A Marrissa Twofer
MiSTed - "A Marrissa Twofer" (1/2)
Bill Livingston <bil...@hiwaay.net>
[SOL - Mike wanders onto the bridge, eating what looks to be a bowl
of cereal.]
MIKE: [chews for a minute] Num. Good stuff. [notices us] Oh. Hey,
people, Mike Nelson up here on the old Satellite, and for the moment,
I've got the joint to myself. See, Crow and Tom decided they wanted
to go off and party it up for Spring Break. They packed up and left
about, oh, 20 minutes ago I guess, and declared they'd be gone for
a week. Which means... [checks watch] they should be back by the
time I finish this delicious Cap'n Crunch Peanut Butter Crunch.
[Crow & Tom enter dejectedly]
CROW: Hey Mike.
TOM: Nelson.
MIKE: Hey guys. So, uh, what happened to Spring Break?
TOM: *sigh* It just didn't work out.
CROW: Yeah, getting to Cancun turned out to be trickier than we thought.
TOM: Seeing as how we're stuck up here and all.
CROW: So we wound up down by the load pan bay.
MIKE: Not exactly prime Spring Break property, huh?
CROW: Well, it's not *too* bad - if you don't mind the fact that there's
no beach and no sand and the only water is, uh, well...
TOM: Not potable.
MIKE: Ah.
TOM: Of course, the upside is that it wasn't anywhere near as crowded as
we thought Spring Break'd be.
CROW: Yeah. On the other hand, though, we only saw one babe.
MIKE: Let me guess - that'd be Gypsy?
CROW: Pretty much. And she just wasn't in the spirit of things.
MIKE: How so?
TOM: She wouldn't wear the shirt.
MIKE: Shirt?
[Gypsy enters, and spits a giant wad of soggy fabric on top of Tom]
GYPSY: *ptoo* Here's your old wet t-shirt back.
MIKE: [disapprovingly] Guys.
TOM: [voice muffled from being under a soggy shirt] Well geez, Mike,
it's not like we were exploiting and objectifying her.
MIKE: Actually, it's exactly like that.
GYPSY: I'm no bot gone wild!
CROW: Told ya.
TOM: Hey, you're the one who wanted to do Jell-O shooters.
CROW: I still say we could have set the world's record if we'd had any
booze. Or Jell-O. Or shot glasses.
MIKE: Well, better luck next time, fellas. Cereal? [Lights flash]
CROW: Love some, but it looks like Snap Crackle & Poop are on Line 1.
MIKE: Oop, OK. Hey Pearlie K, what's up?
[CASTLE FORRESTER - Pearl is directing her henches, Bobo & Observer, in
an attempt to hang a huge plate of glass on the wall. Actually, due to
its immense and immortal size, it practically *is* the wall]
PEARL: Okay, Bobo, move your side up about a half an inch.
BOBO: Yes, Lawgiver. Up we go. *unf* [struggles to get the gigantic
thing to lift - think of a spider monkey straining to lift a
billboard] Whew. How's that?
PEARL: [shakes her head] It's a bit much. Brain Guy, go ahead and let your
end down about a millimicron.
OBSERVER: Right. [Brain Guy is reading a magazine, and easily uses his
mental powers to lower his part] Better?
PEARL: Hmmm - ahh, close enough for government work. [turns to face us]
Nelson! How nice of you and the Tinkertoys to drop in! I'm setting up
to expand my sphere of influence, as it were. See, as you know, I fully
expect to rule the world in due course. But I then thought to myself,
"Self - why stop there?" About how many alternate realities did you
compute there were, Brainiac?
OBSERVER: Well, if we express it terms that can be understood, using a simple
octadecimal base, with factor of, oh, say -
PEARL: [cuts him off] At least a couple dozen. See, the plan is, after taking
over *this* puny reality, all those others are just going to be sitting
there, crying out for a ruthlessly evil, yet stylish conqueror. That's
where the thingie here comes into play.
[SOL]
MIKE: *munch* Pretty impressive, Pearl. What's it called?
[CF]
PEARL: I already told you. It's the Truly Horrific Ionic-Nucleonic-Gluonic
Interdimensional Extruder - the THINGIE! Once I power this sucker up,
I'll be traversing dimensions at will and it'll just be a matter of time
until I bring the entire mother-loving OMNIVERSE under my thumb!
BOBO: Do we get to visit Earth-2?
OBSERVER: Heh-heh, Bobo my good ape, *no* one goes there anymore. A much
better
choice is Earth-58.
BOBO: What's that like?
OBSERVER: Everything's the exact same there, except mayonnaise is bright blue.
PEARL: Don't worry, we'll visit them all - before we grind them beneath our
heel.
In the meantime, Nelsnerk, I have a truly horrendous fate in store for
you!
Not one, but two - *two* I say - terrible turgid tales from the mind of
none
other than - STEPHEN RATLIFF!!! BWAHAHAHAH!
[SOL]
MIKE: Oh. Okay then. So you guys want cereal or not?
CROW: Dibs on the Honeycomb!
GYPSY: Honey Bunches of Oats is nutritious *and* delicious.
TOM: Hey, don't bogart the Splenda, Nelson.
[CF - Pearl & the others look at each other in bafflement]
PEARL: Maybe you didn't hear me, Mike. I said I have *two* stories by
Ratliff!
*Stephen* Ratliff. You know, Marrissa and all that?
[SOL - Cereal-fest is a go!]
MIKE: Right. Couple of Ratliff stories. Got it.
GYPSY: Gee, lemon wedges *do* taste better in Shredded Wheat than bananas!
CROW: I don't know about that, but I can tell you this - Lucky Charms and Bran
Chex are *not* meant to go together!
[CF]
PEARL: [upset] Unh! You Guys! You're supposed to be all panicky and whiny
and stuff!
BOBO: Like when Brain Guy found that spider in the bathroom.
OBSERVER: I was *not* panicking, I was merely reconnoitering for a better
strategic position.
BOBO: He was standing on top of the toilet.
OBSERVER: Now see here...
PEARL: ZIP IT! Okay you buncha Froot Loops, spill! Why aren't you petrified
with fear and loathing, like?
[SOL]
MIKE: Gosh, Pearl, it's - well, it's just Stevie.
TOM: Yeah, I mean, I hate to admit it, but he's gotten a lot better than he
used to be. I mean, he's still not high art, but...
CROW: Yeah, you've sent us tons of stuff that makes Ratliff look like Marcel
Proust.
TOM: "Invasion of the Neptune Men" was pretty putrid, y'know.
MIKE: Yeah, and compared to that whole Daria/Sailor Moon trilogy, Marrissa's
almost like a breath of fresh air.
GYPSY: Or a nice big bowl of Cocoa Pebbles.
TOM: [Fred] BAH-ney!
[CF]
OBSERVER: I warned you about this, Pearl. Repeated exposure has dulled their
pain receptors.
PEARL: So it fresh, *different* pain they need, eh? Well these ought to fit
the bill perfectly. Especially the second one - I guarantee you guys
you're not prepared for that part of this little Marrissapalooza! Put
*that* in your bowl and see if it stays crispy in milk!
OBSERVER: [sotto voce] It was a big hairy spider.
BOBO: [sotto voce] Wimp.
PEARL: Shut up! Okay, Mike, Get ready for a great big old alternate dimension
of hurt! And *you* two break out the Windex - I want this THINGIE to
sparkle!
[SOL - Mike is tipping back his bowl to finish his milk]
CROW: Hey, this is that lame-o generic Frosted Flake stuff, isn't it?
[lights, allarums, etc. Mike spews his milk all over]
ALL: AAAAHHH! WE GOT DOUBLE RATLIFF SIGN!!!
[6] {5} (4) <3> |2| O
[All enter]
MIKE: Sorry about that.
TOM: 'Sokay, the wet t-shirt sopped it up pretty good.
>From step...@trekiverse.org Sun Jan 30 00:09:39 2005
>Path: sn-us!sn-xit-12!sn-xit-06!sn-xit-14!supernews.com!64.59.134.4.MISMATCH!
TOM: Whoops! Stevie's been wearing striped shirts with polka dot ties again.
>pd7cy1no!shaw.ca!
MIKE: [British] It was one of Shaw's, your majesty.
CROW: [British] It bloody well wasn't!
> border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!border2.nntp.dca.giganews.com!
>nntp.giganews.com!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!
>stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!newsread3.news.atl.earthlink.net.POSTED!
>31600fab!
TOM: Long time ago, when he was fab.
> not-for-mail
>From: Stephen Ratliff <step...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Duty, Loyalty, Trust, Honor
CROW: Hey, the new Gwen Stefani album.
> [G] (Marrissa Stories)
MIKE: Gee. Marrissa Stories.
TOM: Once again.
>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office
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>Date: Sun, 30 Jan 2005 06:09:39 GMT
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TOM: [Ed McMahon] Filling in tonight for 63.188.72.79 - David Brenner!
>X-Complaints-To: a...@earthlink.net
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>(Sat, 29 Jan 2005 22:09:39 PST)
>NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2005 22:09:39 PST
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:173055
>Title: Duty, Loyalty, Trust, Honor
CROW: Duty and Loyalty.
Trust and Honor.
But if you have Whiskers
You're still a goner.
Burma-shave!
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories
>Rating: G
>Codes:
>Summary: What four words mean to Marrissa
TOM: The four words are "susurruss", "yurt", "antidisestablishmentarianism"
and "bling".
>I'm Marrissa, and I'm an officer in Star Fleet.
ALL: Hi, Marrissa!
> Many people have asked me why
>I am. It's not something easy to explain.
TOM: That much, at least, is true.
> If it was, then I probably wouldn't
>deserve to wear this uniform.
CROW: She's implying she does *now*?
> You don't wear the red and black for simple
>things.
MIKE: And especially not after labor day.
> It may start out that way, but by the time you make Lieutenant, it's
>more than a job.
CROW: It's a soul-crushing, mind-numbing, carpal-tunnel-of-the-spirit inducing
series of tasks that you'll regret every day for the rest of your life.
>I first put on this uniform when I was twelve.
TOM: She had to grow into it.
MIKE: I hear she saved all her uniforms since she was only three.
> It was an honor, one which I
>was not prepared for.
MIKE: Neither was anyone else - that's what led to the riots.
> The Captain intended to give me the minimum duties,
CROW: $50 and time served.
> and
>let me fall into what he described as the role of an Age of Sail Midshipman.
TOM: She was put in charge of the pee bucket.
>I learnt the rules, traditions, and goals of Star Fleet from the Enterprise's
>officers.
CROW: [Marrissa] Everything else I needed to know I learned in Kindergarten.
> I spent hours honing my skills.
TOM: [Marrissa} And my Bat'leth.
> I can still calculate in my head
>the ship's position within a hundred meters,
MIKE: Well, it's not that hard - it's right there under her feet.
> if I know the relative position of
>three stars.
CROW: Specifically, Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock and Christopher Walken.
> I can handle a formal duel with swords,
TOM: Now that she has that Oscar de la Renta evening gown.
> or defend myself from an
>irate Klingon.
MIKE: Threaten him with Lifebouy.
> I spent hours losing simulation after simulation in tactics,
>learning from each one ...
TOM: [Marrissa] Mainly, that I hate losing. Fortunately, it never happens to
me in *real* life.
>Yet that didn't teach me duty. Duty I learnt from watching others.
CROW: On The Duty Channel, now available via your local digital cable.
> I saw
>Lieutenant Worf jump in front of a disrupter bolt meant for someone else.
TOM: Well, to be fair, that's just how Worf relaxes.
>I saw Commander Data,
MIKE: Just before he got blowed to smithereenies.
> heedless of incoming fire, rush to save a little boy who
>wandered into the middle of a fire fight.
TOM: Brent Spiner *IS* Kurt Russell *IN* "Star Trek: Backdraft"!
> I saw Commander La Forge repairing
>alien machines he'd never seen before
MIKE: Ouch! That's a bit harsh!
CROW: I don't think he meant it as a slam.
TOM: Remember, kids, word choice can be important - think before you write!
> that threatened to explode at any moment.
CROW: And it exploded and he died.
TOM: And the irony of it is, he never saw it coming.
MIKE: Now *that's* harsh!
>And I experienced it myself, when Commander Riker spent hours helping me learn
>my new responsibilities
CROW: [Marrissa] He said duty mainly involved wearing a bikini and serving him
giant pitchers of banana daiquiris.
> when promotions and transfers made me the senior
>helmsman on board.
MIKE: Promotions and transfers. Got it.
TOM: And not venal scheming and naked nepotism.
CROW: Heaven forefend. Just promotions and transfers.
> He guided me through scheduling, evaluation, and training,
CROW: Not to mention slicing, dicing and making julienne fries.
>teaching me everything I should have known before I'd put on the uniform.
TOM: Mainly, to never put on that uniform, or you risk wind up being at the
mercy of the most evil force in the universe.
MIKE: Section 31?
TOM: Worse - Rick Berman!
>Duty, important as it is, isn't all I learned back on the Enterprise-D,
MIKE: [Marrissa] I also learned tricorder repair, Pilates, and how to play
poker. And for some reason, lace tatting.
> nor is
>it the only reason why I wear this uniform.
CROW: [Marrissa] My other uniform makes my hips look too big.
> There is also loyalty, the esprit
>de corps
MIKE: The je ne sais quoi.
TOM: The fin de siecle.
CROW: The Cafe Latte Grande.
> which infuses the core of Star Fleet. It is not given freely.
TOM: There's a nominal $250 fee, and a $75 annual "Loyalty Usage Surcharge".
> You
>have earn it. You have to show that you're a part of it.
CROW: You have to show two forms of identification.
>It was not something I received easily. I had gotten my rank and posts through
>some truly unusual situations,
MIKE: [Marrissa] I admit, it sounded kind of improbable, but after the author
gave me the old thumbs up, I didn't care anymore.
> not the least of which was the age I was at each
>promotion, and that loyalty was probably withheld for that very reason.
TOM: Really? That's hard to believe.
CROW: Yeah, most security types I know are just waiting to pledge allegiance
to a snot-nosed teenage girl with control issues.
> Still
>loyalty goes both ways,
TOM: [Marrissa] And so do I.
> and I tried to show the loyalty that I'd seen between
>the crew of the Enterprise-D to those that I served and commanded.
CROW: But that didn't work, so she began the random flayings instead.
> I'm certain
>that those under me during my time as Chief of Security felt no loyalty to me,
TOM: Not after the checks started to bounce, no.
>but I did to them.
MIKE: [Marrissa] At least until I found where they hid the stinking negatives!
>It was not until I arrived on the Stargazer using Halifax as my name, that I
>felt that loyalty in return.
CROW: Because only Nova Scotians are loyal.
TOM: Really?
CROW: That's what that guy with the Moxie told me.
> I was young and headstrong, and drove my pilots
>hard.
MIKE: She was the official ship's Soccer Mom.
> I made sure every one of them were the best that they could be, and told
>them so.
TOM: [Drill Sgt] Listen *UP* maggots! You're gonna be the best damn pilots in
Starfleet even if I have to rip your spleens out through your eardrums!
> I lead from the front,
CROW: [Marrissa] 'Cause the Cardassians aim high and to the rear!
> and would not let my pilots hang.
MIKE: The gas chamber's so much more efficient.
> I earned
>their trust and they rewarded me with loyalty.
CROW: [Marrissa] Plus this fabulous new dining room set!
>Trust, that's a very important thing to have.
MIKE: A plot, that's a very important thing for a story to have.
CROW: So this is just Marrissa reviewing her fabulous career arc for us?
TOM: There's also the four words.
CROW: In her case, the four most important words are "I", "Me", "Mine"
and "Myself".
> You have to have it in yourself,
>in your fellow officers and crewmen, and in the organization as a whole.
TOM: Yes, put your life and career in the hands of resentful underlings and
faceless bureaucrats - that's always a wise move.
>Others have to have the same. I trust my officers and crewmen, and they've
>learnt to do the same.
CROW: [Marrissa] Some needed shock therapy to get the point, but eventually...
> They know they have my loyalty, and that I trust them
>to have the same.
MIKE: Suckers!
>Duty, Loyalty, Trust ... together it leads to the Honor.
CROW: The Honor?
TOM: Yeah, it comes from the duty, the loyalty and the trust.
MIKE: The Marrissa, she was told this by the Manolo.
> I'm not talking about
>some medal or base platitude.
TOM: [Marrissa] I'm talking cold, hard cash, baby! Tons of gold-pressed
latinum, enough to build a starship out of!
> No, Honor is more than that. Honor can be found
>in the duty which you follow, towards your task and your fellow officers.
MIKE: Honor is what, when you don't have it, a pack of Klingons shows up and
pounds you into a fine paste.
>Honor can be found in the loyalty to your ideals and your fellow officers.
CROW: Honor is a little tweeting bird chirping in a meadow.
TOM: Honor is a wreath of pretty flowers which smell BAD.
>Honor can be found in the trust that you've been given.
MIKE: Mainly though, Honor can be found in David Weber books.
TOM: Think Honor & Marrissa could learn to co-exist, or would one have to
annihilate the other?
CROW: It's still a little suspicious that Ratliff and Weber have never been
photographed together anywhere.
> There is no honor
>without those three. And without honor, there is no duty, no loyalty, and no
>trust.
TOM: And no carbs, either.
>I'm Marrissa Amber Picard, Captain in the United Federation of Planet's Star
>Fleet, and that's why I serve.
CROW: Be a Starfleet of One. See www.gostarfleet.com for more details.
> Not because I was born to it, not because of
>what I was given in her service,
MIKE: In whose service?
TOM: Her own. Marrissa rewards herself very well, you know.
> but because of the sense of duty, loyalty,
>trust, and most of all the Honor of the Fleet.
MIKE: [Groucho] Remember, men, you're fighting for this fleet's honor, which
is probably more than it ever did!
>Author's Note:
>There is an ongoing story being written
CROW: [Stephen] It involves Marrissa living an hour of each day every chapter,
and trying to stop a deadly threat to the Federation. I call it "26".
MIKE: "26"?
CROW: It's set on Bajor.
MIKE: Ah.
> that will be becoming the First
>Stargazer Mission in which Marrissa reports on board using the name Marrissa A.
>Halifax.
TOM: It's Stephen's new "Undercover Tyrant" series.
> This is a legal name for her to use as she holds the title of
>fourteenth Princess of Halifax in her role as next in line to the throne of
>Essex.
MIKE: So now her full name is Princess Captain Flight Commander Marrissa Amber
Flores Picard Halifax?
TOM: Must be tough getting monogrammed towels.
> This story was written with that story in mind.
CROW: But sadly, little else.
>--
>Stephen Ratliff stephen trekiverse org
>"I don't know if I'm cut out to be Captain. First Officer
>maybe. I understand there are no real qualifications."
>- Counselor Troi, ST:TNG "Disaster"
MIKE: Marina Sirtis sticks it to the Man!
>From step...@trekiverse.org Sun Jan 30 00:17:05 2005
>Path: sn-us!sn-xit-12!sn-xit-09!sn-xit-13!supernews.com!207.217.77.43.MISMATCH!
>elnk-pas-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!
>stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!newsread3.news.atl.earthlink.net.POSTED!
>31600fab!not-for-mail
>From: Stephen Ratliff <step...@trekiverse.org>
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG But For a Y, Go I (Marrissa Stories AU)
CROW: For a Y go I, except after C, unless it's AU?
>Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office
MIKE: They have an emergency holographic Dean Koontz on hand at all times.
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TOM: Mike's tried them all, and still can't get a date.
MIKE: Hey!
>Date: Sun, 30 Jan 2005 06:17:05 GMT
CROW: Of course, even Mike wouldn't start a date at six in the
morning on a Sunday.
MIKE: And again - Hey!
>NNTP-Posting-Host: 63.188.72.79
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>NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2005 22:17:05 PST
>Xref: sn-us alt.startrek.creative:173057
>Title: But for a Y, Go I: Short Version
MIKE: The part of Marrissa will be played by Billy Barty.
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Contact: stephen trekiverse org/us
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories AU
>Codes: Other Sex Challenge (ASCEM) AU
TOM: Kama Sutra Trek: The Next Position.
>Rating: [PG-13] for nudity
CROW: Lovely - more skinny dipping Marrissa!
TOM: For someone so proud of her uniform, she sure spends a lot of time
*out* of it!
>Summary: Marrissa returns back from an alternate universe with her
>counterpart from that universe, Marcus.
CROW: Welby?
MIKE: Allen?
TOM: Aurelius?
> She must adjust to the changes
>caused by the passion of her contact with her male counterpart.
MIKE: It's Stephen Ratliff's Mel Gibson's Rick Berman's "The Passion of the
Marrissa".
>Note: This was intended to be bigger,
CROW: Well, it's no big deal - it happens to everybody from time to time.
> and in fact is only a part of what it
>will be. Expect a longer version latter ... maybe after Awards Season.
TOM: [Stephen] I just won't be able to write a word until I see if Annette
Bening beats out Hilary Swank for Best Actress.
>Now on with the stort...
TOM: "Stort"?
MIKE: Short storks - they're rare and beautiful birds Marrissa keeps as pets.
>Marrissa sat in the hot tub on the edge of the Enterprise-E's gym,
TOM: No doubt filled with gallons of tepid strawberry juice.
> watching
>as Marcus went through his forms with the saber.
MIKE: Well, that's one way to handle paperwork.
CROW: Marcus, we need a red cover for this TPS repoAUUUGHHHH!!!
> For training he wore only
>a pair of tight briefs, only restraining, not hiding his cock.
TOM: Why would he want to hide a rooster?
> His body
>glistened with body oil and sweat as he pushed himself.
MIKE: Aren't you glad *you* use Dial?
> It had not been
>long ago that Marrissa would have joined him, sparring against his hard
>thrusts and firm defense.
TOM: About as subtle as a Mardis Gras parade in Salt Lake City, ain't it?
CROW: Stephen's erotic imagery is as awe-inspiring as his space battles.
> Her own smooth defense and lithe counters feed
>perfectly against her alternate universe counterpart.
TOM: Wow, Marrissa's finally found a guy she can relate to completely -
herself!
>But that had not been possible for quite some time, for Marrissa lacked one
>thing that Marcus had,
MIKE: A soul. She planned to steal his.
> and had paid the price of their mutual
>contact.
CROW: $79.95, marked down from $100.
TOM: The Wal-Mart Smiley Face guy strikes again!
> Marcus's thrusts of a different type had driven Marrissa to
>heights she had not expected.
TOM: She hid out in Tibet, but the big jerk found her anyway.
> That had resulted the reason why she was
>currently forbidden to join him in practice.
MIKE: That, plus a dozen or so wrongful endangerment lawsuits.
>Marcus finished his practice, picking up a towel to dry the excess sweat
>from his body.
TOM: [Marcus] *Snifsnif* Hey, has someone already used my towel? It smells
like wet Tellarite and - oh wait, that's me.
> He approached Marrissa, swiftly. There was a big smile on
>his face,
MIKE: Which vanished the closer he got to Marrissa.
> as he vaulted over the edge of the hot tub and slid neatly into
>place beside her,
BOTS: *Hai-Keeba!*
> the tight briefs somehow disappearing as he did
>so.
CROW: It's Starfleet's new water-soluble uniform line.
> "Good morning, beautiful," he said, as his arm slid around her shoulders.
TOM: Hey, what's happened to Jay "Doormat" Gordon?
MIKE: Well, if he's smart, he beat feet while she was distracted and joined
the
cast of "Alias" or "Reba" or something.
TOM: Yeah, but it's Jay.
MIKE: Oh. In that case, he's probably the one who brings Marrissa and Marcus
their fresh towels.
>Marrissa blushed as he kissed her cheek. It always amazed her, that she
>could get used to nudity,
MIKE: She wasn't used to being nude?
CROW: She was born wearing a class-A dress officer's uniform.
> even making love to the point of two
>pregnancies, but that simple kiss to her cheek still made her blush.
TOM: So basically, Marrissa's pregnant by - herself?
[pause]
CROW: Mike, is this the definition of "a whole weird area"?
MIKE: If not, it's pretty darn close.
> "How
>was your night?" she asked. Marcus had gotten up to check on Security's
>Delta Shift,
TOM: Eventually, Security's going to have to learn to delta shift for itself.
> and until Marrissa hadn't seen him since the night before when
>she'd arrived to have a nice soak in the long hot tub on the starboard side
>of the gym.
MIKE: Uh-oh, Stevie went to bed and left the Prepositional Phrase generator
on overnight.
>"It was okay," Marcus said. "It wasn't wonderful.
CROW: [Marcus] They ran out of those little marshmallows for my hot cocoa
again.
TOM: [Marrissa] Poor baby.
> A night where I can
>open my eyes and see your sweet face is much better than any check up on
>Security, no matter how good the results were."
MIKE: [Marrissa] Oh honey, we're so nice to us.
> Marrissa missed being
>Chief of Security, but with a baby and another following on it's heels,
CROW: They're a family of "close walkers".
> she
>had to give it up. "Dessalines is still not living up to expectations
TOM: What they need is a Dessalines Solution!
CROW: Ouch!
> and
>you were right that he's a poison to wherever he's put.
MIKE: The little incident with Snow White and the apple proved that.
> Chief Nelson wants
>to kick him out the airlock, and I'm inclined to help at the moment."
CROW: I'll hold Mr. Dessalines, Charlie Brown, and you come running up and
kick him.
TOM: Good grief.
>"Assign him to guard the starboard airlock armory and inform him that his
>next move is out the door," Marrissa suggested with a giggle.
MIKE: [Marrissa] Tee-hee, threats are fun, wheee.
> She missed
>Chief Nelson,
CROW: [mockingly] Woooh, Marrissa misses Chief *Nelson*!
MIKE: Shut up!
> who had always been a reliable right hand in Security back
>when it was her department.
[bots giggle uncontrollably]
TOM: [Marrissa] Oh Chief Mikey, take me away from all this!
CROW: [ditto] You can be my security chief anytime, Nelson!
MIKE: Cut it out! And don't call me "Chief"!
> Her giggle cut off as she had that thought,
>and Marcus looked at her with a familiar expression of concern.
MIKE: [Marcus] Geez, is she gonna cut me off again?
>"Still missing the job?" Marcus asked, his left hand stroking the underside
>of her naked breasts.
TOM: OK, *now* Stephen's just being gratuitous!
> Marrissa nodded. He kissed her gently and Marrissa
>managed a smile as he pulled away.
CROW: [Marrissa] Enjoy it, you fool - I've got you fished in!
> Marcus echoed the smile, as he pulled
>away.
MIKE: [Marcus] Enjoy it, you fool - I've got you fished in!
> "Alpha shift is about to start, will you be okay?" Marrissa
>nodded. His concern touched her.
TOM: Oh, is *that* what they're calling it?
CROW: At least they didn't say his concern was growing.
> "I'll be on the Bridge."
>Marrissa watched as he toweled off his wet body
MIKE: Then she watched as he toweled off his dry body.
CROW: Marcus has a fetish for big soft fluffy towels. It was a cause
for growing concern.
> and then put on the
>uniform.
TOM: He still smelled like a musty Klingon, though, cause he forgot to
actually bathe before he toweled off.
> As he strode out of the room, Marrissa still admiring his form,
MIKE: He's a perfect isosceles triangle.
>she had but one thought.
CROW: The sweet oblivion of non-existence.
> But for a Y, there go I.
TOM: Maybe that explains the problems Stevie used to have with his
spellcheckers.
>--
>Stephen Ratliff stephen trekiverse org
>"I don't know if I'm cut out to be Captain.
MIKE: It depends on if they cut you out on the dotted line.
> First Officer
>maybe. I understand there are no real qualifications."
>- Counselor Troi, ST:TNG "Disaster"
CROW: Well, at least there's no driving the ship involved.
TOM: Hey, I think we're done.
MIKE: 'Bout time, too.
[All leave]
O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]
[SOL - Bridge]
TOM: Wow. That was a little bit twisted around.
CROW: Ya think?
MIKE: Well, in a way, it kinda makes sense.
TOM: Wha - Mike, in what *possible* way could getting pregnant by your
gender-bent alternate universe other self be remotely thought of
as "making sense"?
MIKE: In the sense that Marrissa's ego is so hyper-inflated that no one
else could even begin to measure up.
TOM: Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right.
CROW: Of course, ya gotta wonder about the genetics involved.
MIKE: How so? I mean, they're pretty much the same except for the excess X.
CROW: Which is my point exactly! I mean, this is the sort of thing that's
bound to force all those recessive traits to the fore!
TOM: He's right, Nelson. I mean, they've already got a kid with another
supposedly on the way. What's to say they're not anemic dwarves with
squaggly teeth who spend all day picking the theme from "Deliverance"
on Vulcan autoharps?
MIKE: Well, knowing Marrissa, she and the Big M Mark 2Y probably produced a
patently perfect pair.
CROW: Yeah, all that controlling the laws of fate and statistical probability
just means they'll have the most perfect kids in the world.
MIKE: Besides, if she's *really* a royal, it's something she's used to by now,
I imagine.
TOM: Still, dating yourself seems just a little creepy.
MIKE: And again, I point out, this *is* Marrissa.
TOM: [uncertainly] Maybe. [Lights begin to flash]
MIKE: Oh, looks like Pearl's checking in. Hello, Mrs. F.
[CF - The THINGIE is now alive with coruscating energies. She & her
underlings
have been joined by someone else with his back to us.]
PEARL: At last, all my plans are coming to fruition! This is a day that
history
will mark with trembling and fear! It's earth-shaking! It's
stupefying!
It's - it's - it's...
BOBO: It's pretty, oooh!
PEARL: Bobo, please! You're ruining the majesty of the moment!
OBSERVER: I'll admit, Pearl, I'm impressed. You've created a sort of gateway
to
the stars! Almost a Starg-
PEARL: Unless you want the Sci-Fi Channel's legal team all over us, Pasty, you
won't finish that sentence. [To us] Ah, Smellson, you've finally
joined
us. I thought I'd rub this in your face so you can get ready with the
bowing and scraping early. And I invited a friend of yours. I think
you know each other.
[The fourth person turns to reveal someone dressed in jeans and a "Radford U"
sweatshirt who looks very much like Brad Pitt, only with glasses.]
STEPHEN: Hey guys.
[SOL]
MIKE: Stephen! Long time no see.
CROW: Hey, did you get that pirogue recipe I sent you?
[CF]
STEPHEN: Yeah, thanks, those were really nummy.
[SOL]
CROW: It's great-gramma Crow's recipe.
TOM: You, uh, didn't bring whatsername with you did you?
[CF]
STEPHEN: No, she's busy. She won't tell me what with, though. Apparently, it
somehow involves a quantum torpedo and strawberry Jell-O. Frankly, I'm
starting to get a little...
PEARL: Stephen's here for one reason only, Nelson! Like me, he's dedicated
his
life to inflicting torments and suffering on you, to seeing you writhe
in
indescribable agony, to leaving you nothing but a gibbering, incoherent,
pitiable heap of brok-
STEPHEN: Uh Pearl, I hate to keep bringing this up, but...
PEARL: Look, I keep telling you, the check will definitely clear this time,
OK?!? Sheesh! Anyway, in just a moment, I'm going to step through the
THINGIE and begin my conquest of all of othertime and otherspace!
[Pearl
casually puts her hand on Stephen's back] All we need now is someone to
test it out first to see if it's sa-
[Suddenly, a cacophony of discordant noise fills the castle]
PEARL: What the - Brain Guy! Bobo! What's going on?
BOBO: Oook! Lawgiver, we got incoming!
PEARL: What? Impossible! No one knows about this thing but us!
OBSERVER: Regardless, Pearl, someone *is* coming through!
[SOL]
TOM: Wow! Guys, Pearl's invented "Sliders"!
CROW: Yeah! I just hope it's one of the ones with Sabrina Lloyd.
[CF - The THINGIE is now ablaze with pseudo-sixties psychedelica. Pearl,
Bobo & Brain Guy are now huddled behind a sofa. Stephen merely looks on,
fascinated]
BOBO: Lawgiver! I'm tripping! It's the bad mushrooms!
PEARL: Never mind your Papa John's fetish, Booboo - here it comes!
[Suddenly a hole (carefully disguised until now) opens, and a lone
woman stumbles through. She's wearing jeans, a "Radford U" sweatshirt,
glasses, and looks remarkably like Angelina Jolie]
Woman: ...doing?!? PHIL! You rotten, no-good - uh - where am I?
PEARL: [bravely stepping out from behind the sofa] The hell?!? Where
in the heck did *you* come from, sister?!?
STEPHEN: Oh my. Are you okay? [he rushes forward to steady her]
Woman: I, I think so. I - [she looks into his eyes, and they stop, struck
at the sight of each other] uh - um, I, I was at the Castle with Phil
and the others...
STEPHEN: Castle?
PEARL: Phil?
Woman: Yes, Phil Forrester. Anyway, he was showing me this THINGIE he'd
invented and the next thing I knew, he'd shoved me through it.
STEPHEN: [eyeing Pearl] Really?
PEARL: [blandly] How horrible.
BOBO: But Lawgiver, weren't you about to do that with St=
PEARL: Haha, don't be silly, you strange little simian. [shoves him aside]
Did - did you say *Phil* Forrester?
Woman: Yes, that's right. In fact, he looks a lot like you - well, except
for the mustache.
OBSERVER: Hmm, let me hazard a guess - he has a she-ape and a somewhat pale
woman with a green brain working for him, correct?
Woman: You mean Koko and Brain Gal? That's right, but how - oh my! It
worked!
STEPHEN: But that means you're - you're...
Woman: Sorry. My name's Stacey - Stacey Ratliff.
STEPHEN: By the sacred effulgence of Picard!
OBSERVER: Oh.
BOBO: My.
PEARL: Gawd.
[SOL]
MIKE: Uh-huh.
CROW: Well.
TOM: Ooookay. Mike, should we helpless with laughter, terrified out of our
wits, or open-mouthed at the blatant obviousness of all this?
MIKE: I think I'm going with a soupcon of all three.
CROW: I don't know that the universe is ready for a pair of Ratliffs, guys.
Much less a distaff one.
TOM: Maybe we ought to wrap this up before we get flooded with opposite sex
counterparts.
CROW: Yeah, why don't we give with the info?
MIKE: OK. To join the MiST-
[CF - Stacey is laughing uncontrollably]
STEPHEN: What? What is it?
STACEY: BWAHAHAHAH! Hooo! Oh, that's rich - seeing them as guys!
PEARL: You mean back where you come from, they're...
STACEY: Yep! Imagine, Molly Nelson as a big old square-headed guy! And
Wren T. Wrobot, too! *snerk*
OBSERVER: Oh dear - a mental image I most certainly didn't need.
BOBO: What about the other one?
STACEY: Oh, Tom's just - [stops] Hey, he's just the same.
STEPHEN: He is?
PEARL: Really? [All stop and peer suspiciously at Tom]
[SOL - Mike & Crow are now peering suspiciously at Tom, too]
TOM: What?
CROW: Just the same, huh?
MIKE: So just what does this piece of information imply, anyway?
TOM: Obviously, that perfection exists unchanged in any dimension.
CROW: Rrrrrright.
MIKE: I'm not sure we want to pursue this line of thought, so here's the deal:
to join the MiSTing Authors Dibs List, send an e-mail (presuming
it's back up again) to "majord...@pinky.wtower.com" with "subscribe
dibslist" in the message body! When it's also back up again, Read the
FAQ at "http://www.masemware.com/mst3k/faq.shtml";, don't work blue,
and try to avoid any unseemly cross-dimensional transgenedered self-
involved love affairs.
TOM: Good advice, even if you're not joining the Dibs list.
CROW: You don't get to give advice until we straighten this out.
TOM: Fine, ignore perfection.
MIKE: Never mind that, you guys - we've still got a bunch of cereal left.
CROW: Now *that's* perfection!
TOM: Stand aside you two - I hear a certain Count Chocula calling my name!
[CF - Stephen and Stacey are deep in conversation. Pearl is pretty much
armed to the teeth, and getting armier by the minute as she straps on
grenades, guns, plasma rifles, etc.]
STEPHEN: No kidding? Marrissa is, too. Well, she's a *princess* instead of a
prince obviously. So is Marcus married?
STACEY: Yep. He and Jill Alice Gordon got were wed in "A Regal Marriage".
It won a prize in the rec.arts.tv.startrek.creative awards.
STEPHEN: Do you help moderate those, too?
STACEY: Yeah, but seems like I've done it for forever. Sometimes, I wonder
why I keep doing it.
STEPHEN: Insufficient reluctance?
STACEY: What else? [Both laugh]
PEARL: Aw criminey pete, you two, get a room!
OBSERVER: Pearl, be reasonable.
PEARL: Reasonable my hinder! This "Phil Forrester" is a threat to
my plans! It's gonna be him or me!
OBSERVER: But can't you just agree to divide all of reality or something?
PEARL: Listen, Chalky, either you're the ruler of *all* creation, or you're
not.
No two ways about it. Now stand aside, I'm going in!
BOBO: Will you bring us something back, Lawgiver?
PEARL: Yeah - "Phil"'s head on a platter! [she scoots through the THINGIE's
hole and vanishes]
BOBO: Oh. I was kind of hoping for a snowglobe.
STACEY: So what do you think will happen?
STEPHEN: Well, they're two megalomaniacal, egomaniacal, just plain maniacal
mad scientists who are exactly alike except for one chromosome. Which
means...
OBSERVER: Which means they'll either destroy each other or wind up married.
BOBO: And either way, I bet I won't get a snowglobe.
STACEY: Oh. Hm. [pause] Say, who's for pizza?
OBSERVER: Excellent idea.
BOBO: No mushrooms though.
[All wander off, and the scene fades out]
STEPHEN: [os] So did you write about the four words, too?
STACEY: [os] Sure did - "susurruss", "yurt", "antidisestablishmentarianism"
and "bling".
STEPHEN: [os] ...the hey?!?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"DUTY, LOYALTY, TRUST, HONOR" BY: Stephen Ratliff
"BUT FOR A Y, GO I" ALSO BY: Stephen Ratliff
MiSTING BY: Bill Livingston
MiSTING DIBS LIST MAINTAINED (IN THEORY) BY: Michael Neylon
CROSSWORD PUZZLES BY: Will Shortz
IT'S NOT UNUSUAL TO BE LOVED BY: Anyone
LAW & ORDER: Trial by Jury
SPECIAL GUEST STARS: Brad Pitt as Stephen Ratliff and Angelina Jolie
as Stacey Ratliff
THANKS: To MiSTies, MuSTies, RATMMers, the teachers of America, Rags
Morales, the Kellogg's corporation, The Bleat (at lileks.com),
and the memory of Johnny Carson.
"Star Trek: TNG" and all associated characters and situations are
trademark of and (c) Paramount. All rights reserved. Even the right to
kill off beloved Android characters in sub-par movie sequels.
Marrissa is {c} Marrissa. Are *you* gonna argue with her?
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" trademark of and (c) Best Brains, Inc. All
rights reserved. Now appearing at a party at Jack Taylor's.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks
held by others is intended or should be inferred.
No personal insults to author(s), character(s), or situation(s) are or
should be implied. All characters in this work are fictional, and any
resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contrary to what the establishment *wants* you to believe, man!
Please don't touch the chicken puppet.
Keep circulating the posts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
>I'm Marrissa, and I'm an officer in Star Fleet. Many people have asked me why
>I am. It's not something easy to explain.
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