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Mystery Usenet Theater 3000:
"Before the Dawn"
By Thomas Keeler
Misted by Alex Gariepy, Eric Scheppers, Brian Dubick,
Juliet Youngren, Douglas Gale and Matt Blackwell
[Season 10 Opening]
[The Bridge of the Satellite of Love]
[Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo are busily playing a board game.]
Tom: Okay, my turn. And four. One... two... three... and four!
Draw a card. "Discover the true nature of reality. Gain
a follower and roll again." Hah!
Crow: Yeah, yeah. [to the camera] Hi everyone and welcome to
the Satellite of Love. I'm Crow T. Robot and my
cohort here is Tom Servo.
Tom: ...and three. "What is life? Is it meaningless, devoid
of content, or is there a master plan, unbeknownst to
us all? Roll again."
Crow: Tom and I are busily playing "Philosopher: the Board
Game!" Tom inexplicably has taken a very slight lead.
Tom: Pshaw. I'm almost to "Enlighted One", while you're
stuck back in "Wrestling Fan".
Crow: Hey! Wrestling is just a modern day morality
play! It's nothing to be ashamed of! Plus Stone
Cold kicks ass!
Tom: Right, Crow. [Rolls a die.] Four! [Tom moves his
piece.] "Consider 'If'." How profound.
Crow: I'll catch up soon, Tom. [softer] Just as soon as my
guy stops watching TV on his couch.
[Mike enters, grinning devilishly.]
Crow: Hi Mike.
Tom: Hi.
Mike: Guys! Someone set up us the bomb!
[The bots turn to Mike, looking concerned.]
Tom: Um, pardon?
Mike: We get signal!
Crow: Are you feeling okay?
Mike: All your base are belong to us!
[The bots slump and return to their game.]
Tom: Oh. That.
Mike: All your base are belong to us!
Crow: We heard you, Mike.
Mike: Come on, guys! All your base are belong to us!
Tom: Mike, it's over.
Crow: Yeah, that phrase is just so... not now.
Mike: What do you mean it's over? I just heard it!
Crow: Well, some of us have known about it for
months, if not years now.
Tom: By the time you've heard it, it's become
incredibly unhip to us. We've moved on.
Mike: Oh.
[Mike exits, head hung low.]
Tom: Some people.
Crow: Yep. My turn! Two! "You realize Springer's
on. Move back five." Blast!
[Mike rushes back in.]
Mike: All your base are belong to us!
Crow: Still not funny, Mike.
Mike: I thought it was.
Crow: You liked that "Who Let the Dogs Out?"
song too.
[Mike exits again.]
Crow: Will he ever learn? Repeating the same
phrase over and over again just isn't
funny, right Tom?
Tom: Yep. It stinks!
[The bots begin to crack up.]
Crow: Where wolf? There wolf!
Tom: CHIEF!
Crow: MC CLOUD!
[The pair is laughing loudly now as the commercial
sign begins to flash.]
Tom: I'M HUGE!
Crow: Why don't they look?
Tom: Grignir?
[The Planet bumper.]
[Commercials]
[The bots are still laughing as Mike walks back in.]
Mike: Okay, I think I've got a new one. "Monkey Sugar."
It means...
Crow: [restraining his laughter] ...that something
is incredibly cool. Like, "Memento was so
Monkey Sugar!"
Tom: Heard it. Moved on.
Crow: Get with the times, Mike.
[The lights signaling a call from Castle Forrester
begin to flash.]
Mike: Great, Faith Popcorn is calling.
[Mike hits the button and the scene shifts to...]
[Castle Forrester]
[In the background, Professor Bobo is busily
rooting around in a file cabinet. In the foreground,
Observer, wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap
and noisily chewing gum, is busily working on a
computer. Between the two, Pearl is pacing anxiously.]
Pearl: Anything?
Bobo: [with his head in a drawer] No luck here.
Pearl: Brain Guy?
Observer: Still lookin'.
[She turns to the camera.]
Pearl: Mitch. Robots. We're, uh, having a little
problem down here with this week's experiment.
Namely we can't find one.
[SoL]
Tom: Really? What a shame.
Crow: Yep. We're heartbroken.
Mike: Say, the Brak Show's kinda neat...
Crow: It's in reruns already, Mike. Old news.
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Bobo's scouring through the print archives,
to no avail. Movie-wise, well, after this
last summer we've got too many to choose
from. And Brain Guy can't find anything
on the net. It's weird. It's almost as
if all of the authors have disappeared.
[SoL]
Mike: Really? That is odd.
[A loud thump emanates from off screen.]
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: What was that?
[SoL]
Mike: Oh, I'm sure it was nothing important.
I'll go take a look though.
[Mike grabs a conveniently placed baseball bat
and exits to the right.]
Crow: So, I guess this means no experiment for
us today then, right?
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: [Sighing] It's beginning to look that way.
I guess that all good...
Observer: Bingo.
Pearl: You found something?
[She moves over to watch Observer over his
shoulder.]
Observer: You betcha. I was diving through the
old Usenet archives and I found...
this!
[He dramatically punches a button. Pearl looks
at the screen and smiles evilly.]
[SoL]
[A series of loud thumps can be heard off screen.]
Bots: Uh-oh.
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Oh, this is good.
Observer: Yep. Somehow we missed this one.
Pearl: Well, our loss then is our profit now.
[She turns towards the camera, grinning.]
Pearl: You're going to love this one. It seems
we've discovered a forgotten tale of
a certain Starfleet Captain.
[SoL]
Crow: Oh no.
Tom: You don't mean...
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Yep. Marrissa Amber Flores Picard.
[SoL]
Crow: But, but, how?
[Mike enters. He holds the now broken in half
bat in his hand.]
Mike: Found it. It was the washing machine.
Yeah. The washing machine.
Tom: But we've read all of Ratliff's stuff!
Even those [shudder] adult ones! Unless
he's written new ones!
[Tom turns towards Mike, who shakes his head.]
Mike: No, he's still trapped in the storm cel...
er, no, I mean he's probably busy in his
post-college career.
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Oh, it's not from Stevie. It's written by
one of his fans.
[SoL]
All: Uh-oh.
[Castle Forrester]
[In the background, Bobo's upper torso is completely
in one of the drawers. His legs are pumping furiously.]
Pearl: Yep. Uh-oh. So, get ready for Thomas Keeler's
Marrissa piece, "Before the Dawn". Send them
the fic, Brainy.
Observer: Word.
[SoL]
[The lights have begun to flash.]
Mike: [whispering] Pearl? What's up with Observer?
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Oh, he's just trying to establish some street cred.
[SoL]
Mike: Oh. Well, I guess WE'VE GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!!
[Mike hits the light, and the door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .]
[The crew enters and sits.]
Crow: So what exactly happened?
Mike: Oh, they were using a fork to scratch a
story into the bulkhead. [Shudders] A
crossover between "Hannibal" and "The
Gummy Bears" with a bit of "The Music Man"
tossed in.
Tom: Lovely.
Mike: Oh, and Pete's back in the cooler again.
Crow: Figures.
>From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:02:59 1998
Tom: Is Keanu Reeves going to be in this?
Mike: [deeply] Take the blue pill, Neo, and all will
be as it was. Take the red pill and you'll
start writing fanfic.
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] 0/1
Mike: Midnight?
Crow: It was before the dawn of the third age of
mankind, and there wasn't even a Babylon station.
>From: Iblis <captain@work.matrix>
Tom: Garm Bel Iblis?
>Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:02:59 GMT
>
>Foreword:
>
Mike: Into the breach!
Crow: To death. By Dead Kennedys.
Tom: Comma Ten.
>This is my first foray into internet writing,
All: Oh no.
Tom: Bad sign...
Crow: Mike, I don't know if I can take another
first effort...
Mike: Just hunker down. We'll make it through it.
It was nice of him to warn us though.
> and I've
>chosen a very tenuous starting point,
Tom: Very bad sign...
Mike: [Iblis] It started with "THIS STORY IS A SUPER KEWL
CROSSOVER BETWEEN TOMB RAIDER AND PERFECT DARK!!!"
Crow: AHHHH!!!!
Tom: You're not helping, Mike.
> right after a story
>still in progress.
Tom: A very, very bad sign.
Mike: [gulps nervously] Keep it together, guys. We've got
to be strong.
> This takes place in the Ratliff
>universe
Crow: Eef!
Tom: Hey, look! Four horsemen are approaching!
Mike: Okay, forget what I said. Commence panicking.
> (thank you, Stephen),
Tom: [falsetto] o/~ Thank you, thank you Ratliff! o/~
Mike: Tom? Stop bringing that up. Please?
Crow: [snicker] Say, Tom? Did we ever take those pictures
of Mike singing that down from the website?
Tom: We replaced them with a mpeg, remember?
[Mike whimpers.]
> from the perspectives of the
>crew of Deep Space Nine.
Crow: Who would no doubt give Marrissa yet another title to
add to her list.
Tom: Specifically, from Odo's pot's view.
Mike: You're never going to get over "Chakotay's Pillow"
are you?
> This sets the scene for a number
>of following works,
Crow: You can't threaten me like that! I laugh in the face
of your future works! HA!
> which I hope you'll like. If you want
>to MiST, just ask.
Tom: Because using body spray is vital in today's fast
paced world.
>Vivat Marissa ad aeturnum!
>
Crow: What's that? "Vivisect Marrissa at the sternum"?
Mike: It means "May Marrissa live forever."
Crow: I like mine better.
> --Thomas D. Keeler >>}:>{|>
>
Mike: Hey, it's the Devil with a goatee!
Tom: I've always suspected but now I have proof.
>From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:06:11 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Tom: Maybe now they should change that name. Like,
oh, say, alt.startrek.boredom or
alt.startrek.cannon-fodder.
>Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 1/4
Crow: Just four parts? I was expecting the usual
10 or 15.
Mike: Don't pressure him, Crow.
>From: Iblis <captain@work.matrix>
Crow: So, how many groupies does Ratliff have now?
Tom: Let's see. There's that Generations 2 girl,
but she insists she's not a groupie.
Mike: That Marrissa's the Borg Queen guy.
Tom: Oh, there's that Marrissa meets John McClaine
story.
Crow: And Dark Marrissa! Don't forget that one!
Tom: Of course, there was that Marrissa gets killed
by Han Solo and another Mary Sue character.
Crow: The "Marrissa Flores on Basilisk Station"
story.
Tom: That goofy, unfinished round robin.
Crow: And that "Marrissa of Gor" story.
Tom: And don't forget that retrocon story where
Marrissa was Riker's niece and she was half-elven
and caused all of the characters to start boinking
each other...
Mike: Guys? I don't remember reading half of those.
[mumbling] Especially that last one.
Tom: Oh. Well, forget we said anything then.
>Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:06:11 GMT
>
Mike: The story is already getting repetitive.
>Title: Before the Dawn
Crow: [dreamily] Lies obsession.
>Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu)
>Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1
>Rating: [PG] violence
Mike: Something tells me it'll be strawberry related.
>Codes: N/A
Crow: This fanfic is proudly 100% Morse code-free!
>Part: NEW 1/4
>Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation,
Tom: After a referendum in which there was a 50% + 1
majority.
> and takes Deep
>Space Nine with him.
Mike: What did he do? Fold it up and stick it in his
pocket?
> Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After
>the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen."
>
Crow: [shudders] It's a sequel AND a prequel!
>
>Have faith, folks. It gets better.
>
Mike: Actually, so far, this is the best Marrissa story ever!
>
>Star Trek: Ex Post Facto
>- -The Marrissa Stories- -
>Before the Dawn
>
Tom: Is the night.
>By Thomas D. Keeler (no relation)
>
Crow: He's not related to Babs Bunny?
>
> Dedicated to my story consultants, who've put up with
>me this far.
>
Mike: So somebody else had to read this.
Crow: [snickers] What a bunch of saps!
Tom: Uh, Crow...
>
> The war was over.
Crow: There was a war?
> Finally, ultimately,
Mike: Definitely, totally....
> the Romulans
>were beaten. The once mighty Romulan armada was now reduced
>to a handful of patrol vessels, restricted quite
>specifically to the remains of their Empire.
Tom: Sort of the interstellar equivalent of the Russian
navy.
>The first Romulan ships had abandoned Vulcan millennia ago,
Mike: In one of the biggest divorce cases since Nicole Kidman
left Tom Cruise.
>their race having achieved space travel long before Humans
>set out across Earth's oceans.
Mike: Yeah, but look who's laughing now! In your face,
pointy ears!
> A race and their ships,
Tom: The America's Cup?
>humbled now, at last.
Crow: A boy and his dog, a writer and his pen, a muffin man
and his muffins...
Mike: We get it, Crow.
> It was a victory, so far as the
>Federation and its "new generation"
Mike: Doesn't he mean the "Next Generation"?
Crow: It's a callback, Mike. Just grin and nod.
> of officers were
>concerned, but perhaps, Sisko believed, the galaxy's loss.
Crow: After all, now Berman would have to come up with a
new bunch of humans in funny costumes to torment
the Trek cast.
> Admiral Benjamin Sisko sat back heavily.
Crow: Putting on a little weight, are we?
Tom: Joe Don Baker is SISKO!
> For whatever
>reason, his office on Deep Space Nine felt strangely alien.
Tom: [Sisko] Hmm. When did I put all of this secreted resin
around my office?
>He had sat there, in that chair, countless times over the
>last decade and a half,
Crow: [Sisko] Oh, now I know why I feel odd! This chair
hasn't been Febrezed.
> dealing with every conceivable
>threat to the Federation,
Mike: Right now, Sisko was figuring out how to protect us
from killer space-going aardvarks.
> from Dukat to the Dominion, from
>Q to Klingons.
Tom: Well, there goes the alliteration.
Crow: From time anomalies to temporal rifts! From Rick
Berman to Michael Dorn! He dealt with them all!
> For every decision he made,
Tom: Millions died and whole civilizations were destroyed.
Crow: [Sisko] Do I supersize this order and risk the
destruction of Betazed?
> his office had
>been a kind of retreat --
Mike: Only without the chips and dip and the recliners
and...
> unchanging, homey.
Mike: Word!
> Now, however,
>every Federation insignia, every Starfleet chevron,
Crow: So Chevron's still around in the future?
Tom: [on phone] Murray? Tom Servo. Sell all my stock in
Texaco. Now.
> felt
>oppressive;
Crow: [Sisko] You oppressive Starfleet badge! Take that
you oppressive piece of oppressive oppression!
> like visitors to his personal space who had
>long overstayed their welcome.
Mike: Mother-in-law: The Next Generation!
> Part of it, he knew, was
>the haunting guilt over what he had done, over what he had
>been ordered to do.
Crow: He still awakes in the middle of the night screaming,
"Not the clown suit! Not the clown suit!"
> He leaned forward, massaging his temples. Starfleet
>hadn't seemed right for him,
Mike: So he'd broken off the engagement and returned
the ring.
> until he came here, to Bajor.
Tom: [Announcer] And now YOU too can experience Starfleet
at its best!
>Even before Jennifer -- his first wife -- died at Wolf 359
>all those years ago, the uniform hadn't quite fit.
Crow: That's because Jennifer was a lousy seamstress.
> He
>closed his eyes.
Tom: [Sisko] Fear is the mind killer, fear is the
little death that brings total oblivion...
> When they opened again, he was standing on the
>recreation deck of the Livingston, one of his earliest
>assignments.
Crow: Paula!!!!
Mike: Where did *that* come from?
Crow: I'm not really sure...
> He was in full dress uniform,
Tom: I oughta talk to the Starfleet fashion designer
about that.
> and Jennifer .
>. . Jennifer!
Tom: [Sisko] JENNIFERRRRR!
Mike: Not that way, Tom.
Tom: Oh.
> She was in her wedding dress, as beautiful
>as he had ever seen her. And Curzon was there -- the Old
>Man himself, grinning happily. Captain Wallace was saying
>something.
Mike: Has anyone seen Grommit?
Tom: And this is 60 Minutes.
Crow: Freeeeeedom!
> "Do you, Benjamin Lafayette Sisko . . ."
Crow: [Wallace] Wear boxers or briefs?
> "I do," Sisko said, not waiting for the question, just
>like he had thirty years before.
Tom: Yeah, he's impatient like that.
Crow: [Wallace] I see... well, I'll put you in for both.
> "Are you Benjamin Sisko?"
Crow: Great. Sisko's getting a subpoena in the middle of his
wedding. How tacky.
Mike: [Columbo] I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir. But I just
need to ask you a few questions...
> That wasn't right. "I beg your pardon?" He looked at
>Wallace.
> "You are the Sisko." Jennifer said, stepping in.
Crow: [Sisko] Oh no, not another vision. Look, can't you go bug
Barclay or something? He loves his little fantasy life!
> Of course.
Tom: Wha?
> It had seemed a little too real for a
>daydream.
Tom: Oh, he's stoned again.
> The Bajoran Prophets
Crow: A really intense death-metal group!
> -- aliens who lived in a
>wormhole outside the spacetime continuum
Mike: That sounds kind of cramped.
> -- were trying to
>reach him.
Tom: Just to recap for those who have been in a coma for
over seven years.
> While sometimes helpful and occasionally
>pleasant, Sisko had always found the Prophets' visions of
>his most emotionally intense moments . . . invasive.
Crow: And we all know how pleasant that can be.
Mike: Tonight's DS9 episode "Sisko gets an anal probe" will
be right back.
> "What do you want?"
Crow: [Prophet] We want the Sisko to stop dying his hair
silver and singing about thongs.
> He sighed, attempting to be
>diplomatic, once more disregarding modern Starfleet policy.
Mike: [dramatically] To hell with policy! He's going to
be... diplomatic!
> "What do you want?" Curzon demanded back of him.
Mike: [Sisko] For you to go away and let me sulk for once!
>"You lack direction.
Mike: [Curzon] Find the one known as Berman.
> For you, the game is over."
Crow: [Sisko] Knew I should have bought Boardwalk....
> Faces
>began changing shape all around him:
Mike: Hey, looks like Ben did a bit too much LDS during
the 60s too!
> Jennifer became
>Kasidy, Curzon became Jadzia, then Ezri.
Tom: Then, for some reason, Mexico President Vincente
Fox.
Mike: That little alien symbiont sure likes people with
z's in their name.
Crow: The thing I like about fan-fiction is that there are
no behind-the-scene problems with the cast.
Tom: You're just saying that because you got to see Jadzia.
Crow: Nuh-uh!
> Kira, Jake, Quark
>-- a lifetime of familiar people drifted across his
>mindscape.
Mike: Hey! There's Spencer!
Crow: And Edward Norton!
Tom: And there's Trumpy, Joel... and look! Dr. Erhardt's
playing chess with Gamera in the corner!
Mike: He meant Sisko's lifetime, Tom.
> "The Sisko must choose."
Crow: [Sisko] Alright, if you say so. Eeny meeny miny mo...
> "Choose? Choose what?"
Mike: [surly] Cash or annuity. Geez Hawk, just buy the
damn lotto ticket and move along!
> He held his head, trying to
>keep from being overwhelmed.
Tom: Ah. "Kid at Disneyland" syndrome.
> As soon as he asked, he
>realized his mistake:
Crow: Never throw sodium in water during a gas leak.
> never ask the Prophets a direct
>question.
Tom: Yeah, ask them indirect questions like 'If the
sum of pi and x equal the square root of y, what
am I supposed to choose?'
> "Life or Salvation. Truth or Loyalty.
Mike: Regular or diet.
Tom: Chess or checkers.
Crow: Visa or Mastercard.
> The Sisko
>decides the outcome of the game."
All: Choose to win! Choose to win!
> He grunted,
Mike: And turned to ask his neighbor, K'Wilson for
advice.
> trying to understand. As a rule, their
>meanings were harder to grasp than a Caldonian eel.
Mike: Are Caldonian eels the fat slow ones with the dry
rubbery skin?
Crow: No, I think they're the little slippery ones that
swim real fast.
Mike: Of course. Thus, making them hard to grasp. Let's
move on.
> He had
>long since stopped asking what the metaphors meant.
Mike: We've learned that lesson too.
Tom: What the heck is a Caldonian eel?
Mike: Well, some of us have.
> Sooner
>or later, the meaning would present itself.
Crow: Well, it's either that or a plot contrivance.
> Unfortunately,
>the case was almost always 'later.'
Tom: It wouldn't be a prophecy by making it too obvious,
now, would it?
> The office silence echoed as he sat up from his desk.
Mike: Silence echoed?
>It was as uncomfortable as ever.
Tom: [Sisko] Maybe I should turn off that Hanson
recording? Nah...
> A call light blinked at
>him from his terminal.
Mike: Movie sign!
> General Kira was in an unusually good mood;
Crow: Well, she has been shacking up with a shape-shifter.
> at the
>very least, she wasn't scowling. All she said was,
>"They're here."
Mike: And then the cast of "Stomp" marched into Ops. Oh,
what fun was had by all that day!
Tom: Ah, characterization.
Crow: Well, from the first couple seasons anyway....
> Sisko nodded, and deactivated the link.
Tom: The link was just giving 404 errors anyway.
> He picked up
>his baseball, rolling it around his fingertips, considering
>his options.
>
Tom: Then chucked it at the back of Kira's head.
Crow: So does Sisko always play with his balls when he's
thinking?
> Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep
>Space Nine, two-time recipient
Mike: ...of the coveted Silver Sow Award?
> of the Carrington Lifetime
>Achievement Award,
Mike: Neurotic poster boy for genetic enhancement...
> should have been elated.
Crow: But he wasn't, so he increased the dosage by
50 ml.
> The war was
>over!
Tom: So this is Christmas?
> No more needless deaths on either side . . .
Mike: Except for the occasional crime and mass murders,
but that's another story.
> "Well," he began dryly, so softly that his friend
>could barely hear. Bashir was hunched over the table,
>slowly drawing his finger around the rim of his glass,
>making it squeak. He faced O'Brien.
Tom: [Bashir] Annoyed yet?
> "We . . . won." He sighed so disgustedly that the
>engineer could barely tell it was him.
Crow: [O'Brien] What the? Who the heck are you?
> His heart wasn't really in it, but the Irishman
>couldn't help but try to cheer him up. "You're not unhappy
>that we won?"
Crow: Ah, the pitfalls of a double negative.
Mike: [Bashir] I prefer the occasional rout every now and
then.
> He asked, gently clinking his glass with the
>doctor's. "Unless you were rooting for the Romulans.
Tom: That would explain all the Romulan merchandise Bashir
has in his quarters.
> Did
>you and Quark have a bet?" His own attempts sounded
>hollow, even to himself. He already knew what was wrong.
Mike: [O'Brien] Warranty run out on those genetic
enhancements, huh?
> Bashir confirmed it. "Thirty-two billion Romulans,
>Chief.
Crow: Wow! That's one heck of a bet!
> Thirty-two *billion*.
Mike: Thirty-two billion Romulans can't be wrong!
> Between Starfleet
>aggressions
Crow: [heavy accent] The evil imperialist fascist
Starfleet aggressors!
> and the Klingons' typically overzealous
>bloodlust; it's horrific." He took a drink, wishing the
>alcohol was stronger.
Tom: Well, you did order a Shirley Temple...
> "The second costliest war in
>history.
Crow: Right behind Coke vs. Pepsi.
> More than half their empire -- some of the most
>beautiful planets in the known galaxy -- destroyed,
>occupied, and assimilated for *us*.
Tom: It's a twist of colonialism and the Borg!
> I don't even want to
>think about what the Klingons did.
Mike: [Bashir] Broadcasting "Teletubbies" to that poor,
defenseless world non-stop...
> Our 'allies.' Bah!"
Tom: [Bashir] And a 'Scoff'! And a dismissive giggle too!
> He
>gave O'Brien a look, a mixture of depression, fury, and
>sorrow.
Mike: Er, what would that look like?
Crow: You've seen Keanu Reeves movies, right?
Mike: Yeah.
Crow: It's his "Expression #3".
Mike: Ah.
> "What the hell happened to us? When did we damn
>the Federation to this? We're supposed to be the good
>guys!"
Mike: [Bashir] We bought white hats and everything!
Crow: So, they should have lost then?
> "Look on the bright side!" Quark said cheerily,
Tom: [Quark] I've be around a lot more now since my
character got offed on "Buffy!"
>depositing fresh drinks on the table.
Mike: I hope those were in glasses.
> "The war is over!
>Peace is good for business!
Crow: [Quark] Unless you build tanks and guns and planes,
but that's beside the point.
> And only nineteen billion
>Federation lives were lost!"
Tom: Heck, the Federation lost more people than that
from tribble attacks last year!
> "*ONLY*!" Bashir leapt to his feet, roughly knocking
>the Ferengi bartender to the floor.
Crow: Go Bashir!
Tom: Thwow him to the gwound, vewy woughly!
> "*Only* nineteen
>billion!
Mike: [Bashir] It should have been 20 you bastard! 20!
> Business! The 'bright side'! You monstrous,
>greedy, self-absorbed little troll!
Mike: Rob C.? Is that you?
> Every life has value,
>purpose!
Crow: [Bashir] Except Celene Dion's, of course.
> Federation, Romulan, even you!
Mike: Me?
Tom: Well, not you specifically.
> Don't tell *me*
>the cost was low!"
Mike: I wonder if he ever heard of the notion that in
war, people die.
Crow: Intergalactic wars? High cost in lives? Hmm, never
thought of that.
Tom: I guess he expected a nice clean little game of
"Steel Panthers".
> He swivelled, addressing the crowded
>barroom. "Nineteen billion lives for thirty-two billion!
>Act now, sell your soul! The price of liberty has never
>been lower!"
Crow: Yeah! Can I sell my soul too, Mike? Can I?
Mike: You already did, Crow. Remember? You sold it for
a copy of "Logan's Run".
Crow: Oh.
> O'Brien grabbed his friend's arm and set him back into
>the chair. "For god's sakes, Julian, most of those people
>are just happy to see the war over.
Tom: [O'Brien] Quit depressing everybody. They can do it
on their own.
> Believe me, they'll
>mourn the dead in their own way.
Mike: [O'Brien] Like through sex, for example.
> In their own time."
> Bashir squinted.
Crow: He's Bashir the Sailor Doc! Toot-toot!
> "And how many tears will be shed for
>the Romulans?"
Mike: Um, not many?
Tom: And who the heck is mourning for Adonis?
> "Probably more than the Federation casualties," a new
>voice said, matter-of-factly.
Crow: Um, okay. So the more casualties, the more tears?
> A man in his early thirties,
>wearing a Starfleet science uniform, leaned against a
>pillar nearby.
Crow: Oh look, it's Ensign "Smooth"!
Mike: Early thirties, science officer... that narrows it down.
Tom: Well, it rules out Doctor McCoy.
> "Hello Chief, Julian." He looked past them to Quark,
>who was stooping to collect his dropped latinum slips.
Tom: [Quark] Oops! My newfound fortune always falls out of
my pockets. Maybe I should put it under my mattress.
>"Quark, you still owe me over twenty strips of latinum from
>tongo."
Crow: Is that what you kids call it nowadays?
> All three were very confused for a moment,
Tom: [O'Brien] Hey! The extras aren't supposed to be
talking to us!
> until
>Bashir noticed the intricate pattern of spots rimming the
>stranger's head, a characteristic of Trill.
Mike: Or of a measles infection.
> "*Dax*?"
> The newcomer broke into a wide grin. "Syral Dax."
All: Syral?
Tom: Heck, why not? We haven't had a new recurring cast
member on DS9 for almost two or three episodes now.
> He
>slid into the empty seat, clasping each man's hand. "It's
>good to see you."
Mike: The same can't be said likewise.
Crow: Pierce Bronsan *IS* Syral Dax!
> Quark regarded him cooly.
Tom: [Quark] Yo, dude. WHAZZUUUUUP?
> "I'm afraid all debts
>become property of the establishment after a host change or
>total bodily regeneration.
Mike: That's what they call the "Time Lord Rule."
> Sorry, but I don't make the
>rules."
Crow: [Quark] I just conveniently bring them up.
> O'Brien jerked his head to face the Ferengi. "You're
>the owner and proprietor!"
Tom: [Quark] Well, the Nagus' just added new social
programs as part of his new reforms, and I'm taxed
silly for them, so there!
> Quark shrugged. "Business is business. Profits make
>the rules, not me."
> "How've you been, Dax?" Bashir asked, ignoring the
>confrontation.
Tom: What confrontation?
Mike: Morn finally saw his bar tab and took everyone
in the bar hostage.
> "Not so bad actually. You heard about the Gorkon?"
Crow: Yeah! Hundreds of skinny fanboys in leather miniskirts!
> Bashir nodded. "I'm sorry. We were glad to hear your
>crew escaped."
> Syral patted his stomach softly. "Most of us."
Mike: [Syral] I ate the rest of 'em.
> He
>paused, and his friend offered him the moment of silent
>eulogy for his former host.
Mike: Which was...?
Crow: Ezri?
Tom: I don't think it was old "Big Head." Stephen never
mentioned her. It might have been Jadzia.
Crow: Heck, it might have even been Curzon. I don't think
that he mentioned Jadzia either.
[Silence.]
Mike: Dear lord. We remember what's canon in the
Ratliff-verse and what's not. We've read waaaay
too many of these.
> Finally, he sighed. "We were
>lucky. Before you go eulogizing the Romulans, Julian, we
>lost some good people. Remember Captain Kinsmore?"
Mike: Um, yeah. He was the guy who sold fish sticks, right?
> "The USS Georgia. Who could forget?
Tom: Remember when all the lights went out?
> I'm just glad
>*I* didn't make the discovery."
Mike: Who knew he was really Rosie O'Donnell in drag?
> Dax rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably. "A
>modern Mary Celeste. Every man, woman, and child . . .
Tom: Disappeared after it was bought by Benjamin Briggs?
>that was the worst part. The pilot was just a little
>girl."
Crow: Briggs was a little girl?
> The doctor agreed. "Makes me wish we never had Kids'
>Crews.
Mike: That's it! We have entry into the Ratliffverse!
Crow: May God have mercy on our souls.
Tom: And only now he's objecting... hey buddy, we've been
wishing that since "Enterprized".
> Children should be kept safe on the core worlds,
>not ships or colonies where they can be slaughtered!"
Crow: Keep them in safe places like Sarajevo, or Beirut,
or Detroit.
> "I can't object to the new ranking system, though,"
Mike: [O'Brien] They know where I live.
>O'Brien said, rejoining the conversation. "Now that
>officers don't all have to be Academy trained . . ."
Tom: Yeah! Why bother with professional training and
teaching them ethics? Let's have an underaged
paramilitary!
> he
>tapped the Lt. Commander insignia on his collar. "Still, I
>don't want Yoshi or Molly out there."
Crow: Yoshi? That dinosaur can defend itself.
> The Trill pursed his lips. "I don't think this has to
>do with Kids' Crews,"
Mike: [Syral] Though if you want to argue about the Kids'
Crews, I won't mind.
> he said skeptically. "Personally, I
>think the intelligence report was faked."
Crow: 'Cause we all know there's no *intelligence* in the
military! [pause] Well, someone had to say it.
> Quark, Bashir, and O'Brien leaned in closer. Why fake
>an intelligence report *after* the war was over?
Tom: Because Starfleet was so lazy that they put it off
until the last minute?
Mike: To keep K'n St'rr off of President Jaresh-Inyo's
trail?
Crow: Just cuz it's fun?
> "Well, as I see it, there are three possibilities,"
>Dax asserted. "One, it begins a relief effort to Romulus,
>placing Starfleet operatives at the heart of the Empire.
>Two, it conceals the Federation's own weakened state after
>the last two wars -- especially considering our current
>relations with the Breen, and even the Klingons."
Crow: [Syral] And three, it makes Marrissa look good!
> "For a warrior race, they certainly did take their
>sweet time to jump in," Quark noted.
Mike: The Klingon High Council's mother had told them to
wait half a year after eating before jumping into
the war.
Tom: Besides, the Romulans had those nasty attack
tribbles.
> "And," Bashir added, "Starfleet voiced an official
>protest for their decimation of four star systems.
Crow: Hey, maybe Mike's a Klingon.
Tom: Yeah "Starkiller", maybe you've got some Klingon
blood in you.
Mike: I do not! And those were all accidents, I swear.
> Not
>that we'd *act* on it, of course."
Mike: [Bashir] Personally, I'd have told them to eat a
tribble but that wouldn't have been diplomatic.
> "It's legally Klingon territory now. The Federation
>has no jurisdiction in the matter."
Crow: Unless they decide otherwise.
> Dax said, shrugging.
>"Worf said Kurn was a little angry about the massacre,
>himself."
Tom: [Syral] But Worf? He absolutely LOVES it! He said
he killed fifty!
> "You said three possibilities," O'Brien prompted.
Tom: [Syral] Did I say that? Oops.
> Dax nodded. "It's the third reason that has me most
>concerned." He glanced around, as though Section 31 was
>hiding nearby. He whispered conspiratorially, "Something
>we haven't even thought of yet."
>
Mike: [Syral] Like self-replicating lava lamps!
> The starship USS Defiant nestled into the outer
>docking ring, home from a retrieval mission in the Gamma
>Quadrant.
Crow: They were delivering pizzas to the Vorta.
Mike: The USS Defiant, under the command of Hiro Protagonist.
> The station latches took hold with a 'clunk'
>that resounded through the hull as metal hit metal.
Tom: Sorry! First day at the docking controls.
> It was
>a sound the Defiant's captain never got tired of hearing,
Crow: A sound that he recorded and played endlessly over
the bridge speakers.
> a
>sound that meant he was home.
Mike: I love the sound of clunking metal in the morning.
It sounds like victory.
> He could relax.
Tom: Now he can loosen _his_ belt.
> He had
>turned a profit.
Crow: Ohhh, so this 'retrieval mission' was actually a
scavenger hunt?
> None of the other bridge officers could
>hear the sound; their just didn't have the lobes for it.
Mike: Oh my God, they converted the Defiant into a
retirement ship!
Tom: [elderly tone] What? Pass me that ear trumpet, I can
hardly hear ya!
> Nog rose from the captain's chair.
Mike: [Nog] Sorry, sir. I was just keeping it warm for you.
> "All hands,
>dismissed!" The younger crewmembers scrambled for the
>doors,
Tom: [child #1] Race you to the holosuite!
Mike: [child #2] Last one there's a Denebian Slime Devil!
> while their older counterparts took it more
>casually. The Ferengi tucked a Starfleet- issue sampling
>case under his arm,
Crow: He never goes anywhere without a supply of nutmeg.
> a special present for Admiral
>Sisko.
Mike: A catalog with Metal Pages?
> Something he had picked up on a former Dominion
>world he thought the admiral might want.
Crow: One of those bobbing-head baseball players?
> Entering the outer docking ring, he the first thing he
>noticed were the security guards,
Mike: [Nog] Saaay, she's cute. And wow! Look at the caboose
on *that* guy!
> or rather, the lack of
>them.
Tom: Well, you see, there was this giant white rabbit...
> For the first time since he had been issued command
>of the Defiant, there weren't armed security personnel
>checking every incoming ship.
> This has to be good, Nog thought. The war must be
>over.
Mike: Yep. No need to worry about incoming ships. No need
to worry about pirates and criminals sneaking in...
> Either that, or we lost and nobody told me.
Crow: So, Nog just spent some time on a deserted Pacific
Island then?
Tom: Uh... but then the war would still be over,
wouldn't it?
> He
>followed the corridor toward the promenade. At just over
>thirty,
Mike: Oh! He's getting old! Quick! Replace him with a six
year-old!
> he wasn't all that young for a modern Starfleet
>captain;
Mike: But he was the right age for an ancient Starfleet
captain.
> but really, he knew, he wasn't ready to
>command.
Tom: [Nog] Odd, I thought playing "Star Trek: Armada"
was good enough...
> His sojourn into the Gamma Quadrant had been
>gleefully accepted, knowing that former Dominion territory
>wasn't about to challenge Starfleet;
Crow: Yeah, they hadn't even heard about the war yet.
> he spent a month with
>the research team before Sisko finally sent the Defiant to
>retrieve him.
> But that was the old him,
Mike: Yep, the him of a month ago was just so childish.
> before he had been shown
>this. He felt more confident and stronger now than he ever
>had before.
Tom: Sure, anything's possible with RADAR!
> Yes, he decided, the Admiral would very much
>like this.
>
Crow: [Sisko] Now why would I want a chocolate bar named
after Ken Griffey Jr.?
> Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard,
Mike: Oh look. She's arrived in the story.
Tom: Our descent into Hell begins again.
Crow: Hey, at least she isn't boinking anyone this time.
> princess and
>heir to the throne of Essex,
Tom: Oh, for Pete's--! You mean Victoria hasn't
procreated YET?
> Commander of the starship
>Enterprise, and newly-appointed Military Governor of the
>planet Romulus,
Crow: Wow, yet another title to put after her name! Thank
you fanfic, thank you!
> was having one of the worst days of her
>life.
Mike: After she lost the position of "Head of all Kid's
Crews in Starfleet", life just seemed meaningless
to her.
> Not only had Starfleet found it necessary to ship
>her off to this hellhole,
Mike: They also ORDERED her there!
Tom: We feel your pain, Marrissa. It's not everyday people
like you HAVE to take orders!
> but they couldn't even
>appoint her a decent secretary!
Crow: Starfleet must be getting their secretaries from the
same place that Murphy Brown uses.
> She sighed angrily, trying
>to stare down the stacks of paper around her.
Tom: [Marrissa] Take that, papers! Feel the wrath of my heat
vision!
> A phaser set
>on ten would probably do the trick . . .
Crow: [Marrissa] I might even kill an innocent Romulan while
I'm at it!
> She shook her head. It had to be done,
Mike: Yes, she really *had* to shake her head!
> authorized,
>and sent off as soon as possible -- a term Starfleet
>defined as "yesterday." Why couldn't it all be on PADDs?
>She wondered. She already knew the answer.
Tom: It was 12.
Crow: [Marrissa] Those idiots sent me here to do useless
work so I can't go off on another genocidal war!
> The planetary
>computer network had crashed during the final siege on
>Romulus, and millions of records were destroyed
Mike: The Stardate 2k problem strikes!
> -- this was
>just what had been recovered today.
Tom: [Marrissa] They mustn't know my weakness for Quake...
> At least she didn't have to worry about coordinating
>Kids' Crews anymore.
Crow: Those new taupe uniforms would go with anything!
> Her sister Jackie had been good
>enough to take the reins,
Tom: She had the total lack of compassion down, but she
could have been more sadistic.
> letting Marrissa get back to this
>oh-so-important desk.
Mike: You mean... [dramatic] THE DESK?
> Stretching, her stomach muscles
>tightened; they were almost back to normal,
Crow: [Marrissa] That Jenny Craig fellow can stuff it,
I can workout by myself!
> but
>she still had to treat them tenderly after the pregnancy.
> Sara had finally gotten to sleep around four AM,
>planetary time.
Tom: 4:30 in Newfoundland.
> If Marrissa hadn't still been on
>Enterprise time, she certainly wouldn't be awake, much less
>in a black mood.
Tom: [Marrissa] Daddy, do your little daughter a favor and
get rid of time zones altogether so I can nap!
> A reflection of sunlight caught her eye.
Crow: [Marrissa] You're next sun....
>At least she had a window.
Tom: Unfortunately, it looked out onto a parking lot.
> Picard swiveled her chair, and
>found that someone still hadn't cleaned the glass.
Tom: [Marrissa] Damn it, Jay. Get your butt over there!
> A
>small streak of green blood, hardly noticeable at first,
>seemed to scream at her after the last few days.
Mike: The souls of the damned have finally caught up to
her.
> It was
>the only reminder that someone had occupied the office
>before her.
Crow: Well, that and the dead bodies stacked up like
cordwood.
> Mud clots dotted the pane on the outside, and
>the acid rain had made it streak, badly.
Mike: Can't you Romulans streak right for once?
> Not that there
>was anything left to see, really. The courtyard had been
>trampled, the tree was downed, and someone had graffitied
>something in Romulan script on the wall.
Tom: [Marrissa] What's that? "I was beaten by a bunch of"
- how's that for irony?
> Marrissa groaned.
Crow: [Marrissa] Foolish peasants...
> It wasn't enough that the Romulans
>killed her parents, or started a war, or destroyed the
>Enterprise-E;
Mike: It wasn't enough they had the worst fashion sense...
> now they had to go and make it personal.
Crow: So killing her parents doesn't make it personal?
>Unsigned death threats had a way of appearing outside,
Mike: [chipper] Here's some more death threats for ya,
Ms. Picard!
Tom: [Marrissa, grumbling] Just throw 'em on the pile.
>although fortunately no-one had yet had the sense to send a
>bomb by the same covert means.
Crow: Hey! I did too!
[Tom and Mike turn to stare at Crow.]
Crow: Whoops. Hey! Breasts!
Mike: Crow!!!!
Crow: [Mumbles] Works every time.
> Yet. Every time she walked
>through the street, eyes burned into her accusingly
Crow: [Marrissa] Romulans have stronger heat vision than I
do! Curses!
> -- not
>that she walked the streets often, or even very far. These
>people hated her as much as she did them.
Tom: Well, she did destroy their empire after all.
Crow: But not as much as *we* do!
> The late
>praetor, Provik, said their ghosts would haunt her;
Tom: In fact, she expected the first this Christmas Eve...
> they
>seemed to be doing well.
Mike: Thankfully, Marrissa had an unlicensed proton pack
and a beach kit, so she was ready for them.
> Thank goodness this was only a
>temporary assignment, she thought.
Crow: [Marrissa] Otherwise, if and when I become the
supreme leader, I'll send those idiots here!
> Things were looking up when she noticed a memo from
>her father, Jean-Luc Picard.
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, daddy's still alive? I didn't know
that! Good for him!
> As Chief Admiral of
>Starfleet,
Tom: [Marrissa] No wait, that's a bad thing, isn't it?
> he could communicate with her as often as he
>deemed necessary.
Crow: Which for his sake, wasn't often.
> Now that she was in the heart of the
>former Romulan Empire, he deemed so just about daily.
Crow: In fact, Jean-Luc just replaced John Stewart the 7th
as the host of the Daily Show.
>This particular communique, however, was an approval of her
>request for additional security.
Mike: So they issued her a fuzzy blue blanket.
Tom: Are they there for security or for target practice?
> Two hundred armed
>security personnel were going to be arriving in a few days;
>they would be spread out across the planet,
Crow: Yep, just thin, greasy smears on the landscape.
Tom: Starfleet said they'd "drop them off at Romulus,"
and they weren't kidding!
> but it at least
>make her feel better.
Tom: [Marrissa] More people to order around! Yay!
> What didn't help was yesterday's arrival.
Mike: It turns out Hanson just makes them surly.
> Four
>temporal investigations officers had arrived, to make
>certain no sling-shots, time-portals, or temporal devices
>were used either in conquering the planet,
Mike: If the planet's already been conquered, aren't they
a little late for that?
Crow: Of course not. They're the time squad!
> or would be used
>by Romulans for re-taking it.
Tom: Whoops. They're forgetting about the time-traveling
VW bugs.
> Worse, six of the elite
>Section 31 forces supposedly landed at the same time. An
>admiral in her own right,
Mike: Her right, their wrong.
> and the daughter of Starfleet's
>Commander-in-Chief, Marrissa knew of Section 31, but had
>never encountered them personally --
Tom: [Marrissa] They seem like nice people. I wish I
could invite them over for some poker.
> so far as she was
>aware.
Mike: [dramatic sting]
> Whatever their clandestine mission, Picard was sure
>she wouldn't like it.
Tom: Unless it involved lots of puppies!
> Still feeling dark, she slumped in her chair, once
>again trying to burn the paper with her gaze.
Crow: [Marrissa] Alright, papers. This planet ain't big
enough for the both of us...
>
> Odo was having a fantastic day.
Tom: [Odo] The things you can do with plastics!
> In three hours, he
>had managed to capture four mercenaries wanted for
>smuggling narcotic crystals,
Crow: o/~ Three rednecks, o/~
> two petty crooks,
Crow: o/~ And a nudist running around free! o/~
> and insult
>Quark half a dozen times.
Mike: Now he was ticketing Vedeks on the promenade for
proselytizing without a license.
Crow: Later, he was going to set up a speed trap out by the
wormhole, just in case someone violated the Warp 5
Speed limit.
> All he had to do now was monitor
>the station, top to bottom, running security drills and
>systems checks. That was the boring part.
Tom: [Odo] If Jerry Doyle and Jeff Conaway can do this with
a smug face, why can't I?
> At least it had
>been interesting.
Mike: Wha...? The boring part had been interesting?
> While the Federation security guards had
>been swarming, no-one had tried the smallest infraction.
Crow: Well, sure. Those security guards can sting!
>Silly, Odo thought, the Starfleet guards were watching for
>spies and saboteurs,
Tom: The new role-playing game from Flying Buffalo!
> not smugglers and thieves!
Crow: Ok, this isn't Odo.
> He grunted,
Crow: This is a very grunty story. Does everyone have
constipation or something?
Mike: Maybe he's shifted into Babe's form.
> crossing his arms, and leaning back
>slightly in his chair. The diagnostic could run on its
>own, and Commander O'Brien could fix any system problems in
>a matter of hours. He'd probably be delighted.
Tom: [O'Brien] Oh fun! Work! Thanks Odo!
> After his
>tour on the Enterprise, he should be itching for some
>friendly patchwork, with parts that didn't fit.
Crow: Umm... so this guy is looking for action with rag
dolls?
> Odo
>himself was going to take a walk over to cargo bay 1, to
>check Quark's latest shipment of "Bolian tea."
Tom: I'll bet that wily mastermind Evan Lorentz is
behind that tea!
> With any
>luck, the constable thought, I can lock Quark up on
>smuggling charges, too.
Mike: But it's just tea! [Pause] Oh.
> That would make the day complete.
> Stepping onto the promenade, he nearly bumped into
>Nog,
Tom: What would bumping into Odo be like? Bumping into
Jell-O?
Crow: Only if he's in his goop form.
> just entering from the outer ring. The small Ferengi
>scrambled to keep the case he carried from falling.
Mike: [Sports announcer] Oh, and what a save by the Ferengi,
keeping his eye on the case at all times!
[The 'bots cheer.]
> "Constable!" Nog said, cheerily.
> "Captain,"
Crow: Captain Egg Nog reporting for drinking, sir! Oops,
I mean... shoot!
> Odo nodded, " I trust you had a pleasant
>vacation." Unlike his uncle, Nog had more or less redeemed
>himself in the Changeling's eyes -- such as they were -- by
>joining Starfleet, and doing his best to become
>respectable.
Mike: Little does Odo know that Quark's 'merchandise' is in
that case he's holding right now.
Tom: And he's giving it to Sisko?
Mike: Obvious ruse.
> "Very much so! While we were surveying one planet, I
>met one of your people.
Crow: [Odo] And you literally 'had your people contact my
people'? Don't you get it?
> He gave me this, for Admiral
>Sisko." Nog patted the box.
Tom: [Odo] A suitcase bomb? They shouldn't have...
> "One of . . . a Changeling gave you a present for
>Sisko?"
Mike: [Odo] Was it Betty? She's always doing stuff like that.
> Odo asked, startled. "Are you sure it's benign?"
Crow: [Nog] No, actually it's kind of petulant.
>He started to reach for it, but the captain pulled it away.
Tom: [Nog] Hands off, goopy! It's mine!
> "Very sure. I opened it myself.
Mike: Cue the dramatic music!
All: BUM-BUM-BUMMMM!!!!!
> Don't worry,
>Constable, I know the Admiral will want to be given it
>personally. I'm on my way there right now . . ."
Mike: [Nog] Did I mention it wasn't a trick?
> Odo nodded again. "Maybe I'll come with you. I'd
>like to see this Changeling artifact for myself."
Crow: It better not be what was in Marcellus
Wallace's briefcase...
> Nog shook his bulbous head emphatically. "This is for
>Admiral Sisko. If he wants to show it to you, that's his
>choice." The Ferengi moved off quickly, toward the
>turbolift.
Tom: [Odo] See you later too!
Crow: [Nog, hesitantly] I'm not planning something!
Mike: Well, that didn't raise any suspicion.
Tom: None what-so-ever.
> Odd, the security chief
Crow: No, his name's Odo. Two O's.
> thought. He would have
>pursued the matter, but Nog was a Starfleet Captain now,
Tom: And station security has no business in suspicious
characters who are above-rank?
>and not really subject to Odo's suspicions. What could a
>Changeling want to give Sisko, the man who had started the
>war that nearly destroyed the Dominion?
Tom: A good level 10 phaser shot on the head?
Mike: A CD Single of Britany Spears singing "Satisfaction"?
> Certainly not
>anything pleasant, but Nog said it was fine.
Crow: Then again, Nog did like those Adam Sandler
movies...
> But who?
Tom: Yowch! I never thought a character's internal
dialog could give me whiplash.
>Maybe a renegade shape-shifter? Someone who appreciated
>the forced independence of the Founders?
Mike: Someone who evaded Odo for over seven years?
> Uneasy, he
>returned to his office, to watch the systems diagnostic
>more carefully.
>
Mike: Was he afraid it would try to escape?
Tom: [Odo] Back to watching that progress bar...
> Sisko called an impromptu meeting of his former crew
>that night.
Mike: So, Sisko used to row?
Crow: He's probably a Yaley.
Tom: You learn more about these characters everyday.
> Kira was the only one who had actually stayed
>with the station the longest;
Crow: She stayed up late at night just to give it its milk.
> the Starfleet crew had all
>eventually been reassigned during the war. Admiral Sisko
>had been commanding the Defiant more often than Nog,
Mike: Even if Admirals aren't commanders of small ships
and they sit behind desks most of the time.
Tom: Not in Starfleet!
> and
>Doctor Bashir had run more relief operations than he would
>care to remember.
Crow: [Bashir] Take that, United Nations!
> Dax, of course, had just barely escaped
>the destruction of the USS Gorkon,
Tom: Oh my God! You blew up a Star Trek fan club! You
bastards!
> and Lt. Commander
>O'Brien had temporarily become the chief engineer on the
>Enterprise.
Tom: Just in time for Star Trek 2002: The Next Movie.
> Conspicuously absent was Odo.
Crow: He's still waiting for his hard drive to
get defragged.
Tom: Or trying to get that 'Bolian tea' Quark was so
eager to get.
Mike: Then again, can you ever be sure he's not there?
> "My friends," Sisko began with a smile,
Tom: Uh oh, he's smiling. Not a good sign.
> "it's been a
>long time.
Crow: A long, lonely, lonely time.
> A long war."
Mike: [Sisko] A long show. A long contract. A long check...
> He suddenly looked very serious.
>Given the circumstances, they couldn't help but notice his
>abrupt change.
Crow: [Bashir] Wow, he changed his facial expressions SO
fast! I wanna do that!
> "Too long.
Tom: Just a few fanfics? Please. The Hundred-Years war was
MUCH longer.
> Too many good people are dead.
Mike: [Sisko] As well as too many bad people, but that's
beside the point.
Tom: Too dead.
>And it's something I cannot in good conscience defend."
Mike: [Sisko] So I'll arrange a transporter accident and
let the evil version of me defend it.
> They all regarded him quizzically. Bashir was the
>first to speak,
Crow: [Bashir] Can I go to the bathroom?
Tom: [Sisko] There IS no bathroom!
Crow: [Bashir] Uh oh.
> "Admiral? What are you saying?"
Mike: [Sisko] I'm saying, 'Julian, will you marry
me?'
> "I'm saying, Doctor, that I can't keep this up.
Crow: [Sisko] So could you prescribe some Viagra
for me?
>Starfleet isn't the same job I signed up for.
Tom: [Sisko] I'm not even going where no one has gone
before anymore!
> I'm sure
>you've all noticed the changes . . ."
Mike: [Sisko] Such as that busty ex-Borg hanging around
the station.
> He took a deep
>breath, and began from another tack. "Doctor, you've made
>captain.
Tom: [Bashir] Not that I have any ambition, like
everybody else in this series.
> You'll be given a ship, asked to command until
>you're old enough to retire.
Crow: [Bashir] Great, now people will make bald jokes
about me in a few years time.
> The Chief has already been
>asked; by this time next week, he'll be on a shuttle back
>to Earth."
> "Oh, and I'm *not* looking forward to it!" O'Brien
>interrupted, only half-jokingly.
Tom: Half-seriously?
Crow: All human.
> "After being on the
>Enterprise, the thought of spending time trying to patch
>this old Cardassian voletrap together doesn't have me
>leaping over barrels!"
Mike: It's about the equivalent of having him hiding in
a bomb shelter.
> He chuckled. "Actually, I
>think I'll miss it. The challenge, I mean."
Tom: The challenge for O'Brien, if he's up to it, is
to repair three replicators - each on a corner
of the station - in less than 60 seconds! Go!
> Sisko nodded. "General Kira is being recalled to
>Bajor in three weeks,
Mike: [Sisko] Once there, she'll lead a revolt in the
nation of Mesa Verde against the rule of the evil
Senor Diego. Good luck, Generalissimo!
> to teach at the Militia Academy,
Crow: Ah yes, teaching them the old guerrilla tactics.
Washing the enemy's laundry to get information,
throwing Molotov cocktails at their leader's
motorcade. Just like old times!
> and
>I'm supposed to become chief admiral in charge of fleet
>deployments in this sector.
Crow: [Sisko] I get to pick which ships go and die. It's
fun!
> Dax, if you were going to be
>reassigned here, I'm afraid you'd be all alone."
Mike: [Syral] But how will I share all of my many past
life experiences?
> The Trill shook his head. "I was transferred to the
>USS Nereus yesterday. This is my shore leave."
Tom: This station is one heck of a tourist spot!
> "The Nereus?
Crow: [Bashir] What does Mr. Sea god want?
> The new science vessel? I almost took
>that post!" Bashir lamented. "If you told me, I could've
>asked for Miles to be our chief engineer."
Mike: And then make him cook and "morale officer" when he
outlives his usefulness.
> Sisko interjected his hand, cutting the conversation
>short.
Tom: [Sisko] Hi-keeba!
> "The point I'm trying to make, is that we're at the
>end.
Mike: Okay! Cue the montage! Darren, start singing!
Tom: Wow! It's over!
Crow: This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be!
Mike: You guys *know* it's not that easy, don't you?
Tom: [bursts into tears] I know ....
> Our careers are winding down,
Crow: [taking one deep breath] Retirement's coming! Who
wants to play Bingo?
> our families are moving
>on. Old friends are becoming few, and light-years
>between."
Mike: Star Trek DS9: The Golden Years.
> "It's enough to make you wish for the Dominion War
>again, isn't it, Benjamin?" Syral asked, gently mocking.
Crow: [Sisko] Yes! My lust for blood must be sated!
BWHA-HA-HA-HA!!!
>"When we were at our prime,
Tom: [Syral] Speaking of which, could you pass me
the Palmolive?
> united as a team, working
>together to save liberty and the Federation way?" He
>nodded. "I've been in the prime of life eight times.
Tom: [Syral] Or nine. Maybe ten. Oh hell, someone toss
me a Star Trek Encyclopedia over here so I can
look it up.
>Things change, people move on
Mike: Interest rates fluctuate.
> -- everything in its own
>time."
Tom: [Syral] For every season, turn turn turn.
> "It's *not* our time!" Sisko thundered.
[The trio rear back in their seats.]
All: Gah!
Mike: Boy, even in fanfic, the man has presence.
> "I'm not in
>my grave yet!
Crow: Avery Brooks *is* Blacula 2000!
> We all still have decades to go, more than
>half our lives to lead! Each and every one of us can still
>_make_a_difference_!"
Crow: What is this, a recruitment speech for the Federation
Peace Corps?
> Syral swallowed uncomfortably.
Tom: [Syral] God, why did I have to swallow that tooth?
> "I don't mean to snap at you, Old Man, but I don't
>plan on being written off, just yet."
Mike: For a guy who's not very selfish, he sure is out
of character.
Crow: [Sisko] I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Berman.
> "Admiral," Bashir said, thoughtfully, "what exactly do
>you have in mind?"
Crow: [Sisko] All I can say is, it involves pudding!
[Mike and Tom murmur and nod approvingly.]
> Sisko grinned. At last. Cut to the chase. He
>outlined the entire plan to them.
>
Mike: [Sisko] First, all of you need to buy e-business
software...
> Odo stopped. That shouldn't be there.
Crow: [Odo] Note to self: Never form a nose *there*
again.
> He scanned
>back again, looking at the sensor data.
Tom: He's giving it the elevator look!
Crow: [Odo] Woooooo-wee! Those are some good scans!
> Whatever else the
>war had done, at least it had gotten Starfleet to upgrade
>the internal sensors.
Mike: [Odo] Now if only they started scanning the station
instead of checking out the blood flow in Quark's
aorta.
> What the constable was seeing made
>him thankful for it.
Crow: [Odo] Now my strangle-hold over this pathetic space
station is insured!
> Someone had been trafficking in
>subspace, recently; a lot.
Mike: Route 401's still accident-prone, is it?
Tom: Increasing space traffic... for the future!
> Nearly a dozen messages had
>been sent to Bajor within the last few hours.
All: Bum-bum-bum!
Tom: Gosh, it sure is suspicious that a *Bajoran* station
is trying to contact *Bajor*.
> Another smuggler! The constable thought delightedly.
Mike: Now he could complete the set!
>When they come out, they come out in force!
Crow: Whoa, are you guys getting that "World's Wildest
Police Videos" thing too?
Tom: [John Bunnell] No matter what they do, no matter how
they try, they cannot escape the law!
> He immediately
>began to trace the encoded signal.
Tom: Using onion-skin paper and a Number 2 pencil.
> Someone had gone to a
>great deal of trouble to hide their identity . . .
Mike: They'll probably be hitting some porn sites later.
> A signal lit up on his console, indicating that
>someone in Ops was trying to reach him.
Crow: Thanks. For a moment, I thought it was lunch time.
> Quietly. He
>touched the button, and unscrambled the frequency. Kira
>appeared on the other end.
Crow: Is this Odo's wake-up call?
[All shudder.]
> "Nerys!
Tom: [Odo] Honey!
> What can I do for you?" He rarely ever
>cooed,
Mike: Except when he shapeshifted into a pigeon, of course.
> but this particular woman always had that effect on
>him.
Crow: [Kira] Are you cooing at me?
> His edge melted away whenever they were alone, and
>his brusque, businesslike facade dropped away.
Mike: And his gooey, Jell-O side came into being.
> "Odo, stop your trace immediately.
Crow: You peeping Tom!
Tom: Hey!
Crow: Not you.
Tom: Oh.
> Don't investigate
>those transmissions.
Mike: [Odo] What? Have you been calling someone? Are you
seeing another changeling?
> Delete everything your records show
>about them, by the admiral's order."
Crow: Kira must have learned some things from Chelsea when
she was on the station.
> The Changeling paused. There was something not quite
>right about her voice,
Mike: [Odo] She sounds like HAL 2000?
> regardless of her manner. When it
>came down to a tense situation, the general always picked
>up in her efficiency. "Kira, are you feeling alright? You
>sound . . . different."
Mike: [Odo] Did they recast you?
Tom: How can she sound different in text format?
Crow: Just nod and accept it, Tom.
> She swallowed. "It's nothing, Constable. Just a frog
>in . . .
Crow: Her throat? No wonder she swallowed.
Tom: [Kira] My lunch was horrid, you?
> just a cold. I probably picked it up from the
>Iberian freighter captain I yelled at yesterday."
Mike: With your yelling and spitting? I think it's the
captain that caught the cold from you.
> Odo nodded, slowly. "Do you want me to arrest him on
>criminal charges -- transporting dangerous lifeforms
>without a permit?"
Tom: [Odo] Carrying biological weapons? Disrupting the
peace? Just name your charge.
> He asked, completely monotone. If Kira
>heard the humor in his voice, she didn't answer it.
Mike: Or she just didn't think it was funny.
> "No, that's alright. Just -- yes, sir --" she glanced
>offscreen,
Crow: [Kira] Sponge bath it is, sir!
> "-- just forget about the messages. Kira out."
> Odo started.
Tom: Started what?
Crow: [childish] He started it!
> That was very peculiar. She sounded
>less and less like herself as the events replayed
>themselves in his mind.
Crow: And more and more like Alanis Morisette!
> Whatever was in the communiques,
>someone didn't want known.
Mike: Don't they have privacy laws?
Tom: Not a chance.
> He began to delete
>the record, when he stopped to consider; they hadn't
>forbade him to duplicate the data, first.
Tom: But they told him not to investigate!
Mike: Well, I guess it's OK for him to copy the files as
long as he doesn't investigate them.
Tom: Is that what they call "ethics," Mike?
> Within minutes, all indications of a secret
>conversation with Bajor was completely eradicated from the
>computer.
Crow: It's Odo for Cleansweep!
> Odo tucked his PADD away into a safe alcove of
>his office. Maybe he could come back to it later.
>
Crow: [Odo] I wonder if it was a transmission to buy a gift
for me. How thoughtful... well, back to work!
> "Sara, honey, please!
Tom: [Marrissa] You've shopped enough for one day!
> Mommy needs to sleep . . ."
>Marrissa Picard groaned as she pulled herself out of bed
>for the fifth time.
Crow: Ever. She rarely sleeps at all. It's what makes
her... unique.
> One change, one lullaby, and two
>feedings in the last six hours.
Mike: And those were all for Marrissa!
Tom: [Marrissa] I've crushed peasant uprisings and
smashed Romulan scum, but these babies must be
stopped!
> She hoped the baby wasn't
>looking to nurse again -- she didn't know what she had left
>in her.
Crow: Guts, and a black, black heart.
> Maybe, she thought, I *should* get a nanny --
All: NOOOOOO!!!!
Mike: In the name of all that is holy, do *NOT* bring
Marrissa and Fran Drescher together! PLEASE!
> I
>can't keep this up.
Crow: See guys, she *is* human.
Mike: I dunno...let's see her try to do her taxes.
> She padded into the nursery; this room, at least, was
>carpeted.
Tom: [Marrissa] Thank you Alexanian Carpets!
> It had either been a secretary's office or a
>holding cell, but no-one had been around to tell her.
Mike: They had orders to stay 50 feet away from her while
she's doing paperwork.
> Sara
>was kicking around in her crib, wailing at the top of her
>tiny little lungs.
Tom: I know exactly how she feels.
Crow: [Sara] I gotta get outa here! You'll never break
me, punk! I'll get out of this pee-pee-soaked
heckhole! Just you wait!
> The admiral groaned as she heaved the small girl up,
Mike: [Marrissa] You've been sneaking donuts behind my
back haven't you?
>trying to cradle her while she herself fought the urge to
>topple. She began to sing a gentle song,
Mike: Dear Slim, I wrote you, but you still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the
bottom...
> words she had
>known all her life, from when her parents sang to her. It
>was old and melodious, from an old book her father -- her
>real father -- had given her, half a lifetime ago.
Tom: So, she was, what, six then?
Crow: It better not be a Dick Francis book. He talks more
about horses than Ratliff does.
> It
>wasn't Sara's favorite.
Crow: [Marrissa] But who cares? She'll hear what *I* want to
sing, and she'll like it!
> Jay's rendition of something
>called "achy breaky" nearly always did the trick,
Mike: Nice to know that music didn't change much after
the 1990s.
Tom: It could be worse. Jay could do a medley of
Backstreet Boys songs.
> but he
>was millions of miles away.
Crow: He was on tour with the Plimsouls.
> Nevertheless, the baby slowly
>softened her crying, clutching tightly at her mother's
>bathrobe,
Tom: [Sara] Hey, I wanna know the tailor for this robe.
Silky.
> finally putting two fingers in her mouth to suck
>on.
Crow: [Sara] Mmmmm, finger food.
> Picard swayed, partly to the song, partly from
>fatigue, as her daughter quieted. The diaper was still
>clean,
All: Thankfully.
> and Marrissa hoped the little vacuum wasn't still
>hungry.
All: NOOOOOOO!!!!
Crow: We don't need a repeat of *that* scene either!
> The tiny girl made a gentle contented noise,
[The 'bots imitate a Tribble sound.]
> and
>the tension fell off her mother's shoulders.
Tom: And the baby started crying again after the noise
it made.
> The
>peaceful sensation that replaced it was incredible, Picard
>thought, as she lowered Sara back into her crib.
Mike: But it was just the Ritalin kicking in.
> Stretching, she ran her fingers through her hair,
Mike: Then she gave that sly, come hither stare.
>letting the already disheveled follicles tangle by their
>own accord.
Tom: Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
> She slipped back down the hall to her bedroom,
>thankful for the hundredth time that her husband Jay was
>still on the ship. He had the most annoying tendency to
>hog the covers.
Crow: And he kept hitting on her girlfriends too. Damn that Jay.
> Lying back, the admiral closed her eyes. Starry
>patterns swirled and danced in her vision,
Tom: Marrissa's screen saver's kicked in.
> but . . . oh,
>no, she moaned. She couldn't sleep, now. Adjusting her
>internal clock to Romulus was hard enough without being a
>mother at the same time.
Mike: The moral? Jet lag and mothering don't mix.
> If she had to choose between
>the two, the whole planet could go to hell.
Crow: Yeah, forget the planet, Marrissa needs some shuteye.
> She slid back out of bed, feeling terribly awake. She
>moved into the hall again, this time headed for her office.
Tom: [Marrissa] Ho hum, can't sleep. I think I'll go draft
some legislation.
>The heavy doors loomed before her, imposing in the dark.
>They gave way at barely a touch
Crow: [Marrissa] Whoops, don't know my own strength! Do
I have to pay for repairs?
> -- just like these people,
>Marrissa thought ironically -- tough and dignified from
>outward appearances, but caving at the least provocation.
Tom: [Marrissa] Although the war was pretty long and we
lost a lot of people, but these Romulans are wussies!
> The bare marble was cold on her feet, and she huddled
>into her robe.
Crow: Great. Now I'm picturing Marrissa as Hef at the
Playboy Mansion.
> If Romulus was nippy in the day, nighttime
>was downright arctic.
Tom: Wait a second, wouldn't that be too cold for Romulans,
seeing how they're related to Vulcans and all?
Mike: Let it go, little buddy.
> At that thought, she bit her lip. There were no
>holodecks anywhere on the planet;
Crow: They all had Playstations instead.
> if there had been, she
>could have taken the Ellorim program, Sara, and just let
>the Essex polar circle calm them both. She sighed.
Tom: I guess the primitive furnace isn't available on
Romulus either.
Mike: They probably get their power from California,
Tom.
> Sitting at the enormous desk, paperwork still
>littering it, she opened the drawer.
Crow: [Marrissa] Yeah, this oughta be a good place to
stuff all these papers into.
> A triangular green
>crystal lay inside
Mike: The Triangle of Zinthar?
> -- the Romulan equivalent to a
>holophoto.
Crow: Makes you wonder what their equivalent to a Polaroid
is.
> Shifting around the sides presented a different
>picture, one of her father, Jean-Luc, one of Jay,
Tom: Hawkins?
Crow: I don't hear screaming.
> one with
>her friends when they were all together on shore leave,
Mike: [Marrissa] Although for some reason they were all
dog tired in the end. Maybe I didn't order them
around enough.
>and a beautiful portrait of the Enterprise; *her* ship.
Crow: Wow, awfully possessive there, eh Marrissa?
>Calming, Marrissa felt ready to sleep again.
Tom: [Marrissa] Yes, reminders of my own power always
soothe me...
> She rose from her chair, just in time to hear another
>cry from her daughter's bedroom.
Mike: [Marrissa] The little brat must be facing off against
another assassin. You get him, honey!
Crow: Gee, is it me or is Marrissa becoming more and more
of a slave to Sara?
Mike: You just don't understand mothering, Crow.
Tom: And you do?
Mike: Shut up.
> Exhaustion washed over
>her once more.
> "Oh-h-h Sar-a-a!"
>
Tom: AAAAH! She's trying to sing Bob Dylan!
[All scream in horror.]
> Two days later, the word came.
Crow: Oddly, the word was "shoes".
> All Starfleet
>personnel were to abandon the station.
Tom: It's becoming as dangerous as the Olympic Stadium
in Montreal.
> Two-hundred some
>engineers, security, scientists, and officers were caught
>completely by surprise. Admiral Sisko addressed the crowd
>gathered on the Promenade.
Mike: [Sisko] Good news, everyone! Berman's written us into
"Enterprise"! We've all got jobs again!
Bots: [Cheer]
> "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention,
>please." The confused throng quieted below him.
Tom: o/~ That throng, throng, throng, throng, throng. o/~
> "As you
>are all aware, Starfleet has been ordered to depart Deep
>Space Nine within the next twenty-six hours.
Crow: [Sisko] But, since we're flying United, we'll
probably have a good 30-40 hours to wait for the
flight.
> The Defiant,
>Rhine, Rhone, and Rio Grande
Tom: o/~ One of these things is not like the others... o/~
> are prepped and ready. I wish
>you a good voyage."
Crow: [Sisko] And yes, our in-flight movie is "Freddy Got
Fingered", and I don't want any complaints!
> That statement confused them even more. Was a
>militant group trying to seize the station again? What was
>he saying? What was one of the most respected admirals in
>the fleet doing?
Crow: And why was he wearing a kilt?
> Sisko continued, "Let me explain. The First Minister
>and the Kai have granted me special dispensation.
Mike: Now you can call him Dr. Feelgood.
> As the
>Bajoran Emissary to the Prophets, they have requested that
>I stay.
Tom: [Sisko] After the most intensive persuasion latinum
and a few phaser shots can buy!
> Any and all staff members requesting asylum may
>remain as well. However, let me remind you that such
>action would be considered desertion. Before you all line
>up to defect . . ."
Crow: [random person #1] You wish! I'm going to meet my
wife and children back home!
Tom: [random person #2] Alright, vacation!
Mike: [random person #3] Join up with what? Some tinpot
state?
[All talk randomly.]
> he said, waiting for the crowd to
>silence again,
[All shut up, except Crow.]
Crow: What a glorious day!
Mike & Tom: [whispering] Crow!
Crow: Oops, sorry.
> "be clear: you may not be able to go home
>again."
Mike: So I've heard.
Crow: And you never cross the same river twice.
> The Starfleet crew began to jabber loudly.
All: Rhubarb, rhubarb, Starfleet rhubarb.
> Sisko
>stepped back from the railing, where his friends were
>waiting. O'Brien began the objection.
Tom: [O'Brien] Badgering the crowd!
Mike: Overruled.
> "Sir, even if the
>plan works, we *won't* be able to go home. Molly's
>studying botany on Vulcan,
Mike: The desert-like Vulcan?
Crow: She's specializing in cacti.
> and Keiko and Yoshi are on
>Miriadis II, charting the seasonal change.
Mike: If Molly leaves Vulcan at 0600 hours, traveling at
a speed of Warp 5, will she reach Miriadis II in
time for the equinox?
> How --"
Crow: Utterly boring!
Tom: I'd rather watch the grass grow. No wait, that's
what they're doing already.
> "Not a problem, Chief," Sisko said, cutting him off.
>"You retire next week. When you're a fully unlicenced
>civilian, you can bring them all back with you. Syral,
>Julian, this isn't necessarily a one-way street.
Mike: [Sisko] It's a cul-de-sac.
> When this
>is all over, you should be able to go home with total
>impunity."
Crow: Sisko got Hugh Rodhman to arrange some pardons for
them.
> "And enjoy our own funerals," Bashir remarked wryly.
Mike: [cheerily] Well, sure! What's a funeral without the
guest of honor?
> "I've done that before. It actually really helps the
>family," Syral noted with complete sincerity. "They like
>to know that part of us lives on."
Tom: [Bashir] That's easy for you to say, you parasitic
worm. Oh, what did I ever see in you anyway?
> "Then why'd you risk telling me the plan, if I'm not
>going through with it?" O'Brien balked.
Mike: And the runner advances to second.
Crow: Cool! Keep that DS9 baseball motif rolling!
> "I've been in
>Starfleet long enough to know what theft and desertion
>are!"
Tom: And I bet he knows what gross and net points are
too!
Mike: You have to be a Starfleet veteran to know what
those things are?
> Sisko patted his shoulder. "And loyalty. And honor.
Crow: Since when did Sisko turn Klingon?
>We need you to pull this off, not just for Syral and
>Julian, but for them --" he waved his free hand back to the
>personnel below, all individually debating whether or not
>to stay. "-- and for the entire Alpha Quadrant.
Mike: Gee, tone down the hyperbole, Ben.
Crow: Yeah! Saving the Alpha Quadrant was the Next Gen
Crew's responsibility!
> For your
>children's future."
Tom: Great. We're in a campaign ad now.
> The engineer glumly nodded. When he looked up, he had
>a twinkle in his eye.
Mike: And rosy red cheeks.
Tom: Santa?
> "I wouldn't want my son becoming a
>captain before his old man!"
Crow: [Sisko] Too late, T'Gwen Washington promoted him while
his planet was under attack by a couple of Ferengis.
> "You've got it -- Captain."
> O'Brien gave him a look. "You can't do that, sir.
>Promote me, I mean."
Tom: [O'Brien] I was already promoted last week! You know
how easy it is to get into the brass these days.
> "I'm still a Starfleet admiral. Why the hell not?"
>Sisko grinned widely. "Now, get to work, Captain. I have
>the feeling that Starfleet won't just let this station go.
>They've got a lot invested in it, especially with the
>wormhole outside. This is when things become . . .
>interesting."
>
Crow: Soon enough, DS9 stocks begin to fluctuate sending
the war horde of Allen Greenspan into motion!
> Odo heard the entire conversation, but didn't have the
>slightest idea what they were talking about.
Mike: Join the club, pal.
> Theft was his
>department, but desertion was a Federation issue.
Tom: So it wasn't his business?
> What was
>the greatest danger to the Alpha Quadrant, now that the
>Romulans, Cardassians, and Dominion were silenced?
Crow: Agents?
> He
>waited until they left before altering his shape from
>that of a chair. Pulling himself from a liquid state into
>his typical humanoid form, he crossed his arms in thought.
Tom: [Odo] Hmmpf! Leave me out of a conspiracy! We'll
just see about that!
> How long has this been in the works? He wondered.
>And why is the admiral staying behind?
Mike: Because he and Kirk Cameron have to fight the
anti-christ. Duh.
> If there was
>something going on here, the senior staff clearly wanted
>him left out.
Crow: Maybe it was the "No Odos allowed" sign on the Ops
door had something to do with it.
> He thought of Bashir's old spy program, and, glancing
>around to make sure he wasn't seen, briefly altered his
>clothes to resemble a tuxedo. Time for the undercover
>work.
>
Tom: What? Walking around in a tux is generally
considered to be a bit suspicious!
Mike: Ahem. Vic Fontaine...
Tom: Never mind.
> Marrissa Picard thought she would scream if her life
>became any more "interesting." If she was going to be
>military governor of this whole stupid planet, then she
>should *stay* on the stupid planet!
Crow: Good idea! Romulus has really good schools and the
taxes are low!
Mike: It's a covenant controlled planet though.
Crow: Ooh. Never mind then.
> But no, Starfleet in
>its infinite wisdom, wanted her to attend a meeting at
>Corvaldis IV, near the Cardassian border.
Tom: So first she wants to get off the planet, now she
wants to stay?
> Her father could be so annoying!
Crow: [Marrissa] He never lets me barrow his car, credit
cards, lets me go shopping or stay up 'til midnight,
or lets me stay on the phone...
> Maybe he thought it
>would be a good break, after her last week of hell, but all
>it would do, she knew, would be to reaccustom her with the
>Enterprise's daily schedule!
Mike: What's her problem? At least she'll have poker night.
> She closed her eyes. Jay had been hoping to spend
>more time with Sara anyway, and Marrissa was so tired . . .
>she supposed these things wouldn't aggravate her so much if
>it weren't *that* time of the month.
Tom: That time...?
Mike: The cable bill's due.
Tom: Ooooh. The Enterprise must have one hell of a big bill.
> Taking a deep breath,
>she lifted herself from the chair, part of her still
>feeling pregnant.
Crow: Her tongue still felt pregnant.
> Her back, for one.
Mike: Eww... there's an unorthodox way of giving birth.
> Taking a step, she
>winced. Her ankles, she noted, for another.
Tom: Pregnant ankles? I'm trying to picture what the
offspring would look like here.
Mike: I'd be more concerned with what kind of parent lets
both of their ankles get pregnant.
> Sara was the admiral's first pregnancy, and she hadn't
>been an easy one. Even now, two months later, the painful
>reminders of her condition were still evident.
Crow: Yeah, like that baby that seemed to hanging around
the house.
> Part of it
>she blamed on the Romulans
Mike: Whoa! Does Jay know about this?
> for the war;
Mike: Ah. Never mind.
> throughout her
>term, she had been in near-constant action. She hadn't
>slept regularly, but that was hardly a new thing for her.
Tom: Sleep was something Marrissa just recently heard of.
Crow: Is the author saying Marrissa's a tramp?
Mike: Um... it does kind of look that way...
>She considered that she might just be a little out-of-
>shape, but dismissed the idea,
Mike: For she was the all-powerful Marrissa, and such
things did not happen to her!
> thinking of how often she'd
>had to run up to the bridge, for some routine emergency.
Tom: [basso] Oh yeah, well I ran to and from school every
day. An hour run each day! Am I in shape? Heck no.
> She supported herself on the desk, thankful for the
>weight-training she had done since the Klingon
>negotiations.
Crow: Yeah, our hero, ladies and gentlemen...
> She moved, at a snail's pace, hand-by-hand,
>to the edge where her bags were waiting. Resting for
>barely a minute, she pushed herself into a standing
>position before tapping her communicator and calling for
>beam-up.
> The world around her sparkled;
Tom: For once it didn't revolve.
> then the dark green and
>wood tones gave way to the more familiar beige and greys,
>black panels and a variety of colors in the lights.
Crow: That's not a beam-up, that's an LSD trip!
>Easing, she almost sighed. Instead, she took a step
>forward, and nearly crashed.
Mike: [Marrissa] Oh, hi everybody! I'm taking control
of this - woah, nap time!
Tom: And she had the munchies something fierce!
> Patterson Supra, the transporter chief, and one of
>Marrissa's longest-time friends, rushed up to help her.
Crow: [Supra, Igor-esque] Master! Wait for Supra!
>How long had he been stuck down here?
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, I forgot to unchain him...
> She wondered
>dizzily. The thought vanished, fleetingly, as her vision
>clouded.
Mike: Well, you can't say Marrissa's ambitions were a
little cloudy.
> She felt the transporter dias beneath her again,
>and the room blurred.
>
Mike: Whoo-hoo!
Crow: [Marrissa, southern accent] I LOOOOOOOVE this place!
Tom: Let's fade out of here too.
[Mike lifts Tom up and the trio exits the theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[The Bridge]
[The Bridge seems to be empty, although the surface of
the console is covered with office supplies. After a
few moments, Mike pops out from behind from behind
the council and pounces on a stapler sitting on the
console.]
Mike: AH-HA!
[After a moment, Mike stands upright.]
Mike: Shoot.
[He looks around for a moment, then begins sneaking
up on the lights to Castle Forrester. He then grabs
them, shouting. The bots enter as he does this.]
Mike: GOTCHA! [beat] No, I guess that wasn't him either.
Crow: Having fun, Mike?
Mike: No, not really.
Tom: What exactly *are* you doing?
Mike: [sighing] I think Odo's loose on the Bridge and
I'm trying to track him down.
Crow: And you think he's here because...?
Mike: It was all that he was doing in that last
chapter.
Tom: Makes sense to me.
Crow: Me too. How can we help?
Mike: Just start grabbing items until one of them
turns into Odo. [Mike pounces on a pen.]
AH-HA! [beat] Blast.
Crow: I don't know. That seems like we'd be
terrorizing helpless little staplers and
pencil sharpeners.
Tom: How did they find those guys on the show?
Mike: Blood tests, I think.
Crow: You sadist! You're not sticking anything
into my little friends here. [cooing]
It's okay, Mr. Liquid Paper. That meanie's
not going to hurt you...
Tom: Anything else?
Mike: They used some sort of weird light too.
Tom: I've got a black light on me.
Mike: Really? Why?
Tom: I was thinking about going to a rave later.
Mike: Oh. Well, let's give it a go.
Tom: Will do.
[The lights go out and the bridge is light by
the black light, causing everything to look
all freaky and psychedelic. After a moment
the lighting returns to normal.]
Tom: Looks like that didn't work either.
Mike: Where exactly is that black light?
Tom: I had it installed in my dome. I've
got a strobe in there too. Wanna see it?
Mike: Maybe later. Well, I guess I was wrong.
And I was sure that...
Crow: Did the scary light scare you, little
paper clip dispenser? That's okay.
The mean man won't hurt you anymore...
[Tom and Mike look at each other for a moment,
nod, then lunge and tackle Crow, dragging him
behind the console. Sounds of a scuffle can be
heard as the dialogue continues.]
Crow: [O.S.] Ow! Cut it out!
Tom: [O.S.] Not until you stop playing Dr.
Dolittle with the office supplies!
Crow: [O.S.] Never! Owwwww!!!!
Mike: [O.S.] Are you gonna stop?
Crow: [O.S.] No! Owww!!! Stop! Owww!!!!
Okay, okay! I give! I give!
[The trio resurfaces, Crow seemingly in a
great deal of pain. As they reappear, the
Marrissa sign begins to flash.]
Crow: How were you even able to get me in
a wedgie?
Mike: Lots of practice. I'll tell you more
later though, 'cause right now WE'VE
GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!!!
[Mike hits the button and the lights begin
to flash. As the crew rushes around, Cambot
focuses in on a coffee mug on the counter.]
Mug: Ha! The buffoon thought he could detect
me, the greatest shapeshifter in all of
law enforcement!
[Cambot pans toward the doors.]
Mug: And I, hey! Wait! Where are you going?
I command to focus on me! Come back
here!
[The door sequence begins, despite the coffee
mug's pleas.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .]
[Mike and the bots enter and sit.]
Mike: Say, did you guys hear something as we left?
Crow: No.
Tom: Me neither.
Mike: Must be my imagination.
Third Chair from the Left: Yep. You're imagining
things.
Crow: See?
>
>END Section 1: Before the Dawn
>
Tom: START Section 2: During the Dawn.
>From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:12:49 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 2/4
>From: Iblis <captain@work.matrix>
>Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:12:49 GMT
>
Mike: Good Morning Tehran?
>Title: Before the Dawn
>Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu)
>Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1
>Rating: [PG] violence
>Codes: N/A
>Part: NEW 2/4
>Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation, and takes Deep
>Space Nine with him. Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After
>the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen."
>
>
>
> At 2100 hours,
Tom: 2000 Central.
Crow: 2230 in Newfoundland.
> three runabouts and the Defiant-class
>prototype moved away from the station. Each runabout was
>loaded to maximum capacity, and the Defiant carried
>everyone else.
Crow: Sounds like an average Delta flight.
Mike: Folks are standing around on DS9 complaining about
overbooking...
> Of the station's Starfleet compliment, less
>than half had expressed their desire to stay.
Crow: Looks like public opinion is NOT on Sisko's side.
> When they
>were nevertheless herded into the Defiant and Rio Grande,
>they were understandably angry. O'Brien piloted the USS
>Rhone, and the station's Kid's Crew commander, Kennison,
>had the Rhine.
Tom: While Hitler had the Sudetenland, and Stalin had the
Ukraine.
> Nog and Dax had command of the Defiant, and
>Bashir took the Rio Grande. They proceeded in formation
>away from Deep Space Nine.
Mike: As opposed to INTO Deep Space Nine.
> Sisko offered his farewell to
>his crew and his friends, saying, "May the Prophets guide
>you."
Tom: [Sisko] They'll be driving cabs on Risa, if you
need to get directions.
> Well, he decided, if I'm going to be the Emissary, I'd
>better be the Emissary.
> The remaining crew in Ops waited. Sisko, Kira, and a
>handful of Bajoran officers stood respectfully as the
>Starfleet ships moved off.
Tom: [Kira] I'm betting on the Rhine, you?
Crow: [Bajoran Officer] Defiant, it's always a fast ship.
Mike: [Sisko] This is not a horse race, you two.
> Their escort, the starship
>Nevada, entered sensor range.
Crow: Instantly, casinos popped up all over the Bajor
system.
> Sisko pursed his lips. If
>they had waited another hour, the Nevada would have been
>able to unload all the personnel at once. That would have
>ruined everything.
Tom: Yeah! Um, what are talking about again?
> One at a time, the departing ships jumped to warp.
>O'Brien led the charge, followed by Kennison.
Mike: Sam Kennison?
Crow: I hate my ex-wife! Oh, oh, OH!
> Then it
>happened. As the Defiant accelerated, something went
>clearly wrong.
Tom: Someone must have put sugar in the intermix
ratio chamber.
Crow: Or someone put a banana up the Defiant's
tailpipe.
> An explosion ripped out the starboard
>nacelle, and the ship disappeared in the engulfing
>blast. Following closely behind, the Rio Grande tried to
>tear away, but vanished into the fiery squall.
> The crew stood, shocked.
Tom: Oh, the humanity!
Mike: That's what happens when you make a hydrogen-filled
warp core.
> Both Rhine and Rhone dropped
>out of warp, coming about to scan for survivors.
> Neither found any.
Mike: Then they decided to scan where the ships blew up,
and they found scads of survivors!
> When the Nevada arrived, their sensors detected
>scattered debris, organic compounds, and plasma waste.
Crow: What you would get in scanning any Iraqi military
complex.
>They downloaded the station's exact recording of the
>accident, with the permission of a paled and furious Sisko.
> "No more! I've lost too many friends!
Tom: [Sisko] I'll have the Starfleet safety inspector's
throat for this!
> Captain, take
>this back to Starfleet Command! I QUIT! That's my whole
>resignation, right there!" Sisko bellowed.
Crow: [Nevada Captain] I'm sorry. I dropped my pencil.
Could you repeat that again?
> "Get those
>people out of here, now. If this was a bomb, *I'll* be the
>one who finds the killer!"
Tom: Start with Dennis Hopper!
Mike: Or Tommy Lee Jones!
Crow: Or TV's Frank!
> Taking aboard the Rhine and Rhone, the Nevada
>acknowledged, and moved off.
Crow: [Nevada captain] Hell, we won't even conduct an
investigation as per Starfleet protocol! Let the
resigned old fart do it himself!
> Kira, already in the office, stepped closer to the
>desk. "Is it over?"
> Sisko, smiling, shook his head at the blank
>viewscreen. "It's never over," he said, softly.
>
Tom: It's not over until Marrissa sings the achy
breaky song!
> Odo, sitting quietly on the shelf, disguised as a
>starship model, listened to everything.
Mike: See? I was right. Odo just sits around and
impersonate things all day.
> It was strange, he
>thought, that Sisko would change his mood so abruptly,
Crow: Maybe he's pregnant!
>after losing his friends and co-conspirators like that.
>Odder still that he would immediately assume a bomb was
>involved
Tom: I don't recall hearing 'there MUST be a bomb'
anywhere in that dialogue.
> -- unless he suspected a Romulan spy? If it had
>happened on the Enterprise last month, it could easily
>happen here.
Mike: Commie spies might be all over the station by now!
> But why would he resign over something like
>this? Starfleet had been everything to Sisko, ever since
>he and the constable first met. Even if he were being
>promoted away, he should have enough authority to postpone
>the transfer until things were cleared up!
Tom: Unless this would turn out to be as long as the OJ
Simpson trial.
> He watched as Kira and Sisko left the room, without a
>word. He stayed still, running through the scraps of
>information he had gathered since things started to change.
Crow: [Odo] Sisko got bald, the Dominion arrived, Jadzia
died, some really big war, some bigger war, some
girl with strawberry juice...
>Every computer terminal on the station was keyed to Ops;
Tom: They're having a LAN party.
Mike: Yeah. Sisko's really good at Starcraft.
>not even Quark would be able to access the main system
>without someone reading the entire transmission. The
>only override was here, in the admiral's office. Computer
>security hadn't even been this tight during the war.
Tom: The Legion of Doom must be hacking into DS9's
database.
> Then there was this mass emigration.
Mike: That was because of the potato famine.
> For some reason,
>Bajor wanted Starfleet as far away as possible.
Tom: *That* was because of the short supply of deodorant.
> Ever since
>the Dominion War, Bajor had been building up its own
>planetary defense fleet, so that in the event that the
>Cardassian Republic became hostile, they would have the
>proper protection.
Crow: But for some reason, Starfleet didn't take them
seriously when they asked for a huge quantity of
Huggies.
> But it was premature to send all of
>Starfleet away!
Tom: Smooth transitions? Nuts to that! Bajor claims DS9
with or without the peace deal!
> Lastly, the former senior staff was behaving very
>oddly.
Crow: Last night, he caught some of them watching
*Lifetime*!
> Sisko had become a recluse, tending to his office
>more than his quarters;
Mike: He was collecting his toenail clippings and filling
bottles with his urine too...
> Kira was personally supervising
>every function; Bashir had spent every waking minute
>downloading the entire Federation medical database to
>the station computer core;
Tom: Actually, he's setting up the new music download site,
Bashirster.
> and neither Dax nor O'Brien were
>to be found on the station.
Crow: Funny. Odo seems to be suspicious of people who are
long gone.
> On the plus side, everyone had been too busy to notice
>that Odo himself was consistently playing hide-and-seek.
>If the Defiant hadn't been secured to a point of paranoia,
Mike: [Security officer] Sorry we can't let you in, Odo.
THEY might come in and get us!
>the constable was sure, he would have been able to find out
>what was going on in there. And, if the Defiant was locked
>down so tightly, how *did* a saboteur manage to gain
>access?
Tom: Well, the Defiant always left an extra key under
the mat. Everyone knew that.
> Liquefying himself, he oozed onto the floor,
Crow: Nice going Odo. Now Sisko's office floor may have
a stain.
> and
>regained his humanoid stature. Moving to the computer
>terminal, he used the encoded ID Quark had been good enough
>to sell him.
Crow: Quark's one of them 3l173 hack3r d00dz.
> The isolinear rod alone had access at Sisko's
>level, but without the free terminal, it was useless. The
>bypass routine was simple, and Odo had total access within
>moments.
Tom: [Odo] I can't believe Sisko's password is "peekaboo".
I mean, what kind of idiot would come up with a
password like that?
Mike: Stop taunting the other show's fans, Tom.
> The first thing he did was to trace the data stream he
>recorded the day the crew arrived. Breaking the encryption
>sequence was child's play,
Tom: [Odo] Although why the password spelled out
'woohooboogie' is beyond me.
> and from that point, tracing the
>message back brought him . . .
Crow: An offer of 57 million email addresses for only $149!
> "Sisko!" Odo said aloud, startled. "Why --" Of
>course! That was obviously connected, somehow, with the
>recall of Federation personnel.
Mike: Or it could be just a call to see how the weather is
down at Bajor.
> He made a mental note to
>decode the message content later.
Tom: Odo IS Linda Tripp!
> First, the admiral's
>logs.
Crow: Then, the Lincoln Logs!
> Not the official station logs, of course -- those
>wouldn't mention anything incriminating -- but personal
>logs, Sisko's diary. He drew up the entry.
Mike: Dear diary, today the dreamiest Andorian asked me
out to the spring dance! I was thinking of wearing
that blue, strapless number...
> "Access restricted to Benjamin Lafayette Sisko," the
>computer stated. "Please activate retinal scan for
>identification access."
Tom: [Computer] Or show your driver's license.
> Damn, Odo thought.
Crow: [Odo] How *dare* he restrict his diary to his own
access?
> He was an excellent shape-shifter,
Mike: Can he do Martha Raye?
>but individual retinae were too complex to mimic, even if
>he knew the correct pattern. He canceled his request.
Crow: And a pop up ad appeared.
> All
>of the former senior officers had done likewise,
Tom: Uh--they'd all cancelled requests?
>restricting personal logs to retinal identification. Not
>even O'Brien, with the lowest security cipher, could be
>overridden.
Crow: [O'Brien] It hurts the eyes and all, and I may not
be able to read for an hour or so after, but I
don't want people peeking into my diary!
> "Bah!"
Tom: AIIEEEE!!! The Teletubbies are on the station!
> He said in frustration. Something caught his
>attention.
Mike: A Pontiac Grand-Am? Here? On the Promenade?
> An oblong, black box sat inside a Starfleet
>sampling case at the desk's edge.
Mike: [Odo] Ooh, After Eights!
> It was the same case Nog
>had been carrying for Sisko -- the "Changeling artifact."
>Curious, he opened it.
> "Constable!"
Tom: Them cattle rustlers are headin' into town!
> Odo snapped the lid closed. Somehow, Sisko and a
>security detail had appeared without his notice.
Crow: [Odo] Do you always greet your visitors with a
security detail?
>"Admiral!" Odo said, rising from the chair. "I want some
>answers, now!"
Tom: 1812! Gettysburg! Robert Heinlein! 4!
> Sisko lowered his phaser, slightly. "I'm not an
>admiral, anymore.
Mike: [Sisko] I'm Supreme Fleet Admiral now. They
just promoted me a few minutes ago.
> And I can't give you what you want,
Crow: But if you try sometime, you just might find
you get what you need.
>because you would then have a duty, as the chief of
>security for this station. Try to restrain yourself for
>the next few days, until this is all cleared up, and I
>promise, you'll have everything figured out."
> Odo shook his head. "If you're keeping me from
>fulfilling my duty, I can't accept that explanation.
Tom: I don't think he's in the position to threaten
right now.
> Not
>even the station commander is above the law!"
Mike: [Sisko] Iamabovethelaw!
> Sisko nodded. "I know how you feel. If I were in the
>same situation, I'd probably react in exactly the same way.
Tom: Except Odo'd be more gooey about it.
>But if I tell you what I know, you'll find yourself honor-
>bound to contact Starfleet."
> "Only if it's in the name of justice!" Odo spouted.
Mike: So he's shifted into a whale now?
>"You know me, Sisko. You were there -- I decided long ago
>that justice comes before the law."
Crow: Odo is Steven Segal in Out for Justice II: The
Shapeshifter who Shagged Me!
> "I know," Sisko said, lowly. "And it's a matter of
>law, and justice. But I'm afraid you wouldn't see our --
>my -- side of things."
Tom: [Sisko] Whoops! Just spilled out a plot point!
> "Justice is justice!"
Mike: And we must zig for great justice!
Tom: That hasn't gotten any funnier, Mike.
> The constable defended. "Sides
>are irrelevant!
Mike: [Odo] Amnesty is futile!
> As the chief of security, I demand to know
>what's going on!"
Tom: [Sisko] Very well. We're rigging next year's Oscars.
[murmur] That'll teach them to snub "American
History X."
> The former admiral sighed. "This is the beginning of
>the end,
Mike: So where are the giant grasshoppers?
> to launch the new beginning," he said, as
>cryptically as the Prophets. At least, Odo assumed it was
>cryptic like that. He had never been able to experience an
>Orb vision, or talk with the wormhole aliens; they were
>somehow incompatible with his fluidic mental patterns.
Crow: Yeah, why try to make a pile of goo understand?
>Seeing Odo's blank reaction, he continued. "Two things,
>Constable:
Tom: [Sisko] One, we've come to the conclusion that
we need more gorillas in our life. Two: does
this dress make me look fat?
> number one, trust me. Number two," he raised
>his phaser sharply, "I'm sorry." The beam lashed out,
>catching Odo in the chest.
>
Crow: [Odo] Sir, you have it on "flashlight" setting.
> Waking, Picard realized that she was lying on a bio-
>bed in Sickbay.
Crow: Ack! The other plot!
Tom: Warn us when you do that!
> Doctor Johnson was sitting in his office,
>going over something on the computer.
Mike: [Johnson] If I kill 8 more goblins, I'll make 5th
level!
Crow: Even in the 24th century, there's still no cure
for Evercrack addiction.
> Marrissa yawned,
>feeling almost normal for the first time in weeks.
Mike: There's the word. Almost.
>"Doctor?"
> Johnson looked up. "Admiral! Lie down.
Crow: [Johnson] Now roll over! Sit up! Beg!
> You need at
>least another few hours' rest!"
> "Another?" She resisted the urge to stay comfortable.
Tom: [Marrissa] No! Must conquer galaxy! Don't want nap
time!
>"How long have I been on board?"
> The doctor rose, striding over to the bed. He waved a
>tricorder across her head.
Tom: [Johnson] Nope, no signs of intelligent life here...
> "Five more hours, at least.
>Then we can talk . . ."
> "_How_long_?"
Tom: [Johnson] Five more hours. Geez, don't you ever
listen?
> He sighed. "Seventeen hours, twenty-two minutes.
Mike: And thirty-three seconds.
>From the look of things, you haven't had a regular night's
>sleep in months."
Crow: [Marrissa] And this has changed from my previous self
in what manner?
> He held up a hypospary.
Tom: Ah. An injectible candy.
Mike: That's hypospree, Tom.
> "When Supra
>beamed you here, I had to give you one of these to help you
>rest."
> "Naturally. I don't sleep for more than seven hours;
>it's too inefficient."
Mike: [Marrissa] Sleep is a sign of mortality! I will not
have that!
> Johnson chuckled. "So is burnout. Let me give you
>another --"
Tom: Burnout? Is he putting her on a treadmill?
> "No," Marrissa refused, "no more drugs.
Mike: [Marrissa] Well, perhaps some more crank...
> I should
>report for duty."
> The doctor hit a console next to him. Immediately,
>Picard's arms and legs were completely immobilized.
Tom: What's this? Our megalomaniacal heroine, trapped
on a bio-bed, forced to hear Johnson sing a few
lullabies?
Crow: Could be worse, Johnson might sing "achy breaky".
[The 'bots snicker.]
> The
>doctor raised his eyebrows. "Computer, begin recording.
Mike: Doctor! Now is not the time to make a party CD!
>As CMO, I hereby find Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard,
>Princess, et al. to be medically unfit for duty."
[All cheer.]
Tom: Hey, there may be hope for this after all!
> "Doctor, don't . . ."
Crow: [Marrissa] I'll crush your head! Look! I'm doing it
now!
> "And it is my medical opinion, as well as my
>professional mandate, that she be restricted to any one of
>three places until at least 0900 hours:
Mike: [Johnson] Out the airlock, through the photon
chambers, or the nearest sun.
> sickbay, her
>quarters, or the holodeck. Barring any violent or
>Kobayashi Maru scenarios, of course. End recording."
> Picard slumped.
Crow: And Tobias Bonds raced ahead of her in the HR
category.
> Johnson couldn't tell if it were in
>resignation or relief. Neither could the admiral. She
>clicked her tongue. "All right, Doctor, if that's how we
>have to do it . . ."
>
> The USS Nevada cleared sensor range. Sisko and Kira
>watched apprehensively for another ship to move in, and
>waited. And waited.
Mike: And waited. And waited.
Crow: Do you think he'll come?
Tom: Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's
awful.
Mike: Stop it.
> Switching to wide-band, they had a view of the next
>several parsecs.
Crow: Wide-band! Who needs cable when you can peek into
Hollywood or New York?
> Nothing was in any great detail, but they
>could watch the progress of nearly a dozen Starfleet warp-
>signatures. It was enough to let them see that something
>was up.
Mike: Like that a lot of ships were warping?
> Seven ships were off their routine patrols, and
>two more were distinctly out-of-place. The group was
>massing in the Corvaldis system.
Tom: They're preparing to strike at the hated Spanish
Armada.
> "Conference?" The general supplied, hopefully.
Mike: Worse, a Backstreet Boys concert.
> "Not likely. I hadn't heard anything about it; and
>this is my sector!" Sisko replied, sourly.
Tom: [Sisko] They never let me in on their cool
conferences!
> "This is
>exactly what we expected."
> Kira looked at him. "What *you* expected.
Crow: [Sisko, hesitant] That's what I said! Heh heh...
I'm not under alien influence!
> I couldn't
>have planned things as far as the Defiant's destruction. I
>don't know what the Prophets showed you, but you had to
>work out the details, yourself." She looked back at the
>star chart. "What happens next?"
Crow: [Sisko] We panic like idiots.
> Sisko set his jaw. "We fight.
Tom: [Sisko] It starts when you speak slightingly of
my intellect. Then I retaliate by criticizing
your fashion sense.
> Hopeless causes or
>not."
> "Sir! Signal coming in from Bajor -- it's the First
>Minister."
Crow: [Kira] Yes, Prime Minister?
Mike: BBC Bajor is on the air.
> Kelo, one of the Bajoran officers called.
Tom: Remember that name, people. It may be the most
important name in this story!
> Kira looked to Sisko, whose expression relaxed,
>slightly. "That's your promotion, Nerys. Now, all the
>pieces are set."
Crow: Any minute now, Death will be along to play some
chess.
>
> "Admiral."
Tom: Dickweed. Oh, sorry, I thought we were playing
word association.
> The call was so unexpected, Marrissa jolted.
Mike: Why was she, a Starfleet Captain, getting requests?
And for that "Lady Marmalade" song?
> Reclined
>in a soft tangle of bushes, she stretched. The sunset-
>light off the horizon cast the hills a gentle bronze; the
>air was sweet and caressing, with a gentle, warm breeze
>catching her hair.
Mike: This sounds like a shampoo ad.
> In the Ellorim Mountains, time was
>completely still, unless one watched the moons.
Tom: The moons had big clock on them, you see.
Crow: Say, is anyone else wondering what happened to
Sara?
Mike: That's right! Marrissa thought about giving her
to Jay, but it never said she did ...
Tom: The poor kid's probably still back on Romulus.
Crow: Poor kid, nothing. She's probably organized a Kids'
Crew government by now.
> Picard had been dozing for what seemed like only a few
>moments.
Tom: It turned out to be a few centuries, but by then,
nobody cared.
> When the signal came in, she felt much better --
>too much better, for the effects of a five-minute nap.
Crow: [Marrissa] Oops. I fell asleep in the poppy field
again. Tee-hee.
> "Admiral Picard, to the bridge."
Mike: [Computer] Doctor Johnson, to the Brig.
> She yawned, widely. It felt good. "Acknowledged."
>She said, standing. She indulged herself one last bask in
>the sun before ending the program.
Tom: [Marrissa] Take that, UV rays! Pa-ha!
> Entering the bridge, having stopped briefly to put on
>her uniform,
Tom: [Marrissa] Don't mind me, folks. Just putting on
some clothes.
Crow: Was she wearing anything earli - never mind.
> she found out exactly how long she had been
>asleep.
Mike: [Marrissa] Ha! I beat my old time!
> Corvaldis IV loomed on the main viewer. It
>surprised her, to say the least
Tom: Normally the planet wouldn't be so close that
the saucer was hitting the atmosphere.
> -- Romulus was a good
>couple days' flight at high warp. Either she had been out
>longer than she thought, or the Enterprise had been
>recalibrating her own warp scale.
Mike: Or the writer just decided to cut to the chase.
> She strode down the
>ramp, happy to find her ankles complying with each step.
Tom: [Marrissa] Finally, the ankles are submissive
once again! Mwahahahaha!
>She slid into the center seat, turning to her husband, Jay
>Gordon, who had been the acting captain for the last few
>weeks.
Crow: [Jay] I practiced real hard! Do you think this will
go well on my resume?
> "Report."
> Gordon gave her a thin smile.
Mike: [Marrissa] I asked for a report, not a thin smile!
Can't you get *anything* right? [makes sound of a
whip cracking]
> "Welcome back,
>Marrissa. We've been in orbit for ten minutes . . ."
Crow: [Jay] And no one's started shooting at us! It's
the most peaceful shore leave ever!
> Picard stood again. "I should beam down, immediately.
Tom: Good idea! Someone's sure to start shooting then!
>Obviously this is an important function, if they're pulling
>me off Romulus."
> "It *is* important." Gordon said, catching her arm.
>"But you're not going anywhere."
Mike: You're under arrest for the murder of Adolphus
Throwaway!
> She yanked her arm away.
Crow: [Marrissa] You *touched* me? Off with his head!
> "What are you talking about?
>I didn't just fly a hundred light-years at warp 9.whatever
Tom: No, that was the drugs.
>just to --"
> "Actually," came another voice, "You *did*."
> Picard swivelled, coming face to face with --
All: Q!
> Picard.
Tom: Damn!
Mike: We'll be right about that someday.
>Her father, Jean-Luc Picard, the commanding admiral of
>Starfleet, stood next to her Ready Room door. He gestured
>for her to follow him inside.
> When the doors closed behind her, Marrissa found
>herself in a position she hadn't been in quite some time,
All: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Crow: I don't want to know anything about this, Keeler!
Tom: Miiike! Make it stop!
Mike: I don't know how guys! I don't know how!!!
>on the other side of the desk. The elder Picard sat in her
>chair, behind her desk.
Tom: Drinking HER tea! Wearing HER lacy under garments!
> Taking the opposite seat, she
>asked what was going on.
> Picard explained. There was no actual conference;
Crow: [Marrissa] What? What am I supposed to do with my
coffee and donuts, then?
>that was a ruse to draw a number of ships here without
>worrying the surrounding systems.
Tom: Not that a huge military presence anywhere would
worry *anyone*...
> "*What* surrounding systems? The closest thing to us
>is Bajor!"
Crow: Look out! They're throwing planets at Marrissa now!
Tom: Mike! You could protect her by blowing them up!
Mike: Shut your pie holes, guys.
> Picard nodded, grimly. "As of stardate 61841.2, all
>Starfleet personnel have been recalled from Bajoran space,
>by order of the First Minister.
Mike: [Jean-Luc] I believed he added a note saying 'nanny
nanny boo boo'.
> It seems Admiral Sisko,
>former Admiral Sisko, may have had a hand in it, too. He
>chose to resign his commission rather than leave Deep Space
>Nine."
Crow: [Jean-Luc] He was so excited when he heard of
Starfleet's new pension plan, he just COULDN'T wait
a few more decades.
> He explained the situation, including the
>destruction of the Defiant and Rio Grande.
Tom: [Jean-Luc] There she was, just dancing through that
dusty land then *BOOM* she blew up!
> "I want to talk with the survivors. What members of
>the main staff escaped?" Marrissa asked, thinking quickly.
Mike: Well, Chuck Bronson did. McQueen's back in the Box
though.
> "After the beginning of the Romulan War, Sisko's staff
>was reassigned and replaced with Bajoran and Kids' Crew
>personnel.
Crow: [Marrissa] That's nice, daddy, but I wanna talk to
the survivors, not listen to your recap of last
week's episode.
> Of his bridge officers, only Lieutenant
>Kennison and his Kids' Crew were evacuated. The only other
>key figure who survived is Lt. Commander O'Brien.
Mike: I guess he was the only actor available for this one.
> I
>understand he was your chief engineer for a time?"
Crow: [Marrissa] Actually, he played piano in the ship's
bar.
> Marrissa nodded. "Clara's replacement for the last
>few weeks of her pregnancy. He's supposed to retire in a
>few days.
Tom: [Marrissa] Ah. So, is he moving to Florida or
Arizona?
> They were the runabout commanders?"
> Picard nodded his affirmative.
> "I'll interview them at fourteen-hundred hours, sir."
>
Mike: After that, Hunter S. Thompson's scheduled to
interview them for "Fear and Loathing on Bajor."
> As soon as he regained consciousness, Odo demanded to
>be released.
Crow: [Odo] I need to call Matlock. He'll know what to do!
> The containment cells had been modified over
>a decade ago, especially for accommodating shape-shifters.
Mike: It even comes with no air grates. Keeps shape
shifters from spilling out, you know.
>His own security precautions were working against him, far
>too well. Not even the computer acknowledged his command
>codes.
Crow: The computer doesn't love him anymore.
Tom: [Odo] But honey! I need to break out! Honey!
> The deputy on duty obstinately refused to let him out,
>saying his orders came directly from Admiral Kira.
Tom: Admiral? What, was she promoted sideways into a
different branch of the service?
> Admiral! Odo thought; how long have I been out?
Crow: Brendon Fraser is Odo in Blast from the Past II:
Electric Boogaloo!
> Within minutes, Sisko arrived. The constable gave him
>a weary, suspicious glare. "You're not Admiral Sisko."
Mike: No. I'm Ed Koch. How am I doin'?
> The bald man shrugged. "You're absolutely right. I'm
>not Admiral Sisko. As of 2500 hours two days ago, I no
>longer hold any official, or unofficial, position in
>Starfleet."
Crow: [Sisko] I've been downsized. [crying] Oh, Odo!
I feel so betrayed! Hold me!
> Odo grunted, disgustedly. That wasn't what he meant.
> Sisko knew it. "I am Benjamin Sisko, and Doctor
>Bashir can prove it.
Mike: [Sisko] I'm gonna have the dead man prove it.
> I'm not a Changeling, if that's what
>you're worried about."
> The shape-shifter gave him a long, sideways look.
Tom: [Odo] You're really winging this, aren't you?
>"Didn't Dr. Bashir leave the station with the rest of the
>Starfleet population?"
Crow: [Sisko] Oh, right. Stupid me. Sorry. Guess I can't
prove myself now. Ah well, die anyways.
> "Technically, yes. Officially, yes."
> "On the Defiant?"
> "Yes."
> "The same Defiant we watched explode?"
> "Yes."
> "And he's still here?"
> "Yes."
Crow: Deep Space Nine is becoming almost Voyager-ish in
its plot inconsistencies.
> Odo knew a long story when he heard one. "Can I be
>released, now?"
Mike: Being held against his will listening to a long
story... does this sound familiar, guys?
Tom: Nope.
Crow: Not a bit.
> Sisko shook his head. "There are a few . . .
>assurances we have to have, first."
Tom: [Sisko] Remember that time someone smuggled those
50 barrels of butterscotch on board and poured it
all over your quarters without you knowing? Well,
guess who? I must say that it was the slowest prank
I ever made.
> He began explaining
>what most of the conspiracy around the station had been,
>for the last few days. Leaving out a handful of details,
>he gave the constable enough of the story to ease his
>suspicions.
Mike: Well, Sisko's become a James Bond villain.
Tom: He'll be stroking a white Persian cat soon.
> "I see," Odo finally said. "If you had told me this
>before the Defiant left, you thought I would sabotage the
>plan, or contact Starfleet myself."
Crow: [Sisko] Well, you're just a tattletale, but that
explanation will do just nicely.
> The former admiral nodded.
> "Good thought.
Tom: [Odo] But I'm still squealing, though.
> Grand theft of a starship -- a warship
>-- especially one with a cloaking device, would catch
>Starfleet's attention. What do you need them for?"
Mike: [Sisko] I'm going to head back in time to destroy
Starfleet. And I'm going to wear a Spock tie while
I do it.
> Sisko paused. "I don't know, actually.
Tom: Geez. At least Son of Sam had a talking dog to
justify his actions.
> But I have to
>have the Defiant.
Crow: [Sisko] It's mine! It's got my diary in there and
everything!
> The Rio Grande was incidental -- for old
>times' sake. She's been with us from the start.
Mike: [Sisko] Plus, she's paid for!
> At this
>point, it doesn't matter. Once the holographic fireball
>took over, the cloak engaged; the Rio Grande and Defiant
>were safely cloaked, and effectively derelict spacecraft,
>open for salvage rights.
Crow: Good grief.
Mike: Who's giving Sisko legal advice? Blackbeard?
> My crew salvaged, not stole,
>them."
Tom: I'm sure a grave robber can say the same thing about
dead corpses.
> Odo rolled his eyes. "And, because that kind of fraud
>is *very* illegal, you knew you couldn't tell me."
> "Justice or not, your duty was clear."
> "Please. How was justice a factor?"
Crow: This from someone who earlier made a big deal about
justice.
> Sisko explained that the crew who opposed Starfleet
>policy needed protection,
Tom: Well sure, since they're criminals now!
> that Starfleet was losing sight
>of itself,
Crow: It was getting so fat that it couldn't see its own
feet!
> and that sometimes, even the good guys can be
>wrong.
> The constable nodded. "You were right about me. I
>would have followed protocol. Justice and justifiable are
>not the same thing. *Now* can I come out?"
Mike: Ick. I just pictured Odo's belly button beginning
to sing.
> "Alright. But under two conditions. One, you will
>not have communications access outside of the station, for
>now. Two,
Tom: [Sisko] You morph into a bunny. I just love that
trick!
> until the Bajoran Council of Ministers reaches
>its verdict, you will not be chief of security."
Crow: [Aussie] Three: No poofters!
> If Odo were human, he would have swallowed.
Mike: Instead, he just flooped and hopped around, shaking
his wadoozle.
>Reluctantly, he agreed to the terms.
>
Tom: But he added in a rider that he'd get a half mil
if they made the playoffs.
> "You kept pretty close tabs on them, then, Chief?"
>Marrissa asked, feeling agitated.
Crow: [Odo] Well, they were out of Pepsi One.
> O'Brien nodded. "The flight recorder has the whole
>account. I went over it a dozen times since we came here.
>It's just like my monitor showed -- they were gone in less
>than thirty seconds."
Tom: And he watched it over and over again? Wouldn't it
be as slow as watching the Guardian Force animations
in Final Fantasy VIII?
> He turned his face to the floor.
>"We lost a lot of good people. Friends."
Mike: Matt, David, Jennifer, Courtney, the other Matt, Lisa.
All of them, dead!
> Picard felt sympathy for him. Still, some part of the
>back of her mind was trying to remind her that this man had
>once infiltrated the Orion Syndicate; he was obviously a
>very talented actor.
Crow: Um...
Mike: Let's let this insight into the author's psyche slide.
Tom: Hey! He was really good in The Commitments!
> "Chief. You're retiring next week, right?"
Crow: And if I know my TV show cliches, then he'll be
dying in the next few minutes.
> He looked up, slightly confused. "Right," he said,
>"this Wednesday."
Mike: The day after the tractor beams are installed.
> Marrissa nodded, standing. Her ankles began to ache
>again, and it was driving her crazy.
Tom: Boy, Marrissa has some weird turn-ons.
Crow: [Marrissa] Hold still for a moment. Maybe if I kick
you it'll snap back into place.
> "What do you plan to
>do, after you've left Starfleet? After all, your wife is
>one of the most respected botanists in the quadrant. You
>yourself have been in the fleet for most of your life.
>What will you do, when the adventure ends?"
Crow: Start a new campaign?
> O'Brien looked at her. "Admiral Sisko taught us; it
>never ends.
Mike: [O'Brien] They just write books, and occasionally
they make a movie about us.
> As to what I'll do . . . I hadn't really
>thought about it. Settle down on some nice planet, maybe?
Tom: [O'Brien] I heard Venus is nice this time of year,
even if it is covered in deadly gases.
>Go back to Earth, get reacquainted with my roots . . .
Crow: Hey, maybe Geordi can help you with that one.
> I
>really hadn't thought about it."
> "Maybe come back to Bajor?"
Mike: A land of warm, sunny tropical beaches and
unparalleled luxury. Yes, come back to Bajor!
> Just for an instant, his eyes flickered something.
Tom: He's sending an SOS out to Sisko. His cover's blown!
Mike: Or maybe he just fidgeted...
Tom: Not a chance!
> "I
>. . . I might, now that you mention it. Hadn't really
>thought about it, you know . . ."
Crow: [O'Brien] Some guest shots, I guess. Maybe I'll
direct an episode or two...
> She pursed her lips. He had repeated himself three
>times.
Tom: And now Candyman was standing around in the background
looking for a cheese danish.
> He was faltering on something she was onto. "Oh,
>come on, Chief, I know you better than that. You always
>have a plan.
Crow: [Marrissa] Not very good ones, but plans nonetheless.
> Especially when your career is winding down,
>there's less and less for you to do, you need to keep your
>mind active. Surely you had some goal you wanted to
>accomplish after the uniform comes off!"
Mike: HBO presents O'Brien After Dark.
> O'Brien flushed.
Tom: He must be interviewing Jennifer Tilley. She can
get quite randy...
> "Well, now that you mention it," he
>said, leaning closer, "I've always wanted to kayak the
>Moyin Rapids on Bajor -- but please, don't tell Keiko;
>she'd kill me!"
Tom: [O'Brien] She forbids me to do anything that's
considered cardiovascular. She thinks I'll have a
heart attack or something.
> Oh. So he *was* planning to come back, but not for .
>. . that's why he hesitated.
Tom: Oh please, because his wife doesn't want him kayaking?
Crow: [O'Brien] Oh, and I was planning to take up skydiving,
but don't tell her that either.
> She leaned herself heavily on
>the table, trying to alleviate some of the swelling on her
>ankles.
Crow: Couldn't she just use some Dr. Scholl's for that?
> Kennison's interview hadn't revealed anything, and
>it seemed that this one wouldn't either. It was giving her
>a tremendous headache.
Mike: Gee, a headache, ankle pain, fainting, unable to
sleep... Marrissa's gonna be one walking ice pack
after this one.
Tom: Better place her on the DL list.
> A hand caught her arm and shoulder
>-- O'Brien had a worried expression on his face, as he
>helped her back into her chair.
> "Are you all right, Ma'am?" He asked, genuinely
>concerned.
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, nothing. Just a lot of pain, comes
with the job and the ultimate power, you know.
> She nodded, waving him back, slightly.
Crow: The author seems to like the word 'slightly'.
Tom: And so Marrissa slightly sighed as she slightly sat
down on the slightly tilted chair...
> "Did you see
>anything odd going on, while you were at the station?"
Crow: Well, that Old Navy woman kept showing up to talk
about turtlenecks...
> She
>tried to continue her questioning.
Mike: [O'Brien] Well, there were plenty of dartboards with
your picture on them, but I swear most of the darts
usually missed. Honest!
> "Well, now that you mention it," the commander said,
>thinking, "the Dabo wheel was a bit sticky. I don't think
>anyone won a game the entire time I was there . . ."
Tom: [O'Brien] Not that I mind winning a whole lot of
money betting against them.
> "Chief!" Picard said, sharply. "Romulans. Spies.
>Mad bombers
Bots: Romulans and bombers and spies, oh my! Romulans
and bombers and spies, oh my!
> -- was anyone acting strangely? Admiral
>Sisko?"
Mike: [Marrissa] Was he pretending to be that 1950s
writer again?
> "Oh," he considered for a moment. "The admiral was
>just glad to see us all again. Well, most of us.
Tom: [O'Brien] He called Quark a dickweed but I think
it was sour grapes over that Dabo game.
> Worf's
>off by the Klingon border, ferrying supplies and wounded.
Crow: [O'Brien] The Klingons say that the wounded make
good photon torpedo casings!
>Last time I talked with him, I'll just say, he wasn't
>terribly happy!" He chuckled, thinking of the Klingon
>wishing for battle, while surrounded by liters of Romulan
>Ale.
Mike: Commander Worf. Klingon Prohibitionist.
> "And acting strangely? No, I think all of our
>Romulans, spies, and mad bombers were acting pretty
>normal."
Tom: [O'Brien] For people who were trying to kill us,
spy on us, and blow us into teeny little pieces,
they were pretty normal.
> Marrissa gave him a tired look. "You're awfully
>jovial for someone who just lost a number of friends."
Crow: [O'Brien] Mommy always told me to be light-hearted
and annoying, no matter how depressing the
situation is.
> O'Brien raised his eyebrows, and he leaned back,
>slightly.
Crow: There's "slightly" again.
Tom: And Mr. O'Brien slightly frowned at slightly
tired Marrissa, slightly annoyed that she is slightly
persisting in this interrogation.
> "Where d' you suppose the term 'Irish Wake' comes
>from?"
Crow: Scotland? Les Miserables? Three's Company? We don't
know!
> To her unfaltering gaze, he sighed. "Sorry. I
>just never believed it was a good idea to temper bad
>events with bad feelings. Making light of a dark
>situation, you know?"
Mike: [O'Brien] That's why nobody ever asks me to do
their eulogy or come to the funeral.
> She barely heard him.
Tom: Well, she is standing under the cone of silence.
> This had to be a migraine, she
>thought, feeling like her head was bursting.
Crow: Oh, she's just being scanned.
> She closed
>her eyes. "That will be all, Chief."
> As he passed her on his way out, he stopped.
Mike: [O'Brien] Is she having a migraine? Nah, must be me.
>"Admiral, would you like some help to Sickbay? I . . ."
>She didn't even acknowledge him. Both elbows were propped
>on the table, and her face was being held up by her hands.
>Every breath came out ragged. Every ounce of her was
>fighting this pain, trying to force it back into the
>recesses of her mind.
>
Crow: Wow! These 24th century brain freezes are really
powerful!
Mike: [Marrissa] Shouldn't have had that last Slush Puppy!
> Kira stood in the airlock,
Crow: [Kira] Hmm. Sisko told me to come out here and look
for Santa and those two kids. I wonder where they
are?
> staring out into space.
>Dark and speckled, it didn't hold the same wonder for her
>as it used to.
Tom: Before it was nice and bright and had pretty bands
of light.
> When she was little -- before she joined
>Shakaar's resistance cell, before she started fighting
>Cardassians -- she remembered looking into the
>sky, and wondering what it was, all those millions of
>little dots.
Crow: Didn't your mommy tell you? It's someone's Starbrite!
> She imagined they were the Prophets, smiling
>at her.
Tom: They had great teeth. Must be Colgate.
> When she was old enough to understand Cardassians,
>though, it changed. The sky was a place of evil, hatred,
>where the scaly monsters came from.
Mike: Either that or the Cardassians were the Prophets'
tooth decay.
> And when they were
>finally gone, the sky was a place of redemption; especially
>so after the Emissary -- Sisko -- had come. Redemption,
>hope, and wonder.
Crow: [Kira] The sky can be such a hypocrite. One minute
they're the harbingers of doom, the next they're the
good Samaritan.
> She took a deep breath. Not anymore.
Mike: [Kira] Now they're just a bunch of gases. And I
thought Quark had a lot of hot air.
> Now, Bajor
>stood alone against a galaxy at war.
Crow: Ah. They're space Canadians.
> They had been there
>before, right before the Cardassian occupation. Despite
>Sisko's assurances that everything was for the best, she
>felt . . . uncomfortable.
Tom: Maybe that Bolian tea was too strong for you, Kira.
You know you shouldn't have caffeine before bed time.
> The door rolled back, exposing the night sky to her,
>directly.
Crow: [Kira] Wait a minute, I can't bre - oof!
> If she wanted, it seemed like she could simply
>step off into infinity. As a matter of reflex, she stepped
>back.
> Light burst into the airlock as a door opened out of
>nowhere.
Mike: Hey! It's a Sliders crossover!
> Kira squinted, her brain sorting through the
>mixed signals it was receiving.
Crow: [Kira] Is Darth Vader coming from that door? Or do
I go into the light?
> A silhouetted figure
>stepped forward.
Crow: Oh, it's just Joel... Joel?
Bots: Joel!
Mike: It's not Joel, guys.
Crow: Sorry, had a little flashback.
> Admiral Kira stepped back again, allowing
>him aboard the station.
Mike: [Kira] Oh, hello invading stranger. Are you here for
conquest or destruction?
Tom: [basso] Destruction.
Mike: [Kira] Good choice, this way to Ops.
> "Well," Doctor Bashir remarked dryly, "remind me to
>demand a raise for Miles."
Mike: [Kira] Honey! Oops, I just broke character.
> Dax followed closely behind, along with a number of
>crewmembers,
Crow: Groupies.
> all the defectors who had been recorded as
>lost when the Defiant apparently exploded. The ship sat
>cloaked just outside, invisible to those on the station, or
>any passing ships.
Tom: I wonder what happens when a passing ship decides to
dock there.
Mike: [Ensign on passing ship] Sir, there's a door opening
in mid-space and some people are coming out. Shall
I shoot them?
> "Sorry we're late," Nog said. "It was more difficult
>getting the Rio Grande back to the landing pad than we
>thought.
Crow: [Nog] We forgot where we last put the door opener.
> I hope you didn't have to wait long, General."
> "Admiral," Kira corrected him.
> "Oh, no ma'am, I'm a captain!" He said,
>misinterpreting her. He pointed to his rank insignia.
>"Not that it matters much, anymore."
Tom: [Nog] Pretty much everyone's in the Starfleet brass,
now.
> She decided it wasn't really worth explaining, right
>now. The crew had to all come aboard before -- well,
>before whatever Sisko was expecting to have happen.
Crow: Before 'Temptation Planet' comes on.
> These
>were people trained to operate the station in a crisis,
Tom: They were not trained, however, to operate during
peacetime.
> and
>from the sound of it, crisis control would be absolutely
>necessary.
>
Mike: They found out that Britney Spears was coming.
> "I'm going to *what*?!"
Crow: Zha'ha'dum. Is that a problem?
> Picard looked sternly at his adoptive daughter.
Tom: [Jean-Luc] Don't be a chicken. Bawk-bawk-bawkah!!
>"Starfleet hasn't been able to contact the Council of
>Ministers in weeks,
Crow: [Picard] Their line's been busy the whole time. We
think they're online playing Quake.
> aside from their declaration to remove
>all Starfleet personnel from the station. Intelligence
>reports that this could be a new policy of Bajoran
>isolationism.
Tom: [Jean-Luc] Either that or they just don't like us
anymore. Those Bajorans can be so touchy.
> As a Federated planet, isolationism would
>undermine the network of trust we have with all our member
>worlds.
Crow: [Jean-Luc] This is pretty much the idea. We trust
that they won't attack us, and they trust that we
don't turn them into the next asteroid belt.
> Also, if they become defensive of their territory,
>we lose access to the Gamma Quadrant through the wormhole.
>I don't have to tell you how unacceptable that is."
Tom: They'd have to have millions of floating orange space
cones!
> "Dad," Marrissa groaned.
Crow: [Marrissa] Are you telling me to dictate some foreign
planet's policy? Again?
> Not because she wanted to
>run from a fight,
Mike: [Marrissa] Waitaminute! You can do that? Damn!
> but because every muscle in her body was
>screaming for attention, nearly as loudly as Sara.
Crow: Remember to give it its bottle of iron.
> Johnson
>had given her some suppressants, but her natural cycles
>seemed to be repressing them.
Tom: So she was depressed because she was repressing the
suppressants?
> She wanted to sleep, or go
>back to the holodeck, or even Sickbay,
Crow: Even Detroit.
> if it would all just
>stop. The consolation was, going into battle, her
>adrenaline kicked in, allowing her to focus on her
>adversaries, rather than her body's cries.
Crow: [Marrissa] The idea: make someone else feel my pain.
> It had worked
>during the last few weeks of the war. The paperwork, the
>mundane desk job designed to keep her safe, was tearing her
>apart.
Mike: The Cardassians couldn't stop her.
Crow: The Trakce couldn't stop her.
Tom: The Romulans couldn't stop her.
Mike: Nor could the Dominion.
Crow: Or the Borg.
Tom: But form XY-41/A? It's Marrissa's doom.
> The commanding admiral of Starfleet gave her a
>sympathetic look. "Marrissa, I promise. If I have to ask
>you to defend the Federation's ideals again in the next
>month, I'll order you to take a vacation."
Mike: [Jean-Luc] Not that I should've done that long ago
when you were still in your training bra...
> She flashed him a look that she meant as derogatory,
>but she felt it come out hopeful.
> "You're the only one who can do this."
Tom: Help us, Obi Wan Marrissa, you're our only hope.
> She furrowed her eyebrows. "Then why the fleet you've
>got here?
Crow: [Jean-Luc] Well, you can't start a planetary
bombardment without one, dearie!
> A dozen ships can take out that station. *You*
>obviously don't need a diplomat.
Tom: [Marrissa] Diplomacy bites, anyhow. Too slow and
tedious. Plus, I keep losing to the Turks.
> If you just wanted the
>Enterprise, even Jay could've gotten it here on his own.
Tom: "Even" Jay? Ouch. Sounds like there might be trouble
in paradise.
>*Why me*?"
> Picard folded his hands in front of him. "An
>operative I assigned to Romulus as your personal bodyguard
>told me about your recent condition.
Mike: [Jean-Luc] We call him 'Jack'...
> Under the
>circumstances . . ." He raised his eyebrows, but she kept
>a stony expression firmly across her face.
Tom: Stone Cold Marrissa Picard!
> "And, you have
>a certain . . .
Mike: Je ne sais quoi?
> reputation.
Crow: So did Pol Pot.
> Why did they send Sarek to
>the Legarans? Or Kirk to the Klingons?
Crow: Or coals to Newcastle?
Mike: Or Tinker to Evers to Chance?
> Or you, for that
>matter?
Mike: [Picard] Why did we send you? I mean, you kept
trying to lock Romulans in closets...
> You're well-known; it's less likely to be a
>devastating loss on either side if you arrive aboard the
>flagship."
Tom: [Jean-Luc] Unless one of you blows up, THEN it's a
devastating loss.
> "With all due respect, sir," Marrissa said,
Crow: [Marrissa] That's as goofy as the Islanders
signing Yashin and Peca!
> feeling
>each heartbeat force more blood into her brain, "what the
>hell."
>
> "Enterprise, now entering sensor range!" Dax called
>out. Sisko turned abruptly to face the viewscreen.
Tom: [Sisko] Oh crud! Scan them NOW, Mr. Dax! Maybe we'll
trigger something bad and blow them up.
> A
>Nova-class starship cruised directly for them.
> The Enterprise? All the way from Romulus?
Crow: [Southern accent] For little-ol'-me? Ah, ya'll
shouldn't have!
> He knew
>the station was important, but this was overkill -- perhaps
>literally, if . . . he tried to suppress the thought.
>Prophets or no, there was no defense for *that*.
Mike: Tactical analysis? Instant Cardassian-made debris.
> "Status on the rest of the fleet?" He asked.
Crow: [Syral] Alive. That good enough for you?
> Syral worked over the controls for another moment.
>"Reading eleven ships still in orbit of Corvaldis, Ben.
>They seem to be . . . waiting."
Tom: [Syral] They probably are just shy. Let's invite
them over for some tea and biscuits!
> Sisko drew a sharp breath. "So when diplomacy fails,
>and we don't surrender in one fell swoop, the calvary rides
>in."
Mike: o/~ Where starship fights are colorful sites and
nobody takes a lickin! Where Bajorans and Feddies
both turn chicken! o/~
> He shook his head. "Ready Defiant for launch," he
>ordered.
> Kira looked up. "Belay that!" She countermanded.
>"Sisko -- Benjamin -- Emissary, you said you wanted your
>people here, as crisis control."
Tom: [Sisko] Well, I lied. Tough bananas.
> He nodded. "But our odds of escaping this aren't
>good, Admiral.
Crow: [C-3P0] Sir, the possibility of successfully
escaping are approximately three thousand, seven
hundred and twenty to one.
> The Defiant -- I don't know why, but it's
>the key to all of this, I know it! Nothing will be
>accomplished if it's destroyed."
> The Bajoran woman shook her head. "Then you can't
>send it out.
Crow: [Kira] After all, this station's pretty strong. It can
take out a whole fleet and be done by supper!
> Even with the cloak, the Enterprise's sensors
>could read it's ion trail.
Mike: For something that has a cloaking device, it sure
isn't very stealthy.
> They'd be caught ten minutes
>from the Badlands, and brought back to Starfleet. I assume
>you didn't mean for them to fight?"
> He responded in the negative. "A kamikaze run isn't
>what I had in mind.
Tom: [Sisko] But let's do it anyway. Sounds fun!
> Even the Defiant can't take on a Nova-
>class starship." He grunted. "It looks like we're in the
>hands of the Prophets."
>
Tom: [Sisko] If this screws up, I'm converting religions
and switching insurance companies.
> Thirty minutes later, his heart sank.
Mike: Someone torpedoed the sucker. Probably Merten or
Schepke.
> "This is Marrissa Amber Flores Picard," she said, as
>Sisko silently mouthed the words with her,
Crow: Hey!
Tom: Sisko must have read those stories too!
Mike: It's probably what sent him over the edge.
All: [whispering] Join us! Join us!
> "Princess and
>heir to the throne of Essex, Starfleet Admiral, commanding
>the starship Enterprise."
Tom: [Marrissa] To protect the world from devastation.
To unite all...
Mike: [Jay] M? Wrong speech.
> The pervading hopelessness of the situation made Sisko
>feel giddy. "Let me guess," he said, interrupting her,
Tom: [Marrissa] No, I won't. Fire, Ensign.
>"you want us to lower our shields and surrender our
>station. Our biological and technological distinctiveness
>will be added to your own. Resistance is futile."
Tom: Zing! Point to Sisko!
Mike: Sisko's even skipped ahead to read "Hail to the Queen"!
Crow: I'm impressed!
> Dax looked up, startled and slightly amused. That was
>out of character for Sisko . . .
Crow: Maybe he's channeling one of us.
[pause]
All: Naaaah.
Tom: BTW, Keeler? When your own characters start questioning
their characterization, you might be doing something
wrong.
> Picard was caught off-guard. The adrenaline rush she
>hoped for finally arrived, and calm settled on her.
Tom: [Marrissa] Oh yeah, that's the stuff! Don't ever leave
me, bloodlust!
>Muscles quieted their cacophony. She replied, "Benjamin
>Sisko. I wondered how long it would take for you to
>crack."
Crow: [Sisko] A couple of years in a long-running science-
fiction show can do that to you.
Tom: We should know.
> "Not as long as you'd think," he replied evenly.
>"What would you like, Admiral?"
Tom: [Marrissa] Well, I would like a Harry Potter novel.
Of course, you heard of the big craze going on with
these books. I never knew WHY those books are popular,
but anyway... oh, how about another horse? You can
never have too many of them. They're so strong and
fast and I can win plenty of latinum just by putting
all my horses on one track, betting on the one with
the biggest odds, and then purposely letting that one
win. Of course, that's considered fraud, but I
have diplomatic immunity because I'm a princess,
you know...
> "Well, some answers would be nice.
Mike: [Marrissa] But not the truth, 'cause apparently
I can't handle the truth.
> And maybe the
>Starfleet technology still on the station. I'd like to
>have you court-martialed for desertion,
Tom: How can you get a court-martial if you already quit?
> and, oh yes, the
>*wormhole*."
> Sisko nodded. She couldn't see him without the
>visual, so he finally responded, "Hmm. That's a pretty
>tall order.
Crow: [Sisko] Should I get you a date with Marky Mark too?
> Tell you what, I can give you half of what you
>want."
> The admiral rolled her eyes, thinking, he should get
>Quark up there to negotiate. "No deal. The least I'll
>accept is three."
Crow: Three what?
Mike: Are they even negotiating for the same thing?
Tom: She wants all three doors instead of just door number one.
> Sisko's voice floated tauntingly across the channel.
>"That's too bad, Admiral. I can only offer you one."
> Who the hell did he think he was?
Mike: He's that high-falooting Emissary, that's who.
> "Benjamin, I don't
>think you understand your present situation!
Tom: [Marrissa] I'm offering you the pocket fisherman *and*
the in-the-shell egg-scrambler all for one low price!
> We can take
>the station by force, if necessary, but I would really
>rather it didn't come to that."
> Baloney, Sisko thought.
Crow: [Sisko] You just wanna blow me up for kicks!
Tom: [Marrissa] And your point is?
> "What do you want most,
>Admiral? The wormhole or me?"
Mike: It's Marrissa after Dark. This Thursday on ASC.
> She lost her patience.
Tom: Did she ever have it in the first place?
> "You cannot lay sovereign
>right to the wormhole, it belongs to the entire quadrant!
Crow: [Marrissa] Therefore, it's mine!
>The Bajorans gave you amnesty, but you can never leave this
>space without being arrested.
Mike: [Marrissa] We'll just isolate you even more!
> The station is technically
>Bajoran property, but most of the equipment, medical
>supplies, and weaponry is Starfleet.
Crow: [Marrissa] Even it was Cardassian-made, but it's not
theirs anymore... but that's beside the point.
> All *I* want is a
>reason. Why are you doing this?"
> "For Bajor. For the Federation. But most of all,
Mike: [Sisko] Johnny! I did it for Johnny!
> for
>conscience. I regret almost everyting I did during the
>war, and I refuse to support it anymore! When a race is
>fought back to its borders, the war should end.
Tom: Sure! That way their infrastructure will be nice
and intact and ready to go for the next war!
> When we
>castrate an entire people,
Crow: Even the women?
> we are no better than the
>Jem'Hadar.
Mike: Did they cut off people's areas too?
> They're dead now, too, aren't they? Starfleet
>found it was for the greater good that they be
>exterminated; genocide became policy!" He ranted.
Mike: [muttering] We'll probably end up riffing that too.
> "The Jem'Hadar were destroyed defending the Founders'
>retreat!" Marrissa protested. "You were there! Starfleet
>battled their way through -- they didn't simply vaporize
>the soldiers while they slept, it was a constant battle
>until the bitter end. Yes, they're gone, but it was
>*their* choice.
Tom: [Marrissa] They CHOSE to die!
Crow: You know the idea. Victory is life. Defeat is death.
> They died like warriors."
Mike: [Marrissa] Warriors usually die screaming for
their mommies, right?
> "Not good enough, dammit! NOT good enough!"
Tom: They should have died like circus clowns!
> Sisko
>activated the viewer, to look the admiral square in the
>eye.
Tom: [Marrissa] Sorry, I tried that. Heat vision doesn't
work through viewscreens.
> He seethed, "The Federation was built on ideals, not
>starships.
Crow: Although the ideals were probably thought up on
starships.
> We're strong because of our trust, our loyalty
>to one another, and our respect for other cultures.
Mike: Provided that the Prime Directive wouldn't be
violated too much.
> When
>we destroy any civilization different than our own, it
>undermines everything!
Tom: Umm ... so it's okay if you destroy a civilization
just like yours?
> How do you explain the casualty
>count after the Romulan War?
Crow: Mad cow disease?
> Starfleet clearly had an
>advantage, one it used to press the Romulan people to a
>point of near-anarchy!
Crow: Oh, and I suppose the Federation should just lower
its arms and hope for the eeny bitty chance the
Romulans will do the same thing? I don't think so.
> Now, what will you do if Bajor
>feels compelled to reject Federation policy? Will you
>destroy their culture in the name of righteousness?"
Mike: Sure!
Tom: Why not?
Crow: Sounds good to me!
> He
>looked at her expectantly, noting her face growing red in
>anger. "Well, Admiral, we'll just have to find out. This
>station is of Bajor. The wormhole is of Bajor. And I'll
>be damned if I give either to you for free!"
Crow: [Marrissa] Will you take a check?
> He slammed the
>channel closed before she could get the last word.
Tom: [Sisko] Well, I think that went pretty well, don't
you?
> That always got to her. Swollen ankles, sore back,
>irregular sleeping patterns, frustration at the Romulans,
>at her father, finally caught up.
Mike: Something tells me that the conversation didn't go
very well.
Tom: It shows?
> Picard could almost
>swear she heard Sara screeching to be fed, again. Her
>hands clenched as tightly as her teeth.
Crow: [Marrissa] How dare he hang up on me! I just
wanted a nice, friendly chat!
> "Shayna, target Deep Space Nine.
Tom: [Marrissa] Aim at the spot where Sisko's baseball
is.
> Phasers, quantum
>torpedoes --fire when ready."
Mike: Whoa, Marrissa!
Tom: Temper, temper!
> The tactical officer made a quick sweep of the
>station's shielding, calculating the weakest point. She
>was surprised not to find one.
Mike: She found over fifty.
> Whatever upgrades had been
>made to the station during the war, they clearly had done
>an excellent job. Locking on to the outer docking ring,
>she fired.
>
Crow: DS9 blows up easily. All die. The end.
>
>END Section 2: Before the Dawn
>
Tom: BEGIN Section 3: Boy, That Dawn Ought To Be Here
Any Time Now. Let's get outta here.
[The crew stand and exit the theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .]
[The Bridge of the SoL]
[As the doors open, Tom and Crow are writing in
a large tome.]
Crow: Okay, how about Carson Daly?
Tom: Nah. He's annoying but not that annoying.
The Baja Men?
Crow: By the time we get back, their fifteen
minutes will be already over. How
about Tom Green?
Tom: Sure, if Drew hasn't gotten to him
first.
[Mike enters and walks over to the bots.]
Mike: Hey guys? What'cha doin?
Crow: We're just updating our list.
Mike: Your list?
Tom: Years ago...
Crow: I think we were suffering through
"Time of the Apes" at the time.
Tom: ...Crow and I decided to create a list
of people whom, if we ever get back
to earth, we'd take revenge on.
Mike: Oh. Well, what if you end up in an
efficiency apartment in Minnesota?
Crow: [snort] Yeah, like that'll happen.
Tom: Get real, Mike. You wanna hear it?
Mike: I've got nothing better to do, so
sure.
Crow: Well, we started off with some easy
ones. Coleman Francis. Ed Wood. Tor
Johnson...
Mike: Aren't they dead?
Tom: Yeah, but that's not going to stop
us.
Crow: Then we moved onto some fanfic authors.
Stephen Ratliff. Jim Theis. Stephen
Ratliff. Doc Thinker. Stephen Ratliff...
Mike: Okay, I get the picture.
Tom: Then we started free associating. We'd
find Dan Cortez, that Aflac Duck, those
Whazzup guys, [mumble] you, [normal]
Jar Jar Binks...
Mike: Excuse me?
Tom: Jar Jar. You know? From Phantom...
Mike: No, the one before that one.
Crow: The Whazzup guys?
[Mike glares at the bots.]
Tom: Oh. Um, you.
Crow: You annoy us sometimes, Mike.
Mike: Like when?
Crow: For example...
[As Crow begins to speak, the satellite is
buffeted by explosions. Gypsy rushes in, from
stage left.]
Gypsy: Mike! We're under attack!
Tom: Duh, Gypsy!
Gypsy: And something's coming in on the
hexfield too! Did you know that,
smartie?
Tom: No.
Gypsy: Of course not, After all, you and
Crow never pay attention to anything
I say until there's something attacking
us! Why, if I had to count how many
times I've had to rush in here shouting
about how something is attacking...
Mike: Gypsy! Will you just open the hexfield?
Gypsy: Huh? Oh. Sure, Mike.
[The hexfield opens, to reveal... a baby
dressed in a Starfleet uniform and sitting in
a command chair. Mike and the bots stare at
the tyke.]
Baby: [gurgles]
[A bespectled man, (Paul Chaplin) also in a
Starfleet uniform, leans into the hexfield's
view.]
Officer: Surrender now, or face the wrath of
Grand Admiral Sara Alara Picard,
head of the Star Fleet Babies' Crew!
[The quartet stands motionless for a moment,
then collectively begin laughing.]
Mike: Oh, this is rich.
Crow: This is too much, even for Ratliff.
Tom: Oh, are we supposed to be afraid of the
wittle baby?
[The ship is buffeted again by explosions.]
Officer: The Grand Admiral *is* in command
of a fully armed Annihilator Class
Starship.
Tom: Oh. I guess we should be afraid then.
Sara: [gurgle]
Officer: You have insulted the Grand Admiral's
mother undeservedly and her father, er,
less undeservedly, And for that you
must be punished!
Sara: [gurgle]
Officer: Right after we feed the Grand
Admiral.
[The officer takes a bottle and begins to feed
Sara. Cambot pans in on Mike and the bots.]
Crow: Does anyone have a way out of this?
Tom: I say we retaliate with every weapon
we have onboard! We'll blow them out
of the stars!
Gypsy: We're unarmed, doofus.
Tom: Can we shout at them then?
Mike: I've got a plan.
Gypsy: Sound doesn't travel in space.
Tom: Well...
Gypsy: You know, I could scoot over there and
disable all of their weapons. That is
I could if I wasn't tethered to this
stinking satellite.
Mike: I've got a plan.
Crow: Maybe if we cry a lot, she'll spare
us.
Mike: Hey! I have a plan!
Tom: Mike, we can't blow up another planet.
Mike: Relax, just follow my lead.
[Cambot pans out. In the hexfield, Sara is
being burped.]
Sara: [Burp]
[See? Anyway, the officer places Sara back in
the chair and then turns to the screen.]
Officer: Now that Elite Grand Admiral Picard
is fed, our vengeance can begin. Any
last words?
Mike: A couple. o/~ You can tell the world
you never was my girl. You can burn
my clothes when I'm gone. o/~
Officer: What are you doing?
[He turns towards Sara, who is yawning.]
Mike: o/~ Or tell can tell your friends just
what a fool I've been. And laugh and joke
about me on the phone. o/~
Officer: No! You can't!
[The bots shrug and join in.]
All: o/~ But don't tell my heart. My achy-breaky
heart. I just don't think it'd understand.
And if you tell my heart. My achy-breaky
heart, it might blow up and kill this man.
Ooh! o/~
[Back on the bridge, Sarah's eyes are closed
and she's snoring softly.]
Officer: [softly] Oh, fine. The All-Powerful
Elite Grand Admiral is asleep now. But
she will get her vengeance, mark my
words! Just right after naptime...
[The hexfield closes and Cambot pans
back over to Mike and the bots.]
Crow: Wow! You actually did have a plan!
Mike: Yep.
Tom: But what happens after naptime's over?
[The fanfic sign begins to flash.]
Mike: Don't worry about it. I've got a
"Blue's Clues" tape around here. But
right now WE'VE GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!!
[Mike hits the lights and the door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .]
[The trio files in and takes their seats.]
Crow: Er, Mike?
Mike: Yeah?
Crow: Don't think that I'm unhappy with you
saving our lives and all, but why exactly
do you have a "Blue's Clues" tape?
Mike: The NWO uses them to convey secret messages.
That Steve's a long-time CFR member.
Crow: Oh.
Mike: Plus I think that singing salt shaker is
kinda neat.
>From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:16:58 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 3/4
>From: Iblis <captain@work.matrix>
>Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:16:58 GMT
>
>Title: Before the Dawn
>Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu)
Mike: No relation to 'Dr. Stangelove's' Jack D. Ripper.
>Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1
>Rating: [PG] violence
Tom: And special thanks to TBS for "Time Extended"...
>Codes: N/A
>Part: NEW 3/4
>Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation,
Crow: Then they take their case to "Divorce Court".
> and takes Deep
>Space Nine with him. Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After
> the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen."
>
>
Mike: Part of the "Marrissa goes nuts" trilogy.
>
> A volley spattered across the defensive screens, but
>didn't penetrate.
Mike: [Marrissa] Arm paintball torpedoes! I wanna see
what happens when I shoot these!
> The station's weapons turrets began
>cycling visibly on the viewscreen.
Tom: How are those bicycles working in zero-gravity?
> Seeing his wife debating whether or not she could
>stand, Jay took some initiative, surprising everyone.
Mike: Including us!
Tom: Spineless Boy is actually doing something!
>Since Sara's birth, he had been a more commanding force,
>compensating for Marrissa's condition. Not that she
>minded, but it was unsettling for her to be in less than
>complete control.
Tom: It felt... unnatural.
> Jay rose from his seat, focusing on the
>viewscreen.
Mike: [Jay] Hey! Turn it back! "The Amazing Race" is on!
> "Evasive maneuvers!"
[Mike buries his head in his hands.]
Tom: Never mind.
Crow: Jay's 0 for 47 now.
> Well, Shayna thought, biting her lip, he gets an "A"
>for effort, anyway.
Crow: Oh great! Shayna's trying to steal our gig now!
Mike: [mumbling] She can have it.
> It reminded her somewhat of the late
>Admiral Riker, back on the Enterprise-D when he was a
>commander; he usually served the same function Jay was,
>now.
Tom: He made a good target, just in case bad guys made
it to the bridge.
Crow: Plus, he makes Marrissa look good in comparison.
> Picard herself might have caught a nostalgic grin, if
>she hadn't felt so tense and angry. As it was, she lashed
>out at her husband.
Crow: Marrissa Picard for Maybelline.
> "Thank-you, Jay. Can we be a little
>more specific?"
Mike: [Marrissa] Unless your idea was to plot a course
right into the planet's core.
> He turned red.
Tom: Jay, buddy, we feel for you.
> "Evasive pattern Picard-Delta-four-
>one-oh!"
Crow: One of Tommy Tutone's lesser hits.
> "Four-oh-one." She corrected him.
> "Four-oh-one!" He sat back down.
Mike: That's our Jay.
Tom: [Marrissa] Jay, now you're sitting on my lap.
Crow: [Jay] Sorry, Ma'am.
> The young girl at helm implemented the course,
>swinging the Enterprise in a tight arc across the line of
>sight for the station's targeting sensors.
Tom: Last time I remember, when you evade, you're
supposedly to get AWAY from the line of sight.
> Phaser blasts
>lashed out furiously, following the starship's trail
>across, until they began striking their own station.
>
Crow: [Sisko] Oops! Sorry, should've aimed at the ship.
> Odo watched the battle unfolding outside his window.
Tom: [Odo] Hmm, am I supposed to panic or something at this?
Mike: Tonight on Fox: When Origami Starships Attack!
>He paced the room, reaching out to touch the door, and
>meeting only a forcefield.
Crow: Aw, that's sad--his advances so coldly rejected ...
> He jerked his hand back.
>Without the forcefields, he could easily escape; but where
>would he go?
Crow: Cabo's nice this time of year.
Mike: Nah. Someone might accidentally drink him when
he's sleeping.
Crow: Yeah. They'll drink anything there.
> The station was completely sealed within the
>shields, and he had no communications access code. He
>turned himself into a chair to sit.
Tom: He later got bored and turned into a rocking chair
to rock.
Crow: Bending his knees just wasn't good enough for the
high and mighty shapeshifter, was it?
Mike: Well, it's text, so the special effects budget is
virtually unlimited.
> The floor trembled,
>and he nearly fell over.
>
Tom: You mean tipped over, didn't you?
> "Report!"
Mike: [Syral] We're dogmeat, sir.
> Sisko yelled, catching himself at the
>railing. Sparks exploded behind him, making the overhead
>lights seem dim by comparison.
Crow: You think by now Starfleet would have the technology
to stop those sparks.
[Tom snickers.]
> Consoles flickered as the
>crew tried to reroute.
Crow: And I-25 became backed up from the overflow.
> Dax clambered with the sensor array. "Targeting
>sensors followed the Enterprise at close range -- she
>fooled them into thinking upper docking pylon three was a
>target!"
Mike: [Syral] She put a big Barney suit on top of the pylon
and the sensors reacted instantly!
> "Picard-Delta-four-oh-one." Sisko nodded,
>appreciatively.
Tom: [Sisko] The Fratricide manuever.
> Timing, speed, and range were everything.
Crow: Except for location, of course.
>"Target phasers and quantum torpedoes manually.
Mike: [Syral] Shall I go bring up the Star Wars
interface, sir?
> I don't
>want to accidentally lose any more of the station!" He
>looked at the damage report. A large gash had seared
>the pylon base. If they had been in orbit of Bajor, it
>probably would have ripped out entirely.
Crow: [Sisko] They dented my station! And I just got it
turtle-waxed!
> He swallowed.
Mike: Proving that he was indeed human.
> He
>could almost feel his neutrinos spinning the wrong way.
Tom: Well, this is an interesting place for a lesson in
Quantum Mechanics...
> "She's continuing the attack!" Kira called.
Crow: There's a revelation.
> "Shields
>at ninety-two percent and falling. The Enterprise is still
>at optimal!"
Mike: Well, isn't that just Prime?
> "Then let's even things out."
Crow: [Sisko] Call Marrissa and ask if she can lower the
shields just a bit.
> Sisko growled, moving
>quickly to the weapons control. The Admiral slipped out of
>his way. "We have twenty times the firepower of even a
>Nova-class starship. Let's use it!"
Tom: They do?
Mike: Sure! Puff Daddy and his entourage are on board.
They'll even things out.
> His fingers danced
>across the keypad, sighting the gargantuan ship as well as
>he could. He fired.
>
Tom: YES!
Crow: Go, Sisko! Vaporize her!
> This time, Marrissa didn't hesitate to stand.
Tom: [Marrissa] It's a miracle! I can walk again!
> Fifteen torpedoes flared directly toward them, making
>it look as though space itself was tearing a path to hell.
All: Oooh!
Crow: Nice imagery!
Mike: It's a shame we have to riff him mercilessly for it.
Tom: Yep. So, space is paved with good intentions?
Mike: It might look like Bayonne.
Crow: I think that it looks like an existential freeway.
> "Pattern -- UP!" She shouted, dispensing with
>tactics.
Tom: Up? You mean there's more to space than just the
linear path?
> Lynn, the conn officer, hesitated, then punched the
>attitude and impulse controls.
Mike: Lynn didn't get a response, so she tried kicking it
instead.
> One after another, each
>torpedo rocked them.
Tom: [Marrissa] All right, who turned the "Magic
Fingers" on?
> Eleven of the fifteen struck home,
>catching them completely off-guard.
> "Back us off! Reverse! FOR GOD'S SAKES, *REVERSE*!"
>Picard shouted, tumbling back into her chair.
Tom: [Marrissa] No, that's park, you imbecile!
> Jay clutched
>tightly at his own armrests to avoid being thrown.
Mike: [Jay] They didn't say anything about vibrating chairs
in a battle!
> They
>were buffeted like a canoe being struck by ocean waves.
Tom: Buffeted? Are they served for dinner?
Crow: Don't talk about food, I'm getting hungry.
> "Shields at eighty-nine percent!" Shayna reported.
> "Get Clara on it. Lynn, you're relieved."
Mike: Marrissa! This is no time for an acting
workshop!
> Marrissa
>ordered, moving to the front of the bridge. Lynn Gordon,
>Jay's youngest sister,
Crow: And Associate Professor from Rochester.
> slunk out of the seat, letting the
>admiral take over.
Mike: Wow. Marrissa's really dedicated to tearing down the
whole Gordon family, isn't she?
Tom: Slunk? Slipped? Are these guys all lizards?
> She was a good pilot,
Tom: Good? She's the best!
[Crow snickers.]
Mike: Huh?
> she knew, but
>Marrissa was the best. The ship moved back, giving them
>some maneuvering range.
> "Admiral," Alexander Rozhenko called from the Ops
>position,
[All jump, startled.]
All: Aaaaah!
Tom: Don't EVER do that!
Mike: When the heck did he show up?
> "sensor readings indicate they have ten thousand
>quantum torpedoes,
Crow: [Alex] A million SWATbots, fifty thousand TIE
fighters, and a google X-Wings.
> and their phasers are running directly
>from their fusion cores."
Crow: Ah, Sisko's powergaming more than Marrissa!
> From tactical, Shayna Sachs looked up from her console
>long enough to balk.
Tom: [Shayna] Nuts!
> "We'd need twenty of us to match
>that!"
Crow: [Marrissa] Brilliant! Ensign, get a huge replicator
and clone 20 of us!
> Picard worked feverishly at the helm. "We can't match
>it. We have to beat it."
Tom: [Shayna] Yes, ma'am! Creating fifty billion quantum
torpedoes out of nothing!
> Sachs squinted. It wasn't uncommon for Marrissa to
>ask the impossible;
Crow: Like the time she'd wanted to disguise the ship as a
huge, flying strawberry!
> over the last week, she'd started to
>miss it. "Yes ma'am!" She locked onto the damaged section
>of Pylon 3, trying to get some leverage in their attention
>focus.
>
Mike: Forget the important parts of the station, just shoot
a teeny pylon!
> Bashir shook his fist slightly in triumph,
Crow: Again with the "slightly" talk.
Tom: And Bashir slightly bit his tongue as he saw the
slightly tilted starship slightly shoot them...
> as the
>Enterprise reeled from the torpedo strike.
> Sisko could appreciate the sentiment,
All: So do we!
> but not for
>long.
Mike: [Sisko] These good moments NEVER last long.
> The massive ship, over a kilometer-and-a-half of
>Starfleet's most advanced technologies,
Crow: Including the new quantum powered shoe buffers
and the Galthion Espresso Maker.
> wasn't nearly
>finished with them.
Tom: It was "slightly" finished with them.
> As fast as they backed off, they swept
>across for another strike.
Crow: [Announcer] Star Trek: 2nd Strike! Only in theatres!
> It was far easier to hit a
>stationary target than a moving one,
Tom: Unless you're attacking a very small stationary
target or a very huge moving target.
> and the station just
>didn't have the engineering resources the flagship did.
>Shield status on the Enterprise was already climbing again.
Crow: Yes, with Marrissa's endorsement, shields were "in"!
> The ship hurtled past like a banshee,
Mike: Or like Mariah Carey, which is pretty much the same
thing.
> raining blasts
>at the damaged pylon. Sisko cursed.
Tom: [Sisko] Smoo! Flark! Belgium!
> Directly below that
>pylon, still clinging to the docking ring, still cloaked,
>Nog had to be wondering if the Defiant had been detected.
Crow: If it was, you'd be dead by now.
> Ops rattled again.
Mike: Careful--that means it's about to bite!
> Dax had all but abandoned the
>sensors to concentrate on retaliatory fire, but it looked
>as though Admiral Picard herself was at the helm.
Tom: Yeah, the Admiral's out for blood!
> They
>managed to evade every phaser bolt.
Mike: Which meant either Dax was too predictable to
Marrissa, or someone's been hiding her Betazed
abilities...
> Kira was working damage control, loudly.
Tom: [Kira] You, get the baking soda! You, use a wet
towel! You, roll on the ground! You, panic like
an idiot!
> If they were
>still there next week, O'Brien would have his work cut out
>for him down below.
Crow: Well, you should've thought of that before letting
him go.
> Kelo shouted, jumping back as a
>conduit burst into flame.
> Bashir snagged an emergency suppression tank,
Crow: What does that do?
Tom: Suppress emergencies?
Mike: Sounds useful! Maybe Gypsy could build one.
> tossing
>it to the Bajoran officer. She caught it, and started to
>put the flames out.
Crow: All hail the elusive Kelo!
All: Hail Kelo!
> Sisko, breathing heavily through the acrid haze,
>closed his eyes. It was as though the haze was inside his
>eyelids.
Tom: Is *everyone* in this fic on drugs?
> "The Sisko doubts."
Mike: [Sisko] The Sisko thanks the Troi.
> His eyes snapped open, but Ops was gone. His office
>was filled with the same haze. "Not now!" He called.
Mike: [Sisko] I'm kinda in the middle of my death scene,
guys. Can't you wait 'til after I'm dead?
>"We're being attacked! You said we had difficulties to
>face, that I would affect the outcome! Let me do it!"
Tom: [The Prophets] The Sisko is eager to die too easily.
> Syral appeared before him. "You are linear. You do
>not understand. You . . . will."
Mike: This chapter brought to you by the Sci-Fi Channel.
Crow: Ever wonder?
> He stopped. A prophet, using the future tense? They
>were learning.
Tom: Good, they're FINALLY using "Hooked on Phonics"!
> "I won't learn anything, unless you let me
>back there."
Crow: [Sisko] Trial and error. Works every time!
> A new face appeared which gave Sisko pause. He didn't
>recognize who it was, but he was disturbingly familiar.
>Blonde, athletic, mid-thirties, wearing an old command
>tunic . . .
All: Uh-oh.
Crow: Oh great! Shatner's wormed his way into *this* series too!
Tom: Mike? Is that you?
Mike: Ha-ha.
> "The One comes.
Tom: Bono?
> He is that which breaks the tie.
Crow: He is assisted by the Two and the Three.
Mike: Oh, it's Judge Rehnquist.
> He
>will make all as it is." The voice, familiar . . .
>
Mike: It's Ben Stein!
Tom: Soon Ben Sisko will try to win! Ben! Stein's!
All: Money!
> "Emissary?" Kira shook Sisko's shoulder, but he was
>in some kind of trance.
Mike: Admiral Sisko can not come to the phone right now,
but if you leave your name and telephone number after
the tone...
> "Benjamin, wake up! The
>Enterprise --" Another explosion knocked her back. Sisko
>continued to stand, oblivious to the momentary failure of
>the inertial dampeners.
[Tom snores.]
Crow: Um, Sisko? Your back's on fire... hello? Hello?
> His eyes opened, and his head
>snapped back.
Mike: [Sisko] I am Kirok!
> Kira rose to her feet, watching him jump to
>life. He operated the controls without moving his eyes.
>Leaning in, the Admiral could see his pupils, completely
>dilated.
Tom: The space optometrists have struck again!
> "A Prophet!" She backed off, letting him do whatever
>needed to be done.
> Phasers and torpedoes erupted from the station,
>catching the Enterprise as she came about. Despite her
>fantastic maneuvering, every shot connected.
>
Crow: Mike, that *must* be you! Why didn't you tell us
you were a Bajoran prophet?
Mike: It was just a temp job, Crow.
> "THE HELL!?"
Tom: (TM).
> Picard couldn't understand it. No matter how she
>moved the ship, another explosion sounded around them.
Crow: So how does it feel to be the Bismarck? Pretty
crummy, I would imagine.
> "Shields to fourteen percent!
Tom: Sisko's using those Teflon coated torpedoes.
> Marrissa, they've got
>some way to target us! They've fired over fifty rounds,
>and haven't missed once!"
Crow: They're using god mode!
Mike: Those bastards!
> Sachs managed to cry.
Tom: It was good for the rest of the bridge crew to see
her open up emotionally like that.
> "Another
>minute, and we'll be hulled!"
Mike: This must be what shrimp feel like at Red Lobster.
> The admiral pounded the console in frustration.
Tom: Great idea, Marrissa. Like Lynn hasn't done that
before!
> This
>was absolutely impossible! Without a second thought, she
>activated the warp drive.
Crow: And warped right INTO DS9. The end.
> Snapping into subspace, the
>turbulence ceased.
> "How?" Marrissa demanded, turning in her chair. "How
>did they do that?
Mike: [Marrissa] And why couldn't *I* do it?
> They targeted us as though we were just
>sitting there!
Tom: You *were* just sitting there!
Mike: She meant the ship.
Tom: Oh.
> This is the *flagship*. We're better than
>anything else in the fleet!"
Tom: [Marrissa] Except for that USS General Lee.
Mike: [Jay] By the way, where's Sara?
> Jay shrugged, helplessly. "We should call your
>father.
Crow: [Marrissa] I'd rather call my lawyer.
> He can get the other ships here in less than an
>hour, and we can try again."
> Picard glowered at him.
Tom: [Jay] Sorry, honey. I'll never try to make sense
again.
> "My father didn't bring me
>from Romulus to come asking for help.
Mike: [Jay, matter-of-factly] Did he? Did he really?
> I'm bringing us
>back, now.
Crow: [Marrissa] Spaceship or no spaceship... oops, that
didn't come out right.
> We'll use the Denorios Belt to hide in,
Mike: Hey, isn't that the thing Pumaman wears?
> fool
>their sensors. There are too many asteroids for them to
>target accurately, and we can send the fighters in as a
>diversionary offensive fleet."
Tom: [Marrissa] We'll even use a tractor beam and toss
some asteroids at them!
Crow: I was wondering when they'll use it for some silly
attack.
> "Admiral," Alexander interjected, "the odds of
>navigating an asteroid field of that density are
>approximately
Mike: All together now...
[All follow Alexander's words precisely.]
> three thousand, seven-hundred-and-twenty-to-
>one against. Or so I'm told."
Tom: Oh, thank you, goldenrod.
Crow: Huh?
Tom: Not you.
> Picard made a sour face. "Computers can be so
>cynical.
Mike: It's probably because they listen to the Cure a lot.
> I've been training in holographic asteroid fields
>since I was eleven.
Tom: [Alexander] That's nice. When did you start making it
out alive?
Mike: Hrmph. I bet that she doesn't know the "leave one
asteroid and shoot the ufos" trick.
> We're coming about!"
> Martin Sussex, the ship's counselor, slid up next to
>her.
Mike: Whazzup?
> "Marrissa, it's obvious you're feeling very tense,
>and you think you need to prove something,
Crow: Well, she's probably overcompensating for something.
> but we need you,
>as the admiral in command of this ship, to be objective.
>It's no shame to ask for reinforcements."
Tom: [Marrissa, whining] But Sisko's gonna call me a
wussie!
> She nodded. "Thank-you, Martin. You've earned your
>paycheck. Now, sit down and be quiet."
Mike: For once I agree with Marrissa.
Tom: Really.
Crow: Martin? Repeat after me: "Captain? I'm sensing great
hostility from that ship.."
> He bit the inside of his cheek, and took his seat.
[All groan in sympathy]
Crow: Oh, poor Martin!
Mike: They're gonna need to start a support group for all
the men whose egos have been destroyed by Marrissa.
Tom: And some of the girls. Don't forget poor Lynn.
> Picard touched her communicator. "Bridge to Lochard.
>Kathy, I want every squadron available to fly. Get your
>people on the horn, and whoever we have left from Deep
>Space Nine."
>
Crow: [Marrissa] And I don't wanna hear any complaints
about shooting on their old station, got it?
> As the Enterprise vanished, Sisko tumbled to the deck.
>Kira and Bashir rushed over to him, the doctor giving him a
>hypospray.
Tom: [Sisko] Doctor, shouldn't you be using that? Dammit!
I'm an ex-admiral not a doctor!
> With a gasp, he sat up. "It's not over. She's coming
>back --"
Mike: And *this* time, it's personal!
> "Emissary, what did the Prophets want?" Kira asked,
Tom: [Sisko] Fajitas. A whole truckload of 'em.
>kneeling beside him, supporting his back.
> He smiled. "They want the best of all possible
>universes.
Crow: Oh. They want California then.
Mike: The prophets are secretly Voltaire?
> But we have to act fast. The last thing they
>said was 'time is of the essence.'" He stood, shakily.
>"Where's the Enterprise?"
Crow: [Kira] Wednesday nights on UPN, I think.
> "They warped off, after you began that maelstrom. How
>did you target like that?" Dax asked, from his console.
Mike: [Sisko] Didn't you know? I've been playing station
combat simulators since I was seven!
> "I didn't.
Crow: [Sisko] I shot off wildly like a maniac and got
lucky.
> One of them must have used me as a host.
>That's extremely difficult for them, while I'm outside the
>wormhole. Did you see anything enter or leave me?"
> No-one had.
Mike: But they lied to make him feel better.
> Other visitations from the wormhole
>aliens had visible effects, usually a bluish energy streak;
Tom: This time, however, the special effects department was
too busy with the space battle to concentrate on Sisko's
visitations.
>but then, Sisko never had a normal relationship with the
>Prophets.
Crow: Never went out, never hugged, never talked about
the Packers...
> They usually only talked to him, directly.
Mike: Directly with indirect references?
> He took a deep breath, asking for status. The shields
>were at sixty-eight percent, and holding. Phasers were
>still within two percent of optimal, and they had more than
>ninety-nine percent of their torpedoes left.
Tom: Which meant they still had all two of them.
> The Defiant
>was untouched, and the repair crews were already
>restructuring the docking pylon.
Tom: [Repair crewman #1] Pass me that pile of Play-d'oh
over there.
Crow: [Repair crewman #2] I think chewing gum would do
much better...
> He was almost ready to believe their luck, when
>another explosion impacted the shields.
Mike: The cloaked Defiant accidentally put the engines
in reverse...
Tom: And hilarity ensued!
> Dax was already on it. "Torpedo from the Denorios
>Belt! We've got incoming fighters, on approach!"
>
Tom: [Dax] It's Wedge Antilles and Rogue Squadron! We're
doomed now!
> The Enterprise ducked behind an asteroid five
>kilometers across.
Crow: Then Sheridan gave the order to detonate the nuclear
warhead on the asteroid, destroying the Enterprise.
The end.
Mike: Hrmph. Honor Harrington would kicked all of their
behinds by now.
> Their last salvo seemed to have caught
>the station off-guard. Without surprise, they would have
>to rely on the fighters to provide a distraction.
> "Repeat, I want all pilots in the fighters, now!"
Mike: [Marrissa] And make some space in your fighters if
there's too many of you! I want EVERY pilot accounted
for!
>Marrissa closed the comm frequency. Nearly a hundred of
>the small craft had been launched already. They couldn't
>do much against the station shields, but they'd do enough.
>The rest was up to the cruiser now dodging rocks.
Tom: Fed up by the Federation presence in their sector,
rock-throwing Bajoran demonstrators vented their
anger at the Enterprise.
> A signal came in. "Enterprise, this is Lieutenant
>Kennison with Magenta Squad. Commander Lochard and Rogue
>Squad are engaging the enemy.
Tom: That's sad. The one time "rouge" would have been
appropriate, and Keeler blows it.
Crow: Mike? How can we riff the story when it keeps making
our riffs into reality?
> Magenta Squad requesting
>clearance to engage."
Crow: [Marrissa] No, you may not engage. I just sent you
out there for fun.
> "Go, Kennison. Take the solar side.
Mike: Yeah, hey babe. Take a walk on the solar side.
> A Yeager Loop
>through the additional radiation may confuse their sensors.
Tom: [Lochard] Or not. I'm not too sure. Just do something
fancy.
Crow: And it'll clear up your acne, too.
>Your communications systems may be affected, but you'll
>have the advantage; just keep everyone in visual range!"
Tom: [Lochard] Just make sure that they're not directly
in front of you when you fire, okay, Kennison? We
don't want the same thing as last time.
> The boy complied.
Mike: Boy? Alright, who let Anakin Skywalker in this fanfic?
> Lochard reported that the station
>was avoiding retaliation against the smaller ships, that
>they were waiting for the Enterprise to show.
Crow: [Lochard, whining] Come on! We're trying to destroy
you too! Pay attention! Hello? No fair!
> The admiral nodded. The distraction needed a little
>punch to be effective.
Tom: So we're adding a little more tequila into it!
> "Simultaneous targeting,
>coordinates one-four-four mark three-nine. Keep clear!"
Mike: Allemande left! Keep your powder dry! I've
got a lovely bunch of coconuts!
> Shayna targeted to Marrissa's specifications,
>blasting, with the combined fighter efforts, at one point
>on the station.
Tom: The bowling alley. If the crew can't play their
ten frames, morale goes straight to hell.
> It got their attention.
Mike: [DS9] Hey! Are you trying to hurt me?
> Firing wildly
>into the Denorios Belt, it was apparent that they couldn't
>get a lock through all the debris.
Crow: You can tell when Sisko's in there pounding the fire
button with his head, shouting "No! No! No! No!"
> The fighters,
>following suit, continued joint blasting patterns, finally
>allowing for the critical distraction.
Mike: Someone radioed "Hey look! A big distracting thing!"
and they fell for it, hook, line and sinker.
> Deep Space Nine began a barrage on the attacking
>squadrons. Lochard took her fighters to the northern pole
>of the station, while Kennison approached from the sun.
>Burgundy Squadron flanked from the asteroid field,
Tom: Burgundy? Why is a country from the Middle Ages
fighting in a space age battle?
Crow: They have those cool space horses.
> and
>Vermilion Squad came up from beneath.
Mike: So where are the Crimson, Cherry, Tomato, Scarlet,
Ruby, Blood, and Fire-Engine squads?
> Trapped, the crew
>appeared to be firing in every direction.
> Marrissa recognized her chance.
Crow: And she warped straight out of the system.
Mike: [Marrissa] Woo-hoo! Forget the battle! We're going to
Cabo, boys!
> Expertly piloting the
>enormous starship into free space,
Mike: That's like Free Cell, only with really big cards.
> she opened up with the
>quantum torpedoes.
Crow: Uhh... why is Marrissa doing this again?
Mike: Because Sisko was rude to her.
Crow: Oh. [pause] If she ever finds us, we're dead,
aren't we?
> One by one, they collided against the weakening
>shields. Retaliation was light and easily avoided,
Mike: All they did was hold up a piece of paper and said
"But you promised!"
> as most
>of their attention was being drawn away. The automatic
>targeting computer was being overdrawn, and the crew was
>having trouble overriding to get control of the weapons
>power.
Tom: [Computer] Access denied. *I* wanna blow up the
station! Me me me me me!
> A static-filled message came in from Magenta Squad.
Crow: It said something about the anti-god heading back to
1999. Then it had a pointless cameo from Alice Cooper.
>Communications were terribly garbled, but Picard could
>barely make out the gist: the fighters were in trouble,
Crow: Someone clogged their engines with strawberry jam.
> and
>they couldn't reorganize without returning to the ship.
Tom: [Marrissa] What a bunch of wimps! I've been
reorganizing without returning to the ship since I
was 8!
> An explosion sounded, and the communications were cut.
Mike: [Marrissa] Finally! That static was giving me a
headache!
> "Enterprise! This is Lochard -- we've just lost half
>of Magenta Squad! It looks as though . . ."
Tom: [Lochard] They blew up.
Mike: Brilliant observation.
> Her voice
>came through the speaker sounding pale. "Oh my god, they
>killed Kennison!"
Tom: Uh-oh.
Crow: It's like he's daring us!
Mike: Brace yourself. This one's going to hit us hard.
> Marrissa focused on the viewscreen, watching the
>battle unfolding, realizing that another young life had
>just been lost.
Crow: Uhhh, and just who *sent* him out there instead of
asking for reinforcements?
Mike: [Marrissa] I just realized, the whole Kids' Crew
idea may not be such a good idea after all... ha,
who am I kidding?
> The last vestiges of her compassion for
>the station crew fled with the end of that transmission.
>She shook her head, slightly.
Tom: Then she slightly spat at the slightly tired Jay.
> "You bastards."
>
All: [groan]
Mike: Do you two still have your list?
Tom: Yep.
Mike: Add Keeler.
Crow: Gladly.
> "Twenty fighters just hit the shields!" Kira
>exclaimed.
Tom: Deep Space Bug Zapper 9.
> "Section beta is beginning to collapse." She
>shook her head. "This piece of junk never could take
>suicide runs very well."
Tom: Remind me never to put you in charge of the Pacific
theater in WWII.
> Another series of explosions made the deck lurch
>beneath them. Sisko managed to keep himself standing by the
>narrowest of margins. He tried again to target the
>Enterprise, now roaring towards them,weapons flaring.
Crow: [Sisko] Damn, this wasn't so hard when I was
possessed by god-boy!
> "Got it!" Dax shouted triumphantly.
Tom: [Syral] Bingo!
> "All weapons
>control overridden. Phaser and torpedo control is
>rerouting to your console, Ben."
> "Good timing, Old Man.
Crow: [Sisko] Any earlier and I would've kissed you!
> You watch the fighters, I'll
>handle Admiral Picard."
Tom: [Sisko] I'm gonna aim all the way to Corvaldis IV and
hit the other ships!
> Sisko said, reorienting the weapon
>systems. All three turrets lanced toward the oncoming ship
>simultaneously. The Enterprise swerved expertly, eluding
>the beams. Sisko smacked his palm across the rail.
>"Alright, dodge this!"
>
Mike: The Enterprise avoided his palm!
Tom: Those evasive bastards!
Crow: [Marrissa] Hah! I've been dodging torpedoes since I
was 4!
> One hundred quantum torpedoes lit up space.
Mike: Say what you will about this, the people of Bajor
are probably having the best fireworks display
they've seen in a long while.
> The
>starship crew watched in horror as their entire field of
>vision swam with the deadly beacons.
Tom: Photon torpedoes or Sakura petals? YOU decide!
> Shayna tried to
>target them with the ship's phasers, but couldn't lock on.
Crow: How about shooting wildly? I'm sure detonating just
one of them would detonate them all.
>Marrissa's fingers danced at warp speeds to avoid
>collision,
Tom: Then she got carried away and did the polka.
> but there were too many in their way. Finally,
>she looked up, squeezed her eyes shut, and shouted, "Brace
>yourselves!"
> The flagship reeled backwards, catching a torpedo
>directly beneath the forward hull.
Mike: A fly out to end the inning.
> Sparks blew out a
>library console,
Tom: Damn! There went the only shipboard copy of _The
Scarlet Letter_.
> and a lieutenant stumbled back.
Mike: Note to self: sparks hitting a console creates
officers out of thin air. Keep that in mind.
> Picard
>hit one button,
Tom: *FWOOSH!*
> hoping their hull integrity wouldn't
>buckle. The Enterprise shot off, tangential to the
>approaching missiles, catching only two more. Another
>explosion revealed the extent of their damage.
Crow: Which was total destruction, the end.
> "Hull breach, deck thirty-nine.
Mike: I cut, you deal.
> Shields to two
>percent! Clara says we can't take another hit without
>serious damage, Admiral."
Crow: Time to go into detox.
Tom: [Marrissa] And if Clara told you that the boogieman
was in the closet, would you believe her too?
> Alex growled through the smoke.
Crow: Marrissa misinterpreted it as a Klingon come-on and
soon the two were going at it like crazed ice weasels.
> Marrissa felt pure rage sweep into her.
Mike: [Marrissa] Wow! Losing sucks!
> Her back was
>complaining again in the rigid pilot's chair.
Tom: [muffled] Hey, I can't see what's going on? What's
going on?
> Turning to
>look at her crew, each one startled by their
>ineffectiveness against a sixty-year-old Cardassian-design
>space station.
Tom: [Marrissa] Beaten by an antique! How quaint.
> Shayna looked mad,
Crow: Shayna, quit giving Marrissa the bi-atch look.
> Jay worried,
Mike: [Jay] Oh gosh. I sure hope they renew "Pop Stars".
> Alex
>disgusted,
Tom: [Alex] Avocado colored walls? These decorators have
no honor!
> and Martin pensive.
Crow: [Martin] I hope no one realizes I don't really serve
a purpose on this ship.
> "Send a signal," she
>ordered, returning to her console.
Mike: [Marrissa] Tell 'em we spotted Elvis.
> "Tell the fleet at
>Corvaldis IV that we need . . .
Tom: Hash browns?
> that we may require some
>assistance.
Crow: See? That wasn't that hard, was it? Now, give us
a smile.
> We're going back for the fighters. Alex,
>tell your wife that we need maximum shields in five
>minutes."
Tom: [Alex] Alright, I'll tell her to pray, then.
> Once again, she brought them about to face Deep
>Space Nine.
>
> The fields were down!
Mike: Just like the enemy gate.
> Odo could feel it. The air was
>no longer staticky with electrons.
Crow: It's kinda like when you listen to static to see if
the TV is on in the other room.
> He touched the door.
>Still locked, but that wasn't a problem. He turned himself
>into a liquid, and seeped out into the corridor.
>Reforming, he looked about. No guards.
Tom: Some security. Trusting too much on a force-field when
you're in the middle of a battle. Nice going, Sisko.
Crow: All at once, all of the prisoners on DS9 made... their
GREAT ESCAPE!
> Hurrying toward the promenade, Odo considered his only
>option: Quark.
Mike: The cancelled show about the space garbage scow?
Tom: I can't believe him. He's escaping, and all he can
think about is going back to work.
Crow: [Odo] Maybe if I catch Quark in yet another stupid
scheme, Sisko will give me my job back!
> The Ferengi would have some kind of
>communications access. He had to warn the attacking ship
>that Sisko was behaving strangely,
Mike: And Marrissa would find this info new in what way?
> that the Defiant was
>still here,
Tom: And still doing absolutely nothing.
> and that they were only endangering Bajoran
>lives in this assault.
Mike: [Marrissa] Don't care. Must sate blood lust!
> If they would listen.
>
> "These fighters are tough to hit!" Dax complained.
Mike: Han Solo would tell you to quit complaining, Old Man.
>"They see the shot coming from a kilometer away! Our
>shields are down to forty-seven percent, and falling.
Tom: [slow-motion] They're... slowly... getting...
whooped...
> The
>weapons are draining fast; the fusion cores will be at
>critical levels if this keeps up."
> Admiral Kira came over to help him with the small
>ships. Sisko took the interlude to comment, "Weren't we
>just wishing for things to be like the Dominion War again?"
Crow: High casualties, DS9 under attack, pesky firing from
enemy ships... yep! Sisko got his wish!
> Bashir half-grinned. This hadn't been what they
>wanted. All they were looking for was a simple, clean
>break from Starfleet.
Mike: Maybe he shouldn't have insulted Star Fleet's little
walking death machine then.
> Now, more than thirty people were
>already dead, and the remaining fighters stood little
>chance without their capital ship.
Tom: The Walloping Window Blind?
Crow: Oo, very obscure.
> He wished he were in
>the infirmary, helping with the wounded gathering there,
>but he had to stay.
Mike: [Bashir] Doing nothing but look cryptic is better
than saving lives.
> If the computer failed, he would be
>the most accurate calculating system on the ship, by virtue
>of his genetically engineered brain.
Tom: Oh, so that's why he's there, so he can be the
calculator?
> Without targeting
>scanners, and with half the main systems rerouted, computer
>failure was just a matter of time. With luck, the station
>would be around long enough afterwards to need him. More
>blood on his hands.
Crow: [Bashir] Out! Out, damned spot!
> "Disengaging phasers." Kira said, drawing the
>attention of the crew.
Tom: [Kira] I'm committing mutiny, sir.
> "Admiral? Have they broken off?"
Crow: [Kira] No! They're 100% natural, you pervert!
> Bashir asked, as
>another salvo hit the station. "Never mind."
Tom: [Sisko] Sorry, that was me. I just fired at my own
shields.
> She was working at something else.
Mike: [Bashir] Could you put off that tool-shed for
another day? We're kinda busy!
> "The fusion
>reactors are nearing critical. We've got to shut down, or
>we'll lose half the station!"
Tom: [Sisko] But we can still fight, right?
> Sisko raised his eyebrows. "Seeing as how we'll lose
>both halves otherwise, it may be our only choice. We can't
>target something as small as a fighter with quantum
>torpedoes."
Crow: [Sisko] I know! We'll fire indiscriminately!
> "We can't target them with phasers right now, either.
>Give me a moment . . ."
Tom: [Sisko] Tell the fighters to hold off their attack
until I think of a new strategy to kill them.
> "If we have a moment," Dax finished dryly. "Not to be
>cynical."
> Kira turned her attention to the targeting sensor.
>"That's more like it!
Mike: [Kira] They're purposely slowing down so we CAN fire
at them! How thoughtful...
> If the chief were here, or we had
>more time, we could switch the tractor scanner with the
>phaser targeting array. As it is, this will have to do!"
> A blue light shot out of the turret.
Tom: Attention, Deep Space Shoppers! There is a blue light
special on torpedoes in aisle 3 ...
> It caught half a
>dozen fighters, immobilizing them.
Crow: [Kira] Stay! Good fighters! Now die horribly.
> Dax smiled widely. "Tractor beam, wide dispersal
>pattern."
> Bashir slapped the bulkhead in appreciation.
Tom: [Bulkhead] Owie! Some appreciation!
> "Doesn't
>need much power to hold, because of their small mass.
>That's why they made you an admiral, Nerys!"
> Kira was barely paying attention, as she focused on a
>second group to snare.
Mike: Fishing shows of the future are much cooler than
they are now!
> "I know why I was promoted,
>Doctor."
Tom: It was her poetry reading, right?
> As they stopped, like the first group, she
>smiled. "But thank-you, Julian."
> A few scattered fighters scurried about, but they had
>little effect on the shields. Remodulating the tractor
>beam had the effect of rolling the small ships, keeping
>them from inflicting further damage.
Crow: So technically, the small ships were pretending to be
in a Ferris wheel. Sounds like fun!
> It couldn't be too
>much fun for the pilots, Sisko noted. From what the
>Prophets had shown him, they would all be on the same side,
>of the same ideas, very soon.
Tom: That 'very soon' turns out to be 'never', as
amalgamation of the galaxy becomes far-fetched.
> Even now, in fact, if
>everything went as they said it would.
> A massive slab of white tore across the screen.
All: Tor Johnson!
> "Hang on!"
>
> Shayna let loose with everything they had.
Mike: She even tossed Marrissa's "N'sync" albums at them!
> Clara
>hadn't gotten the shields back, but as she had put it, "You
>said maximum shields in five minutes. This *is* maximum
>shields for five minutes' work!" If the ship wasn't going
>to last much longer, there wasn't much reason not to fire
>indiscriminately, was there?
Crow: Later, at the court martial, while the families of the
destroyed neutral merchants watched, Marrissa admitted
that might have been a mistake.
> Twenty quantum torpedoes sailed out, cascading along
>the shield. Their phasers blasted again and again, having
>some effect, at least.
Tom: The effect? Things blew up real good.
> She tried not to hit their own
>fighters, suspended by tractor beams, but a few small
>plumes reflected the problem with that strategy.
Mike: In other words, human shields make the station more
difficult to destroy.
> Marrissa saw it, too. "Shayna, disengage!"
> The Enterprise stopped in space.
Crow: And that ends the first half of play.
Tom: And now, our half-time report, brought to you by the
good people of Pespi!
> Why don't they destroy them? Marrissa wondered.
>They're a constant threat, as long as they orbit the
>station. She got her answer a moment later.
Mike: As torpedoes blow all the fighters up.
> Spreading the
>beams out, the fighters spread across the Enterprise's
>range of sight.
Tom: [DS9] Dare you to take the fighters! Come on, I dare
ya! Take 'em!
> More indiscriminate shooting would
>certainly kill more of their people; but they weren't about
>to abandon those pilots, either!
> "Their bluff," Picard noted. Maybe this could buy
>Clara a few minutes.
>
> "Our bluff," Sisko noted. "They won't destroy their
>own people,
Tom: Are we talking about the same Marrissa?
> and we have little left for defense.
>Torpedoes?"
Mike: [Syral] No thanks. Do you have any coffee?
> Dax shrugged. "Targeting damaged in the last assault.
>We can try that rapid-fire trick again, but I'd bet they're
>just waiting for it."
> Sisko crossed his arms, thoughtfully. "And I don't
>want to risk killing more people.
Tom: [Sisko] I already reached my "thirty people" limit.
> If the only way to stop
>Admiral Picard is to destroy the Enterprise, we have a
>problem."
> "What about the Prophets?"
Crow: [Sisko] They're in Houston this weekend.
> Kira asked, letting the
>straining computer handle the fighters. "Did they give you
>any more idea about what you have to do?"
Tom: [Sisko] They said "Nuts to you, we'll find another
Emissary!" and stormed out... I'm sure that's a good
sign.
> He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. If they're right,
>those fifteen-hundred lives are inconsequential, except for
>a few.
Mike: Not that their families will want to exact revenge or
anything.
> But, the Enterprise itself is absolutely critical
>for the sake of the future."
Crow: [Sisko] We have a few more Star Trek movies scheduled
for it!
> He closed his eyes.
> A moment later, he opened them again. "Aces high.
>Nothing wild."
>
Tom: Ante up! Start at five quantum torpedoes.
> Odo reached the Promenade. Panicked Bajorans were
>racing around, shouting and calling for help.
Mike: Gee, general panic, many people running around...
brings back a lot of memories.
Tom: Save it, at least you didn't watch any Gamera movies.
> Nearing
>Quark's, a man fell into the constable, a gash on his
>forehead.
Crow: He was cushioned by Odo's goopy state.
Tom: Into him? Ewww... the man's been slimed.
> "Odo! Thank the Prophets!
Crow: [Odo] Okay. Thank you, Prophets.
> I can't see very far; help
>me -- where is the infirmary?"
Mike: [Odo] Oh, we're not using that set this week.
> Looking towards the bar, Odo held the injured man up.
>"This way,"
Tom: [Odo] We'll get you some vodka for that wound.
> he said with a sigh. Even relieved of duty, he
>was on-duty.
Crow: He worked double-shifts this way.
> He began directing traffic, trying to keep
>more people from becoming hurt.
> Reaching the infirmary, he passed the man to Nurse
>Jabara,
Tom: ... who kicked him between the goalposts for an
extra 3 points!
> then made his way over to his office.
> "Odo!" The deputy on duty was startled to see the
>shape-shifter there. "You're supposed to be confined . . ."
Mike: [Quark] By the way, I didn't really know Kira was
into that stuff...
> "Spare me!" Odo shouted,
Tom: [Odo] Please! I wanna work again! Wahhhhh!
> "Why aren't you on the
>Promenade?
Crow: [deputy] I'm scared of confined spaces and the traffic
is horrendous!
> Come on, we have to get these people to safety;
>then we can decide where I should be locked up!"
> Swallowing, the young Bajoran nodded, and they began
>maneuvering through the mobs.
Tom: Well, it looks like a normal soccer game just finished.
> Directing the flow of
>bodies,
Crow: That sounds oddly disturbing.
> Odo felt he was at least contributing in some way.
>But he still had to find . . .
Tom: ...a diet cola without a yucky aftertaste!
> An orange hand tugged on his sleeve.
Crow: What's Ernie doing on DS9?
> "Constable, I
>thought you were locked up!" Quark said, clinging to his
>oldest adversary. "Do I get a reward for catching you?"
Tom: [Odo] Yes, do you want a punch in the jaw?
> "Quark! I was looking for you --"
> "Oh, I bet! Trying to blame *this* one on me, Odo?
Mike: [Odo] Yes. If it weren't for your Bolian tea, none
of this wouldn't have happened!
> I
>think it's beautiful irony that between the two of us, you
>would be the one locked up by Sisko!"
Crow: Who would then by locked up by Marrissa! Yeah, how
ironic. Everyone's arresting everybody.
> He shook his toothy
>bald head in mock-pity. "Oh the life --"
Mike: [Quark] Of two star-crossed jailbirds...
> "Shut up, Quark! I need a favor from you." Odo
>struggled to hold a conversation while trying to keep
>people moving.
Mike: Multi-tasking was never Odo's thing.
> "I only ever seem to do 'favors' for you. When are
>you going to pay me for my services?"
Tom: [Odo] The next morning, honey.
> The bartender
>demanded. "I'll get you whatever you want, provided you
>look the other way when I tell you to."
Crow: [Quark] All I want is to just say "Made you look!"
just once!
> "When?" The constable asked, wearily.
> "From. Now. On." Quark replied smugly.
> Odo shouted for order, his voice falling on deaf ears.
>"Quark, get me communications access to the Federation, and
>I *won't* release a Tiberian mouse into the bulkhead above
>your quarters. Just think of the scratching, the clicking,
>every night when you're trying to sleep . . ."
Tom: [Quark] Sounds kinda neat!
> The Ferengi swallowed, self-consciously touching his
>enormous ear.
Mike: Quark must've been a descendent of Ross Perot.
> "Very well, Constable. One transmission for
>one transgression. I'll keep Ops looking the other way, if
>you'll just stay away from the cargo bays next Thursday."
Tom: [Odo] Joke's on him. We're doing a pesticide sweep in
the cargo bays next Thursday!
> "Agreed." Odo replied curtly. He didn't care if
>Quark made a profit of a million bars; this communication
>was important.
>
> Every single person on the bridge stood.
Mike: o/~ Oh, say can you see... o/~
> Every mouth
>fell open. A collective intake of breath resounded.
Crow: ...causing a vacuum on the bridge, killing the crew.
> Torpedoes flew toward them. A lot of torpedoes.
Mike: A gathering of torpedoes is technically the plural.
Crow: What's being fired at?
Tom: Does it really matter at this point?
>Marrissa soundlessly drove the ship backwards, watching the
>projectiles advance.
Crow: Ah. There's my answer.
Mike: Marrissa's doing the Kaufmann Retrograde! Cool!
> A solid wall of the things spewed
>out.
Tom: Sisko, you crazy bastard, I love you!
Mike: Keeler, I love you too for bringing us this moment!
> Shayna was counting from behind, "Four hundred
>twenty, four hundred forty . . ."
>
Mike: [Marrissa] Shayna! Count the torpedoes and stop
playing Tetris!
Tom: [Shayna] Sorry! One...two...
> "One thousand?"
Crow: It's DS9's new trick, a magazine discharge.
> Dax asked, watching the count reel
>through the computer. "Benjamin, have you heard of
>*overkill*?"
> Sisko shook his head.
>
Mike: [Sisko] It's Marrissa, damn it! I'm not sure if
even a thousand will kill that harpy!
> "Impact in thirty seconds!" Alexander shouted. He
>quickly opened a channel to his wife, and quietly said,
>"Clara, I love you."
Crow: o/~ Clara, I love you. Loving you, is all I can do...o/~
Mike: Sorry, this is Ensign Ricky. What did you say?
> "Eight hundred sixty! They're still coming! Marrissa
>--"
Mike: [Shayna] Um, this may be a bad time, but can you
okay my vacation request?
Bots: [chanting] Marrissa's going to die! Marrissa's
going to die!
Mike: Guys! We went over this already. We've read the sequel.
How the Heck Ramsey is she going to die if there's a
sequel?!
> "That's it. Engineering says the jerry-rigging just
>cut out.
Crow: What does the electoral process have anything to
do with engineering?
Mike: She didn't say gerrymandering, Crow.
> Warp drive is gone. We're moving as fast as
>possible."
Tom: Ah. Ludicrous speed.
> The admiral swallowed.
Mike: Yes, despite our doubts, she too is human.
> Jay came up from
>behind, and took her hand.
Crow: [Jay] Come on! Let's ride on out to case the
Promised Land!
> Together, they watched the
>waves of death hurtle their way.
>
Mike: [Marrissa] This is nothing. I've been facing
waves of death since I was just a gleam in my
father's eye!
> "Disengage! Benjamin! The weapons turrets are . . ."
Crow: Extremely phallic?
> The turrets were overheating; if space weren't so
>cold, the metal would have glowed. At once, all six
>exploded.
Crow: Oh! And right before the station's big date with
the head cheerleader too!
Tom: Sound familiar, Mike?
Mike: [softly] Shut up.
> The cascade reaction ripped through the prepped
>but still unfired torpedoes.
Mike: I thought the Cascade reaction was the thing that kept
your glasses from spotting in the dishwasher.
> Unshielded, they waited for
>the discharge to wash through the rest of the station,
>and consume them all.
Tom: So everyone dies. Well, at least it all went out
with a bang. Let's go now.
Mike: Sit down, Servo.
> And they waited. Sisko seemed
>unfazed.
Crow: Oh, he's having another vision again.
> "Ben, what happened?" Dax ventured, as it became
>evident that they weren't about to die.
Tom: [Sisko] Paramount must have renewed the series.
> He raised his eyebrows innocently. "I must have
>forgotten to arm them."
>
Mike: [Sisko] I'm sure that those heavy objects hurtling
through space at high speeds won't do any harm
to anything.
> Marrissa took a deep breath and held it, promising
>silently never to complain about Sara, if she ever saw her
>daughter again. She felt Jay's hand tighten on her own.
Crow: [Marrissa] Jay? No touching.
Mike: [Jay] Sorry.
> "Impact!"
> A dull thud sounded. Releasing her breath, the
>admiral opened her eyes. Hundreds of torpedoes overwhelmed
>the viewer. Another thud, and another. It sounded like a
>heavy hail all around them as the torpedoes tumbled through
>the weak shield and bounced off the hull.
Tom: [Marrissa] Sisko's throwing rocks at us? What is he
expecting us to do? Hoping us to go outside and get
hit by these golf balls?
> Relief ran through her veins. The torpedoes weren't
>active! But why?
Crow: 'Cause Sisko wussed out, that's why.
> She refocused the sensors around the
>storm of inert projectiles, and saw the weapon turrets
>erupt.
Tom: Onboard DS9, Tommy Lee Jones quickly arrived to take
control of the situation.
> "He sacrificed their only defenses as a ruse?" She
>couldn't understand.
Mike: I guess on that account we can all agree.
> The Enterprise could take the station
>at their leisure, now. The tractor emitters were also
>destroyed, releasing all the fighters.
Tom: Looks like the ride for the pilots is over.
Crow: Several hundred lunches have been lost in the battle.
> "Return course to
>the station. Tell Kathy to regroup and return to the bay."
Mike: You know, if she's still alive.
> Sachs complied happily, as glad as everyone to still
>be alive.
>
Crow: Well, except for Ensign Deathwish...
Tom: *I'm* not feeling very happy to be alive right now.
> It was over. They had nothing left. The Nova-class
>starship was specifically designed to be able to conquer
>space stations. The Enterprise herself had crippled more
>Romulan Starforts than Sisko cared to count.
Mike: It was hard to count because the battles were too
fast to actually start counting kills.
> Their phasers
>were drained, their torpedo tubes were destroyed.
Crow: And the TVs were all showing reruns of "The Man
Show."
> Their
>shields would protect them for only a few minutes, once
>Admiral Picard recognized their crippled state. If the
>Prophets had any tricks left, this was the time to use
>them.
Mike: Unfortunately, Sisko wasn't expecting the Prophets
to just leave a flaming paper bag by Marrissa's
door.
> "Incoming hail, Benjamin," Kira reported.
Tom: Changing to snow by mid-morning.
> "Admiral
>Picard wishes us to name the terms of our surrender."
Mike: [Sisko] She'll be asking for strawberries. Better
start the replicators...
> He put on a resolute face. "On screen."
> Marrissa appeared, haggard but smug.
Crow: Yup, that's our Marrissa, all right.
Tom: Marrissa, you never change, even after a near-death
situation.
> "Now, Sisko. I
>want the wormhole.
Mike: [Sisko] One, I don't own the wormhole. Two, it's stuck
in one fixated spot, you can't move a wormhole!
> I want every scrap of Federation
>technology on that station, I want your court-martial, and
>I want to know the real reason for your desertion."
Tom: Great. Marrissa's the new number two.
Crow: [Sisko] You can't court-martial me! I QUIT!
> He grimaced. She had the winning hand, and they both
>knew it. A bluff was a bluff, even when it was called.
>"The Federation can feel free to use the wormhole any time,
>Admiral, for as long as Bajor says. The technology was
>provided by Starfleet to help Bajor;
Tom: [Marrissa] Well, we want it back. Starfleet has
plenty of IOU's to be fulfilled.
> and besides, it's all
>been severely damaged in your attack.
Crow: [Sisko] That I recklessly started just to fill up
space!
> As for me, I've
>already given you my reasons, and I've been granted full
>amnesty by the people of Bajor. So, our terms are still
>the same."
> She glowered across the channel. "But your position
>is weaker. And my reinforcements will arrive at any moment.
Mike: When are they coming, anyway?
Tom: [Jean-Luc] Marrissa's in trouble? Ah, no rush. Take
your time!
>I believe that ends our little game."
Crow: [Marrissa] Shall we play some tennis next time?
> He exhaled.
Tom: We were waiting for that. [snicker]
> A single light blinked at him from the
>comm system.
Crow: That's the halitosis detector.
> "Hold, please, Admiral." He hit the button.
>A few lines of code ran across the screen in Bajoran.
Mike: Translated, they read "Make $30 an hour at your PC!"
> He
>smiled.
Tom: [Sisko] Lucent's up 1/2 a point. Excellent.
> Reopening the channel to the Enterprise, he
>relaxed. "Admiral, I'm afraid we were just dealt our trump
>card. The Bajoran text I'm sure you received just now is a
Mike: Completely legal multi-level marketing scheme!
>declaration of Bajoran independence. Under the ninth
>guarantee of the Constitution of the United Federation of
>Planets,
Tom: ...we are allowed as many wombats in our home as we
wish, and we will exert that right!
> any planet choosing to secede is to be granted
>sovereignty, so long as it is a decision free from coercion
>by outside influences,
Crow: Like spooky aliens living in a wormhole?
Tom: I have a feeling that that clause there is gonna nip
Sisko in the butt sooner or later.
> and a decision of the legal
>planetary government. By this law, you are in violation of
>Bajoran space, and any action you take against Bajoran
>property, including this station, will be considered an act
>of war."
Crow: [Marrissa] Hmm. Federation: Lots of planets, big navy.
Bajor: 1 Planet, very small navy which I now outgun.
What to do, what to do?
> Picard looked as though she were about to be sick.
Mike: Combine that with her back, ankle, and baby problems,
adds up to one unhappy mammy.
>She fortified her visage.
Tom: With 7 vitamins and iron!
> "That cannot be recognized as an
>official declaration until it is received and understood by
>Starfleet Command.
Mike: [Marrissa] And thanks to you, the voters, the
politicians there are so dumb it'll take months
before they understand.
> I have exactly that long to extradite
>you from that station." She grinned, wickedly. "Asylum
>from the Federation cannot be granted while the providers
>are still bound by the Federation's laws. Lower your
>shields, or we'll lower them for you!"
Tom: Such variety in choices!
Mike: How very thoughtful of her.
Crow: [Marrissa] And I should warn you, I've been lowering
shields since before I could crawl!
> Bashir thought Worf would be proud to see the former
>admiral stand his ground.
Tom: Then again, Worf would probably have wrung Sisko's
neck if his son blew up, too.
> "Then by all means, Admiral,
>come and get me!"
>
> As Odo finally reached the terminal Quark had set up
>for him, he noticed that the battle outside had dwindled.
>The station was no longer shaking,
Mike: [Odo] Looks like our special effects budget just
ran out for this episode.
> and that last big
>explosion sounded like it came from the habitat ring,
Mike: The what?
Tom: It's where they keep the ship's hamsters.
> or
>the weapons turrets. If that was so, this transmission
>might be pointless.
Tom: [Odo] If that was so, why am I still alive to
begin with?
> Starfleet could already have the
>crew under lock and key. He used the isolinear rod Quark
>had supplied to open a channel.
Crow: Ooh! Hannity and Zlak'bar is on!
> Just as he did so, a long
>transmission of Bajoran text scrawled through.
Mike: Bajoran MLM schemes OF THE FUTURE!
> Reading it,
>the constable slumped.
Crow: It was just an offer for a GUARANTEED way to QUICKLY
have EXCELLENT credit.
> The Council of Ministers had
>reached their verdict apparently, which meant that Odo was
>once more chief of security.
Crow: So, is he guilty?
Tom: Crow, he's not.
Crow: Oh.
> It also meant he had no
>further ties to Starfleet. But they had a right to know
>about Sisko's behavior, didn't they? Reluctantly, he
>removed the rod and turned the commlink off.
All: Awww...
Mike: Justice before the law, huh?
> For now, he would just have to see.
>
>
>END Section 3: Before the Dawn
>
Tom: BEGIN Section 4: After Dawn. And BEGIN
Crew Exiting the Theater
[Mike lifts up Tom and all three leave the theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .]
[The Bridge]
[The trio stands behind the console. ]
Mike: Wow.
Crow: Yeah. I don't think that I've ever seen a Marrissa
battle sequence last that long before.
Tom: Hrmph. I still think more things should have
blown up.
Crow: Tom, you thought that about "The Matrix" too.
Tom: They didn't even blow up a car! What kind of
action film is it if they couldn't even have
a car explode!
Crow: You made the same argument on why "What Women
Want" sucked.
Tom: Mel Gibson was in it! For things not to be
exploding is inexcusable!
Mike: Guys, enough. Maybe it's just me, but does Sisko
seem a bit off to you?
Crow: Bah. Standard Star Trek Plot #47. "One of the
crew starts acting goofy." Been there. Done
that. Watched them do it again and again in
Voyager.
Tom: It's just a question of what one Keeler is
ripping off for this piece.
Mike: Come on, guys. Keeler might have done something
original.
[The bots stare at Mike for a moment then burst
out laughing.]
Crow: Mike, it's fanfic.
Tom: An original idea in fanfic. That's rich.
Mike: [flatly] Yeah. Rich. Ha. Ha.
Crow: Anyway, I'm betting that Sisko had a
transporter accident and his evil twin
is loose on the station.
Tom: Please. He's possessed by those mind
controlling grubs. I mean, duh.
Crow: Nah. Too obvious. Maybe this is all
an illusion of Barash.
Tom: Mind grubs.
Crow: Or an evil Bajoran hypnotized him into
taking over the station.
Tom: Grubs.
Mike: Hey, maybe Sisko's in the body of
a female lab assistant while she's
running amok on the station.
[The bots stare at Mike.]
Tom: Mike, that one was goofy, even for the
original series.
Mike: [Sighs] Look, even if the guy is borrowing
ideas, why are sure that he's taking
them from Star Trek?
Crow: Good point! Maybe he's been grabbed by
the Psi Corps! Or a doppelganger!
Tom: Mind grubs.
Mike: Not everything is sci-fi, guys. Maybe
he just wants to play a nice game of
solitaire.
Crow: Or maybe Ensign Roberts threw his prized
palm tree out the airlock.
Tom: It's...
Crow: Tom, if you say mind grubs again...
Tom: No. It's even simpler than that. He's
flipped. The second rate rip-off of
Jean Luc Picard has gone off the deep
end and become a cross between David
Koresh and Captain Hazelwood.
Crow: Oh.
Mike: I guess that makes sense...
Tom: Or it could be the mind grubs.
[Mike and Crow sigh as the lights begin to
flash.]
Mike: We'll discuss this later, Tom. Right
now, WE'VE GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!
[Mike hits the lights and the door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]
[The trio enter and take their places.]
Crow: So, Tom. Are there any mind grubs in the theater?
Tom: Nah. They avoid here since they lost an attack
force to one of Mike's knocked over cokes.
Mike: And Crow said that spilling my drink was a bad thing.
>From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:18:53 1998
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Tom: Are we done yet, Mike?
Mike: Almost.
>Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 4/4
Crow: This fanfic is four for four tonight.
>From: Iblis <captain@work.matrix>
>Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:18:53 GMT
Tom: What's the point of showing the date? Are we
supposed to mark this on our calendars?
>
>Title: Before the Dawn
>Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu)
Mike: This author may be anti-spam, but he's pro-fanfic.
>Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1
>Rating: [PG] violence
Tom: Nothing's more bloody than text-based violence!
>Codes: N/A
>Part: NEW 4/4
>Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation, and takes Deep
>Space Nine with him. Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After
>the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen."
Tom: And this fanfic slowly winds down, skips a few steps,
flips over, and crashes into a snow-bank.
>
>
>
> "Channel closed."
Crow: The Jerries have siezed it! They'll start See
Lowe any minute now!
> Shayna watched her friend stalk
>back to her chair.
> Sussex leaned over. "Marrissa, Admiral,
Mike: Bubeleh ...
> *you* are a
>representative of Starfleet.
Tom: [Marrissa] You forgot Princess of Essex and ultimate
ruler of the galaxy.
> If you do this, you could
>cause a war. Is it worth all this for one man?"
Crow: [Marrissa] Yes! It's Leo diCaprio, for Pete's sake!
He's worth the universe!
> Picard nodded. "It's not just one man. It's Benjamin
>Sisko. The hero of the Dominion War, and the Bajoran
>Emissary to the Prophets. Where he leads, people follow.
Tom: He's like the Pied Paper of Bajor!
>If I let him go, he becomes a critical variable, when the
>Federation is still trying to rebuild after the last war.
>Caesar, Hitler, Singh, Colonel Green -- they were men like
>Sisko, convinced of their own godhood."
Mike: Odd. Marrissa's name isn't on that list. Hmm...
> He shook his head. "If he dies, he becomes a martyr.
Tom: If he dies, he won't order anymore uprisings.
>If he's captured, he *will* escape. But if he's trapped
>here, in a tiny system, what harm can he do?"
Crow: If he goes nuts, a lot of harm, particularly in his
place.
Tom: Tinpot dictators. Never CAN trust 'em.
> "Shayna, begin attack run.
Tom: [Marrissa] Luke, you, Biggs and Wedge stand by for
a second wave.
> Martin, the wormhole is
>the single most important passage in the known galaxy.
Crow: Even more important than the passage between the
study and the conservatory?
>Sisko, here, can spread his influence like a parasite to
>every ship that stops to resupply, including our own.
Tom: Oh, look who's talking!
Mike: [Marrissa] Quick! Get me some space penicillin, stat!
> He's
>too dangerous!"
> The ship accelerated toward the station, barely
>holding together after the assault.
Crow: It had a lot of duct tape covering the hull breaches.
> The station crew had
>to be holding their breaths to see what would happen.
> They didn't have long to wait.
Tom: The ship fell apart to pieces right before it could
fire. The end.
> "Incoming message, Admiral!" Alexander announced.
Crow: Oh, wait. They're not using 10-10-1625546788454683453.
Do you want to accept the call?
> "Tell Sisko that I want his total surrender, nothing
>less."
> "It's not the station.
Mike: --It's a giant space walrus with photon flippers!
> It's the USS James Kirk --
>it's your father."
Mike: Her dad was a spaceship?
Tom: [Marrissa] But, he's dead! They killed him back in
"Enterprized!"
> She blinked. They couldn't be here this fast. The
>only thing they could want . . .
Mike: Was deliverance! A way to calm an angry voice!
> Alexander stiffened. "On speakers. By order of
>Commanding Admiral Jean-Luc Picard."
Tom: [Alex] Hold on, switching all power to the
speaker-phone.
> Marrissa sat up straight in her chair, despite her
>back. The elder Picard's features seemed stern. "Admiral
>Marrissa Picard," he said,
Crow: [Jean-Luc] You've been a very naughty Admiral! You're
grounded!
> "You are to break off you attack
>immediately. The Bajoran system is under the protection of
>the ninth guarantee of the Constitution of the United
>Federation of Planets.
Crow: Isn't that the clause that guarantees the availability
of peanuts to Federation citizens on spaceflights?
Mike: Hey, those Bajorans supply an awful lot of those
goobers.
> Sisko is under their provision."
> "But da-aad! He's dangerous!" She knew she sounded
>whiny,
Crow: Has she ever sounded any other way?
Mike: [Marrissa] But da-aad, I wanted to destroy the
station! You said I could! WAHHHH!!
Tom: You do that far too well, Mike.
> but after everything she had been through, she felt
>she deserved some leeway.
Mike: Marrissa has leeway? That's like calling the
Amazon a small stream.
> She quickly explained her
>concerns to him, but he shook his head.
Tom: [Jean-Luc] I'm sorry, honey. Could you repeat that
in a form of a question?
> "The Constitution is the basis for our ideals within
>the Federation.
[All softly hum stirring music.]
> When we lose sight of our own regulations,
>we infringe upon the rights of all free beings throughout
>the galaxy. And when that happens, the Federation dies.
>Let it go. That is an order."
> She huffed as the channel closed.
Mike: Is it me, or did Marrissa just lose?
[Pause.]
Tom: Alright, what have you done with Marrissa?
Crow: Even the Globetrotters have to lose sooner or later.
> Ankles aching all
>the way, she returned to the pilot's chair, and took the
>Enterprise on a sweeping arc around Deep Space Nine,
>heading back for Federation Space.
>
Crow: Then it headed over to Federation and Empire.
> Sisko watched in silent awe as the ship moved away,
>but he resisted sighing his relief until all the Federation
>signatures had cleared long-range sensors. Corvaldis IV
>stood empty again.
Mike: Unfortunately, Bajor was still packed full of
Federation warships.
> "Ben," Dax called, "the Council of Ministers has a
>message for you.
Crow: [Syral] They're asking if you can stop having
any more battles for the night. They're trying to
get some sleep down there.
> Under the direction of the First Minister
>and the Kai, you are to assume command of the station as a
>fully registered Bajoran national.
Tom: For once, the immigration department sped up the
process.
> They've acknowledged
>your request to have Admiral Kira stay on as your first
>officer." He laughed at something on the screen.
Mike: [Sisko] Hey, they're playing an episode of the
Three Stooges! God, they kill me!
> "It
>seems they wanted to make you Navarch, but the Kai
>insisted. She's a forceful woman, apparently. Your
>official title, as commanding officer of the station is to
>be 'Emissary.'"
Mike: But in six weeks, they'll promote you to Executive
Emissary!
> The Emissary smiled. "It does always seem to come
>back to that."
Crow: [Sisko] I wish they'd stop worshipping me... nah,
who am I kidding?
> He moved over to the doors of his office,
>then turned to face everyone. "Ladies and gentlemen.
Tom: Is he talking to us?
Crow: Do we clap?
> I
>want to thank all of you for your courage, and your
>loyalty. This is the first step towards a great
>future, and I'm told, a better present.
Tom: [Sisko] While I'm out thanking the entire station,
I might as well thank some of our sponsors who
stuck with us on the way...
> Chief O'Brien is
>going to have his work cut out for him piecing this place
>back together;
Mike: [O'Brien] Well, I'm back from retirement... how
did... what the hell happened here? I was only
gone a week!
> let's try to make it easier on him.
>Together we shall rebuild, and together we pave the way for
>the next generation. Our journey is far from over. It's
>just beginning." He entered his office.
Tom: [Sisko] To hell with the claps, I'll just head off
before they start appreciating my speech.
> Patting the small black box Nog had given him, he
>whispered, "just beginning."
>
Crow: So the Macguffin remains a Macguffin. Whatever.
> Days later, Marrissa heard the news.
Mike: About a lucky man who made the grade.
> Having a member
>of Section 31 working for her wasn't so bad, she thought.
Crow: [Marrissa] It's kinda cool having a militant elite
unit do your dirty work!
>She still hadn't seen his face, but he reported to her
>through scrambled, recoordinated, and re-encoded channels.
>Deep Space Nine had changed its name to reflect its status
>as fully Bajoran-owned;
Tom: They now called it the "Prophets' Hangout".
> it was now called Temple's Gate.
Mike: Kris Kristofferson, Christopher Walken and John Hurt
soon arrived on the station, but left after three days.
>Some of the Defiant's supposedly dead crew had been seen
>there. And the sanitation services would need another week
>to clean that window.
Tom: Ahhh! I got whiplash from the change in subject there.
> Her father's breifing hadn't helped, either.
[Silence]
Mike: Hey! Is that our first spelling error?
Crow: It's the first one I've noticed!
Tom: Wow. We nearly made it out of here without seeing one.
> He never
>actually expected her to retake the station;
Crow: Blow it to smithereens, sure! But retake it? Nah.
> just put up a
>strong front, to show what lengths they would go to in
>order to keep the wormhole. It was a classic good-cop,
>bad-cop routine.
Tom: Marrissa felt like she was in a cheap "Law & Order"
episode.
> By pulling the Enterprise out, Picard
>himself looked like the good guy, and Bajor would more
>willingly open negotiations with him.
> Tired, she lay her head down on the desk. Only one
>thing really bothered her. How could she have lost?
Tom: Because her usual writer wasn't writing this fanfic?
> She
>never lost!
Mike: The score now... Other Guys 1, Marrissa 59,999,999,999.
> Especially in the flagship, against a single
>rebellious space station, more than sixty years old. It
>was unheard of.
Crow: Just like letting a preteen command a starship.
Tom: I have a feeling Ratliff's gonna have a long talk
with Thomas about how the Marrissa universe should
be conducted.
> She let patterns dance across her vision
>as she forced her eyes tightly shut. The desktop was a
>cold and unyielding pillow.
Crow: Which was odd, as it was stuffed with goose feathers.
> Already back en route to Romulus, they had been
>assigned escort duty to twenty Romulan Warbirds. Marrissa
>didn't like it; they were barely through the war, and now
>the Enterprise alone was having to play taxi.
Mike: At least it'll pick up some extra cash on the way.
> She knew it
>was a simple matter of convenience that they were headed
>the same direction, but it still felt somehow staged. At
>the very least, Clara ad managed to get systems back up to
>peak efficiency; she knew every system on the ship like
>they were her children.
Crow: In fact, she named her replicator "Billy".
> Marrissa thought of Sara, asleep in the next room.
>She would need a feeding soon . . .
Mike: But where would she be able to find mealworms in
Romulan space?
> A beep came from her communicator. "Admiral, there
>are three renegade Warbirds demanding that our fleet join
>them, and that we surrender immediately."
[All snicker.]
Tom: Hello force that vastly outnumbers us! Please
surrender now!
> Her body complained as she tried to stand, but she
>just didn't care.
Crow: [Marrissa] Oh quit whining! You're not getting any
rest until I destroy everything, okay?
> She didn't have room left to care. She
>launched herself up, forcing her muscles to cooperate.
Tom: [Marrissa] I better get a new body soon. This one's
getting old!
>Ignoring the pain, she executed a cartwheel, letting the
>spontaneous motion revitalize her. Spending time in the
>holodeck had helped her, but this was what she really
>needed right now.
Mike: [Marrissa] I'll make sure that losing streak
doesn't last very long!
> "On my way!"
Tom: o/~ To where the air is sweet ... o/~
> She called, hurrying to the turbolift.
>
>
Crow: Her legs cracked and popped, but she eventually got
to the bridge in six or seven months or so.
>END Before the Dawn
>
>Next: Temple's Gate: Revelations and Exile
>And: Temple's Gate: Reflected Truth
>
>
Tom: And after that, Temple's Gate: Temple in the Hood!
>
>DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Deep Space Nine, all affiliated
>characters, and everything relating to the planet Bajor is
>the property of Paramount Pictures. Marrissa Picard and
>her unusual universe are the property of Stephen Ratliff.
Tom: 'Unusual' is an understatement.
>The story is mine. South Park is owned by Trey Parker and
>Matt Stone and Comedy Central.
Mike: It's been over 5 years. I think by now we've let
by-gones be by-gones.
Tom: [monotone] Yes, Comedy Central is funny.
Crow: [monotone] We admire Comedy Central.
[All pause.]
Crow: They're not taking us back, are they?
Mike: Nope.
>For the world is my oyster, and I am allergic to shellfish.
>
Mike: I guess we shouldn't invite him to our next clambake
then.
Crow: Shoot.
>
>
>
>
>*****SPOILER*****SPOILER*****SPOILER*****SPOILER*****
>SPOILER*****
Mike: Hey, I do not spoil the 'bots!
Tom: I'll say you don't.
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
> |
>\|/
> V
>
Crow: You are here.
>Watch TNG's "Conspiracy."
Tom: Told you.
Mike: Yeah, yeah. Mind grubs. We know.
Tom: Heck, that thing's been obvious to us since Captain
Nog came aboard!
Crow: We got it, Tom. Stop rubbing it in.
>What number host was Ezri?
Crow: [whining] We don't know! Okay?
>Who's the only person in ST history who could possibly hold
>his own against Marrissa Picard?
Mike: Er, Teri Garr?
> Think about it.
Tom: Oh! I know! It's Moriarty!
Mike: No, it's Hardcourt Fenton Mudd's wife!
>I'll never use the term, "Oh look! Kennison's not dead!"
>Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Crow: When did Geena Davis get here?
> It's at its darkest now . . .
>
Crow: Yeah, whatever. Mike, can we go now? This thing's
starting to depress me.
Mike: Sure, let's go.
>
>
>
Tom: I should be happy Marrissa lost. Why am I not?
Crow: Because she's still around?
Tom: Oh, right.
[Mike lifts Tom from his chair and all three exit the
theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[The Bridge.]
[Mike, Tom and Crow stand behind the counter.]
Mike: Well, that was an interesting change of pace.
Tom: Yeah, it wasn't quite as bad as a Marrissa
story usually is.
Crow: And, hey, it was great to see baldy opening
up a can of whup-ass on Marrissa!
Tom: And there weren't any sex scenes with Marrissa
in this one!
[Mike shivers.]
Mike: Tom, please stop bringing that story up.
Tom: Sorry.
Crow: I guess Pearl messed up for once.
Mike: Ah, she'll get even with us. She'll probably
end up sending us something truly awful.
Tom: Hey, maybe she'll start sending us episodes of
that new Trek show.
Mike: [pause] Nah. I don't think she's that evil.
Maybe she'll send up something with Carrot...
[Suddenly, the Bridge is rocked by explosions, causing
Cambot to lurch from side to side. The trio steadies
themselves against the console.]
Crow: What the?
Tom: We're under attack!
Mike: Tom, if you've annoyed those dolphins again...
Tom: I haven't! I swear!
[Gypsy rushed in frantically.]
Gypsy: Mike! Something's coming in on the Hexfield!
[The hexfield open to reveal a rather peeved Benjamin
Sisko. Behind him is Deep Space Nine's Ops.]
All: Uh-oh.
Mike: Hi there, Admiral Sisko, sir. How are you today?
Sisko: [coldly] Oh, Admiral Sisko, sir, is it? I seem
to recall just a few minutes ago someone
referring to me as "baldy".
Crow: That was a joke, your Emmisaryness, sir.
Sisko: [coldy, but escalating in fury] Just like all
of those Hawk references were? Or am I still
Admiral Easy Reader? A cross between David
Koresh and Captain Hazelwood? A second
rate rip-off of Jean Luc Picard?!?
Tom: Heh. We meant all of those in the nicest
possible way...
Sisko: [politely] Oh, I'm sure that you did. Just
as I mean firing these 1000 photon torpedoes
at your vessel in the nicest possible way.
Mike: You're not going to arm the warheads
again, right?
Sisko: [Grinning evilly] I never repeat the same
trick twice. Fire. Helm, let's get the
hell out of here.
[The hexfield closes.]
Mike: Well, so this is it. We're all going to die.
[Silence. The four shift about uncomfortably.]
Magic Voice: Guys? I know I haven't said much lately,
but I just thought that if we're all going to
die, then I should probably get a last few
seconds of screen time. So, how about them
Lakers?
Gypsy: o/~ When you walk through a storm, hold your
head up high... o/~
Crow: Tom? I just thought that I'd tell you that
after all these years together, I really,
really hate you.
Tom: Me too, Crow.
[Suddenly, the ship lurches from side to side... No,
wait. It's just Cambot lurching. The rest of the
crew looks confused.]
Mike: Wait a sec! The torpedoes all just exploded!
We're safe!
Magic Voice: But how?
Gypsy: o/~ You'll never walk a-lone!!! o/~
[The hexfield opens to reveal...]
All: Cats?!?
[Yes, it's the villainous baddie from Zero Wing,
a.k.a. the "All your base are belong to us" game.]
Cats: Oho. I yes I is.
Mike: Wow! Hey, thanks for saving us...
Cats: Silence. You have no chance to survive make
your time. Soon, all your base are belong
to us!
[The Hexfield closes. The bots are laughing
hysterically.]
Mike: Great. Two death threats in one... what
are you two laughing at?
Tom: That was great! [snicker]
Crow: All your base. [snicker]
Mike: You told me that wasn't funny!
Crow: Well, it is when *he* says it!
Gypsy: Mike! Cats' ships are being driven off!
[The hexfield opens again. It's Krankor.]
All: Krankor!
[Yes, Krankor.]
Krankor: Greetings, Mike. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
All: Hi Krankor.
Krankor: Have you begun to quiver in fear yet from
my sudden arrival, Mike?
Mike: Not really.
Krankor: Of course you are! For soon my forces shall
sweep across the entire globe! The Earth
shall be under my grasp! Ha-ha-ha-ha!
Crow: Yep.
Tom: We know.
Mike: We're deeply afraid. Really we are.
Krankor: Yes, for you have tasted the wrath if
Krankor! Ha-ha...
[Suddenly, Krankor's bridge is buffeted by explosions.]
Krankor: Ahhhh! Raise shields! We'll discuss this later,
Nelson!
[The hexfield closes, but as it closes, we hear...]
Voice: [V.O.] SPAAAAACE GHOOOOST!
Gypsy: Mike, scanners indicate 45 vessels engaged in
battle in our immediate vicinity!
Mike: Great. Well guys, it's going to take a while
for them to determine who gets to kill us.
You want to tell them how they can become
targets too?
Crow: Sure. To join the MiSTing Authors Dibs List,
send an e-mail to "majordomo@pinky.wtower.com"
with the message "subscribe dibslist" in the
message body. Don't forget to read the FAQ at
"http://www.masemware.com/mst3k/faq.shtml",
don't work blue, and for Pete's sake, don't
feed fanfic authors after midnight!
Tom: Why?
Crow: I dunno. I guess they get all worked up and
can't get back to sleep.
Tom: Oh.
Mike: [looking out the hexfield] Hey, is that
the White Star?
Crow: No, I think that's the Heart of Gold.
Mike: Ah.
[They all stare out the hexfield for a moment.
The Castle Forrester light begins to flash.]
Mike: Ah. Pearl's calling. Hey, you enjoying
the light show up here?
[Castle Forrester]
[Off in the background, Bobo is still trapped in
one of the file drawers.]
Pearl: Yeah, yeah. It's all very pretty. But they
better not make me lose my security deposit
on that sat...
Observer: Yo, Pearl. Look at this.
[Pearl glances at the screen.]
Pearl: Hey. Look at this. Those folks on the internet
are already writing stories about all those
folks shooting at you.
Bobo: [weakly] Lawgiver?
Pearl: Not now, Bobo. Hey, some of these are pretty
good, by which I mean they're horrible. But
they'll be great to inflict on you. Later,
Mike.
[The scene returns to the SoL. Gypsy has left the
bridge.]
Mike: Great. Not only are we being shot at, but
Pearl's got all sorts of new material to
use too.
Crow: Well, we have to figure out some way to
get rid of those ships before they do
something we regret. Like kill us.
Tom: Hmm. Could we take the fighters and
engage in a desperate dogfight with
the other ships?
Mike: Sure, if we had any fighters.
Crow: Should I power up the main photon cannons?
Mike: I don't think our headlights would do
anything to them.
Tom: Can we let Mike wander aimlessly around
the bridge, hoping that he'll somehow blow
up the combatants?
Mike: Hey!
Crow: Nah. He'd probably accidentally destroy the
Earth too, and then where would we get our
cable from?
Tom: Oh, yeah.
Mike: Guys, I do not blow up that many...
[Gypsy suddenly reappears wearing a large blonde
wig.]
Gypsy: All right, you space maggots! Listen up!
This satellite is under my protection, and
unless you want to deal with me, you'll get
the heck outta here! Or else I might have
to start carving things into hulls...
[Outside, the ships rapidly scatter in all directions.
Moments later, the nearby space is clear.]
Crow: Wow!
Tom: Great job, Gypsy!
Mike: Yeah, that was a great impression of Marrissa!
Gypsy: Who's Marrissa?
[Gypsy exits. The three other crew members stare
blankly as she exits.]
Crow: She's scaring me, Mike.
Mike: Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Hey, the
starships are gone! That's good!
Tom: Yep.
Crow: I guess. Still, I keep thinking we're
forgetting something.
Mike: I'm sure it's nothing. [to the camera]
Goodnight everyone.
[Mike hits the button, and the screen contracts
with a ...]
\ | /
\ | /
--- * --- FWOOOOSH!
/ | \
/ | \
Ratliff: [V.O.] Hey guys! I thought up a new story
while I was locked away. It's about
Marrissa being locked up in a women's
prison...
Crow: [V.O.] Oh, now I remember!
Mike: [V.O.] Why me?
Mystery Usenet Theater 3000: Before the Dawn
was written by "Thomas Keeler"
And misted by Misted by Alex Gariepy, Eric Scheppers,
Brian Dubick, Juliet Youngren, Douglas Gale and
Matt Blackwell
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" and related characters and
situations are trademark of and (c) Best Brains, Inc. All
rights reserved.
"Star Trek: The Next Generation" and "Star Trek: Deep Space
Nine" and their associated characters and situations
are copyright and trademarks of Paramount and Viacom.
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 Pictures Corporation, or anyone else, 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, and any resemblance to actual
people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Incidental mentions of various situations and/or song
lyrics should not be taken as challenges to any legal
copyrights and trademarks.
A special thanks to Brian Dubick, who first got the ball
moving on this one.
UPN would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone
that "Enterprise" is now showing every Wednesday night!
Watch it! Please! I mean, we need at least one successful
show on the network, people. We don't really want to be
known as the "wrestling and lousy sitcom" network. Come
on! Watch us! We'll be your friend!
Keep circulating the posts.
Twang.
9/26/01
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> Seeing his wife debating whether or not she could
>stand, Jay took some initiative, surprising everyone.
----------------------------------------------------------------------