mike: Yep, 23rd century. We've gotten over racism, sexism, and
poverty, but not nepotism.
Crow: Since it's Marrissa's sister, she'll be slaughtering
Romulans by the dozens in a matter of minutes.
> Satisfied his ship was in good hands,
Mike: After getting insured by Allstate.
> the security team
>and senior staff went to the nearby armoury. Inside, the
>group stocked up on fresh EMP Rifles, frequency-shifting hand
>phasers, and bandoleers of photon grenades. Satisfied his
>people were loaded for large, rabid bears,
Mike: Large, drunk, rabid bears.
Crow: Large, drunk, rabid bears with big, sharp, pointy teeth.
Tom: Large, drunk, rabid bears with big, sharp, pointy teeth
who's families have just been killed by corrupt Starfleet
officers and now they're out for blood!
> Jay led his people
>to the Transporter Room.
Tom: We also haven't gotten over macho posturing.
Mike: Ironically, upon reaching the Transporter, they were all
killed by a small, healthy bear.
> It took Clara a moment to set the sensors to find
>gaps in the magnetic shields, but when she did, the whole cube
>became a massive chunk of Swiss cheese.
Crow: Or bad metaphors.
> The seven person security unit stepped
>onto the platform and gave the signal.
Mike: The signal being, "There are only six pads!"
Tom: Mike, it's Star Trek. The line should be "There! Are! Six!
Pads!"
> Clara took a few more
>seconds to find a suitable gap, then engaged the transporter.
>
Mike: Clara marries piece of matter-transmission technology,
film at eleven.
> A dark, stuffy corridor on the Borg ship was
>temporarily illuminated by the silvery sparkles given off by
>the transport process. The boarding party made a quick scan
>of the area both visually and with the tricorders they had.
>The corridor was clear of everything but a few wayward gasses.
Mike: Borg must've had boiled cabbage for supper.
> The nearby alcoves that normally held drones were
>empty. Thinking for a moment,
Tom: There's a change of pace. . .
> the officer concluded they were
>probably over on the Enterprise. Satisfied that the area was
>secure, the Lieutenant touched his combadge to indicate
>everything was clear.
Mike: When things are clear I touch myself . . .
>Moments later, the same silvery sparkle shone through the
>corridor. As the protection of the transporter beam faded
>away, Jay almost threw up when he materialised on the Borg
>ship.
Mike: Oh, c'mon - it may be a little tacky, but it has a
certain post-neo-modern simplicity.
> The acidic taste of the air, the stench of decades of
>accumulated sweat,
Tom: Oh, he's in the Packers' locker room.
> and the odd mechanical sounds that were like
>a mix between a stomach churning, fingernails on a chalkboard,
>and an antique clock all mixed together in a techno-organic
>concert.
Crow: But enough about Nine Inch Nails...
Tom: Well, if he's talking about "The Legacy Concert" I'm
leaving right now.
> Composing himself, Jay took a look around. The dark
>corridor was barely illuminated by the odd green-lightning
>disks above the Borg recharging stations, which were lined up
>and down the hallway.
Mike: They've beamed into an X-Files episode.
> Checking with Clara to ensure they were
>going in the right direction,
Mike: Moss always grows on the north side of a green-lightning
disk, doesn't it?
> the team moved down the hall.
Crow: It's the team in the hall, a fresh new Federation comedy
group!
> The destination of the group was the direct centre
>of the cube.
Tom: Well, at least someone is getting some use for their High
School Geometry.
> Clara had deduced this to be the chamber where
>Marrissa was, since the area was consuming more energy than
>the other systems on the ship.
Mike: She was using that tanning bed again.
Crow: [Sigh] That's so like Marrissa...take take take.
> The centre of the ship would
>also be the most likely area for a command room, since it
>would take a considerable amount of firepower to get to it.
Mike: But if you're Kids' Crew, you can just waltz right in.
Crow: One of the many advantages of having the writer on your
side.
> The Borg recharging stations were mostly empty, except
>for an occasional drone in poor shape.
Crow: [drone] Well, I keep meaning to exercise, but then
"Voyager" came on...
> Jay thought that they
>were probably on the Enterprise.
Mike: [mumbling] Sure, I came up with that theory two
paragraphs ago, but of course the Captain takes all the
credit...
> The other members must have
>noticed it too, since they all sped up a tiny amount.
Tom: This away team has been time-altered to fit this slot.
> Their facial features became locked in grim
>determination to succeed with the mission. An Ensign who was
>supposed to be up front walked up to Jay.
Mike: Jay then shot him for abandoning his post.
> "Sir, there's a large open area up ahead. Should we
>go around? It might be a trap," the Ensign stated, a small
>quiver in his voice.
Tom: Only held about a score of arrows.
Crow: A hundred and forty-four arrows? That's a mighty big
quiver!
Tom: No, a score, not a gross.
Crow: [clearly not getting it] Right.
> Jay considered for a moment before replying. "No, keep on
>going. If the Borg were going to ambush us, they would have
>done so by now."
Crow: Unless, of course, they're trying to attack us when we
don't expect it.
> The pack moved into the open area.
Crow: Power Pack?
Tom: Oh, please, no!
> It was a square room,
>about ten meters by ten meters.
Mike: "You enter a ten-by-ten room. There is a treasure chest
guarded by a Borg and a large blue dragon"
Tom: I ready my +12 Hackmaster. . .
Crow: Isn't it usually ten feet by ten feet?
Mike: Well, Canada, metric system.
Tom: Actually, that's "Moetric" system.
> The ceiling was almost three
>meters above the floor.
Crow: So how come it's "litre" but not "metre?"
> The area was devoid of any recharging stations, but
>branched into three corridors lined with them.
Mike: Sounds like they could use a visit from Home Interiors.
> The security
>detail formed a ring around the commanding officers.
Tom: o/~ ...pockets full of rye... o/~
> Jay
>noticed at the end of the right hallway a drone was milling
>about a console.
Crow: We grind our own coffee fresh every day!
> It took no notice of them, save for a minor
>glance in their direction.
Tom: [Borg] I refuse to acknowledge your existence and spoil
the plot.
> Jay signalled the young ensign on
>point, who moved to the entrance of the hallway. As the woman
>reached the bulkhead, a high energy hum sounded and she was
>bounced in the opposite direction by a force field.
Crow: Looks like she hit the glass ceiling.
>Collecting herself, the ensign got to her feet and grabbed her
>rifle.
Mike: [Ensign] Well, I'm a nameless ensign in a Trek fic, so
I clearly have a lifespan shorter than most synthetic
elements, but I might as well go for the gusto.
> A small flashing light on some sort of box beside the
>doorway caught her attention.
Mike: Ah, Ensign Easily-Distracted!
Crow: [Ensign] Captain, captain! There's a whole platoon of
Borg at - oooh, shiny metal!
> The box looked like a power
>generator for the force field.
Tom: Ya think?
> Taking careful time to aim
>the weapon so she wouldn't fry any other circuits, the ensign
>fired the rifle.
> One of the main problems with Borg technology, is its
>complexity.
Tom: And one of the major selling points of the Hitchhiker's
Guide to the Galaxy are the words "Don't Panic" written on
the front in big friendly red letters.
> A highly qualified Engineer would require a day or
>so to piece together a Borg operating system.
Crow: Or Wesley could do it over the space of a commercial
break.
> However to an
>engineering-illiterate ensign,
Mike: So, she majored in liberal arts then?
> one chunk of circuitry looks
>just like another. The unfortunate ensign didn't even know
>she had destroyed a data relay node, until drones from unseen
>areas began to enter the region.
Mike: Boy, must've rolled high on the ol' wandering monster
charts.
> As the bionic zombies staggered towards the team,
[All snicker]
Tom: "Bionic Zombies"?!? You have *got* to be kidding me!
Mike: "Bionic Zombie Nightmare", starring Tia Carrere as
Lindsay Wagner!
Crow: [$6,000,000 Man Intro] We can make him better than he was
- better,stronger, undeader.
>several were subjected to an electronic barbecue
Tom: Hot and saucy, Texas-style!!
> as the EMP
>bursts dropped drones across the deck. The stench of burning
>wire insulation, overloading of circuitry, and the searing of
>nearby flesh wafted into the nostrils of everyone present.
Mike: Lt. Colonel Kilgore enjoyed the smell of searing flesh in
the morning though.
> Everyone on the team was doing their part, Jay
>noticed with a large amount of pride in his crew.
Crow: Pride, shmide - it's that or become a "bionic zombie"!
> The security
>team covered the command staff,
Tom: [sonorous] As is meet and proper...redshirts giving their
lives so that others might live.
> while aiding each other as
>necessary,
Crow: We're just lowly peons. Our lives are meaningless
compared to those of the command staff.
> Clara occasionally looked at the nearby wall as if
>she was trying to think of a way past the invisible wall.
Crow: [Clara] We could climb it - no, we could get a bulldozer
and - nono, I could just wave my hands and...
> At the
>same time Alex, Kathy, and Shayna were helping where they
>could.
Mike: Mainly by cowering and whimpering a lot. It wasn't much,
but...
> Shayna would occasionally manage to lob a photon
>grenade behind the incoming masses, causing a symphony of
>destruction that rang Jay's ears.
Tom: o/~ It's just a bittersweet - symphony! o/~
> Suddenly the idea hit him.
Mike: [Jay] No, wait. That's just shrapnel. Medic!
>Moving over to the blocked bulkhead, Jay unstrapped his
>bandoleer of photon grenades.
[All snicker]
Tom: For this scene, the part of Jay Gordon will be played by
Topper Harley.
> Placing the small bombs against
>the frame of the door, Jay set the timer for a minute. The
>security wheel seemed to collapse as the men and women ran
>back into the hall they came from.
> A minute later, a minor nuclear apocalypse
Crow: How can you call an apocalypse minor!?
> rocked the
>deck, sending Starfleet and Borg alike hurling to the floor.
>Shuffling cautiously back towards the room, Jay felt like he
>was ten again.
Mike: Which means in the Ratliff verse, he'd be more competent.
Crow: He's what, eleven now?
> The sheer child-like joy of destruction, the
>eagerness to survey his handiwork, and if necessary do it
>again.
Tom: Marrissa was certainly rubbing off on him.
> The area had become a blackened, charred home for
>death.
Crow: Mm-mm! Pan fried, blackened death, Cajun-style!
> The former portal that could admit an eight foot tall
>person,
Crow: Well, that'd be handy if Mr. Homm was on the away team.
> and was protected by a force field was now a twenty
>foot crater of destruction.
Mike: An official spokesborg blamed this on the effects of El
Nino.
> The blast had made the area
>unstable, and left a gaping hole in floor. Yet despite this
>the room was overflowing with Borg drones heading towards the
>group.
Mike: ...where, displaying the same brilliant planning they've
shown so far, they all fell into the hole.
> The security officers pushed Jay back from the Borg's
>questing nanite injectors. The injectors found prey however
>and began pumping in millilitres of nanoprobes. Inside the
>team's bodies, a war was being raged.
Tom: Diarrhea is like a war raging inside you...
> Nanoprobes would set down on the blood cells, only to
>find them as disguised nanites sucking in the microscopical
>assimilating machines.
[All make slurping noises]
> However, the Borg had soon adjusted to
>the disguises of the nanites, and became able to reprogram
>them for their own purposes.
Mike: The AMA will hear of this!
Crow: Well, *that* didn't last long.
> Outside the tissues and organs, Jay watched
Crow: Oh, good - for a minute I was worried he was watching
from inside the tissues and organs!
> in horror and
>surprise and the blood vessels of a crewman became an
>unhealthy grey. The nanites must have failed, soon the Borg
>would assimilate them. Jay mentally steeled himself, and
>brought up his hand phaser. Setting it for level 12, the
>vaporisation setting,
Mike: Level 11 was the "sic a bunch of lawyers on the
target" setting.
> then pointing at each of the security
>members.
Crow: [Jay] Thanks for protecting us - hope you don't mind me
frying you!
Tom: But he forgot to pull the trigger, and instead just made
"ZZZZZAP!" noises.
> A blood red beam connected the weapon to the bodies,
>just before they became wayward gas molecules. It was cold-
>hearted, ruthless, and robbed him of every moral fibre of his
>being,
Mike: So he ran back home and had a hearty bowl of Cracklin'
Holy Oat Bran.
> but damn it
Mike: ...he was determined to fill Marrissa's shoes.
> it was necessary. If any member of the unit
>were to be assimilated then
Tom: ...the Secretary would disavow any knowledge of their
actions.
> the Borg would know what they were
>doing and would devise a way to stop him. Right now the only
>advantage, was the Borg thought they had removed the threat.
>Jay and the other command crew hadn't moved a muscle against
>the Borg since the security pack's glory charge.
Mike: Remember, ship's security is now available in the handy
6-pack!
Crow: Easy and convenient for killing your redshirts in droves.
> They were no
>longer a threat in the Borg's eyes.
>
> The Collective watched the five invaders pick
>themselves up
Tom: o/~ You ain't never going to keep them down! o/~
> through the eyes of a drone. They could have
>assimilated them right then and there, but they chose not to.
Mike: Y'know, this plan has never worked for anyone.
> The remaining drones would be cut down by those weapons
>with little effort from the humans, then the ship would be
>unable to complete its mission. In a risky manoeuvre,
Crow: Accomplished with the help of a Deux ex Machina...
> the
>Collective moved the drones back to their assigned tasks. A
>minor tactical withdrawal would put the pathetic individuals
>off guard, then allow them to be caught by surprise.
>
Mike: Nope. Total goners.
> With guilt over the deaths of his crewmates weighing
on his shoulder,
Crow: [British] It's a Mr. Death, from the village. He says
he's a reaper.
Mike: Shoulder? Just one?
Tom: Well, he's not *that* guilty.
>Jay walked into the point position.
Crow: [Jay] SHOTGUN!
> Shayna and Alex were about
>to argue, until they saw the grim determination in their
>friend's eyes. They moved along to the core room, which shone
>in the distance like a light at the end of the proverbial
>tunnel.
Tom: [Falsetto] Move towards the light!
> About thirty meters from the core room, they reached
>the light. A breath-taking site unfolded before them. The
>hall had led them to a massive cavity inside the Borg ship.
Mike: Sounds like they need to assimilate some fluoride.
>The cavity was square in shape, and different than the rest of
>the ship. Where the ship was a menagerie of parts, cables and
>circuits, the cavity was smooth.
Crow: Before you assimilate - Caress c!
> While the ship was dark,
>dank, cramped, and foul smelling, the cavity was well lit,
>spacious, and pleasantly dry, while the smell lingered.
Tom: The ship only had basic cable, but the cavity had a
satellite dish.
Mike: The ship was covered in peeling wallpaper, while the
cavity was painted in tastefully muted pastels.
Crow: The ship only had 8-year old copies of "Good
Housekeeping", whereas the cavity had the latest
bestsellers from Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler and Jude
Devareaux.
> Below the portal where the team stood a massive airlock,
>almost the size of a Galaxy-class Cruiser was about where the
>wall of the vessel was.
Tom: [tilts to the side] No way in heck will *that* sentence
parse!
> Bring in the core of the ship,
Tom: o/~ Bringing in the core, we shall come rejoicing,
bringing in the core. o/~
> looking
>out across this great distance not only made you feel
>insignificant, but made you realise how big these ships were.
Mike: The Borg apparently have perfected their "awe" ray.
> The ceiling was much closer than the floor, only about a
>quarter mile up. In the middle of the ceiling, was a large
>cubic object with a dark doorway in the side of it.
Tom: Apparently at some point, the Borg assimilated M.C. Escher
and Salvadore Dali.
Mike: Timothy Leary, too.
>Connecting the portal with the door was a long, narrow bridge
>that was thirty meters long and only sixty centimetres wide.
Mike: Uh-oh. I feel a story problem coming.
>Crossing the precarious bridge went slowly, as the crewmates
Tom: ...were accosted by an old man asking them questions
three.
>took cautious steps towards their goal. Making sure that each
>foot landed safely on the platform was a small chore,
Mike: [muttering] Jay's starting to be a small chore...
>intensified by the lack of a hand railing.
Crow: Did I miss something, or did we just suddenly switch to
"Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade"?
>
> The Collective watched as the individuals began to cross
>the bridge towards the Queen's room. Even at this point, they
>were not positive the Queen was in danger.
Tom: [Borg] We are the Borg. Danger, Will Robinson.
> The Collective put
>its plan into action, and two drones disappeared in a green
>flash.
>
Mike: Making two drones disappear - what a clever maneuver!
Tom: Manoeuvre.
Mike: Whatever.
> Kathy's scream echoed throughout the cavity. Whipping
>their heads around, they were able to see a drone with its
>nanite injectors implanted into Kathy's neck.
[More balloons descend from the ceiling.]
Tom: [Kathy] Like, don't leave a hickey, Todd - dad'll, like,
kill me!
> Already blood
>arteries were clouding into a greyness,
Crow: Y'know, if your "blood arteries" are visible I think
you've got other problems.
> and soon she would be a
>part of the Collective.
Tom: That would be a loss...if I could remember who Kathy is.
[Pause]
Mike: I'm sure she's appeared before. She must've.
Crow: Not Ratliff's most memorable creation, I guess.
> Another drone beamed in front of Jay,
>who was still at the front of the group, and tried the same
>tactic.
Crow: But Jay screamed like a girl and dove off the platform
first.
> Jay weaved as much as he could without losing his
>balance, and managed to use his rifle as a club.
Mike: Coming up, Jay vs. Nitro on American Gladiators!
> The drone
>hit the hull of the far-away airlock with a barely audible
>thud.
Crow: I know how he feels.
Tom: Say, when are you gonna make another mile-high meringue?
Crow: Soon. First I've got a recipe for chocolate-mayonnaise
cake I want to try.
> Shayna had managed to fire an EMP burst into the drone
>that assimilated Kathy, who was still in shock with a dazed
>expression on her face. Her mind opened to the Collective
>like a book,
Crow: A Little Golden Book, actually.
> and they saw the plan.
Tom: [Shayna] Oh, *good* one, Kathy.
> At the other end of the
>bridge, drones swarmed onto the plank chasing the invading
>Starfleet officers.
Crow: [Borg] We are the Borg. Time to walk the plank, matey.
Arrh.
> Two pieces of titanium alloy emerged from
>the top and bottom of the black portal and slowly began to
>inch shut.
Crow: No! They've only got four hours to get there before it
closes!
> Jay noticed the action and screamed in defiance.
Tom: Maybe he was screaming for NEEEEL! NEEEL!! NEEEEL!!
Mike: Probably not.
Tom: Or maybe for VAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCCE!
Crow: Unlikely.
Tom: Or maybe...
Mike: Tom, please don't -
Tom: For JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!
>With a burst of adrenaline,
Crow: Speaking of which...
Mike: You done?
Tom: For now, Mike - for now!
> he rushed across the remaining
>distance and jumped through the portal.
Tom: "Sliders", starring Jay Alan Gordon.
> His friends barely
>managed to make it after him, with Shayna executing a diving
>roll to clear the door before it shut.
Crow: This must be some new definition of "slowly inching
shut."
> Jay and Alex took the
>time to use their EMP Rifles to fry the door's circuitry,
Crow: Actually, you get a lot less fat if you *bake* the
circuitry instead.
>while Clara scanned the area.
Mike: [Clara] BABYLON...PSYCHIC...SCAN!
Crow: Oh, joy.
Tom: "Sailor Babylon." Now appearing in finer archives near
you!
> The drones were not happy at
>the thought of being locked out, and began pounding on the
>door.
Mike: [Borg] We just want to talk to you about HerbalLife!
> Taking a survey of the area, it was your standard sized
>room with four walls.
Crow: As opposed to your non-standard sized room with eleven
walls, two floors, five ceilings and a henway.
Tom: Are you gonna fall for that?
Mike: Nope. It's probably just another 10' x 10' room.
Crow: Fine, spoil my little joke - see if I care!
>One of them however had been replaced with a viewscreen
>looking out at the Enterprise.
Mike: Hey, HBO's running "First Contact" again.
> Towards the middle of the
>room, some sort of structure seemed to grow from the floor.
>Immersed in an eerie red light,
Tom: The Borg have a red light district?
> there seemed to be a figure
>inside it.
Crow: [hums the music from "Close Encounters"]
Mike: It was to be a gift to your President...
> Getting closer to the configuration, the jaws of the
>hardened Starfleet Officers slackened. They began to
>recognise the figure in the centre of the monument.
All: ABRAHAM LINCOLN OF BORG?!?!?
> It was Marrissa.
>
Crow: Oh, *her*.
[The Text abruptly stops.]
Mike: Hey!
[A voice calls out from outside the theater.]
Voice: What?
Mike: What happened to the story?
Voice: I stopped it.
Crow: I'll regret asking this but, why?
Voice: I'm on break.
Tom: Well, I guess we should leave then.
Crow: [mumbling] Blasted union help...
[The trio leaves.]
[1. . . 2. . . 3. . . 4. . . 5. . . 6 . . . ]
[Mike and the Bots enter the Bridge, which is now full of
people.]
Mike: What the. . .? Tom, you didn't rent the satellite to the
Heaven's Gate people again?
Tom: No, they're not supposed to be here until next week.
Mike: Well, what the heck is going on then?
Tom: Gee Mike, calm down.
Crow: Yeah Mike. You're going to burst a blood vessel or
something.
[Next to Crow, a balding man materializes out onto the bridge.]
EMH: Please state the nature of the medical emergency.
Mike: There's no medical emergency. These two are just over
reacting.
EMH: Surely someone here has a medical emergency.
Crow: Well, Mike snores sometimes.
Mike: I do not! [To the EMH] Look, I don't know why you're
here. This ship is supposed to only have one person and
three robots on it. We've got no need for a doctor! A
mechanic, maybe, but not a doctor.
EMH: I see.
[The EMH disappears, and reappears a moment later, this time
dressed in a jumpsuit similar to Mike's, but covered in
grease.]
EMH: Please state the nature of the mechanical emergency.
[Mike shakes his head and grabs a passer-by.]
Mike: Excuse me, but. . .
Crewman #1: Oh, hi there Captain!
Crow: Captain?
Tom: I think he's talking to Mike.
Crow: [Sarcastically] Oh, really?
Tom: Well, yeah. When I mustered out of the Vengosian Navy, I
was a Commodore, so they must be talking to Mike.
[Mike stares at Tom for a moment before turning back to the
Crewman.]
Mike: Yeah, I guess that I'm the Captain here. Who are you?
Crewman #1: I'm your helmsman, a na�ve Ensign on his first
cruise.
[A second crewman walks up to Mike.]
Crewman #2: And I'm his best friend, an ex-con with a heart of
gold, who's assisting you on your mission ,Captain.
[A third member of the crew walks up, this one has tattoos on
the side of his face.]
Crewman #3: And I'm. . .
Mike: Never mind. I don't care who you are.
[Mike turns to the bots.] Goodman must have something to
do with this.
[Mike turns to the crew and points to the Bridge's window.]
Look! A sub-space anomaly!
[The crew gasps, and rush over to the window. The EMH goes with
them. Mike shakes his head and then hits the communication
light.]
[The Studio]
[Well, it used to be the studio. But now it resembles a small,
messy apartment. Posters of people skiing adorn one wall. In
front of the viewscreen is a young man with long, blonde hair,
wearing a ski cap.]
Chip: Mikedude! Hey, glad to see you again!
[SoL]
[Mike looks at the bots, who shrug.]
Mike: Nice to see you too. [pause] Who are you?
[Apartment]
Chip: Mikedude! I'm like, really bummed out that we haven't
been able to get you down from there yet! But alas, our
rent's due , and Topher's locked in the bank vault with
our money and that sexy stewardess that he's had his eye
on. So, Christo is looking for. . .
[The doorbell rings]
Chip: Dude! Our landlord! Gotta hide!
[Chip rushes about frantically before hiding in the closet.
Moments later, the door opens and Pearl, dressed in a sweater
and a pair of pants.]
Pearl: [Flatly] Chip? Topher? Christo? I need your rent check.
Are you here?
Chip: [Muffled] We're not here!
[SoL]
Mike: Pearl! Finally! Someone sane!
Crow: Loosely speaking, of course.
Mike: Well, that goes without saying. What's going on around
here?
[Apartment]
Pearl: [Flatly] Say, I think that I'll just sit here and wait
for Chip to come back home.
[Rustling noises are heard in the closet. Pearl scans the room
for a second and then moves in close to the screen and speaks
softly in her normal tone of voice.]
Pearl: Hi Mike. Herb decided that the viewers couldn't relate
to us, so he decided that a trio of wacky, fun-loving
snowboarders should be accidentally sending you the
movies.
[Forcedly] I'm the boys' mean landlord. Oh, and he has
Brain guy doing hemorrhoid ads. [She shrugs.] That's
kind of bad for him, I guess.
[SoL]
Tom: What happened to Bobo?
[Apartment]
Pearl: [Sighs] He'll be here in a second.
[The door flies open. Bobo's now dressed like Kramer with the
fur on the top of his head is arranged in Kramer style.]
Bobo: Hey Pearl! Does Chip have any walnuts?
Pearl: I. Don't. Know.
Bobo: How about a pressure cooker? [He begins to root around in
the kitchen.]
Pearl: [Leans closer to the screen.] Mike, get me out of here.
I'll take you back to Earth. I'll stop showing you bad
movies. I'll do anything. Just get me out of here.
[SoL]
Mike: No more bad movies? Hmmm. [Pause.] Okay, you've got a
deal. Crow, think that you can handle this one?
Crow: Sure Mike. I'll just grab a Powerbook, a can of silly
string, and my chainsaw, then. . .
[Babe enters the scene.]
Babe: You! Gold one! I wish to explore my violent feelings!
Come with me!
[Crow screams in horror and tries to run away, but Babe grabs
him by his head thingee and drags him off stage. Moments later,
we hear Crow's shrieks of terror intermingled with the sound
out metal clashing on metal. Mike looks in the direction that
the pair disappeared, nods and then turns to Tom.]
Mike: Okay Tom. Your turn.
Tom: Right! GROOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLL!!!!!!!
[With a growl of fury, Tom rushes off the stage. After a
moment, Tom rambles back into view.]
Mike: Well? How'd it go?
Tom: Well, I rushed into Herb's office and told him that we
weren't going to be his little pawns anymore.
Mike: [Pause] And?
Tom: You know, he's really a nice guy. . .
Mike: [Burying his head in his hands] Tom. . .
Tom: Do you know what merchandising is Mike? It's a really cool
thing. See, he gave me a box of cool stuff. There's a Tom
Servo Coffee mug, a Tom Servo T-shirt, Tom Servo
keychains, Tom Servo boxing robots, Tom Servo funny foam,
Tom Servo gardening tools, Tom Servo fire extinguishers. .
[Tom continues to describe the various items. Mike looks back
to the camera.]
Mike: I guess that it's up to me then. Well, I've got a plan to
free you, Pearl.[The lights begin to flash.] But, darn.
It looks like that'll have to wait until after we're done
with the story. [He grins evilly] Gee, I could have freed
you now if you hadn't sent us this literary masterpiece.
Have fun with the snowboarders!
[He hits the light and the door sequence begins.]
[6. . . 5. . . 4 . . . 3 . . .2 . . . 1 . . .]
[Mike enters, carrying Tom, who is still talking.]
Tom: And Tom Servo Lunchpails, and Tom Servo Disposable
Toilets, and Tom Servo Brand SSMs, and . . .
Mike: I get the idea Tom. Say, where's Crow?
[Suddenly, a scream is heard in the theater. Crow's been thrown
through the air and he impacts against the screen before slowly
sliding down the screen to the ground. ]
Babe: [Outside the theater] Thank you for your help Gold One!
[Crow picks himself off the floor and slowly seats himself.]
Crow: Mike, your plan better work cause I'm not going through
another session of that.
Mike: Relax, the plan's already in motion.
>
>From rtonts@direct.ca Fri Jan 09 14:02:53 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen 4/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa
Stories)
>From: Ron Tonts <rtonts@direct.ca>
>Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 20:02:53 +0000
>
>
>--------------8ED4D948EA407EEBE175A36F
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac-
type="54455854"; x-mac-creator="4D4F5353"
>Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
>
> Chapter 9
>
> Sitting there on her throne of iron,
Crow: Wondering where the heck the Borg kept the Charmin...
> Marrissa had fires
>blazing in her eyes every bit as intense as a star. Despite
>the tubes protruding from various parts of her body, she still
>drew eyes to her untouched face.
Tom: [Marrissa] Look at me!! LOOK AT ME!!!!!
> Her skin glistened with days
>of accumulated sweat, and her once fair blond hair was
>streaked with grime and oil. Her voice boomed as if it
>was possessed by a goddess, despite its lack of use.
[All snicker.]
Mike: Oh yeah. Marrissa *never* uses her voice.
> "Foolish individuals," stated the Queen, "you dare to
>confront the Queen of the Borg?
Crow: Any minute now, she's gonna jump on a broom and write
"Surrender Kids' Crew" in the air.
> Your biological and
>technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.
>Standby for assimilation."
Tom: And stand by. . . . . for news!
> The Borg refrain coming from Marrissa's lips chilled
>Jay to the core of his being. Despite every instinct telling
>him to get as far away from this place as possible, Jay stood
>his ground.
Mike: Mainly because Jay has all the survival instincts of a
refrigerator magnet.
> Drawing a breath, he prepared to confront his
>former wife.
Crow: I want my record collection back!
> "Marrissa, don't you recognise us? It's Jay, Clara,
>Shayna, and Alex. We're here to rescue you," he announced.
> "Rescue me?
Tom: o/~ Oh take me in your arms. Rescue me. . . o/~
> Why would I require rescuing?" she asked.
>With a mechanical zip,
Crow: Oooh, a Zip Drive!
Tom: Yeah, when you're Borg, you can afford the best.
Mike: That reminds me, how's your 5 1/4" drive, Tom?
Tom: Slow, Nelson, really slow!
> the implants connecting Marrissa to her
>chair withdrew.
>The freedom of movement was granted to her, and she stood to
>face the Starfleet Officers.
Mike: [Marrissa] Can I get anyone a drink?
> "I am about to invade Earth, crush Starfleet, and come
>closer to attaining order for the galaxy," she announced.
Tom: [announcer] See it *live* on "When Kids' Crews Attack" -
Tuesday on Fox!
> Undaunted by her stubbornness, Jay continued, "Don't
>you remember who I am? I'm Jay, your husband. We have a
>daughter. Do you remember Sarah?
Mike: You might be serving her as dinner at somepoint in the
future. . .
> We both love you Marrissa.
>Come back to us. We love you!"
Tom: o/~ We love you Ri-isa, oh yes we do.
We love you Risa, and we'll be true. . . o/~
> Upon hearing this, the intense glare of Marrissa's eyes
>wavered and softened. She lost her balance and had to grip
>the armrest of her throne. A tear welled up and began to
>travel down her cheek.
Crow: And somewhere in the background, that stupid Celine Dion
song is playing again!
> She opened her mouth to speak again.
>Her jaw was unsteady, and the words were pronounced slowly.
Crow: "Bite. Me. Dickweed?"
> "You ... love me?" the shaken Queen asked. As Jay
>nodded his head in confirmation, she began to speak again.
Mike: Feed my sheep.
Tom: Huh?
Mike: It's a Biblical reference - look it up.
> "Love ... is irrelevant.
Crow: Well, I never heard that "Love Is" before.
> You will be assimilated without
>any further delay."
Mike: Right after this commercial message.
> Her balance was regained, and her jaw was set. The
>softening visage of the Queen had solidified into the ruthless
>face of a swallower of souls.
Tom: Well, she's back to normal, then.
> The transformation put Jay and his friends in
>shock, allowing the Borg to make the next move.
> Marrissa threw an arm out in a dramatic motion that
>encased the four people inside a force field bubble. Pulling
>out her hip disrupter,
Crow: Man! That disruptor's so hip, it can't see over its own
pelvis!
> the Queen used it to vaporise the door
>holding back her drones. They entered the room only to find
>the threat ended.
Mike: [Borg] Darn, that didn't work eith- I mean, we're
certainly glad you're all right, your highness.
> With the threat to herself and her ship over, Marrissa
>turned to the viewscreen.
Tom: [British] And when we say "You will be assimilated without
any further delay", we mean there will be *some* delay
involved.
> With a creak of hydraulics and
>motors, the screen split into halves and slid into the wall.
>Located behind the screen was a ring-shaped device.
Tom: And here at the Shane Company, each ring that we
manufacture is a unique creation, whether it's a
wedding ring, an engagement ring, or a time travel device.
> It was
>about two meters in diameter, and was glowing a silver colour
>along its circumference. With a sweeping gesture from the
>Queen, the device flared to life.
Crow: [Marrissa] Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the most
tyrannical of them all?
> The centre of the ring
>filled with an odd liquid that suspended itself in the centre.
>Rippling along its own little plane,
Mike: Here's the World War I Flying Ace, in his Sopwith Camel,
commanding the skies!
Tom: [makes ek-ek-ek-ek sounds]
Mike: Oh no! He's been hit! CURSE YOU, RED BORGQUEEN!!!
> the liquid changed from a
>solid silver to a mirror of Marrissa's room. The mirror then
>refocused on what looked like another part of the Borg ship.
Tom: [Marrissa] I bet that little tramp Cindy Ann Borg has been
talking about me behind my back! We'll just see about
that!
> Inside the bubble Jay looked on with worry, "Clara,
>what is that thing?" he fretted.
Mike: A Tantalus Device?
> "I'm not sure," Clara said with curiosity edging her
>voice, "the tricorder says the liquid in the middle is a
>concentrated form of Chroniton Particles."
Crow: A Guardian of Forever?
Tom: Or a new Slurpee flavor.
> "Time Travel?" Jay deduced, "But why would they want to
>do that?
Mike: Unless... Good lord! The Borg must be responsible for the
Cubs' losses in the World Series!
>They've destroyed their opposition and Earth is just a few
>thousand kilometres away."
> "Because the present amount of drones is not acceptable
>to complete the assimilation of your planet," Marrissa's cold
>voice interrupted. "By retrieving drones from the destroyed
>Borg ships, we can replenish the force without requiring
>assistance from additional units."
Crow: Um, can't they just make *new* drones as they go?
Mike: Shhhh - you'll disturb the plot device.
> As if on queue, a drone dropped out of the portal,
>landing flat on the deck. After depositing about thirty
>drones,
Mike: ...for the next three minutes...
> the portal shimmered and changed its view to another
>interior of a cube. During the switch, Marrissa's face
>contorted in concentration.
Crow: [Marrissa] What's that song running through my head?
Deedeedeedada, deedeedeedada, dumdumdumdumdadadum...
> After the view change, she
>seemed to be physically drained by the effort. Lights
>flickered around the room, and the force bubble made a high
>pitched whine.
Tom: [Henry Fonda] That's the sound of the ambassador's phone
melting!
> This did not go unnoticed by the captive
>officers who began to formulate an escape plan.
Crow: [Jay] Clara, lie on the cot and act sick. Alexander, when
Marrissa comes in to check on her, choke her with the
fishing wire! Any questions?
Tom: [Alex] We don't have a cot, or a wire, and Marrissa
doesn't care if we live or die.
Crow: [Jay] Crap! Okay, plan B: we beg like terriers for our
lives!
> "Did you see that? She must use a fantastic amount of
>power on that device. This bubble must lose some amount of
>power when she alters the time setting.
Mike: Remember to set your Borg Drone ahead one hour.
> I bet that we can use the phasers to get out of here when
>she shifts the setting again." Clara whispered.
Tom: Or we could phaser our way through the floor. [pause] Nah.
That'll never work.
> The team slowly drew their phasers as another thirty
>drones dropped to the deck and lurched out of the room.
All: [Lurch] You rang? You rang? Uhhhhhhhhhhh! Yes, Mr. Addams.
You rang?
> The
>portal once again altered itself to another view. Marrissa
>was drained to the extreme by this shift, and settled back
>into her chair.
Crow: [Archie Bunker] Hey, Dingbat, bring me a beer, hah?!?
> The mechanical zipper sounded again,
Tom: Marrissa's fly was down?
> and masked
>the sound of phasers breaking through the bubble. As the
>group emerged from their prison, the portal began to discharge
>more drones.
Tom: [Ben Stein] So call, write, or E-mail futility-dot-com in
the hopes that on some planet, on some distant day, you
might [reverb effect] WiWin BeBen StStein's
MoMoneyneyneyney.
Crow: Cool reverb, Tom!
Tom: [still reverbing] ThThanksksksks. Oooooopspspsp. [click,
reverb off] Thanks.
> Sounds from the doorway indicated that there were
>drone on the way across the bridge as well.
> Bringing their EMP Rifles to bear,
Mike: Great big huge rabid grizzly bears with hangovers that -
Tom: We finished that section already, Mike.
Mike: Oh, sorry.
> the Away Team began to
>knock down drones pouring in from the two locations. Clara
>and Alex began dispatching the drones from the portal, Shayna
>was defending the entrance to the room, and Jay was lending
>help where he could.
Crow: Mainly he distracted them by running around in a blind
panic.
> The termination of the drones registered
>to Marrissa as if one of her limbs had fallen asleep.
Mike: So she picked up a drone and started shaking him.
> The faint numbness made her stir in the throne, and
>flicker her eyes open.
Tom: They stuck her implant in a bowl of warm water, and...
> Seeking to protect her children, she
>drew her disrupter and aimed it at the group.
> Shayna vaporised in a silent flash of light.
[More balloons continue to fall from the ceiling. It's now
getting a bit crowded in the theater.]
Crow: The light was silent, but Shayna's cries of agony were
really, really loud.
> This went
>without notice until five drones had entered the room.
Crow: Hey, wasn't Shayna with us?
Tom: Ah, who knows?
> Jay
>brought his rifle around just in time to end the existence of
>four more drones. The fifth lived long enough to implant its
>nanoprobes into Clara's neck. She screamed, Jay fired, and
>the drone clunked down to the deck. Clara stood intoxicated
>for a moment,
Tom: [blearily] I'm not as think as you drunk I am!
> then followed the drone to the deck.
>
[More balloons. The bots' silhouettes are nearly masked by the
balloons]
Mike: But she missed the deck and began to fly.
> The world around Alexander Rozhenko melted away. His
>fallen wife was the only planet in the universe,
Tom: Alex was married to a planet?
Crow: [as minister] Alex, do you take Jupiter to be your
lawfully wedded wife?
> and he was
>pulled by her gravity.
Crow: Wow! That's almost profound - in a weird sort of way.
> Alex watched as his wife's beautiful
>face was clouded by grey streaks, and he began the Klingon
>death howl.
>
Crow: But enough about Wu-Tang Clan.
Mike: And enough about musical comparison jokes, already!
Tom: I think he's overreacting to her liver spots.
> Marrissa smiled to herself as her friend's mind became a
>part of the Collective. She found herself curious and began
>sifting through the unconscious woman's mind as if it were a
>cluttered room.
Tom: [Marrissa] My curling iron! I *knew* I loaned it to her!
> Beneath all the fuzz of thoughts and ideas,
>Marrissa found the memories of the assimilated woman.
Tom: [as Marrissa] Clara! You never told me about your affair
with Jay!
> The ideas
>hit her in a rush, she could see herself through another's
>eyes.
Tom: [Marrissa] I'm *that* terrifying and evil?!? Cool Beans!!!
> She and this woman knew each other, before Marrissa
>became the Queen of the Borg, and the Queen was happy in her
>past life.
Mike: She'd forgotten how much fun it was to boss her friends
and elders around.
Crow: Yeah, it's much more satisfying when your victims can
squirm a little.
> The revelation of this stunned Marrissa. The
>Collective said she had been taken for granted, her values,
>emotions, and passions had been warped.
Mike: Well, the last part's right, at least.
> If this was a lie,
>how much else was? She mentally screamed to the Collective to
>speak with her.
>
Tom: [Marrissa] I know you're there! Pick up, you wimps!!
Crow: [Borg] "Assimilate Marrissa," you said! "We can control
her," you said!
> In the scene before the Queen, the battle reached its
>turning point. Alex sobbed over the loss of his wife, and
>ignored the few drones closing in.
Crow: DEBBIE!
Mike: Clara, Crow. Clara.
> Jay had his own hands full,
Crow: Weeping and pleading.
> repelling Borg
>emerging from the time portal and ones entering from the
>doorway. All seemed lost, until Alex stood.
Crow: Weenie-boy to the rescue!
> His mourning period had passed, and a red curtain
Tom: So the Borg assimilated a theater somewhere along the
line then?
> of rage
>lowered itself across his eyes.
Tom: Unfortunately, it clashed horribly with the off-white
carpeting of hysteria and the teal upholstery of despair.
> His rifle was now lying where
>he dropped it in his rush to Clara's side. Reaching for his
>kut'luch
Mike: Good night everybody!
> strapped to his back, Alex slid into a defensive
>stance.
Mike: Get ready for... MORTAL KOMBAT!
> The first two drones stumbled right in and were
>dispatched with a horizontal slash, followed by an overhead
>cut. Another duo attacked and were dispatched with ease.
Mike: This *is* the same Alexander who can't hold a sword
straight on DS9, right?
>Despite the danger, Alex found the combat more calm and paced
>than when he and his father trained on board General Martok's
>ship. He smiled as three more opponents kissed the floor.
Tom: Kiss the floor, baby! *Mwah!*
> The
>adrenaline rushing through his veins prevented him from
>feeling the pain of an over-extended ligament. It also let
>him ignore the tiny pinpricks adorning his hand.
Crow: The tattoo artist of death claims Alexander.
Tom: We shall attack you with pins. Resistance is futile.
>After a brief moment, Alex's mind began to cloud with the
>thoughts and memories of his wife, of his crewmates on the
>Enterprise, and of thousands of others he didn't know.
Mike: Rick Berman, Jeri Taylor...
Crow: Margaret Chase Smith, Billy Graham...
Tom: Al Capone, Salmon P. Chase...
Mike: Joe Garagiola, Minnie Driver...
Crow: Nefertiti, Methuselah...
Tom: Stephen Ratliff, Rob Tonts...
> He was
>vaguely aware of his fate as he began to fade from
>consciousness. With his remaining ounce of strength, he
>pulled the pin from one of his photon grenades. Satisfied
>he had done his part, Alex let himself drift away from the hot
>and smelly world around him.
Mike: Goodbye, New Jersey!
> It had been a good day to die.
>
Crow: It had been St. Swithin's Day!
> Despite the racket caused by the dropping drones, Jay
>managed to hear the photon grenade's arming tone quite
>clearly. Looking Alex's direction, he could see both of his
>friends were on the floor, bordered by drones in a similar
>state.
Mike: They're totally baked, man!
Tom: Dude! Got any munches?
> He could also see the blinking
>light of the grenade in Alex's bandoleer. Proceeding to his
>fallen friends, eliminating any drones that showed themselves,
Mike: [British] These drones have not learned how not to be
seen.
>Jay stooped down and took the armed grenade. It was preset
>for five minutes and had begun counting down.
Tom: Good Jay. Set the grenade to go off after you've all been
assimilated. Good plan.
> Jay had noticed Marrissa was moving in her
>chair. Her attempts at conversation with the Collective were
>futile. They attempted to feed her the same type of story
>they had before.
Crow: [Borg] We are the Borg. The dog assimilated our homework.
> When they saw it wasn't working, the programming embedded
>in Marrissa's mind was reactivated with a vengeance.
Tom: [blankly] I must kill Frank Drebin.
> She
>smiled a smile of the devil and took aim with her disrupter.
>Jay had beaten her to the trigger however, and fired an EMP
>burst into the throne.
Tom: Okay, here's something that's been bugging me since the
start of the story - the Borg can regenerate from massive
damage. Even huge holes in the ship from photon torpedoes
can be fixed in mere minutes. So *why the Hector Elizondo
is a little electromagnetic pulse suddenly putting them
down for the count*?!?!?
Crow: Ummmmmm - it's a Kryptonite generated EMP?
Tom: Oh. [pauses] Well, that's different.
> Electronics overloaded, melted and detonated throughout
>Marrissa's chair. A power surge flashed through throne, into
>the Queen and out to the time gate.
Crow: Remember, *always* use a power strip!
> Marrissa began convulsing
>as the images in the gate began to shift rapidly though
>different scenes and different time periods. When the
>convulsing stopped, Marrissa drooped in her seat like
>a convict after the electric chair.
Mike: Appropriately.
> The time gate had also
>settled, showing a representation of a Starfleet vessel's
>quarters.
Crow: With any luck, it's B'Elanna's!
> Gazing at the grenade's timer, which said he only had
>four minutes before it destroyed the room, Jay looked for a
>good place to hide it.
Tom: Finally, he dropped it in one of the big gaping holes in
the plot.
> Placing it under the time portal, Jay
>turned his attention back to his wife. She still had signs of
>life,
Mike: [Jay] Crap! Missed!
> but unless he helped her soon she would die from the
>electrical shock. Using the discarded kut'luch, Jay sliced
>the binding implants from the chair. The razor sharp blade
>managed to cut through the wires in almost a minute.
Crow: [Raspyni Brothers] Even the carrots we use...
All: *Razor Sharp*!!
> Jay then
>hoisted Marrissa up and carried her away from her former
>prison.
Crow: Then, thanks to the hundred or so pounds of implants, Jay
collapsed to the deck in excruciating pain, his spine
sticking straight out of his back.
> Tapping his combadge, Jay spoke, "Enterprise, two to beam
>up."
> Silence responded to his call.
Mike: [Jay] Ensign Silence, beam us up immediately!
> Of course, he thought, the
>magnetic shields are still up. There's no way off this ship.
>Unless, Jay's mind whirred, the time portal could work as a
>two-way street.
Crow: Well, with Jay's luck, it'll be a double-yellow line two
way street with safety cones blocking off one whole lane.
> Carrying Marrissa as if they were about to cross the
>threshold, Jay stepped up to the silvery hoop. Gathering a
>deep breath, he leaped into the time gate.
Tom: And over the broom.
> He felt a sensation
>that could be compared to jumping through a thin, continuous
>waterfall.
Mike: So, he got briefly wet then?
> Then the queasiness of
>zero gravity grabbed a hold of his stomach and spun it like a
>gyroscope.
Crow: o/~ You spin me right round, baby, right round, like a
record baby, right round round round... o/~
> His senses were bombarded by unclear images and
>multitudes of colour.
Tom: Super Freak-out! By Ohio Arts.
> He felt himself drift away from
>reality, only to have the sensation ended by something cool,
>hard, and fuzzy.
Mike: He's landed on Barney!
BOTS: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! BACK TO THE BORG SHIP, QUICK!!!!
> Chapter Ten
>
> The time portal deposited its two unexpected travellers
>in the Starfleet quarters it had shown. Jay struggled to
>regain the balance he lost during his trip, and surveyed the
>room. Despite his lack of focus, the room seemed vaguely
>familiar.
>
Mike: [Jay] Where am I?
Tom: The Village.
> The walls nearby were adorned with two paintings.
>Standard furniture sat in its place across the floor of the
>abode, except for what looked like a rocking chair between the
>couch and the door leading to another bedroom. Behind Jay was
>a hallway, that branched in two directions,
Mike: And Jay took the lesser used one. And that made all the
difference.
> into a washroom and
>into a room with a crib.
Crow: You have: A bathrobe, a toothbrush, a thing your aunt
gave you which you don't know what it is, pocket lint,
and no tea.
> With a few
>moments of orientation, Jay managed to focus. One of the
>paintings on the wall depicted a blond-haired girl leading her
>group of friends out of the forest of a planet.
Mike: It was Denise Richards from "Starship Troopers".
> The other
>showed the same blond girl on a Galaxy-class starship's bridge
>with a Cardassian Galor-Class vessel dominating the
>viewscreen.
Tom: You know, we're never going to forget those episodes in
Marrissa's life, the way they keep bringing these
paintings up.
> From the room with
>the crib, a contented cooing bounced into the room.
Tom: Awww, it's little baby pigeons!
> Jay matched the
>sound to his daughter when she was content. A slight amount
>of vertigo forced Jay to sit in the nearby rocker.
Mike: Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak force Jay to do their
bidding.
> The
>rocking chair seemed vaguely familiar. It had an antique air,
>and had cushions that moulded to fit him. The nausea passed
>and Jay took a glance around the quarters.
Tom: Then the nausea came crashing back full force.
> The similarities
>to his own quarters back in the Enterprise were astounding,
Crow: Geez, Jay, buy a clue or something!
> the
>paintings, the furniture, the baby, everything was so exact.
Mike: [Steven Wright] They stole all my stuff and replaced it
all with exact duplicates.
> Awareness
>flooded through his mind. The date, he had to know the date.
>
> "Computer," Jay rasped, "what's the date?"
Crow: June 12, 1997.
Mike: Of course! The Borg sent him back in time so that he
could attend the Lilith Faire!
> "The Current Stardate is 62492," the computer stated.
>
> The Computer had responded with numbers that corresponded
>with numbers that matched Jay's hopes. It's just before the
>Borg attack where they got Marrissa, Jay thought.
All: WHAT?!?
[All the collected balloons and confetti disappear in a pop.]
Tom: I call no fair! Marrissa was done for!
> The last wisps of fog cleared from
>his memory, and he remembered his wife.
All: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> She lay on the floor on
>her back, faintly stirring in her unconscious slumber.
>
Crow: [Marrissa, groggily] C'mon, mom, I don't wanna conquer
the galaxy today - lemme sleep!
> "Gordon to Sickbay," Jay called into his combadge.
>"Medical emergency. Standby for incoming patient. Transporter
>Room Four, lock on to my signal and beam directly to Sickbay."
>
Mike: [Transporter guy] But I'm not sick!
> Jay unclipped his combadge and placed it on Marrissa's
>chest.
Tom: Allowing him to cop one last feel.
Mike: Tom! They're married! He doesn't need to cop a feel!
Tom: We're talking about Marrissa here, Mike.
Mike: [pause] You're right. Never mind.
> As she disappeared in a cloud of silver sparkles, a
>grim determination swept through Jay.
Crow: [Jay] If I start out in a shuttle *now*, I can be to Zeta
Reticuli before she even wakes up.
> He was going to stop the events from happening and destroy
>the Borg at the same time. As Jay charged out of his quarters
>towards the nearest turbolift, confused glances from the crew
>bombarded him when he passed.
>
Mike: [crewman] What's up with Commander Weenie?
Tom: [crewman] With him? Who knows?
> Minutes later, the turbolift deposited Jay on the Bridge.
>Surprise oozed from each of the personnel. Giving in to the
>desire to know what they were staring at, Jay surveyed
>himself.
Crow: And compared the results to the original abstract.
> His uniform had been soaked with sweat and moisture.
Mike: But we washed it in all-temperature Cheer, and look -
it's clean as a whistle!
> Grime streaked across the
>fabric, rubbed on from the Borg ship. Taking a deep breath
>Jay began barking orders, deciding he'd explain later.
>
Crow: [Jay] You! Stand on your head and recite the Pledge of
Allegiance! You! Send a program of easy listening music
to the Cardassians! And you! Hose me down with pineapple
juice!
> "Shayna, go to Red Alert and order the fleet to do the
>same. Arm the main deflector dish and aim at these
>coordinates," followed by several numbers from Jay's memory.
>
Tom: Hey, if they've gotten back to before it all began,
shouldn't there be a spare Jay and Marrissa running
around somewhere?
Mike: Ummmmmm -
Tom: Unless a tree fell on them or something.
Crow: Maybe they first ones blinked out of existence when the
second ones arrived?
Mike: They were probably just swallowed by the plot holes.
> Shayna's hands danced gracefully over the controls as she
>carried out her Captain's orders. As the deflector dish
>spewed its beam of energy, Shayna decided to ask what the
>target was.
Mike: That's actually a good question to ask *before* you fire,
Shayna.
> Her question was answered as the ray sliced into
>the target coordinates. The beam halted and the Borg cube
>decloaked with a gaping hole where the beam had hit. When the
>cube drifted into the viewscreen's line of sight,
Crow: . . .It was pushed aside by Old Dirty Bastard from the Wu
Tang Clan who began to babble about "How he's doing all
of this for the children."
> Jay saw that
>the weapon had plowed right through to the other side of the
>cube.
Crow: [Joe Piscopo] It shoots through schools!
> After allowing the Enterprise a glimpse of her
All: Sa-a-a-a-ay...
> wound,
All: Aww-w-w-w-w!
>
>the ship promptly detonated. Their element of surprise lost,
>the other six Borg vessels decloaked.
>
Tom: [Borg] Okay, fine, you can see us! Happy now?!?
> The Borg communication came through on all channels. "We
>are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your vessels.
>We will acquire the future queen of the Borg.
Mike: At a substantial discount.
> We shall then
>assimilate the remaining individuals. Resistance is futile."
>
> Having heard all this before,
Tom: And at this point, who hasn't?
> Jay took the time to
>coordinate the fleet into a preemptive strike. The Defiants
>of the fleet clustered together and dove towards the nearest
>cube in a suicide dive with torpedoes and phasers firing all
>the way.
Mike: Ah, I see they've found firing them only part of the way
just isn't an effective tactic.
> Seconds before impact the Defiants broke off into
>various directions and continued pounding the hull. The
>larger starships had taken the time to get into their tactical
>groups and now assisted the Defiants by shooting at what ever
>targets presented themselves.
Crow: Including each other.
Tom: AIM, people, AIM!!! AIM!!!!!
> The Enterprise had launched her fighters
Mike: Along with Wade McClusky's flight of torpedo bombers.
Their goal: The IJN Kaga.
> and had begun to
>lend a hand with torpedoes while waiting for the deflector to
>recharge.
>
> A cube burst into a sphere of fire under the pounding
>from the ships and also from a lucky shot down the exhaust
>port.
Crow: Not to mention friendly cover fire from Han and Chewie
on the Millennium Falcon.
Tom: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Crow: Hee-hee-hee!
> The fleet was getting worn down at the same time as a
>tactical group of five ships was immobilised by an EMP blast
>from a Borg ship. The Enterprise had recharged her deflector
>when a Defiant lashed out at the same target. Jay decided not
>to wait for the ship to move and ordered Shayna to fire.
Tom: What?
Crow: It seems Jay's getting a tad bloodthirsty. Marrissa would
be so proud.
Mike: Right about now, the Bridge crew's probably wondering
if it would be a bad thing if Jay was "accidentally"
shot in the back by the Borg during the battle.
> The
>blue-white beam lanced forth again, winging the Defiant and
>drilling another hole through the cube.
> Satisfied the cube
>was out of the way, Jay chose his next target.
Tom: Please say it's Craig Kilborn!
> It proved
>him wrong, however, as it fired an EMP burst into the
>Enterprise's rear shield. As the damaged cube exploded,
>another cube had managed to get close enough to beam in a
>small boarding party.
>
Crow: Boarders who party? Maybe Chip, Topher, and Christo came
aboard.
> "Captain," Shayna's voice called, "we have invaders on
>deck 21 and on deck 30."
Tom: [Jay] See if you can get Namor's autograph.
> "Dispatch Security Teams," Jay ordered, "Tell them not to
>worry about the Borg adapting. In their present state they
>can't adapt, control their ships, and direct their drones at
>the same time."
>
Crow: They can't?
Mike: Not if the Federation wants to win this, they can't.
> "Aye sir," Shayna responded.
>
> Meanwhile the Fleet was coping well. The tactical groups
>were making impressions on the remaining four cubes, one of
>which was severely damaged. The Defiants and Sovereigns were
>doing the most damage, focusing on weak points along the hull.
>The ships that were immobilised had repaired themselves and
>got back into the fight.
Tom: Who thinks Rob's entire idea of strategy comes from
playing "X-Wing vs. Tie Fighter?"
[Crow and Mike raise their hands.]
> the Borg were now
>being more random with their cutting lasers, waving them back
>and forth at the clusters of Starfleet ships.
Tom: [Jay] See if you can get Namor's autograph.
> Lasers met
>shields and phasers scarred the Borg hulls. Two starships had
>succumbed to the attack, being slashed across the engines.
>
Crow: Is it just me, or does anyone know what ships are firing
what at who, and why?
Mike: I think Rob is making up for all of Stephen's one-
sentence space battles at once.
> The Enterprise had recharged the deflector dish, but Clara
>announced it would be the last shot before the dish could not
>handle it. Swinging on its y-axis,
Crow: So is that up, or over, or head-over-butt, or what?
> the Nova-class vessel
>turned to its next victim. Before ordering the beam to fire,
>Jay noticed the exhaust port was in plain sight.
>
Mike: This is Red Five, I'm going in!
Tom: Mike. No more, please...
> "Tactical, arm quantum torpedoes and launch them into
>that cavity on the Borg ship," Jay ordered.
Tom: We've filled them with fluoride, right?
Mike: Jay Gordon, Starfleet dentist.
> "Then fire the
>dish at the cube to the port of the current target."
>
Tom: [Jay] Then have the dish run away with the spoon.
> The Nova-class Carrier launched the silver bullets of the
>torpedoes straight at the ship's heart. Then turning
>slightly, fired the blue-while beam into the another cube.
>Both detonated silently in space.
>
Mike: Oh, now he's just showing off.
Tom: Sounds like Jay's acquired Marrissa's powers via osmosis.
> "Lets help the fleet with that last one," Jay commanded.
>
Crow: Oh, let's not and say we did.
> The Enterprise charged the final cube where the
>fighters, Defiants, and the other starships were swarming over
>the target. The cube was putting up as much of a fight as it
>could. It was becoming tough to hit the cube without winging
>a disabled ship in the process.
Mike: Fortunately, we've already seen that Jay doesn't care
about that.
> The EM pulses were damaging
>the fleet's offensive capability and had knocked out the
>Enterprise's shields. The Federation flagship reached weapons
>range and attacked with all the conventional weaponry it could
>muster.
>
Mike: Tanks, bombs, guns. They were all thrown against the
Borg.
> "This is security team Beta 21 to the bridge," a voice
>filtered through the intercom. "All the Borg suddenly
>vanished. There are no further contacts. Security team 2012
>out."
>
Mike: [Security Voice] We're goin' back home - it's almost time
for "Xena".
> Something was looking up,
Mike: Something - or some*one*?!?
> until Shayna announced, "Sir,
>there's a massive energy build up in the cube! It looks like
>it's going to self-destruct!"
>
Crow: Then it exploded, confirming the hypothesis.
> "Order all operational ships to use tractor beams to tow
>whatever ships they can out of the blast radius! Do it now!"
>Jay responded.
>
Tom: Well, he could tow them away later, but what would be the
point?
Crow: [Jay] Oh hell. Let's just blow them up now. It'll save us
the work.
> In a slow retreat, the Federation backed away from the
>Borg vessel towing what they could manage.
[All make beeping sounds]
> The cube vaporised
>into thin air,
Crow: Despite there not being any actual air for it to vanish
into.
>leaving behind a massive blast of energy equivalent to the
>white hot intensity of a star. The surviving ships were home
>to amazing celebrations and victory parties. The Enterprise
>was no exception, as the crew abandoned their stations to give
>applause and congratulations to each other.
Mike: Um, shouldn't we be, like, tending to the wounded, and
rescuing people trapped in disabled ships, and-
Crow: Yeah, yeah, in a minute! First - JELLO SHOOTERS FOR
EVERYONE! WOOHOO!!
Tom: And no one noticed the warp core about to explode. Which
it did. The end.
> Jay was possibly the only one who was still
>duty bound and got up from the command chair.
>
> "Alex, you're in charge," Jay called over his should as
>he made his way to the turbolift.
>
Crow: Over his should, but behind his could and beside his
would.
> Ever since Jay's transport of Marrissa into Sickbay,
>things have been going crazy, thought Doctor Jackson Johnson.
Crow: Jarvis Jannson...
Mike: Jemimia Jellico...
Tom: Jam Jellyfish Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt Junior.
> He barely had
>time to put her in a stasis field when the battle started.
>There were a few injuries but nothing that medical techniques
>couldn't cure.
Crow: Dear lord, what's wrong with Marrissa?
Mike: The diagnosis just says "Spiceworld."
Crow: Well then, there's nothing we can do for her then.
> That was about an hour ago. Since then he and his
>medical staff had been working on their Borg/Marrissa. That
>was creepy enough to make him not want to know what put her in
>that state.
Tom: Would you really want a doctor who was easily creeped out?
> The surgery was finished, the implants were
>0removed,
Crow: But she was joining the class-action suit anyway.
> the nanoprobes were filtered out of her blood, and
>her hip had been regenerated. Marrissa was still unconscious
>but she'd be coming out of it soon. Jackson had left the
>recovery ward to bring in Jay and Sarah who had been watching
>the entire operation.
>
Mike: [Sarah] Look, daddy, an intestinal wall lining!
Tom: [Jay] Y-yeah, that's n-n-n-nice, sweetiAABLEARGH!!!!
> After escorting the Gordons in, Dr. Johnson left to
>attend to other duties letting the family reunite. Marrissa
>was the only one occupying the recovery ward,
Mike: Or so the Germans would have us believe. . .
> as the injuries from the battle
>were not very serious. She lay on a bio-bed which displayed
>all her life signs were in normal condition.
Tom: Ego already re-inflating, thirst for power engorged,
personality stable at one dimension - yep, she's normal.
> It also showed
>the anaesthetics were almost entirely removed from her blood.
Mike: But there were still signs of trendy redrum heroin in her
Blood.
Tom: Mike! NOOOOO!
>Jay stood over his wife, her golden blond hair had been
>cleaned to remove the black and grey streaks.
Crow: Lather. Rinse. Assimilate. Repeat.
> Her arms were
>no longer encased in Borg armour. The grey arteries and veins
>had reverted to their natural colours. A smile formed on
>Jay's face for the first time in several days,
Mike: He'd finally realized why Marrissa liked slaughtering
things so much. It was so much fun!
> as he watched
>his wife's eyes flicker open.
Crow: Damn! Jackson, you told me she was dead!
> The violet pupils were
>unfocused when they opened, but soon focused on Jay's face.
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, hi, weenieboy, have you wrecked the ship
yet?
> Marrissa slowly came back from the blackness. Instead
>of the thousands of voices welcoming her, there was only one,
>her own.
Mike: Well, it was louder than all the others anyway.
> Her eyes opened and blurred, unaccustomed to the
>brightness of the lights. After a few moments she could see
>clearly a man holding a little girl standing over her.
Tom: It was Mr. and Mrs. Woody Allen.
> Her
>own memory supplied names and relationships, and she
>remembered her husband and her daughter. It also recalled
>other names and faces of her friends, and her brain wondered
>where they were.
Tom: Then she remembered, Marrissa has no friends, just
possible tools in her quest for power.
> It all returned in a rush. Her
>assimilation, the destruction of Essex, her adoptive father's
>death, the eradication of Starfleet, and the murdering
>of her closest friends.
Crow: Except for the assimilation, she'd had a swell time!
> Overwhelmed by the horrendous
>things she had done, she reached out for the only comfort she
>could get.
>
Crow: And Bill Clinton was there....
> It was as if Jay could see it happening. Her
>recollection of all the events to the time she was knocked
>unconscious. He could only imagine what she was going
>through.
Mike: She's probably going through the same sort of hell that
Jay lived through in every day of their joyless marriage.
Tom: SUFFER MARRISSA, SUFFER!
> The warping and destruction of her values
>and morals was going to do emotional damage that would take
>quite a while to heal.
Crow: That is, it *would*, if she had any - Marrissa will be
up and sending ensigns to shallow, meaningless deaths
by Thursday.
> She reached out to him, longing for
>his comfort,
Tom: After getting the comfort, Marrissa planned to smack him
around a bit for trying to kill her.
> and he returned the embrace.
Crow: Marrissa was now one of the Kindred.
> Sarah was enfolded
>into the hug and they remained that way for what seemed like
>days. Marrissa wept freely, Sarah babbled with no concept of
>what happened, and Jay pondered.
Tom: Is it trite to say that, in this case, I completely
identify with Sarah's feelings?
>
>He wondered how it was possible that more than a week ago he
>had questioned his love for this woman.
Crow: We're still wondering why you didn't question it even
earlier than that.
> He had risked himself,
>his crew, and the future of humanity to bring her home safely.
>Babble poured from his lips for a few moments,
Mike: Thus giving evidence that Vitamin C does not trigger
bloodfeud obligations.
> trying to comfort and explain all at the same
>time. Finally he realised it could wait until later, and just
>enjoyed the time they shared.
>
Tom: [Marrissa] Jay, why did you try to keep from becoming one
of my Borg slaves?
Mike: [Jay] Well, I , ah. . .
Tom: [Marrissa] Jay, go put on the punishment suit.
Mike: [Jay] Yes ma'am.
>Time: Not Applicable
>
Mike: Boy, even with the accumulated knowledge of dozens of
species, the Borg still can't set the clock on a VCR.
> The last Borg cube had overloaded almost all the power
>supplies it had to force itself outside time. They could
>spend the time they needed to repair the ship, then return to
>the Delta Quadrant and get additional ships.
Crow: But first, a little side trip to Wednesdays at 8:00,
7:00 central, to boost some ratings.
> All without
>worrying about lost opportunities. Drones scuttled
>about, readying the power generators for the return trip.
Tom: [Borg] Did we pack everything? I don't want to have to
turn the whole collective around because someone left a
book in the dresser.
>
>However, some drones had more important jobs.
Crow: Like manning the soda machine.
> The two
>individuals they had acquired from the vessel would soon be
>fully assimilated. The final implants were added and the
>drones stepped back. The female was the first to awaken.
Mike: Yeah, they always are.
> Standing up from the table she was assimilated
>on, she oriented herself to her new position in the
>Collective. She was joined by the male moments later who also
>grew aware of the great consciousness around them. The two
>took notice of each other and enjoyed a lasting kiss.
Crow: [Borg] Kiss me, you Borg.
Tom: [Borg] Blonde Borgs have the same fun.
>The new Queen and King of the Borg then set to work directing
>the repairs to the ship.
Mike: Wanna bet who they are?
Tom: I think we all know.
> Despite the tubes and armour
>covering their bodies,
Tom: Okay, just tell us it's them.
Crow: Yeah, quit wasting time and give with it!
> the faces remained untouched.
Mike: C'mon, we know who they are, already!
Tom: Just say it!
Crow: *Say it!*
All: SAY IT!!!
>They were Marrissa and Jay.
All: BUM-BUM-BOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
Tom: The reaction - dull surprise!
> The End
> (or is it?)
>
Crow: It'd *better* be!
Tom: Time for your little plan, Nelson.
Crow: It'd better work.
Mike: It will. Trust me.
Crow: I've got a really bad feeling about this.
Tom: [Sobbing] Enough with the Star Wars already!
[They exit.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .]
[There's even more crew members milling about now than there
were last time. Tom and Crow are wandering about the Bridge.
Mike is nowhere to be seen.]
Crow: Mike?
Tom: Miiike?
Crow: Do you think he found another escape pod and left without
telling us?
Tom: No, it's still under the theater seat where I left it.
Crewmember #4: Hi! I'm the character representing an oppressed
minority in today's society. . .
Tom: That's nice. Mike!
Crewmember #5: And I'm the young scientific wizard!
Crow: Mike!
Crewmember #6: And I'm Sarah Alara Pic. . .
Bots: MIIIIIKE!!!!!!
[Suddenly, the hexfield opens. Mike appears on the screen. He's
once again dressed like Katherine Janeway.]
Mike: Attention all crew members! Dangerous alien snipes are
attempting to board our vessel through the cargo bay!
Head down there and repel the boarders!
[The crew rapidly exits the stage, leaving Tom and Crow behind.
Mike runs in from the right of the screen.]
Mike: Quick Crow! Wait until they're all in the cargo bay and
then open the hatch!
Crow: Gotcha! Okay, now!
[The scene shifts to an exterior shot of the Satellite of Love.
There is a burst of air and then a multitude of bodies are
blasted out of the cargo bay.]
Tom: Mike? You do realize that you just sent over a hundred
people out into the void of space to meet their doom?
Mike: Relax. A shuttlecraft or a runabout or something will
rescue them.
[Back outside, a small ship appears next to the former crew
members, who disappear in a sparkle of light.]
Mike: See? They're fine. Now to deal with Herb. . .
[As Mike, turns towards the viewscreen, a bright flash of light
illuminates the bridge.]
Mike: What was that?
Crow: Oh, nothing Mike. Just go about your business.
Mike: Oh. Okay.
Tom: [To Crow] The shuttle blew up, didn't it?
Crow: [To Tom] Yep. Don't tell him. It'll break his little
brain.
Mike: Okay Herb. I know that you're there. Answer.
[Apartment]
[Herb and Curtis stand in the foreground. Pearl's in the
background.]
Herb: Nelson, did you just space those actors? Their union's
going to complain about that.
[SoL]
Mike: Forget that Goodman. We're not playing by your rules
anymore.
Tom: Yeah!
Crow: Down with the bourgeois!
[Apartment]
Herb: Nelson, you seem to forget. I've got a contract. I can do
anything that I want to that little show of yours. You
can be easily replaced. Gallagher hasn't been doing
anything lately. . .
[SoL]
Mike: I scoff at your empty threats!
[Apartment]
Herb: And your little friends can be replaced too. We haven't
seen Alf or those cute little Ewoks for a while either. .
[SoL]
Tom: You fiend!
Crow: Mike, you can't let him do this to us!
Mike: Relax, guys.
[Apartment]
Herb: Or I could just change your show's format. Say, make it
into an X-Files show, but make it more like Friends.
Yeah, that's what I'll do all right . . .
[There's a knock at the apartment door. Herb looks puzzled.]
Herb: Who is it?
Muffled Voice: Girl Scouts.
Herb:[Walking to the door] Oh, is it cookie time again? Well,
I suppose that I can afford to buy a few boxes.
[Herb opens the door, and then jumps back in shock as Gypsy's
mouth clamps down over Herb's head and torso and drags him off
screen. Moments later, Gypsy enters through the door.]
[SoL]
Mike: Great work Gypsy! I knew you could do it!
[Apartment]
Gypsy: Well, of course I could do it Mike. I do have an IQ of
6,000 when I'm not running the ship. [Mumbles] And you
use it by having me swallow someone whole. Should I
hold a door open for you next?
[Curtis is backing towards the door. He's stopped by Pearl.]
Pearl: Going somewhere?
Curtis: Hey, I'm just the hired help around here. I was just
following orders.
[The Observer walks through the open door.]
Pearl: That's okay. The Observer's just following orders too.
Observer: [Grasping Curtis by the shoulder] Normally, my race
dislikes violence. I'll make an exception this time.
[Curtis screams as the Observer drags him out the door.]
Pearl: Nice job Nelson.
[SoL]
Mike: Thanks, Mrs. F. And Gypsy, we're glad to have you back.
And we're even happier that Pearl promised to take us
home and stop showing us these horrible movies and fan-
fics!
[Apartment]
Pearl: Oh. Yeah. I did promise that, didn't I? Er, well. . .
[Pearl stops as she sees something on the floor near the door.
She reaches down and hold up a piece of paper marked "Deed."]
Pearl: Hmm. Herb must have dropped this. . .
[She opens it up and reads softly out loud.]
Castle Forrester? {Pearl grins a very evil grin.] Of
course. I'll be glad to take you home.
[The Observer has reappeared. Pearl hands the deed over to him.
He looks it over briefly and then he begins to chuckle evilly.]
Pearl: We'll take you home right now, won't we Brain Guy?
Observer: Oh yes. We'll head back to Earth right now.
[SoL]
Mike: Great! Let's get started!
[An auburn haired woman walks onto the stage.]
Woman: Excuse me. I'm Claudia Christian. My agent told me that
you had a part open?
Mike: [To Pearl] There's no hurry getting us back.
[Studio]
Pearl: Okay Mike. We'll head back to Earth right away. [To The
Observer] Will you do the honors?
Observer: Gladly.
\ | /
\ | /
--- * --- PWOOOOSH!
/ | \
/ | \
[We hear a door burst open.]
Bobo: Say Lawgiver? I just had a great thought; how about a
perfume that smells like a bakery?
Pearl: Bobo, get out of that stupid outfit!
Mystery Usenet Theater 3000 "Hail to the Queen"
Starring:
Michael Nelson as Mike Nelson
Kevin Murphy as Tom Servo
Bill Corbett as Crow
Patrick "Pantleg" Brantseg as Gypsy
Mary Jo Pehl as Pearl Forrester
Kevin Murphy as Professor Bobo
Bill Corbett As The Observer
Elizabeth "Beez" McKeever as "Babe"
Elliot Gould as Herb Goodman
Garrett Morris as Curtis
Paul Chapin as Chip
Claudia Christian as Herself
And Zack Norman is Sammy in 'Chief Zabu'
"Hail to the Queen" was written by Rob Tounts.
<rtonts@direct.ca>
Based upon "The Marrissa Stories" by Stephen Brian Ratliff.
<sratliff@runet.edu>
MiSTing written by
Matt Blackwell <mblackwl@ix.netcom.com>
Doug Earlham <douga@earlham.edu>
Michael K. Neylon <mneylon@engin.umich.edu>
Bill Livingston <bill@Traveller.COM>
Steven Savage <badger@infinet.com>
Editing by Matt Blackwell.
Special thanks to John Winn, whose technical difficulties kept
him from participating in the MiSTing.
"Star Trek", "Star Trek The Next Generation", "Deep Space
Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager" and all related characters and
situations are trademarks of and (c) 1998
Desilu/Paramount/Viacom. All rights are reserved.
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" and its related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyrighted [c] 1998 by Best
Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for non-
commercial parody, review, and commentary purposes only; no
infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by
Best Brains, Inc., Paramount, Inc., or anyone else, is intended
or should be inferred.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for
entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the original
copyrights or trademarks held by others is intended or should
be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s)
are or should be implied. All characters in this work are
fictional except for those who aren't , and any resemblance
to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Celene Dion's song from Titanic has won an Academy Award.
Sigh.
Keep circulating the posts.
> The doors slid open to reveal Marrissa
>once again nursing the child with a surprised, and vaguely
>annoyed,look when she saw Jay.