-- CONTINUED FROM PART 1 --
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Crow and Tom are behind the counter. Crow is wearing a large, goofy,
Guinan-style hat. Tom is wearing a similar hat, but his is much smaller.
Mike, who is standing off-screen to the right, ducks in front of the camera.]
MIKE: And now, Tom and Crow will re-enact the scene between Guinan and
Mary from today's fanfic, "Time Speeder."
[Mike vanishes to the right. Cambot zooms in on Tom and Crow.]
CROW: Hi, Mary!
TOM: Hello, *mother*.
CROW: Long time no see! When *did* I abandon you to that horrible bed and
breakfast, anyway -- fifty, sixty years ago?
TOM: Gee, I don't know, it seemed more like five hundred.
CROW: Oh, what are you complaining about? You made a ton of cash!
TOM: So? I wasted the best years of my life in that dumpster of a bed
and breakfast!
CROW: You ran at a 300 percent profit. That's all that matters.
TOM: But you stole my youth from me! <sigh> Anyway. I don't suppose you've
sobered up enough from your neverending rum-and-Coke binge to remember
that today is my birthday, have you?
CROW: Today's your birthday? <pause> Oh yeah! I guess it is!
TOM: Uh huh. Well, don't feel bad that you forgot. I've gotten used to
that over the last ninety years. In fact, when was the last time you
even realized I existed? Or mentioned me to anybody else? Why is it
that everyone you know doesn't know you even had a daughter?
CROW: Um... the subject just never came up, that's all. Nobody asked me
if I had a daughter, so...
TOM: And while you're at it, how about telling me who my father is, hmmm?
CROW: Well, see, I can't, because... <pause> Why wouldn't I? This doesn't
make any sense. I can't do this, Mike!
[Mike steps back in front of Cambot.]
MIKE: Crow, what are you doing?! You're stepping out of character!
CROW: But I don't understand the character I'm trying to step *into*! Mike,
Guinan on TNG is *completely* different from Ratliff's version of her!
On the show, Guinan doesn't have a daughter, and she's wise and kind
and stuff. But Ratliff makes her seem greedy and callous and mean and
irresponsible...
MIKE: Crow, this is Ratliff. *Every* character is written that way.
CROW: I know, but this is different somehow.
TOM: You know what I think? I think Ratliff's being a racist bastard.
MIKE: Huh?
TOM: Don't you see? Guinan is black, and in Steve's little world, that
means she wouldn't know who the father of her child is. Ratliff's
Guinan is a 24th century version of the stereotypical inner-city
welfare mom.
MIKE: Oh, I don't know...
CROW: Well, it *would* make sense. Ratliff *is* from the South, after all.
TOM: <harsh whisper> Crow, no!
CROW: What?
MIKE: I think you may be reading a little too much into this. Come on,
let's finish out the skit.
TOM: What, now? After all of this pontification?
MIKE: What else would you suggest we do? Just sit quietly until the next
Fanfic Sign?
CROW: Well, yeah! I know *I* can't go on after this.
MIKE: Um... okay.
[Mike, Tom, and Crow sit quietly for a bit. Then lights and buzzers go off,
and the typical pandemonium ensues.]
ALL: WE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!!
MIKE: ...thank God!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... *...
[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]
MIKE: Well, *that* was odd...
> Chapter Three
> Captain's Log
> USS Stargazer NCC-2893
TOM: Can we expect a replay of what happened to the last Stargazer?
MIKE: Don't think so, Tommy.
TOM: Darn.
> STARDATE 51371.35
> Lieutenant Commander Picard recording until the arrival of the Captain
> We are currently proceeding to Deep Space Nine to pick up
> Captain T'Gwen Washington and the Cardassian members of our crew. In
> route we are to enforce the speed limit of warp 5 for the older model
> warp engine.
CROW: We noticed a major invasion force coming in this morning, but that's
not part of our jurisdiction.
> Marrissa surveyed the bridge of the Stargazer.
MIKE: ...and then bid four no-trump.
> In front of her
> was the CONN position where Lieutenant Katherine Lochard was working.
TOM: And it's LOCHARD again, instead of LOCKARD.
CROW: Jeez, Stephen -- pick a spelling and stay with it!
> Over on the forward port corner, stood the Operations console where some
> ensign Marrissa didn't know sat.
MIKE: Ensign Throwaway?
> Next to the Captains chair on the
> right was a seat for the First Officer. She wondered how long it would
> take her to get use to a Cardassian in that position.
TOM: Okay folks, we're gonna let you make up your own joke here.
> Directly behind
> her between the turbolifts was tactical. Lieutenant Ross Lochard was
> seated there, not quite use to having a chair.
CROW: Normally, Ross is strung up from the ceiling by his ankles.
MIKE: It's a wonder anyone makes it to Captain with their knees intact.
> On the port side of the
> bridge was the Engineering station, currently unmanned. To the
> Starboard was the Fighter Command consoles where Marrissa would probably
> spend most of her time on the bridge. Below that station was one of the
> unique features of the refitted Stargazer.
TOM: The video poker games.
> Since the Tactical,
> Engineering and Fighter Command needed more room on a fighter carrier
> than most ships, their had not been enough room to put the Ready room
> and Conference Room off the Bridge so a staircase led down to the floor
> below were they had been relocated.
CROW: Gosh. How unique.
> "Captain, I'm detecting a vessel exceeding warp 5," Ross said.
MIKE: <Ross> Can I turn on the siren now? Pretty please??
> "Operations?" Marrissa asked
TOM: The goofy game for loopy lieutenants?
> "Warp signature confirmed, civilian pre-refined warp drive," the
> ensign replied. Traveling at warp 7.32"
MIKE: Real Stories of the Highway Patrol!
> "Registration?" Marrissa inquired.
CROW: <jock> Oh, yeah, I hate that, too - you gotta wait in line to get the
classes you want, and then some dink physics major with tape on his
glasses gets it just `cause he's got a better GPA than you--
MIKE: Crow! Snap out of it!
CROW: *shakes his head* aggida-aggida-aggida. Sorry, Mike.
> "The ship is transmitting the registry of DSK-63689, which is
> listed as the Freeport Rover out of Carse," Ross replied.
MIKE: Johnny Carse?
CROW: <Carson> I won't say the Freeport Rover is slow, but it took it all
day to get to first base with Madonna!
TOM: <Ed McMahon> Hey-oooo!
> "Kathy set a coarse to intercept them in 5 minutes," Marrissa
> ordered.
TOM: I need a moment to freshen up before we have guests.
> "Hail them Ensign. Ross, give me the full record of this
> ship's traffic violations.
MIKE: How can there be traffic violations in outer space?
TOM: Mike, this is Ratliff; he probably thinks that traffic cops *are* aliens.
CROW: Y'know, I don't think Ratliff ever even got his driver's license.
TOM: Yeah - he probably had a "Magic" tournament to go to that day.
> Something tells me this is a repeat
> offender."
CROW: <Marrissa> My Spidey sense is tingling.
> "The Freeport Rover is responding," the ensign at operations
> replied.
TOM: It's sitting on its hind legs and begging, sir! <quietly> Cause, see,
it's the Freeport 'Rover'... heh heh...
> "On screen," Marrissa responded as Ross handed her a PADD over
> her shoulder.
> A black haired man appeared on the screen, "This is the
> Freeport Rover out of Carse, why are you chasing us?" he asked.
MIKE: Let me guess - they're following Phil Silvers, Ethel Merman, and
Spencer Tracy to that place with the palm trees?
> "I am Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, presently commanding
> the Starfleet vessel Stargazer," Marrissa said.
CROW: ...and that's reason enough! Nyah!
> "I'm certain that you
> know your ship is going 2.35 warp factors above what is permitted for
> your warp core design.
TOM: Somehow I don't think this is quite what Gene Roddenberry had in mind...
> I'm afraid I'm going to have to issue a speeding
> ticket.
MIKE: I'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, sir... would you mind
opening the trunk for me?
> Prepare to receive my boarding party."
CROW: Woo! It's like there's a party in my ship and everyone's invited!
> "That won't be necessary," the Freeport Rover's Captain replied.
TOM: <singing> And it's no, nay, never, no never, no more, will I play
Freeport Rover, never, no more...
> "I'm sure we can make arrangements that so you won't have to come
> aboard. It would save us both some time and mean a lot of money."
MIKE: Either that, or edit me out of this story - just so I don't have to
talk to you any more.
> "Sorry, Captain, but I must insist," Marrissa replied. "Plus it
> seems that you are going to have to be charged with bribery.
MIKE: <Captain> But I was just going to recommend a good 401(k) plan!
> Lieutenant
> Lochard, is your Security team ready?"
> "Yes, Captain," Ross replied.
> "My security team will be arriving in two minutes," Marrissa
> informed.
CROW: <hoarse> Pepper, I'm sending you undercover to the Freeport Rover.
> "Stargazer out. Ross, did you notice that barrel in the
> upper left hand corner?"
TOM: Get in.
> "You mean the one which was labeled, Medical substance,
> bio-mumentic gel," Ross replied.
MIKE: Don't worry, that's part of his act.
> "I saw it. I also wish to note that
> the Freeport Rover is lacking the necessary permits to carry it."
CROW: Yeah! In the future every ship that uses a red barrel is
going to need permits.
TOM: loudly clears his throat.
CROW: Oh... yeah....
> "I think we better call for some one to pick up the Freeport
> Rover and prepare to deviate to the nearest Starbase," Marrissa said.
> "I'll expect you to return with the Captain of that vessel.
MIKE: <Goldfinger> No, Marrissa -- I expect you to die!
> Dismissed."
> Meanwhile on the Eagle,
TOM: And now, this quick word from the plot.
> the anti-Starfleetites where ready to
> move.
CROW: Anti-Starfleetites? Isn't that the longest word in the dictionary?
TOM: No, I'm pretty sure the Anti-Starfleetites played at Red Rocks last
summer.
MIKE: I've got it! It's the only thing that can kill Superman, right?
> "Lyam, all systems are ready," Boris said.
> "John set a coarse for Proxima Centauri, Warp 7," Lyam ordered.
TOM: And now, back to more Ratliff.
> Captain's Log
> USS Stargazer NCC-2893
> STARDATE 51372.35
> Lieutenant Commander Picard recording until the arrival of the Captain
MIKE: Hey... why is the ship on patrol without a captain?! Instead of handing
out speeding tickets, shouldn't they be going to pick her up?
> We have dropped off the Freeport Rover and her crew at Starbase
> 329 to await trail.
TOM: Mark Trail?
> With all the evidence against her, there is a great
> likelihood that the Freeport Rover will become property of the
> Federation Government.
MIKE: Just to make sure, we planted a bloody glove on the ship. There's no
*way* they're getting off!
> Later that evening, Marrissa organized a poker game in Seven
> Slightly Starboard.
CROW: Poker? I don't even know her!
> Among the participants were, Lieutenants Ross and
> Katherine Lochard, Lieutenant Sam Lavelle, and Admiral Montgomery Scott.
TOM: Remember, these people are *nothing* without their ranks.
> "I'll see your ten, and raise you 5 lassie," Scotty said.
MIKE: <Marrissa> I'll see your 5... and *stop* calling me a dog!
> "I fold," Katherine said.
TOM: I bend.
MIKE: I crinkle.
CROW: I scream in agony as we start yet another scene with no hope of action.
> "I'm in," Ross stated.
TOM: --to humiliation, if he voluntarily continues to serve under Marrissa.
> "I'll see your 15 and raise you 10," Lavelle called.
> "Sam, you really should work on your bluff," Marrissa said.
MIKE: <Dean Stockwell> Sam, work on that bluff as I send you into the body
of Al Capone...
> "I'll see you and raise 10."
> "Too rich for my blood, lassie," Scotty said. "I fold."
> "I'll see you and raise you 20," Sam Lavelle stated.
> "I'll see your 20 and raise you 50," Marrissa said.
CROW: If I see *any* of you I'll raise a militia and have you all shot.
> "Watch those cards, Kathy, Marrissa's got something," Ross
> asserted.
TOM: ...and it may be contagious.
MIKE: Contagious and fatal, I hope.
> "I ... fold," Sam said.
> "Like I said, work on that bluff," Marrissa said.
CROW: ...not to mention your Shatner impression.
> "It looks
> like this hand's mine.
TOM: Seeing as it's attached to my arm and everything.
> Since I've now won five straight hands, I'll sit
> out the next one, Kathy, your deal."
MIKE: Since I've once again shown my complete superiority to you mere
mortals, I shall leave you to your mediocrity.
> Marrissa got up and went over to
> Mary, who was dusting the piano next to Marrissa's wall.
CROW: <Mary> I still think demoting me to Ship's Maid for not referring to you
as "Her Royal Highness" was a bit severe. Sir.
> "Mary, what is
> an old fashion upright piano doing in a Starfleet bar."
TOM: Wait, wait, I think I've heard this one already.
> "Piano's have always been in bars since the ancient west on
> Earth," Mary responded. "I here you play."
MIKE: Oh, I... get around.
> "Not much, and I haven't practiced in ages," Marrissa said.
TOM: I've been too busy conquering the universe and stuff.
> "Sometime I'll have to pick it up again."
CROW: Wow, she can pick up pianos??
MIKE: That's nothing. I used to be able to bench-press two Steinways and a
clavicle.
CROW: Really?
MIKE: No.
> "Go ahead, try," Mary said.
TOM: But make sure you press that red button first...
> "All right, but I'm warning you I haven't practiced in a good
> two years - maybe more," Marrissa warned. Then she began playing the
> Blue Danube Waltz. A little hesitant and occasionally she made a
> mistake
ALL: GASP!!!
CROW: A mistake! Marrissa made a mistake!
MIKE: We've found something Marrissa can't do!!
[Choirs of angels appear in the theater singing the Halleluiah Chorus.]
> but on the whole it sounded pretty good.
[The music stops. The choirs of angels disappear.]
CROW: Oh. Well, I had a feeling it was too good to be true.
TOM: Yeah, Marrissa can do everything, can't she? She'd fit right in in one
of Heinlein's stories.
MIKE: Um... Tom?
TOM: I didn't mean that as a compliment.
MIKE: <obviously relieved> Oh, okay.
> "Hey, Marrissa, this is a bar, not a consort hall," Ross
> shouted.
CROW: Hey, just because *you're* married...
> "OK, you asked for it," Marrissa said.
ALL: Fight! Fight! Fight! Wooo!!
> "Mary, get me a
> strawberry juice."
ALL: <disappointed> Oh.
> Ross looked over at her thinking 'not again,'
TOM: Ross just turned into a recently-transmogrified potted plant falling
to the Earth?
> but Marrissa wasn't going to do that.
MIKE: After all, she'd left the balloons in her quarters, and there was no
trapeze handy.
> She began playing the Entertainer.
CROW: That word looks *so* out of place in a Ratliff story.
> "Marrissa, that's still not right," Ross said back.
TOM: This whole *fanfic* is not right.
> "Hey, you give me the music and a day to study it and maybe I'll
> play it,
MIKE: Difficult piano music? No problem! Marrissa can play like a Carnegie
Hall pianist in less than 24 hours!
> otherwise, Kathy, order a strawberry juice and if your husband
> complains again, throw it on him," Marrissa responded.
CROW: And if that doesn't work, try sulfuric acid.
> "You heard the Commander, honey, now be quiet," Katherine
> Lochard said.
TOM: <whispering> Ross! Ixnay! Don't piss off Marrissa! Tick tick tick,
remember??
> As Marrissa continued to play, a young man phased into view
> behind her.
CROW: <hopefully> The Borg?
> "Are you sure you haven't been practicing?" he whispered
> in her ear.
MIKE: Not with anyone but you, darling...
> Marrissa whirled around to face him.
TOM: <Marrissa> Joe Don Baker? In a Speedo? For me?
> "Wesley Eugene Crusher,
ALL: NOOOOOO!!!
> brother,
CROW: ...heir to the throne of Essex...
MIKE: No, you're getting your annoying brats mixed up.
> what are you doing here?"
> "Well, little sister, I though I'd drop by to see you," Wesley
> replied.
TOM: You know, it's as if Ratliff is emphasizing the fact that Wesley and
Marrissa are *brother* and *sister*.
MIKE: Funny, that.
> "Wes, you never 'drop by'," Marrissa retorted.
MIKE: You always barge in and ask for money.
> "Who said I couldn't change?" Wes replied.
CROW: Only a couple million disgusted Trekkies.
> Then under Marrissa's
> stare he relented.
TOM: <Wes> Don't kill me...
> "Actually the Traveler said I'd be needed here."
MIKE: Are you short of umbrellas?
> "Well if the Traveler said so, who am I to second guess him,"
> Marrissa said.
CROW: Why stop second-guessing everyone else *now*, Marrissa?
TOM: Marrissa not knowing better than everyone else? Now, *there's* something
we're not likely to see again.
> "Come let me introduce you to the crew, but I'd advise
> you not to join the poker game. Your bluff is worse than Lavelle's."
MIKE: So's your breath - whew! No wonder the girls call you "Stinky."
CROW: That's rather generous, don't you think? Like calling a Blind Melon
song a "masterpiece."
> "0600 hours, Gamma Shift is relieved," Marrissa said.
TOM: Pissssssss...
MIKE: Oh, stop it.
TOM: <giggle>
> "I hope
> you had a good time in command, Ensign Faraday."
CROW: <Faraday> Well, you weren't here, so yeah, I guess you could say that.
> Thoughout the bridge
> officers were switching off.
MIKE: Other crewmembers put the limp bodies in a corner where they wouldn't be
disturbed.
> "Yes, sir, although I didn't expect hold command so soon after
> graduation," Ensign Faraday replied.
TOM: This is a Ratliff story -- I'm impressed that he actually graduated
*before* holding command.
> "Get use to it, I've seen your record and I may be using you
> more often than you think," Marrissa said.
MIKE: Now *there's* something that'll put the fear of God into you...
> "Dismissed. Ross, system status."
> "All systems normal," Lieutenant Ross Lochard replied.
> "Captain, I'm detecting another craft exceeding warp 5. Definite
> pre-refined warp drive.
CROW: <Dustin Hoffman> Definitely pre-refined. Definitely. Time for Wapner.
Not wearing any underwear.
> Current speed is warp 7 and accelerating."
> "Kathy, intercept coarse, maximum warp," Marrissa ordered.
> "Ross, additional data please."
TOM: <panicked> Uh... Lincoln... 42... blue-green! Pass!
> "Sensors indicate, no this can't be right,
MIKE: <Ross> Sensors indicate I'm a weenie, sir!
> Ops, confirm my
> readings," Lieutenant Ross Lochard said.
> "Readings confirmed,
CROW: <Ops> ...you are indeed a weenie.
> vessel is the constitution class starship
> USS Eagle, NCC-956," the ensign at Ops replied.
> "The constitution class was retired over 70 years ago," Marrissa
> stated.
TOM: So was the original Star Trek cast, but that didn't stop them.
> "Ross, where was the Eagle stored?"
MIKE: In the record libraries of bad radio stations everywhere.
> "The Zed-15 depot yard," Ross said. "Notorious for losing
> several starships."
CROW: Ah. Must be run by the French navy, then.
> "Well they've lost another one," Marrissa said as Scotty entered
> the bridge. "Time to intercept, Kathy."
> "Ten minutes," Kathy responded. "But their going awful close to
> that star."
TOM: Maybe it was stolen by moths.
> "It might as well be 10 years," Scotty said. "They're
> attempting time travel.
MIKE: Now how does he know that?
CROW: <Scottish accent> Because he's Scottish, and not CRAP!
> Helm, you better change coarse to a hyperbolic,
> matching theirs as close as possible, if you want to catch them."
TOM: Hey! He didn't say 'lass' or 'laddie' or 'ach' or 'aye'...
MIKE: How do we know he's still Scottish?
> Kathy looked at Marrissa. "You heard the Admiral," Marrissa
> said. "If I remember the descriptions of time travel, we better strap
> it.
TOM: Strap it?! Ooh, leather and whips and chains and...
MIKE: Can it, Servo.
CROW: This is getting into a whole weird area now...
> All hands, prepare for rough maneuvers.
TOM: I was right!
MIKE: Okay, that's it!
[Mike detaches Tom's globe and throws it across the theater.]
TOM: Hey! I need that!
[Tom gets out of his seat, hovers across the theater, and ducks below
the seats. He then reappears, globe attached, and goes back to his seat.]
> We have to come out of
> this as close as possible to the time which the Eagle does, so keep a
> close eye on them, Kathy."
> "And hope the new inertial dampiners are better than they were
> on the original Enterprise," Scotty said.
MIKE: Before either of you say anything about that - your name isn't
"Roger Wilcox" - you can't use the word "damp."
CROW: Well... okay.
> Ahead of them the USS Eagle shot around Proxima Centauri and
> disappeared.
CROW: The Eagle pops its clutch and tells Marrissa to eat its dust!
> Then the Stargazer followed suit.
TOM: Then the Eagle trumped and won the trick.
> The whole ship shook.
> Down in Seven Slightly Starboard, the vases on the tables slid off on to
> the floor, shattering.
MIKE: <Mick Jagger> Sh-sh-sh-shattered....
> Thoughout the ship things fell from their
> places,
CROW: <Michael Palin> And in that time there shall be rumors of things going
astray. And there shall be a great confusion as to where things really
are. And nobody will really know where lieth those things with a sort
of raffia-work base with an attachment. And in that time a friend
shall lose his friend's hammer. And the young shall not know where
lieth the things that their fathers put aside just the night before,
`round eight o'clock.
> however in a tribute to the new ship's engineering, no consoles
> exploded.
TOM: Wha... hey! Steve is poking fun at Star Trek foibles again!
MIKE: Starfleet finally stopped running the major power cables right under
the instrument panels.
CROW: Either that, or they installed those neat little devices called "fuses."
> Moments later they left warp, decelerating in another time.
> "Ships status, Engineering?" Marrissa said.
TOM: <engineer> We wet 'em, sir.
> "Tactical
> determine the location of the Eagle. Ops, current date please.
MIKE: <Ops> I'll call the escort service right away, sir.
> Lieutenant Lavelle, Wesley Crusher report to the bridge."
CROW: Hey guys, you know what to call her attitude? Marrisstocratic! Ha!
TOM: <whimper>
MIKE: <sigh> Crow, you aren't making it any easier for us.
> "All systems are normal, but I'd like to run a level two
> diagnostic to be sure," Scotty replied.
TOM: <Scotty> From the bar, sir.
> "That takes systems off line, I'm afraid we can't risk that
> until we know were we are and what we are going to have to do," Marrissa
> said. "Run a level three instead."
CROW: <Scotty> I'll see your level three and raise you...
MIKE: Uh, the poker game ended last night, Scotty.
> "Aye, sir," Scotty replied.
> "I've found the Eagle, Captain," Ross Lochard replied.
TOM: The Eagle has landed!
MIKE: Oh, you were just *waiting* to use that joke, weren't you.
> "She is
> headed toward Earth. The Eagle has a lead time of about four hours on
> us."
CROW: Yeah, them V-8s can really move.
> "Kathy, set a coarse to intercept," Marrissa ordered. "Ops, do
> you have the date for me?"
TOM: Dinner and a movie, 7pm, your place. His name is Gary.
> "Aye sir, it is July 26, 1996," the ensign at Ops replied.
> "Happy negative 281st birthday Captain," Ross responded.
CROW: With this kind of comedic touch, I'm surprised Ratliff's not already in
Hollywood.
MIKE: He is, Crow - who do you think's been writing for "Central Park West?"
> "Ross," Kathy admonished.
TOM: <Kathy> ...for the last time -- shut up.
> "Captain the Eagle has already entered the Solar System," Ross
> informed.
> "Kathy where do you think you will catch up with them?" Marrissa
> asked.
> "I'd have to say in Earth orbit, assuming that's were their
> going," Kathy Lochard replied as Wesley and Lieutenant Lavelle entered
> the bridge.
CROW: "Were their going?" Looks like Steve finally got a spellchecker, but
still sees no value in proofreading...
MIKE: Maybe Ratliff put this through a reverse spellchecker? One that makes
sure everything is spelled wrong?
> "Any advice for me, big brother?" Marrissa asked Wesley.
TOM: Uh... watch out where the huskies go, and don't eat the yellow snow?
> "Just don't let your ship be seen," Wesley replied.
CROW: <British accent> The first rule of how not to be seen: do not stand up.
> "Admiral Scott?" Marrissa questioned.
> "Visual and ray sensor screen active," Scotty replied.
CROW: <British accent> Mr. Scott has learned the second rule of not being
seen. Unfortunately, his ship has chosen an obvious piece of cover.
> "The Eagle has entered Earth orbit," Ross apprised.
TOM: Right alongside all those Frank Thomas home runs.
> "Time to orbit?" Marrissa asked.
> "Thirty seconds," Kathy said.
> "Hail the Eagle," Marrissa ordered. "Use subspace narrowband
> channels
> "They are refusing to respond," Ross said. "Detecting
> transporter activity."
> "Trace beam down location," Marrissa ordered.
MIKE: Jim-- put a handkerchief on your head! Kevin-- swat at imaginary elves!
TOM: Huh?
MIKE: Never mind.
> "Washington D.C.," Ross replied. "The Eagle is moving off."
> "Time for a meeting, Scotty, Ross, Kathy, Wes, Sam,
CROW: Fleagle!
TOM: Bingo!
MIKE: Drooper!
CROW: Snork!
TOM: <goofy announcer voice> It's the Banana Splitz!
> join me in
> the conference room," Marrissa ordered. "Ensign Rettson, you have the
> bridge, just keep us in orbit."
MIKE: ...and keep our breaths minty fresh.
> Marrissa and the aforementioned five
TOM: Didn't they play Lollapalooza last year?
> descended from the bridge on the stair case. Down on the deck below
CROW: ...they cranked up the stereo and discoed 'til they dropped!
> they turned to the right and into a the conference room which faced the
> front of the ship.
> The Stargazer's conference room was a fine room, the walls were
> a pale yellow and the forward side was a glass wall which opened up to a
> small lounge with large windows. The wall could be transparent,
> translucent or opaque.
MIKE: Yup, that pretty much covers the possibilities.
> A section of that wall could open up to the
> lounge. The conference table witch took up the center of the room was
> solid oak with a darker wood trim.
ALL: A WITCH!! A WITCH!! She's made of wood! Build a bridge out of her!
> Around the table were a dozen dark
> blue chairs with high backs and oak arm rests. At each end where large
> view screens. Decorating the wall near the entrance where paintings of
> the pervious commanders of the Stargazer going back to the original
> Stargazer, an in system survey vessel built at the beginning of the
> twenty-first century
TOM: Vole.
CROW: Huh?
> As Marrissa sat down at the head of the table, she said, "Ladies
> and Gentleman, we have a problem.
MIKE: We've run out of coffee.
ALL: AAAAAAH!
> We've got God knows how many time
> travelers who just beamed down to Washington D.C. for a purpose which we
> don't know.
CROW: Fortunately, I just talked to God, and he told me everything.
> I'm open to speculation, or if my brother has any
> information he'd care to share, actual facts."
TOM: Huh. Sounds like Marrissa doesn't like Wesley much, either.
MIKE: Well, she's got that going for her, at least.
> "I don't have much," Wesley said.
CROW: <Marrissa> Yes, I know. I can read the girl's room walls as easily
as the next person, you know.
> "All I know is that the
> Traveler sent me to make sure they don't mess up the time line."
TOM: Either that or he sent me to put right what once went wrong, hoping
each time that my next leap you be the leap home. I'm not sure exactly.
> "That isn't much to work on," Marrissa said. "Now what do we
> know.
CROW: <Bugs Bunny> Well, I know that two and two is four, and the capital of
Albuquerque is Phoenix, and that--
MIKE: <gangster> Shut up, rabbit.
CROW: <Bugs Bunny> Oh, I can shut up real good, Rocky. When people tell me
to shut up, I shut up real quick. I'm very good at---
MIKE: <gangster> Shut up shuttin' up, rabbit.
> We know they want to change the past. We know they beamed down to
> Washington D.C."
TOM: How do you know they want to change the past? Maybe they just wanted to
buy a few souveniers, meet Marion Barry...
> "We know that Washington D.C. was the Capital of the United
> States at the time," Kathy said.
> "Anything else?" Marrissa asked.
CROW: I know how to install an internal modem...
> "Well then, Computer list
> important events that occur between July 27 and August 3, 1996. Include
> any close calls or votes in Congress which had a margin of less than 4."
MIKE: This is the part we like to call "Ratliff Predicts!"
TOM: Oh boy, *this* should be fun!
CROW: Let's see how long it takes for him to completely strike out...
> "July 27: Sadam Hussian attempts to invade Syria," the Computer
> began.
CROW: Um... nope. Strike one.
> "The Bosnian Serbs surrender to the Bosnian government.
CROW: I don't *think* so. Strike two.
MIKE: As the author demonstrates a firm grasp of geopolitics....
> Prince
> Charles of Great Britain reveals that the last three years were a joke
> on the press.
CROW: Huh?
TOM: So everything back to 1993 has been a joke? That certainly explains
"Waterworld" and Hootie and the Blowfish.
> He resumes normal marital relationships with Princess
> Diana leading to the birth of Princess Gwenaveare a year later.
CROW: Big whiffer! Strike three, you're out!
MIKE: Why does Ratliff only believe it's true love if children come out of it?
> July
> 28th : A bill to repeal the ban on logging in areas inhabited by the
> spotted owl is defeated by one vote.
TOM: Wes Cooley is offered as a sacrifice to appease the angry earth spirits.
> July 29th : Bob Dole introduces
> his Pact with America Platform.
MIKE: This is *just* derivative enough that Dole might actually *do* it.
> July 30th : H. Ross Porit enters the
> Presidential race.
ALL: <awed silence>
CROW: He *has* to be joking. "H. Ross Porit?"
> July 31st : UN Secretary Bortous-Bortous Gali
> suffered from an assassination attempt.
TOM: Protect yourself by taking Loon-A-Way Assassin Blockers!
> August 1st : Long time ABC
> anchor Peter Jennings is shot and suffers a career ending injury by a
> Serb sipper who hadn't heard about the end of the war.
MIKE: Too bad communications were so bad in the Bosnian Tea Wars.
CROW: But what would sipping Peter Jennings accomplish, though?
> International
> out rage causes the delay of the lifting of sanctions against what was
> left of the Yugoslavia.
TOM: So mass rape and murder doesn't get NATO off its butt, but injuring one
vaguely living anchorman *does*? Come on!
> August 2nd : A bill to increase the size of
ALL: Saaayyyy...
> the Federal Court system
ALL: Oh.
> passes by one vote. August 3rd : A bill to do away
> with NASA is defeated by one vote in the Senate.
CROW: Quite a feat, it being a Saturday.
> Sadam Hussian
> announces that he has taken over Syria. The Syrians confirm,
MIKE: "Yup, he pretty much kicked our butts."
> thus beginning Hussian's take over of the Middle East."
TOM: Let me get this straight. The U.S. sits around voting on NASA and
spotted owls while a maniacal dictator invades every Middle Eastern
country and assumes total control of our oil supply? I THINK NOT!
> "Well, which ones do you think it was?" Marrissa asked.
> "I think we can safely rule out the events in the Middle East
> and Bosnia," Ross replied.
CROW: Yeah, what did those stupid Arabs ever do for history?
> "I think we can remove everything that took place outside the
> US," Sam Lavelle reasoned.
TOM: After all, only America counts, right?
MIKE: Those other countries are filled with foreigners...
> "After all they did beam down to Washington
> D.C."
CROW: They probably couldn't find a parking space.
> "That leaves the logging bill, the court system bill, the bill
> to eliminate NASA and the entry of H. Ross Porit into the presidential
> race," Scotty replied. "On the surface I'd have to say that NASA is a
> likely target."
> "Why," Marrissa asked.
TOM: Maybe because it's a massive, incompetent bureaucracy?
> "It's the only event which has a clear effect on the future,"
> Scotty replied.
MIKE: Civil war in Bosnia, invasions in Middle East, the possible extinction
of the spotted owl... none of these have any "clear effect on the
future??"
> "I don't follow," Marrissa responded.
CROW: I don't dig your authority, man.
> "If NASA is cut, their will be no International Space Agency and
> hence no one will discover other races," Scotty began.
TOM: Because only Americans could possibly make it into space, right?
MIKE: Right. I keep forgetting that in Ratliff's world America's number
one in something other than rate of imprisonment.
> "If Earth doesn't discover other races,
CROW: ...the Indy 500 will continue to reign supreme.
> there will be no driving
> force to create the Federation," Lavelle continued.
MIKE: 'Cause we know all those aliens are stupid and lazy.
> "And no Federation, no Starfleet, and we are out of a job,"
> Marrissa finished.
TOM: Hey... these "anti-Starfleetites" may be on to something!
CROW: I guess we know who to root for now.
> "Gentlemen we have a bigger problem than I thought.
MIKE: <Marrissa> I'll be out of a *job*!
> Lavelle, get yourself a crew and take the upper Warp Pair Detachable
> Craft.
CROW: You'll be taking the craft up the Mekong. Your mission: kill
Colonel Kurtz.
> For convenience sake we will call it
TOM: Fred.
> the Star. I want you to
> take it to keep an eye on the Eagle. Don't let it get back anywhere
> near Earth.
MIKE: Um... why don't they try boarding it, or something? They've got a
newly-refitted war machine against an 80-year-old junker, after all...
> Ross, provide Lavelle with a security team. Wes, I have a
> feeling I'm going to need you on this mission.
CROW: We may need someone to act as a human shield.
> Do I have your
> permission to reactivate your Starfleet commission?"
TOM: Remember, you must have a rank in Starfleet to be of any importance.
> "Why not, just as long as I can resign again after this
> mission," Wes replied.
MIKE: Hey, you're a main character. You can play fast and loose with the
rules if you want.
> "Computer note in log, as of this time I am reactivating Ensign
> Wesley Crusher's commission and promoting him to Lieutenant junior
> grade," Marrissa smiled.
CROW: <Marrissa> I have the power to make or break officers! I can make you
a Lieutenant, even though you were never more than an Ensign when
you were in Starfleet! I'm the god! I'M THE GOD!!
> "I expect you in uniform next time I see you
> Lieutenant.
TOM: Ah. Notice that she still outranks him, so she can order him around.
> Does anyone have a suggestion on how we can find our time
> travelers in Washington?"
MIKE: We could keep our eyes and scanners open for 24th-century devices, or
would that be too obvious?
> "I know someone who might be able to help us," Wesley said.
> "We'll begin with that person," Marrissa stated. "We will
> adjourn for now."
TOM: And so will we.
[Mike and the bots leave the theater.]
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Mike and the bots are just standing around. Mike sighs heavily and
shakes his head.]
TOM: Mike, is there a hell for bad writers?
CROW: If there is, Ratliff's going there.
MIKE: Sure there is, Tom.
CROW: I figure it's probably a hell where you're forced to write for "Barney
and Friends" or "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers."
MIKE: Not exactly, but close.
TOM: Then what is it, Mike?
MIKE: Well, it's...
[Mike is distracted by the flashing of one of the lights on the counter.]
MIKE: What the-- hey, something's coming in on the Hexfield!
[Everyone turns to see who is on the screen as the Hexfield Viewscreen
irises open. It is a nerdish-looking guy in his early twenties.]
MIKE: Um... hello? Who are you?
STEVE: I am Radford University student and Computer Science major Stephen
Ratliff, author of the Marrissa Stories and Keeper of the Sacred FAQs
of alt.startrek.creative!
CROW: Uh oh.
TOM: Say, Mike... I don't suppose we could somehow train a laser cannon on
him and blast him out of existence?
MIKE: Tom, you *know* Forrester wouldn't let me make those alterations to
the SOL like I wanted...
STEVE: Identify yourselves!
MIKE: Huh? Oh, uh, I'm Mike, this is Tom Servo, and this is Crow T...
STEVE: What are your ranks?
MIKE: Excuse me?
STEVE: Ranks! Status! You must have them!
MIKE: Okay... I am Captain Michael J. Nelson of the starship Satellite of
Love, and this is Lieutenant Servo and Yeoman Crow. I guess.
STEVE: I see, Captain Mike Nelson of the Satellite of Love.
TOM: Oh, Steve-o... I have a question.
STEVE: What is it, Lieutenant Servo?
TOM: Reading your stories, I am reminded of Dr. Johnson's quote about
Thomas Sheridan: "Why, sir, Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must
have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him.
Such an excess of stupidity, Sir, is not in Nature." My question is,
exactly *how* hard *do* you work to be this bad at the craft of writing?
STEVE: <confused> I don't understand, Lieutenant Servo of the Satellite of
Love. Did I mention I'm an Admiral in my Star Trek role-playing group?
TOM: Wonderful.
CROW: Hey, I got another question. What color is the sky in your little
world?
TOM: Do you even pay attention to the world around you?
CROW: And what about your "dialogue?" Have you ever held a real conversation
in your life?
TOM: And what's the whole teenage girl obsession about?
MIKE: I have the best question of all: why? Just WHY??
[Pause.]
STEVE: I think it's time to introduce ourselves again! Hi, I'm Radford
University student and Computer Science major Stephen Ratliff, author
of the...
MIKE: Hey, whoa whoa whoa. Stop.
STEVE: What?
MIKE: Is that all you do? You just go around introducing yourself to people?
STEVE: Well... there's also recitations of my accomplishments.
MIKE: Which are...?
STEVE: <nervous> Um... I wrote some stories, and... uh... I have a lot of
Star Trek stuff...
CROW: Have you ever done anything *really* *important*? Something that
*matters*?
STEVE: <long pause, then...> Hi, I'm Radford University student and
Computer Science major...
[Mike and the bots turn away from the Hexfield, disgusted. The Hexfield
Viewscreen irises shut in front of Steve, who is still introducing himself.]
CROW: Yeesh.
TOM: So anyway, Mike, would you finish telling us about Writer's Hell?
MIKE: You really want to know what Writer's Hell is?
TOM&CROW: Yes!
MIKE: Well, it's a very personal hell, where you finally come to know the pain
your works have wrought on those unfortunate enough to read them.
TOM: And that's where Ratliff's going?
MIKE: Nope.
CROW: What?!
MIKE: He's already there, guys... whether he realizes it or not.
[There is a solemn silence.]
CROW: So... lunch?
TOM: Oh, Crow, you...
CROW: What? I'm hungry!
[Buzzers and lights, general chaos.]
ALL: AAAAAAH! FANFIC SIGN!!!
-- CONTINUED IN PART 3 --
|
