Athena - Papaya
Mystery Usenet Theater 3000:
"Athena Prospects: The Papaya Edition"
By Stephen Ratliff
Misted by:
Matt Blackwell
Bart Fargo
Amanda Flowers
Sarah Heiner
Karen Kallestad
Jeffrey Ray Roberts
TV's Francis
Dedicated to the Memory of DeForrest Kelly, who never had
the privilege of appearing in a Ratliff story. He'll be
missed.
"Any one know a way to sabotage a space shuttle?"
- Stephen Ratliff, 29 Jan 1998
rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc
[Season 10 Opening Sequence]
[The Bridge of the SoL]
[Tom and Crow are at the command console. Crow's in front of a
keyboard and monitor; Tom's in front of a laptop. Crow
occasionally taps away at the keyboard while Tom pecks at the
laptop with his beak.]
Tom: Okay. Round 8. You get first pick.
Crow: I take Paul Prudhomme.
Tom: And I'll take Emeril Lagasse.
[Mike dashes in, newspaper in hand.]
Mike: Hey guys!
[The bots 'Shh!' Mike.]
Bots: Shh!
[See? Just like that.]
Tom: Do you mind?
Mike: Sorry. But this is kind of important . . .
Crow: Mike, we're at a very critical stage in our rotisserie
league baseball draft.
Tom: We're just about ready for round 9. . I'll take . . . let's
see. . . Wolfgang Puck and Molto Mario.
Crow: I'll take the two fat ladies.
Mike: The two fat ladies? I thought these were *baseball* teams.
Tom: It's *rotisserie* baseball, Mike. Anyone can toss a little
ball around and hit it with a stick. How many so-called
professional players can grill a leg of lamb to a perfect
medium rare? Can Cal Ripken create just the right blend of
spices to dry-rub a pork loin? Can Mark McGwire stir up a
fresh herb marinade for grilled zucchini shish kebobs? I
think not.
Crow: Less yakking, more trading. You can have the two fat ladies
back. I want those grillin' and chillin' guys.
Tom: Should I put the Frugal Gourmet at catcher or shortstop?
Crow: Shortstop. Definitely. His roasted garlic chicken is to die
for.
Mike: Uh, guys, this *is* kind of important.
Tom: [exasperated] Oh, come on, Mike. It's not like it's the end
of the world or anything.
Mike: Actually, it is. There's a giant rock heading straight towards
the Earth!
Crow: Wait, is this a rock an asteroid, like in Armageddon or
Moonfall?
Tom: Or is it a comet, ala Deep Impact or Lucifer's Hammer?
Crow: Hey, maybe it's a disguised spaceship! That'd be neat!
Tom: Or it could be a giant ball of garbage..
Mike: Guys? It's just a really big rock.
Bots: [despondently] Oh.
Tom: So what's your point, Mike?
Mike: It's our big chance to get out of here! If I can destroy
it, I'll save the world! I'll be a hero! They'll send a
space shuttle up to bring us back to Earth!
[The bots stare at Mike for a moment, then burst into laughter.]
Crow: Oh, *you're* going to save the world?
Tom: Good one, Mikey.
Mike: Hey! What's so funny about me saving the world?
[The bots laugh even harder. After a few moments, they recover
enough to respond.]
Tom: [still chuckling] Well, we'll be nice and not mention that
"Destroyer of Worlds" schtick of yours.
Crow: You honestly think you can save the world?
Mike: I've done it before!
Tom: When?
Mike: Well, I saved Mobius from those shapeshifters...
Crow: Canon, Mike. Stick to canon, please.
Mike: Fine. [pause] How about when I saved the universe from
those pod-snatchers?
Tom: Bobo did that.
Mike: But I told him to do it!
Crow: Doesn't count.
Mike: But what about when we captured the power source for Pearl's
doomsday device?
Tom: You made us send it back to Pearl.
Crow: [typing on his keyboard] Forget it, Mike. The world's
already been saved.
Mike: What? How . . . who . . .
Tom: Eloquence like that makes us treasure these special
moments.
Crow: Some NASA astronauts, while they were heading to Mars,
jury-rigged an explosive using a can of hair spray, a
lighter, a furby, and a brillo pad.
Mike: How do you know all this?
Crow: It's all right here on www.saving-the-world-from-a-big-
giant-rock-while-on-our-way-to-mars.com
Tom: Really? I would have thought that would be more of a
dot-org.
Mike: Great. Now I'll never get to save the world.
Tom: Hey, just destroy the negative for Yahoo Serious' new film.
That should count as saving the world.
Crow: Oh, no! This can't be true! It just can't be!
Mike: [hopefully] What is it? Another threat to Earth's
existence? Something that could turn our beloved planet
into a smoldering, misshapen mass of molten rock?
Crow: Worse. Much worse. [Crow starts sobbing]
Mike: What is it? What could be that bad?
Crow: Larry Bly and Laban Johnson! They've been black balled!
Tom: No, Crow! Say it ain't so! Why?
Crow: They got caught corking a souffle!
Tom: Damn! There goes my bullpen!
[The light to Castle Forrester begins to flash.]
Mike: Oh well. I see that Shoemaker, Levy and Hale-Bopp are
calling.
[Mike presses the Castle light.]
[Castle Forrester]
[Hundreds of lit candles are arrayed across the room. In the
background is an altar. Bobo, dressed in a black robe, and
Observer, also dressed in a black robe, which isn't really that
unusual for him, chant in front of the altar. Pearl enters.]
Pearl: [whispering] Hi Mike.
[SoL]
Mike: Hey Pearl. Is it time for a sacrifice to Nylarlothep again?
[Mike and the bots chuckle.]
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: [whispering] You're not far off, Mike. Since I've been unable
to find anything that will utterly break your spirit, I decided
to have Bobo and Brain Guy perform an arcane ceremony in an
effort to conjure up a story bad enough to end your pathetic
existence.
[Bobo and Observer chant louder and louder, and suddenly, there's
the crash of thunder, lightning sizzles, and a voice is heard from
offstage]
Demonic Voice: [O.S.] Who dares summon the forces of darkness?
Pearl: I did...
DV: [O.S.] Whomever is foolish enough to summon us needs to wait as
all our minions of darkness are currently assisting other
dabblers in the occult. Your call is important to us. Please
stay on the line for the next available devilish representative.
[A muzak version of "The Girl from Ipanema" begins to play loudly.]
Pearl: Damn. And I was sure Beelzebub had a devil set aside for me.
We'll be right back.
[Commercials]
[Back in Castle Forrester, Pearl is still on hold. In the
background, Observer paints a landscape, while Bobo leans
idly against a wall, reading a copy of Scientific Gorilla -
American. Pearl paces nervously while a muzak version
of "Escape" (aka 'The Pina Colada Song') plays in the
background.]
Pearl: [mumbling] Come on already.
[The music stops, replaced by another demonic voice.]
DV: [O.S.] Technical support, may I have your license number?
Pearl: [mumbling] About time. [normal] Yes, it's 666-734-14345-
9923.
DV: [O.S.] What is the nature of your request?
Pearl: Well, I need a really bad story delivered to me...
DV: [O.S.] Ma'am, on-site support requires our Sulfur Plus
program...
Pearl: ...which I have.
DV: [O.S.] I don't see that on my screen....
Pearl: Check again.
DV: [O.S.] Ma'am, I can assure you that if I don't see it...
Pearl: Damn you! I have the plan! Check again!
DV: [O.S.] Okay, lady, just settle down. Lemme search the
database again. And there's not much point in saying "damn
you" to me. Kind of redundant. Get it? Redundant?
[Pearl glares at the camera.]
DV: [O.S.] Just a little demonic humor there. Ahhh, I see the
problem. Your contract was originally entered under the name
of a "Clayton Forrester" . . . [keyboard sfx] It looks like
the only way it devolves on you is if the aforementioned
Clayton Forrester were to become a star-baby [smug laughter,
then more keyboard sfx] Oh. Well. Um...
[Pearl grins maniacally]
DV: [O.S.] Whaddayaknow. Thought for sure we had you on that
clause. Onsite service, coming right up.
Pearl: [mumbling] Ha. Clayton griped at paying $99.95 for the
service plan, but who's laughing now?
[With a *pop*, a red-suited devil, carrying a pitchfork,
appears.]
Pitch: Hi there! You had need of our demonic assistance program?
Pearl: I guess so. See, [she motions towards the camera] we've
got these doofi stuck up on this satellite and I need a
story so horrible that it will completely break their will.
Pitch: Hmmm.
[Pitch reaches down, picks up a briefcase and begins rummaging
through it.]
Pitch: I gotta B5/Are You Being Served crossover. Chicken Soup for
the Damned Soul. A JarJar Binks/Yoda slash fanfic, a Star Wars
crossover called "Buffy the Empire Slayer," Armageddon -
Pearl: The script or Armageddon fanfic?
Pitch: Actually, it's a first hand account of the battle. Andy
Rooney wrote it!
Pearl: [shuddering] Next!
Pitch: Oh, here's something --- oh, wait a minute. How did that get
in here? This was never supposed to leave the ninth circle of
Hell. [He starts to cram it back into the briefcase, but Pearl
grabs it. She gasps, then clasps the manuscript to her bosom
and smiles evilly.]
Pearl: A fanfic sent from the very bowels of hell. What a gift from
the forces of darkness. Thank you, Patch.
Pitch: That's Pitch.
Pearl: Whatever. Mike, bottsies, do you recall a series of fanfics
starring the most annoying blonde since Jenny McCarthy?
[SoL]
Mike: Oh no. You don't mean ...
Tom: Marrissa....
Crow: Amber...
Mike: Flores...
Tom: Picard...
Crow: Gordon...
Mike: Fortensky...
Tom: Rodman.
Mike: Rodman?
Tom: He was drunk.
Mike: Ah.
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: The very same. She's evil, she's power-mad, she torments
people in out in space, she's blonde - remind you of anyone
you know? Now, Putz here...
Pitch: That's Patch, ma'am. I mean Pitch.
Pearl: Whatever. Red boy here has given me a revision of one of
Stephen Ratliff's most putrid little gems.
[SoL]
Crow: "There's Nothing Like a Dame?"
Mike: "Kentucky Derby?"
Tom: "TrekSmut University?"
[Crow begins to scream loudly.]
Mike: Crow? What's wrong?
Crow: I...I just remembered. What story is Ratliff least proud
of?
Tom: Dear lord. Not *that* one!
Crow: Think of the children!
Mike: Pearl! Even a person as evil as you wouldn't show *that*
to us again! If you have even an ounce of human decency...
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Hmm. Nope. I don't seem to have that ounce. Sorry. [Her
grin grows even wider] Your experiment today is Stephen
Ratliff's "Athena Prospects", which just happens to
be a revision of... "Time Speeder." Needless to say, we
won't be speaking again.
Pitch: Excuse me? We need to discuss the purchase terms for this
story. I believe a soul is in order...?
Pearl: Excuse me. *I* didn't summon you. Those guys back there
did. Talk to them.
Pitch: Of course. My mistake.
[Pitch begins to walk towards the sidekicks.]
Pearl: Anyway, "Athena Prospects." Shrivel up and die, Mike.
[SoL]
[The Ratliff sign is flashing, but the crew doesn't react.]
Tom: We have to read Time Speeder? AGAIN?
Crow: Thisisn'thappening. Thisisn'thappening...
Mike: Okay guys. Let's keep our chins up. It can't possibly be
as bad as the original... What am I saying? Of course it
can! We're all doomed!
All: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WE'VEGOT RATLIFF SIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Mike hesitantly hits the light, and the door sequence begins...]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]
[Mike and the bots trudge very slowly towards their seats.]
Crow: Time Speeder. I can't believe we're reading Time
Speeder again.
Tom: Mike? This can't really be happening, can it?
Mike: Enough! Guys! We can make it through this if we
just stick together! We survived "Eye of Argon"
didn't we?
Crow: Well, yeah...
Mike: We made it through "Blood and Metal", right?
Tom: Yeah!
Mike: We survived "I'm Dreaming of a Coruscant Christmas",
didn't we?
Bots: Yes!
Mike: We survived "X" and "The Project" and "A Short
Walk" and all of those Sonic stories!
Bots: YES!
Mike: Surely we can survive a rewritten "Time Speeder"!
Bots: AHHHHH!!!!!!!! TIME SPEEDER!!!!!!!!
Mike: It's going to be a long night.
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Apr 01 09:43:18 1999
>Path: ix.netcom.com!newsfeed.enteract.com!netnews.com!
>news-peer1.sprintlink.net!news-backupwest.sprintlink.net!
Crow: That's it. We're switching back to AT&T.
>news.sprintlink.net!hearst.acc.Virginia.EDU!
Tom: Sorry. Even putting that in caps won't convince me
that Virginia has educational facilities.
>newslink.runet.edu!not-for-mail
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. King of the final frontier! o/~
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,
> alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
Mike: I thought there were laws against child labor.
Crow: Huh?
Mike: Well, reading a Ratliff story is more work than 30 years
as a Microsoft tech support operator.
Crow: Good point.
>Subject: REP Athena Prospects 0-4/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>Supersedes: <7e042a$blu@newslink.runet.edu>
>Date: 1 Apr 1999 15:43:18 GMT
Tom: April 1? Oh, *please* say this is an April Fool's joke!
Mike: Sorry, Tom. I think it's just coincidence.
Tom: Dang.
>Organization: Radford University
>Lines: 401
>Approved: asca@pnx.com
Crow: Oh, thank you *so* much for approving this post,
asca@pnx.com.
>Message-ID: <7e046m$blu@newslink.runet.edu>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: rucs2.sunlab.cs.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [UNIX 1.3 950824BETA PL0]
Mike: PLO?
Crow: Yeah. Pining for a Large Outage.
>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:107469
>alt.startrek.creative.all-ages:1743
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
Tom: Athena's Prospects aren't that good.
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
Mike: As always, be afraid. Be very afraid.
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 0-4/11
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past.
Mike: While the faction's moderates voted to give sanctions more
time.
> With the help of the Clintons,
All: GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
Tom: It's hurting already!
Mike: Calm down, it hasn't even started yet.
Crow: Ever experience Deja Vu?
>Title: Athena Prospects
Tom: Instead of a time-traveling Wesley Crusher falling in love
with Chelsea Clinton, we have the Greek goddess of wisdom
panning for gold.
Crow: Yeah, but other than that, it's pretty much the same.
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
Mike: Say what you will, but at least his titles are improving.
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
Mike: It seems more like #10,000. [sighs]
Crow: Issue #10? Isn't that the first appearance of Catwoman?
>Rating: [G]
Crow: Rated G. Even small children may share in the horror.
Tom: [sobbing] Noo! Not the children...
Mike: Are you forgetting that all the children in these stories are
superior to the adults? They can take it.
>Codes: n/a
Crow: Look, it's coded for 'no action.'
Mike: Or 'not appealing.'
Tom: Or Sir 'Not Appearing' in this fanfic.
>Parts:
Crow: ...the Marrissa Horror.
> NEW 1/1
Tom: This story's ratio is one-to-one, that's good.
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer,
Mike: A rather large party was held by her former crewmates.
A good time was had by all.
> a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past.
Tom: If I had a spaceship, I'd just go cruising for chicks.
Mike: Tom, we're already on a spaceship.
Tom: Say...
> With the help of the Clintons,
Bots: GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Mike: Hey, this is sounding familiar...
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
Mike: Manned? Shouldn't that be *personed*?
Crow: Personed and/or botted.
Tom: You're both so species-ist. It's the first 'sentient-beinged'
mission...
Mike: Hmmm, sentient - guess that means no Ratliff characters
are aboard.
>Author's Forward.
>
Tom: Actually, I've always imaging Ratliff to be rather reserved.
Mike: Tom? You've used that one before.
Tom: Hey, if Ratliff can reuse an entire plot, I can reuse one
riff.
> This was Time Speeder.
Tom: (singing Goldfinger theme): Time Speeder!
Crow: Bwa-Bwa-Bwaaaa!
Mike: Time Speeder is dead. Long live Time Speeder.
> It's change a lot.
Tom: Well, at least Ratliff's proofreading is still the same.
Crow: "Time Speeder" has now been reduced to nickels and
quarters?
> Back when I
>released Time Speeder, I was over confident.
Tom: We were over confident and the ruddy Punjab's captured our
base camp!
> Only once I had
>released it did I realize
Tom: Why all of Usenet wants to give me a giant cyberwedgie.
> what a mess that story was.
Mike: Only when we READ it did WE realize what a mess it was...
> Revising a
>story isn't easy, especially when sequels are already out.
Mike: Well then, don't.
Tom: If your story stinks, move on!
Crow: Suck it up! Take it like a man!
>Certain events have to happen.
Tom: Events are kinda funny that way.
> The basic plot has to stay
All: STAAAAAAY!
>(although it can mutate in strange and annoying ways.)
Mike: Like a horrible, insidious cancer, mutating, growing,
choking out all life and leaving behind only death,
despair, and grounds for a lawsuit from Chelsea Clinton.
> In the
>case of this story,
Mike: As solved by Encyclopedia Brown...
> I was revising it while those other stories
>were being written, so a lot of the changes were revealed first
>in those stories. (Much to the confusion of many of my readers)
Crow: Actually, we were confused from story 1, page 1.
>That may have been a mistake.
Tom: Ya think?!
Mike: Just go write a story where they change the timeline,
all of these 'fics never happen, and we don't have
to read them!
Crow: [sarcastically] Great idea, Mike.
> In any case, a lot has changed.
Tom: Second verse, same as the first.
> Gone are Senators Robb and
>Warner (although they did get a mention)
Mike: An honorable mention?
> Gone is the
>Congressional Plot.
Crow: Then where will they be buried?
Mike: Witness as Ratliff boldly revises previously established
continuity!
> In its place is a new one, one with more
>action, a more southerly setting,
Crow: The "Time Speeders/Gone With the Wind Crossover!"
Tom: [Butterfly McQueen] Lawsy, I don't know nuthin' bout writin'
no fanfics!
Mike: As God is my witness, I'll never read Ratliff again.
> and one that I think fits the
>characters better.
Tom: Then again, what setting DOESN'T fit the tale of the
universe's most powerful adoptee?
Mike: I'd like to see her take on the Crimean War.
> What's up next for the Marrissa Stories?
Crow: [Ratliff] Will they include beloved characters,
such as Marrissa?
> Well, I'm
>currently working on a story set after the Last Romulan War,
>among many others.
Tom: That one small phrase is more frightening than all of
Stephen King's works put together.
> I'm also looking for a job,
Mike: I can't believe the Fox network hasn't snapped Steve
up by now.
Tom: [announcer voice] World's Most Annoying Teenage Heroine!
Tonight at 8, right after World's Most Atrocious Grammar,
World's Most Implausible Plot Devices and When Romulans
Attack!
> so Marrissa
>Stories may come a lot slower from now on.
Tom: Thank heavens for a strong job market!
Mike: You want some help with your resume, Stephen?
> In any case, please enjoy the latest installment of the
>Marrissa Stories, Athena Prospects.
>
Tom: Oh, thanks a lot.
>Stephen Ratliff
>Roanoke, VA
>December 23, 1998
>
Mike: Ahh, a Christmas present to the world.
Crow: It's enough to make me a Wiccan.
>Historian's Note:
>
Crow: Any similarity between this story and actual history
is purely coincidental.
>This story occurs after A Royal Mess and Home for Christmas.
Crow: Meanwhile, it IS A Royal Mess, and wasn't out in
time for Christmas.
> It
>occurs before First Contact. Premier Maquis follows it.
Tom: But nothing can follow Premier Maquis.
>
>
>101374
>Prologue
>
Mike: You'd think, after all this time, I'd be inured to Ratliff
stories.
> Lyam Sympton looked normal.
Mike: And then I read opening sentences like this...
Tom: So does Liam Kincaid, and he's 75% Jaridian.
> You would have never guessed
>that those brown eyes and brown hair covered a obsessed man.
Tom: Wow...I feel like I've known him all my life.
Mike: Ew, look at all those eyes and hair. How do you call *that*
normal?
Crow: Well, it didn't say normal for a human.
>Most people believed that Star Fleet was an organization devoted
>to Science and Exploration, which also protected the Federation's
>borders.
Tom: Along with Research and Development, with occasional help
from Marketing.
> Lyam believed that it was a military organization just
>waiting for an opening to take over the Federation.
Tom: He also believed that OJ was innocent, Clinton never
inhaled, and was overheard saying to Pamela Anderson,
"You know, those are so obviously REAL".
> He was
>willing to die for his convictions, and he wasn't the only one.
Crow: He had gathered a group of easily convinced, well-trained
lemmings...
>So were his fellow members of Exploration Not Exploitation or
>ENE, as the press referred to them.
Crow: That's more of a slogan than an organization.
Mike: They have three sister organizations: MEANE, MINY and MO.
> However times being what they where, he did not need to die.
Tom: He could use his new electric dying machine.
>He had a plan instead.
Mike: A man, a plan, an obsession: Ratliff.
> In order to carry out that plan however
>he needed a constitution class starship.
Mike: A starship with a strong constitution.
> This was not an easy
>item to find but if you
Tom: ...try some time, you just might find, you get what you need.
> looked hard enough one could be bought or
>'borrowed'.
Crow: Oh, just head over to eBay. They've got everything.
> As for why he wanted one, that was simple, perhaps too
>simple.
Tom: Yes, that's just what they'd expect, wouldn't they?
> Seeking more information to further his theory on Star
>Fleet a friend of his had tapped into Star Fleet's mission log
>recorders;
Mike: [as friend] It was simple, really. The password was
'SP0CKR00LZ.'
> in particular, those of the original Enterprise. Lyam
>had laughed at the irony
[Crow opens his mouth.]
Mike: One word about Alanis, and you're going straight out the
airlock.
[Crow sheepishly closes his mouth.]
> that Star Fleet would provide it's own
>undoing.
>
Mike: So the undoing of Star Fleet is Captain Kirk's little
black book?
Tom: Here it is - Orion slave girl, green is definitely her
color, 3 stars; Yeoman Rand, wild when she lets her hair
down, 3 1/2 stars; Edith Keeler, sorry about the truck
thing, 4 stars; Elizabeth Dehner, weird eyes, 2 1/2 stars;
Lt. Uhura, great kisser, 3 1/2 stars; . . .
> Marrissa Amber Picard, Chief of Security, USS Enterprise,
Tom: Is that all? Doesn't she have the other 75 titles yet?
>was lounging on her bed, with a pillow propped under her breast
Mike: Just one!?
Tom: AHHH! She's an Amazon!
>and a PADD in her right hand.
Crow: So, is this a Trek fan-fic, or the "What's Happening to
My Body?" Book for Girls?
Tom: Yes.
> Her left hand was twirling her
>long blond hair
Tom: ...around a fork. She absentmindedly mistook it for
spaghetti.
> while she read the latest issue of Star Fleet's
>Starship Captain's Adventures.
Mike: Sounds like a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' book.
Crow: If you fire your phasers, turn to page 86. If you fire your
photon torpedos, turn to page 87.
> She was smiling at Captain James
>T Kirk's Corbinite Maneuver.
Tom: That's where he disguises himself as Corbin Bernsen so he
can make a pass at Amanda Pays.
> "Incoming call for Lieutenant
>Marrissa Picard from the USS Miranda," the Computer announced.
Mike: [computer] And that's my only line.
> Marrissa jumped off the bed, pushed her hair back behind her
>shoulders
Crow: ...shooed her latest male conquest into the next room...
> and faced her view screen.
Tom: God forbid you should spare us a detail, Ratliff!
> "On Screen," She ordered. A
>red haired vulcan appeared.
Mike: Red hair? That's a Leprechaun, not a Vulcan!
Crow: [Lucky] Oh, no! Now the kids are sendin' Starfleet after
me Lucky Charms!
> "Lieutenant Marrissa Picard I presume?" Marrissa nodded.
Mike: [Marrissa] If you DIDN'T know, I'd have had you shot!
>"I'm Captain T'Gwen
Tom: Stephani?!
> Washington.
Tom: Oh.
> I've accepted your application
>as Fighter Commander on the Stargazer. You'll also be serving as
>its second officer."
Crow: [Washington] He likes his breakfast in bed, and light
starch for his uniform.
Mike: No, Crow. Serving *as.*
Crow: Oh. Drat.
> "Thank you sir," Marrissa responded. "I assume that my
>father has indicated that he will let me go?"
Bots: o/~ Let her go! o/~
Mike: o/~ He will not let her go! o/~
Bots: o/~ Let her go! o/~
> "He has."
Tom: [T'Gwen] By the way, what do the phrases "Hell, yeah" and
"She's all yours" mean? Your father used them quite
extensively...
> "Then when and where should I report aboard?" Marrissa
>asked.
Tom: [T'Gwen] Well, it's not exactly aboard... you'll be scraping
space barnacles off the hull while we're in orbit.
> "The Stargazer will be rendezvousing with the Enterprise in
>two days," Captain Washington responded. "Admiral Scott will
>yield command you then.
Crow: [T'Gwen] He'll also turn over the ship's prepositions at
that time.
> You will meet up with me and our
>Cardassian First Officer at Deep Space Nine."
Crow: You will never find a more wretched hive of blandness and
mediocrity.
> "Aye sir," Marrissa responded. "It will be a pleasure
>serving with you."
> "Oh and one more thing," Captain Washington said.
Mike: [T'Gwen] We're a substance-free workplace, so no strawberry
juice.
Tom: Just what the Hec Ramsey IS a substance-free workplace,
anyway?
Crow: The UPN programming department, the set of Kathie Lee
Gifford's show, the Microsoft marketing division, plus
outer space, I guess. . .
> "Since
>you'll be serving as Second Officer, I'm promoting you to
>Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately."
Mike: They can just do that?
Crow: Apparently.
Tom: Well, at least Starfleet doesn't waste its time on
bureaucracy!
> "Thank you sir."
Crow: [Marrissa, sotto voce] Lieutenant Commander? That's ALL?
> "You're welcome, Miranda out."
>
Crow: [Marrissa] No, no. I'm *Marrissa.* You're T'Gwen, and
you're *in* the Miranda.
>101374
Mike: So this was written by Chris Carter's little brother?
Crow: That explains a lot.
>Chapter One
>
> Marrissa rushed out of her room to find someone to tell her
>good news to.
Tom: Bible in one hand, a Watchtower in the other.
> Out in the living room, Rear Admiral Jean-Luc
>Picard
Mike: You guys know any clean "Rear Admiral" jokes?
Crow: Nah, it's not worth it.
> was lifting his sleeping twenty month old daughter
>Jacqueline off the couch.
Crow: [Picard] Oof! Just how many pounds did she put on today?
> Seeing the onrushing Marrissa,
Tom: Gah! She's a flood!
Mike: No, she's not. Calm down.
> he put
>his finger to his mouth and
Mike: ...up the chimney he rose.
> said,
[Mike moves his finger up and down across his lips.]
Mike: [Picard] Beeblebeeblebeeble.
> "Shhhh."
> "Sorry,"
Mike: [Picard] "No! Shhhh!"
> Marrissa whispered. "I just learnt that I got the
>post on the Stargazer."
Tom: She got some of that fancy book-learnin'.
> "I know," her adoptive father replied.
Crow: [Guy from 'Devil Fish'] I knooow!
> As he gently laid
>Jackie up against himself and began to carry the little girl to
>her room.
> "I had to approve your transfer, remember."
Mike: [Picard] I've been waiting for that blasted transfer for
months! And still it never came. It never came!!
> "I never thought I'd get it." Marrissa gushed.
Tom: See? She *is* a flood!
Crow: Remember, folks. Most homeowners insurance doesn't
cover Marrissa damage.
> "I've got to
>tell Clara."
>
Crow: [Marrissa] She's still just chief engineer, that 14-year-
old loser!
> Clarrissa Ann Sutter was
Mike: Explaining it all...
> looking over the latest in warp
>drive design in her Popular Engineering Magazine.
Crow: [snickering] I bet she also subscribes to Omni.
> The Alpha
>Shift Warp Drive Systems Supervisor's
Mike: There's a Dilbert title, if I ever heard one.
Tom: ASWDSS... Nope, no clever acronym.
Crow: This from a group of people who don't like titles.
> desk was full of such
>publications,
Tom: Warp Field Hi-Lights, Quantum Tiger Beat, Subspace
Sassy . . .
> mingled among her Science, Social Studies, and
>Klingon Homework.
Tom: Klingon Homework?!?
Mike: You know... drink bloodwine, bump heads with someone.
Crow: Eat some gagh.
Mike: Whine on and on about the honor of your house.
Crow: Whack yourself with a pain stick.
Mike: Opera appreciation.
Crow: Bat'leth twirling.
Mike: That's only for extra credit.
Crow: Define the word veQ...
Tom: That would be this fanfic.
Mike: Ow... that was harsh.
> On the bed behind her was her Princess gown,
Mike: Why am I suddenly thinking of Dee Dee?
Tom: [Dee Dee] Hi Dexter!
Crow: [Dexter] Aaah! Dee Dee, get out of my laboratory!
Tom: [same] But looook! I'm wearing a Princess Pony Puff gown!
Crow: [same] I don't care!
>thrown there after the thirteen-year-old had gotten out of the
>diplomatic reception early that morning.
Mike: You know, I've heard things about those all-night diplomatic
receptions...
> Her silver taira still
>adorned her long black hair.
Tom: [Dee Dee] And look at the matching tiara!
Crow: [Dexter] No! Now leave me alone, woman!
Mike: So was she too lazy to remove it, or is it an ego thing?
Either one looks pretty bad for the royal family.
> The door chimed. "Enter."
Tom: [Yiddish accent] Enter? Whadeva happened to come in?
> Marrissa entered, her new Lieutenant Commander's pip now
>fastened neatly to her collar.
Crow: One could say that she had *great expectations* for
that promotion.
Mike: Yes, one could say that, but then I'd have to kill that one.
> "Clara, I just got some good
>news."
All: [bored] Promoted again...
> "Star Fleet just approved a warp system control capacitor
>upgrade," Clara said.
Tom: [sarcastically] Oh, yeah. That and universal peace top *my*
wish list.
Mike: Glad to see Star Fleet's getting a jump on Y3K compliance.
> "How would I hear about that?" Marrissa questioned.
Crow: [Marrissa] I'd only know that if I'd been reading your
personal, private, locked, encrypted diary that you keep in
the secret compartment under the plasma vent panel in
Jeffries tube #97.
> Then
>she noticed the periodical Clara had been reading. "Popular
>Engineering? Interesting reading."
Crow: [Clara] "Warp coil number 5073 is sooo cute!"
> "I bet you were reading that Captain's Adventure trash,"
>Clara responded.
Mike: I'll bet she was reading the Star Fleet classics. Okay,
bots, rapid fire!
Crow: Scotty's philosophical yet practical 'Zen and the Art of
Warp Core Maintenance.'
Tom: Spock's haunting memoir of his troubled childhood, 'Nobody
Knows the Tribbles I've Seen.'
Mike: Uhura's searing indictment of Star Fleet's transparent
aluminum ceiling, 'Open Your Own Damned Hailing Frequency.'
Crow: Dr. McCoy's romantic best-seller, 'The Wormholes of Madison
Quadrant.'
Tom: Kirk's racy tell-all bio, 'Men are from Mars, Green-skinned
Space Babes are from Orion.'
Mike: The official Star Fleet tribute to those who died in the
line of duty, 'The Red Shirt Diaries.'
Crow: Worf's love story and pet-care manual 'The Targ Whisperer.'
Tom: And of course, 'My Long Career in Star Fleet' by Ensign
Throwaway.
> "Lieutenant, don't trash my reading," Marrissa responded
>smiling at the usual response.
Tom: If you whack Clara upside the head for her insult, turn to
page 35. If you only counter with a lame rejoinder, turn to
page 24.
> "At least my reading helps me do my job," Clara responded
>looking up at Marrissa.
Mike: See Jane. See Jane replicate a matter induction array.
Replicate, Jane, replicate.
> Her eyes fastened to the three pips on
>her friend's collar.
Mike: What are they, velcro eyes?
> "Commander?"
Mike: [Clara] Gee, Marrissa, TOOK you long enough...
Tom: Clara's reaction? Dull surprise!
> "I told you I had good news," Marrissa responded. "I got
>the position on the Stargazer."
Tom: [Marrissa] I'll be holding the main sensor array in place.
> "Fighter Commander?" Clara stated.
Tom: [Marrissa] Why? What has she done to me? Get it?
Fight her, commander?
Mike: We get it Tom.
> "Yeah and Second Officer as well," Marrissa added.
Crow: How quickly the ranks add up.
> "I never
>thought I'd get either position. I'm only just turned fifteen.
Tom: o/~ You are fifteen, going on first officer... o/~
>I just applied because I wanted to get out from under my father's
>command."
Mike: [Marrissa] After all, we both know that one of these days,
that little nitwit's going to get that entire ship killed.
> "You're leaving the Enterprise," Clara remarked,
All: Duh!
> her eyes
Crow: ...sparkling with a joy unknown for years.
>dropping and her shoulders slumping.
Mike: Now her eyes are rolling across the floor.
Crow: When Marrissa's involved, sooner or later the body parts
are gonna fly.
Tom: [Clara] Sniff. Now I'll have to find a new person to
kiss up to...
> "Great, that means I've got
>the Kid's Crew Captain's job. One more duty into my already
>packed day."
Tom: Well excuse the hell outta us!
Crow: Yeah, no one asked you to be a junior over-achiever!
Mike: [Clara] And I was SO BUSY translating my collection of
"Saved By the Bell" episodes back into the original Klingon!
> "You can give it to Shayna," Marrissa responded,
Crow: She'll command anything!
> gently
>prodding her young friend.
Mike: Marrissa's playful joshing was often accompanied by painful,
but rarely fatal, cattle prod shocks.
> "Marrissa, you remember the last time we put Shayna in
>command of a scenario?" Clara exclaimed,
Crow: [Clara] We spent the rest of the day cleaning pudding
off the walls.
> her hands thrusting out
>in a gesture of frustration.
Tom: The runner at first base mistook it for the steal sign, and
was thrown out at second.
> "You mean the Khitomer Scenario, in which she lasted almost
>the full ten minutes necessary," Marrissa responded.
Mike: You know, it's nice how Starfleet just lets anyone have a
rank if they can not get killed for a few minutes in a space
battle. Who needs training, anyway?
Crow: Besides, ten minutes is an *awful* time.
Tom: Oh, Crow, how would you know?
Crow: I'll have you know I did 155 minutes in that scenario.
Starfleet made me a *Commodore.*
Tom: So, you got to hang out with Lionel Ritchie then?
> "So she's
>no James T. Kirk."
Tom: How long did James T. Kirk last? Let's check the
'unofficial' logs - 'He's faster than a speeding truck,'
Edith Keeler, 'Never got past first base,' Uhura, 'Nothing to
cry over,' Elaan of Troyius, 'Won't make anyone green with
envy,' Vina, 'Glad I got out when I did,' Janice Lester . . .
> "You know she'll be my number one," Clara remarked.
Mike: o/~ The tide is high, but I'm holdin' on/ I'm gonna be your
number one... o/~
> "Do you
>really want her to have a chance to command this ship?"
Tom: Apparently, they teach vicious gossip at Starfleet academy.
> "She's not that bad," Marrissa dead panned.
Mike: Oh, my God! She killed the pan!
Crow: You bastard!
> "You need your memory refreshed," Clara said.
Tom: [Marrissa] Well, you need your breath refreshed. Phew!
> "Remember
>when we let her take command during a simulation of the Battle of
>Tarkcommon III? She had the ship turn and run."
Tom: Not the crew, mind you. Just the ship.
Crow: Hey...isn't that the scenario where you're supposed to
smite thine enemies with the Holy Hand Grenade?
Mike: No, Crow. That's the one where you fire past the bugger
ships and blow up the alien planet.
Crow: My bad.
> "She was out numbered three to one," Marrissa said. "It was
>good tactical sense."
Tom: She's been taking lessons from Glinn Gusat.
> "And what do you do in that situation?" Clara inquired.
Crow: [Marrissa] Same plan I always use. Senseless violence. I
stick with the classics.
> "I plot a firing course past the enemies and into the star's
>corona," Marrissa said.
Mike: I'd put a lemon wedge in the Corona, kick back and wait it
out.
Crow: Yeah, we'd know what you'd do, Mike.
> "Then I exit it tractoring a portion
>behind me. That usually takes out one or two making the odds
>much better."
Crow: Ok, let's pretend for a moment that made any sense.
Tom: Let's not. My globe hurts as it is.
> "You tip the odds," Clara said.
Tom: Be sure to tip your odds generously.
> "I do that. Jay does that.
>Shayna runs home to mommy."
Crow: Which makes sense because she's TWELVE!
Mike: Yeah! Down with cowardly twelve year olds!
> "Her ship survives every time," Marrissa said. "The same
>can not be said for us."
>
Crow: And the chapter just...dies, taking with it that faint
glimpse of common sense.
Tom: I wonder if we'll ever see Shayna again. Will we EVER know
what her time in the Tarkcommon III Scenario was? So
many pressing questions unanswered!
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
Tom: [Benedick] And I stood there like a man at a mark, with a
whole army shooting at me!
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
Crow: Do they have *my* most frequently asked question?
Mike: Which is...
Crow: Why? Why?! In God's name, WHY?!
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>Have you voted in the Alt.StarTrek.Creative.All-Ages Tribble
>Awards?
>
>Do so now at: http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/awards/
>
Mike: Sadly, more people voted in the Tribble awards than the last
presidential election.
>101374
Mike: The serial number for the left door panel of a '63 Dodge
Dart?
>Chapter Two
>
> Marrissa materialized in the Stargazer's transporter room.
Tom: [Stargazer] Who are you? I was expecting the Silverhawks.
>It appeared to be not quite complete.
Tom: [Marrissa] Shouldn't there be a hull around this
thinnnnnnng...
> None of the walls had
>panels covering their circuitry.
Tom: [Kevin Meaney] For goodness sake! Put some decent panels on!
What would your mother say?
Crow: Converting matter to energy and back again is easy.
Drywalling is hard.
> Marrissa quickly spotted the
>navy panels stacked over in one corner.
Tom: Old Navy cotton panels!
Mike: [Carrie Donovan] "I'm mad for the style of them!"
> Behind the console was a
>white haired man wearing an Engineer's work suit with
>Rear-Admiral's pips.
Crow: So why's he wearing seeds on his clothing?
> There was only one person that could be,
Crow: Actually, there are several people that could be...
>"Admiral Scott?" Marrissa inquired. "Permission to come aboard?"
Crow: Permission to come apart?
Mike: Granted.
[Crow begins weeping bitterly.]
> "Granted, lassie," Scotty replied.
Crow: [still sobbing] Gah! Not him!
Tom: Look! There's Sisko, Janeway and M'Riss too!
Mike: What the--
Tom: Juuuust testing to see how many different Treks we can
cross over...nothing to see here, carry on...
> "Or should I be calling
>yea Princess?"
Mike: [Marrissa] That's the genocidal, megalomaniacal teenager
formerly known as Princess!
Tom: She might as well get herself a goofy ascii art symbol and be
done with it.
[Crow continues his lamentations.]
> "Just Marrissa will be fine," Marrissa responded.
Crow: [sniffling, but calming down] There's very little that's
just about you, Marrissa.
Mike: You recovered quickly.
Crow: I'm a fast emotional healer.
> "Welcome aboard your new ship, Marrissa," Scotty said.
Mike: [Scotty] I mean 'Just Marrissa.'
>"Computer Recognize Scott, Admiral Montgomery,
Tom: [computer] Sorry, I don't recognize you. Are you known for
your work in the theater?
> and transfer
>command to Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Amber Picard, per Star
>Fleet orders."
Mike: [Scotty] Make sure ya use all three of her names.
That's M-A-R-R...
> "Transfer complete,
Crow: [computer] Our embezzled funds are now in a Swiss bank
account.
> USS Stargazer is now under the command
>of Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard."
Mike: Thanks Majel, you can go back to your trailer, we'll call
you when we need you.
Tom: Well, now she's a Captain, I guess. That didn't take long.
Crow: Ratliff must be getting lazy.
> "I though as an Admiral, you would want to be in command,"
>Marrissa stated.
Crow: Wait. So she's an Admiral now?
Mike: No, he is. No, wait...
> "Marrissa, my lass, I never wanted command," Scotty said.
Tom: Sheesh, *everyone* says that in these stories! Has no one
any personal ambition?
Mike: [Scotty] I wanted to be a lumberjack...
>"I just took the promotions so I could do my job better and with
>less interference from the desk jockeys at Star Fleet Command."
Tom: Or so he claims. He really took the job so that he could get
into the Friday afternoon cocktail parties. They serve
donuts there.
Mike: Say, maybe I could be an Admiral...
> "Since our Chief Engineer has yet to be assigned, I assume
>you are filling that position?" Marrissa asked.
> "Aye."
Crow: And spilling over to several others as well.
Tom: Yes, admirals LOVE to be demoted to Engineers at the drop
of a hat...giving teenage girls command of the lives of their
crew.
>
> Marrissa entered the suite of rooms dedicated for the use of
>the Second Officer.
All: o/~ This is dedicated to the one we hate... o/~
> They were located next to the Ship's bar
>which was named Seven Slightly Starboard for it's location.
Crow: It was originally known as Next To The Loo, but didn't
attract as many customers as they expected...
> The
>first room she entered was an office. In contained a desk, a
>couple chairs and a sofa under the window.
Crow: That is an office!
> The desk was
>perpendicular to outside wall.
Tom: Oddly enough, I can't think of anything to say about that,
can you?
Crow: Nope.
Mike: Uh-uh.
> She hung the painting Data had
>given her behind the desk.
Crow: He just said the desk was perpendicular to the wall!
Mike: He's trying to lose us!
Tom: Don't let him get away!
> Across the room was the door to the
>rest of her quarters, next to the replicator. She walked though
>it to discover a well apportioned room
Mike: I claim this room for Spain!
> with a table and three
>chairs, another sofa and a double bed.
Crow: Wow. Heaven.
Tom: Maybe the rest of the fan-fic is just describing rooms.
> The far wall sported
>another opening which lead to a bathroom with a real tub, perfect
>for Marrissa's bubble baths.
All: [in unison] Ewwww!
Tom: It's a Ratliff trademark, always taking us somewhere we
don't want to go. Usually involving Marrissa skinny-dipping.
Crow: Or her PMS. Or her virginity. Or her pink panties. Or her...
Mike: [wraps his hands around Crow's beak] Let's just write that
off as a juvenile fixation. And a really creepy one. This is
the work of a more mature Ratliff.
Crow: [mumbling through Mike's hands] And he's aging about as well
as a bottle of Thunderbird.
> As Marrissa exited the bathroom her door chimed. Walking
>back to her office, Marrissa said, "Come." A young woman entered
>tentatively.
Mike: She's evidently been briefed about Her Highness.
> She was carrying the rest of Marrissa's belongings.
Mike: With a forklift.
> "The Quartermaster
Tom: Quartermaster II: Through the Portal of Time!
Mike: I'd like to be a quartermaster, that sounds cool.
Crow: Fear me, for I control all quarters everywhere! I am
QUARTERMASTER!
> said you wanted this," she said,
>indicating the stuff she was carrying.
Crow: I guess she *would* want her stuff.
Mike: Stuff? Just 'stuff'?
Tom: What vivid visual imagery! I can just SEE the Star Fleet
Barbie complete with pink shuttlecraft, the 'Miss Junior
Photon Torpedo of 2367' trophy, the big tube of assorted
Bonnie Bell lip smackers, the chia pet, the Leonardo DiCaprio
poster, the well-thumbed copy of 'Releasing the Hell-Beast
Within,' the 'Li'l Wonder' bra . . .
Mike & Crow:Ewwwwww!
Tom: Sorry guys. Now *I'm* doing it.
> "Just put it on my desk, Crewman ?"
Mike: It's the Riddler!
Crow: Riddle me this, Marrissa!
> Marrissa said indicating
>that she wanted to know the older woman's name.
Mike: That's right... rub it in.
> "Peterson, Yeoman Diane Peterson," the crewman replied.
>"The Quartermaster has assigned me to be your yeoman."
Crow: Yes! I control Yeoman Diane Peterson!
Mike: Here we go...
Tom: What sin could a yeoman commit in a single lifetime...
> "Well then, Yeoman, get ready for a lot of work," Marrissa
>responded. "I probably hold the most jobs of anyone on the ship."
Tom: [Marrissa] I'm the cook, the cleaning lady, the captain
of COURSE... I train the horses, and I fix the typewriters
when they break...
> "I'll do my best sir," the Yeoman replied.
Mike: Or Marrissa could just quit a couple of those jobs.
> "I have no doubt that you will," Marrissa said.
Tom: [Marrissa] I'll make sure of that. Bwahahaha!
> "The
>question is, can we have fun doing it?"
Mike: [Yeoman] Are you coming on to me?
> "Is that an order, sir?" the Yeoman said.
Tom: Who is this, Yeoman Eeyore?
Crow: [Marrissa] Hell yes! I want you to sing while you clean out
my toilets! Sing, I say! SING!
Mike: [Militant] Fun Sir Yes Sir!
> "No, just a suggestion," Marissa said. "But I find it's one
>that makes the job easier."
Crow: [Marrissa] Second suggestion: strawberry juice. Third
suggestion: I find it helps expediency to demote people
whenever you see them... Oh, and it helps to be
perfect....Are you taking notes?
Mike: Notes Sir! Yes Sir!
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
Crow: [Odo] In Marrissa's case, though, we should definitely make an
exception.
Tom: Let's take a breather.
[The trio stand and exit.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .]
[The Bridge]
[Tom and Crow, dressed in Starfleet-esque uniforms and
holding clipboards, are standing next to a young,
rusty-haired male clutching a teddy bear.]
Tom: Okay; now we want you to use the sensors.
[The boy pokes at some buttons on the panel. Crow nods
approvingly, then looks at his clipboard.]
Crow: Next, realign the ventrical warp manifold.
[The boy looks confused for a moment, then taps a
button on the console.]
Tom: Very good! Now, fire the phasers.
[Mike enters in the background, stares at the trio,
then walks over to them.]
Mike: Hi guys.
Crow: Oh, hi Mike! You remember Timmy Bobby Rusty,
don't you?
Timmy Bobby Rusty: Hi Mr. Nelsom!
Mike: Yeah, yeah. Cute kid Dr. F. brought into shore up
our Neilsen ratings. But what's he *doing* here?
Tom: Crow and I were thinking. Marrissa seems to have so
much fun with her Kids' Crew that we thought we'd
form our own.
Mike: Uh-huh.
Crow: And he's the only kid we know of. Well, aside
from the Space Children. But they'd probably
blow up the ship or something. Besides, if
we had a Kids' Crew like the Enterprise, we
could make them do all the work. They could
defeat Cardassians and Romulans, get their
shuttlecraft shot down on strange planets,
defuse tense diplomatic standoffs and stuff.
Mike: Well, I don't really remember the last time
we had a problem with Cardassians or Romulans...
Tom: That doesn't matter, Mikey. When we have a Kid's
Crew, they'll prove their usefulness in just a
heart beat. You'll see!
Mike: Oh. Well, go right ahead then.
Crow: Wow. You're being really mellow about this, Mike.
Tom: Usually after you hear one of our ideas, you
rant and rave.
Mike: Like saying, "Are you insane? Besides the fact
that the Kid's Crew doesn't work outside the
Ratliffverse and the minor little detail that
we've made fun of the Kids' Crew concept for
the last five years, and now, *Now*, you want
to make your own? HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST
YOUR MINDS?!!"
Crow: Yeah, like that.
Mike: Nope. Not going to do that. After all, if you
can't learn from history... well, you know the
saying. I'm just going to head off to the theater
early for this one. [mumbling] That way I won't
be caught in the explosion. [normal] Have fun
being bossed around by the kid, guys.
[Mike exits.]
Tom: Thanks Mike. [He turns to Timmy Bobby Rusty.]
Okay, now we...
TBR: Mr. Tom?
Tom: Yes, Cadet Timmy?
TBR: Ensign Timmy. Is what Mr. Nelson said trew?
Tom: [chuckling] No, Timmy. We haven't lost our minds.
Crow: You see, we've come to see that having children
run the ship is the most efficient way to command.
Tom: While you're busy flying the ship and fighting the
Cardassians, we can relax and enjoy ourselves.
Crow: Soon Tom and I will be kicking back, drinking some
brewskis and watching wrestling.
[Gypsy enters.]
Gypsy: [Hysterically] Tom? Crow? You're training someone
to take my place? I'm being downsized, aren't I?
I won't take this lying down, do you hear me?!
I'll file a grievance with the union! You'll rue
the day you crossed paths with me, you scalawags!
[Gypsy storms off. Tom and Crow look anxiously at each
other.]
Crow: I'll go and calm her down. Gypsy!
[Crow exits.]
TBR: Mr. Tom?
Tom: Yes, Ensign Timmy?
TBR: Commander Timmy. I meant was it trew that I get to
boss you around?
Tom: Um...
TBR: 'Cause if it is, then things will be changing
around here...
Tom: Really? Heh, heh. Mike?
TBR: First of all, you will address me by my full name,
Timmy Bobby Rusty. Better yet, you will address me
as *sir.* Is that clear?
Tom: Mike?
TBR: Secondly, I don't know who you are. Why don't we
go around the room and introduce ourselves?
Tom: Oh, Michael...?
[The lights dim.]
Gypsy: [OS] How do you like working in the dark, you
ungrateful pigs?!
Crow: [OS] Gypsy, calm down!
TBR: And another thing. From now on, I want chocolate
for breakfast, and lunch. For dinner, I want
chocolate and marshmallows. And get me some
rutabaga juice, now!
Tom: MIKE!
TBR: And I want "I was commanded by Admiral Timmy Bobby
Rusty" carved into that far wall!
Tom: MIIIKKKKEEEE!!!!!
TBR: And why aren't there any chicks around here for
me to fall in love with? I should be getting married.
I'm almost 11!
Tom: Crow! Get in here!
Crow: [O.S.] But Gypsy...
Tom: FORGET HER FOR A SEC AND GET IN HERE!
[Crow dashes in.]
TBR: [to Crow] Why are you late, maggot? And who are
you? I'm Lord Admiral Timmy...
Tom: Get him!
[The bots tackle Timmy Bobby Rusty and push him off
screen. We hear a scuffle, cries of "You can't do
this to me! I'm a king! I'm the god! I'M THE GOD!"
then a door slamming shut and a sound like a rocket
taking off. Crow and Tom, looking a little dented,
dash back onstage.]
Tom: Quick, open the hexfield viewscreen!
[The viewscreen opens to show a small escape pod being
jettisoned toward Earth]
Crow: Whew. I'm glad that's over with.
Gypsy: [O.S.] Tom! I'm taking a chainsaw to your room!
[The Ratliff sign begins to flash.]
Tom: My room!
Crow: Forget that! We've got Ratliff sign!
Bots: AHHHH!!!! Ratliff Sign!!!
[Crow hurriedly rushes over to hit the Ratliff sign.
The door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]
[Mike is already seated. The bots enter.]
Mike: So, how'd it go?
Tom: I think I know what caused the cast of Different
Strokes to go bad.
Crow: They must have had a Hollywood Kids' Crew.
Mike: Oh. You know, I just heard the strangest sound.
Kind of like an escape pod. Silly, huh? Cuz if
there was an escape pod, I could have returned
to earth ages ago. I mean, you guys would have
told me in about two seconds if there was an
escape pod on board, right?
Bots: [muttering] Oh yeah, sure. Right. Of course.
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Feb 25 17:31:50 1999
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 04/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~ Stephen. Stephen Ratliff. His stories leave us in tears! o/~
>Date: 26 Feb 1999 00:31:50 GMT
Tom: Whoa, did Ratliff travel through time or something?
Mike: No, the editor was just too lazy to get the first few parts
individually.
[Tom tsks.]
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
Mike: Somehow, I'm having problems imagining a goddess as a
California Forty-Niner.
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
Tom: Nauseating and abominable?
>Parts: NEW 4/11
>
Tom: [announcer] New...and improved!
Mike: I dunno about that.
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past.
Tom: Another one of the seven original sci-fi plots in the world.
> With the help of the Clintons,
Crow: The George Clintons...
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>101374
Mike: Stardate, random.
>Chapter Three
>
> Lyam Sympton was ready to move.
Tom: So he went to a Tai-bo class.
> A group of his colleagues
>had joined him in his private yacht, the Star Fleet's Bane.
Tom: If you give your ship a nice, innocuous name, turn to page
25. If you name your ship after your life-long goal, thus
betraying your membership in a pseudo-terrorist organization,
turn to page 22.
> They
>were just entering the Zed-15 Depot Yard.
Mike: I didn't know Ratliff was British.
> Their objective was
>the decommissioned USS Eagle NCC-956.
Tom: o/~ Welcome to the Starship California! o/~
> "Have they detected us?" Lyam asked his comrade and
>Engineering Specialist, Boris Gutanhoff.
Crow: C is for cookie...
Tom: ...and that's Gutanhoff for me.
Mike: Well, I'll commend you for staying away from the 'Moose
and Squirrel' riff, but ouch!
> "I don't think so," Boris replied.
Tom: Then we'll go after Moose and Squirrel!
Mike: Doh! You just *had* to dash my hopes, didn't you?
Crow: He's Boris "GUTanhoff;" he'd probably track them down then
offer them money.
> "Ready Boarding parties, Frank," Lyam ordered.
Mike: [TV's Frank] Live to serve, oh vile one!
Crow: Frank's in this?
Tom: No, just some guy named Frank. But the way he's described,
I feel like he's right here with us.
> "Boris, I
>want that ship operational ASAP."
Mike: Or at least some time around then.
> "I'll do my best," Boris responded. "Hopefully they won't
>have stripped it too much."
>
Crow: Naw... just everything but the hull.
> Moment's latter two dozen hired guns beamed on board the
>Eagle.
Tom: Don't you think you're anthropomorphizing too much, Ratliff?
> They fanned out and checked out the empty ship. Signaling
>all clear, the leader requested that the Engineer be beamed
>aboard.
Crow: [Minnewegian accent] Oh, aren't they such polite terrorists?
Mike: [ditto] Oh, yah.
> Boris got right to work on the shuttlebay doors.
Tom: [with New England accent] We're gonna sand these doors down
to the original duranium, lay down a couple coats of primer,
then give them a verdigris finish with a clear satin sealer,
today on 'This Old Starship.'
>Despite the fact that the Eagle had been out of service for more
>than 50 years,
Mike: Starfleet just can't throw anything away, can they?
Crow: Yeah, they're real packrats.
> the bay doors still opened allowing the Star
>Fleet's Bane to squeeze into the bay.
Crow: Gah! A "Batman and Robin" crossover!
Mike: The Star Fleet "Bane;" there's a mental picture I didn't
need.
Tom: Forget HIM! Where's the Star Fleet's Poison Ivy?
Crow: Bring 'er on! Sure she's deadly, but what
captain could resist?
> Lyam Sympton exited the yacht. "Welcome aboard, Captain,"
>Boris said. "How is our transportation Boris?" Lyam asked.
Crow: I thought Boris was the engineer.
Mike: He must have split personalities.
> "No weapons but she'll go fast enough to break the speed
>limit and get us where or shall I say when we're going," Boris
>replied.
Tom: [Sarcasm] They're going to violate traffic laws, they're
soo evil!
Mike: Sure, it's fun to break the speed limit in outer space,
but eventually the galactic enforcers catch up with you...
> "Then lets get under way before the supply yard notices
>us," Lyam ordered. "I'll be on the Bridge."
Mike: Nice to see that the supply yard's security is at the same
level as a U-Store-It of today.
Crow: I'm just wondering why the ship yard kept fuel in the
ship's tank for 50 years.
>
>Personal Log
Crow: They usually are.
>USS Stargazer NCC-2893
>STARDATE 51671.35
Tom: Gee, Marrissa, why not figure it out to the nearest second?
>Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, acting Captain.
>
Crow: Oh! So she's T'Gwen Washington's understudy!
> We are currently proceeding to Deep Space Nine
Mike: Oh sure, drag them into it now.
Crow: As if getting canceled wasn't bad enough.
> to pick up
Mike: [Marrissa] ...some hot dates.
>the Captain and the Cardassian members of our crew.
Crow: The *what*?!?
Tom: Don't worry about it. They don't figure into the plot,
and you will NEVER see them AGAIN.
Mike: And you know this how...?
Tom: I read the Cliff Notes.
> I am
>somewhat uneasy
Crow: Chili peppers burn her gut.
> about having Cardassians serving on the
>Stargazer.
Mike: She... couldneverforgivethem... for. The. Death of her
son...
> It hasn't been long since they were enemies.
Mike: Did they ever stop being enemies?
Tom: For about five minutes, so they could rest up before
attacking again.
Mike: Oh yeah.
> In fact
>I've even fought them.
Crow: [Marrissa] Hand to hand, their entrails dripping
down my bloodened arm and staining my uniform redder and
redder with their life-juices...
Tom: Thanks, Crow.
> I have to admit, though, that the
>situation in the Demilitarized zone calls for just such a crew.
Mike: If, for this delicate diplomatic situation, you choose to
send in an experienced crew that has worked well together for
years, turn to page 55. If you choose instead to add in some
Cardassians, thus creating a crew whose members do not trust
each other and will be wiping each other out before the week
ends, turn to page 57.
>Perhaps together, we'll be able to end the fighting between those
>people who don't believe the war is over.
Crow: [Marrissa] Come on! Stop fighting!
Tom: You can't make me, you can't make me!
>
> Late that evening, Lavelle was dealing the latest round of
>poker in Seven Slightly Starboard.
Crow: ...by the seashore.
> "Five of Diamonds for the
>Security Chief, Seven of Diamonds for his wife, Jack of Clubs for
>the Admiral, King of Hearts for the Princess, and a Eight of
>Hearts for me."
Crow: You know, there isn't much that's inherently riffable
about a poker game.
Mike: Well, we'd better try. This looks like a long, hard one.
Tom: Let's just hope that Kelsey Grammar pops out of the space
rift and crashes into their ship soon.
> "Another Five for Ross, a heart this time; a Nine of
>Diamonds for his boss, A King of Diamonds for Admiral Scott, a
>Queen of Hearts for the Princess that steals them,
Crow: Usually ripping them out with her bare hands and holding them
up, still beating, dripping with ---
Mike: Uh, Crow?
Crow: Sorry. Clive Barker was writing my lines on that one.
> and a eight of
>Clubs for the dealer. Ante up."
Mike: No, no! You're supposed to ante up *before* you deal!
Start over.
> "Sam, if you keep up those jokes up, I'm going to club you,"
>Katherine Lochard said.
Tom: Uh-oh. Ratliff's getting metatextual.
Crow: Jokes? Where jokes; I don't see any jokes.
Mike: "Club" you, get it? That was a joke!
Crow: No! No jokes, where?
> "Ah, but you forget, I out rank you," Lavelle replied.
Tom: [Kathy] No kidding! You ever going to bathe?
> "A
>Four of Diamonds for Ross. a 10 of Diamonds for a possible
>straight for Kathy.
Crow: Well, I'd hope so, if she's married to Ross.
> A Two of Hearts for Scotty.
Tom: See, THAT was a joke!
Mike: No, that was a CARD.
> An Ace of
>Hearts for the Captain's daughter, and a Eight of Clubs for the
>dealer."
Tom: Mike, help me out here. I don't play much poker. Do two
eights of clubs count as a pair?
Mike: Yes, if you're playing 5-card Ratliff.
Crow: Oh, what I wouldn't give for a good, old-fashioned
shoot-out right now...
> "If she doesn't I will," Marrissa said. "And I outrank you."
Crow: [Marrissa] Remember, rank is everything, and I outrank
EVERYONE!
> "Idol threats," Lavelle dismissed.
Mike: [Marrissa] I'm gonna rock your cradle of love! [sneers]
Tom: Ratliff's just *giving* us jokes now.
> "A Four of Clubs for
>Security, a Six of Diamonds for his Wife, a Two of Diamonds for
>the Miracle Worker,
Tom: When did Annie Sullivan show up?
> a Ten of Hearts for the Royal Officer,
Crow: [tough] Where's your THRONE, your highness?? Do you want
your pretty CROWN? DO YOU?
> and a
>Four of Clubs for me."
Crow: So. Scotty has at least a pair, Ross has at least two pair,
Lavelle has at least three of a kind, though he's cheating,
Kathy has a possible straight flush, and Marrissa has
a possible *royal* straight flush? And not a spade
among 'em?
Mike: Yep, this deck is *definitely* stacked.
> "I fold," Ross said.
All: Wimp.
> "I'm in," Kathy said, tossing in 10.
> "I fold," Scotty said.
Crow: Do you also spindle and mutilate?
Mike: What's the point? You all KNOW Marrissa's going to win!
> "I'll see your 10, and raise you 5," Marrissa said.
> "I'll see your 15, and raise you 10," Lavelle called.
Tom: What, is he playing from a different room?
Mike: No, he just went to the bar for another drink.
Tom: Well, that explains his dealing.
> "Too rich for me, I fold," Kathy said.
Mike: Well, him and Marrissa left. Who do you think will win?
Crow: You have to ask?
Tom: No one will be seated during the exciting 'bidding' scene.
> "I'll see your 10, and raise you 20," Marrissa said.
Tom: The tension! The suspense! WILL Marrissa beat everyone
soundly like usual?
> "I fold," Lavelle said.
All: Wimp!
Tom: See?
> "Lavelle you need more confidence in your hand," Marrissa
>stated, revealing her hole card, the Seven of Hearts.
Crow: But she still has a flush! He'd've lost anyway!
Mike: Something tells me Ratliff shouldn't plan any trips to
Atlantic City.
> "I'll sit
>out the next couple. I don't want to win all of your money
>before we even get the full crew on board, Lavelle."
Tom: Yeah, give someone else a chance to fleece him.
> Marrissa
>got up and went over to Mary, who was dusting the piano next to
>Marrissa's wall.
Crow: Great, first it's our wall, now it's *Marrissa's* wall!
Tom: So it begins...
> "Mary, what is an old fashion upright piano
>doing in a Starship bar."
Tom: I can just see the T-Shirts. 'Don't tell my mom I'm an
ensign. She thinks I'm a piano player in Seven Slightly
Starboard'.
> "Piano's have always been in bars since the ancient west on
>Earth," Mary responded.
Mike: Always. Well, except for the few hundred years between then
and now.
Tom: Billions and billions and billions of worlds out there, and
what's our *one* point of cultural reference? Earth, circa
1967 to whenever the current script was written.
> "I hear you play."
Mike: [Marrissa] How could you? I'm standing ten feet away from
the thing...
> "Not much, and I quit lessons when I was ten," Marrissa
>said.
> "Sometime I'll have to pick it up again."
Tom: So now she's got superhuman strength in addition to
everything else? Ter-*riffic.*
> "No time like the present," Mary said.
Mike: Hey Tom! You were right! She's going to dead lift it!
Crow: [Mary] Do you know how to play anything by Nirvana?
> "All right, but I'm warning you I haven't practiced in a
>good two years, three years - maybe more," Marrissa warned.
Tom: Wow! From a card game to a discussion about piano
lessons, the pace just doesn't let up!
Mike: Yeah...
Crow: I hear there's a riveting golf scene later on...
> Then
>she began playing the Blue Danube Waltz.
Crow: As conducted by Elmer Fudd.
> A little hesitant and
>occasionally she made a mistake
Crow: Blasphemy!! Again with the lack of perfection!
Mike: Ratliff's just "humanizing" the character.
Tom: Actually, he's "demi-godding" her.
> but on the whole it sounded
>pretty good.
Mike: [relieved] Thank goodness. I was on the edge of my seat.
> "Hey, Marrissa, this is a bar, not a concert hall," Ross
>shouted.
Tom: Well, it's not a casino either, so why are you playing poker
there?
> "OK, you asked for it," Marrissa said. "Mary, get me a
>strawberry juice."
Mike: Well, it's nice to get the obligatory strawberry reference
out of the way early.
> Ross looked over at her thinking 'not again,'
Tom: It's widely believed that if we knew why Ross thought that,
we'd know a lot more about the nature of the universe.
>but Marrissa wasn't going to do that. She began playing the
>Entertainer.
Tom: If only Newman and Redford would walk in...
[A wistful sigh drifts through the theater.]
Crow: Is there a draft in here?
> "Marrissa, that's still not right," Ross said back.
Crow: This *scene* is not right.
Tom: [Mary] How about this one... "Come, as you are, as you
were..."
> "Hey, you give me the music and a month to study it and
>maybe I'll play it," Marrissa responded.
Crow: Oh, so now Ms. Perfect needs a month, eh?
> As Marrissa continued to play, a young man phased into view
>behind her.
Tom: Uh, oh...
Mike: Please be some kind of intergalactic assassin.
> "Are you sure you haven't been practicing?" he
>whispered in her ear.
Mike: Brace yourselves...
> Marrissa whirled around on the piano stool to face him.
Crow: [Marrissa] Whee!
>"Wesley Eugene Crusher, what are you doing here?"
All: Aauugghh!
Tom: Drat! I was hoping *he'd* be one of the changes!
> "Well, little sister, I though I'd drop by to see you,"
>Wesley replied.
> "Wes, you never 'drop by'," Marrissa retorted.
Crow: [Marrissa] You just 'stumble in,' smelling like a brewery.
> "Who said I couldn't change?" Wes replied, plastering a
>smile on his face.
Crow: So...with just spackle, or with actual gypsum PLASTER?
Mike: That stuff gets hot when it solidifies! Wesley's going
to burn off his whole face!
Bots: [sotto voce] Yay!
> "This from the guy who hasn't seen his little sister since
>the week after she was born," Marrissa said, staring.
Crow: Uh, oh...he's a dead-beat brother.
Tom: Let's sic Sheriff Joe Arpaio on him!
> She thought
>it was unfair that she had been stuck with all the older sibling
>duties for the now almost two year-old girl.
Tom: The "older sibling duties"?
Mike: Oh, I'm well familiar...there's the teasing,the convincing
you that kindergarden is a child-labor camp, the contstant
oppression...taking your paper route money to buy
cigarrettes...stealing your girlfriends...showing
embarrassing pictures of you when you have friends over...
Crow: Do you need a hug, Mike?
[Mike lays his head on Crow's shoulder for a minute.]
> Wesley relented. "Actually I'm working for Star Fleet
>Temporal Investigations Prevention Division
Crow: Or "Sftipd," for short; feel free to call it that.
Tom: They're trying to prevent investigations? Wouldn't that put
them out of work?
> and you happen to be
>heading to my next job." Marrissa continued to stare.
Crow: She's scanning him!
Mike: Huh. I don't know who to root for.
> "And I'll
>visit Mom and Jackie when we get back."
Tom: So you can travel time and space at will, but you can't blip
off to see you family for a few minutes? Besides, he
already knows what's going to happen, so why doesn't he phase
to the other ship and stop them? Hmmm?
Mike: He's probably on a coffee break, Tom.
Crow: Yep. Wesley's in "Annoying, Near-Omnipotent Entities Union,
Local #47."
> "Welcome aboard Wes," Marrissa said.
Tom: No, *he's* Wes. You're aboard the Stargazer.
> "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.
Tom: He can bend the space-time continuum to his will, but can't
keep the smirk off his face when he fills an inside straight.
Mike: It's comforting to know that even in Ratliff's weird-ass
world, Wesley is still a geek.
> I see you got a promotion to
>Lieutenant junior grade. Took you long enough."
Crow: Isn't it just heartwarming to watch Marrissa judge people by
how fast they get promoted?
> "Sorry, not every officer can move though the ranks as fast
>as you," Wesley said.
Crow: Only those who start when they're younger than 12.
> "Are you sure Dad didn't help you?"
Tom: [Marrissa] Of course he did, you idiot. He conveniently died
and then I got adopted by a Captain and became a princess and
then . . . . uh, I mean, no one helped me. No one's warping
the universe to my whims!
> "The only help Dad gives me is with my swordsmanship,
Mike: This isn't turning into a Highlander crossover, is it?
Crow: [Marrissa] I'm deadly with all forms of weapon, now!
I can sever a man's head before he has time to blink!
> and
>you know it, or have you been spending too much time out of time
>again?" Marrissa responded.
Crow: Marrissa is the cover of this month's "Strange Family Life"
magazine.
> "You know me, I've got all the time in the universe," Wesley
>replied.
Tom: [Wesley] It's all MINE! I'm the god, I'M THE GOD!
> "Were as you have that really tight
Tom: Bodice?
Mike: Belt?
Crow: As...cot?
Tom: Nice save.
> schedule. Tell me,
>did you schedule time to sleep this week?"
Crow: [Marrissa] I NEED NO SLEEP, Mortal!!
> "Knock it off, you two, some of us are trying to play poker
>over here," Ross Lochard said.
>
Tom: Yeah, I'd actually like to read more of the card game part
before I'd read this conversation.
Crow: No! Don't say that, it might come true!
Mike: Oh, to run up against these guys in Vegas...
> Lyam Sympton
Tom: So he's a sign of a tick-borne illness at work in an
organism?
Crow: Huh?
> was on the old constitution class starship's
>bridge.
Mike: I guess even old starships need dental work.
> He wouldn't have admitted to his comrades,
Tom: In fact, he refused to be seen in public with them.
> but
Crow: Under his uniform he was wearing a lace-trimmed lavender
satin camisole and tap pant from the 'J. Edgar Hoover's
secret' collection.
> when he
>was little he use to dream of
Tom: ...moonbeams and puppy dogs and winged elves. Then
those blasted Klingons killed all of them. Damn you,
Klingons!!!
[Crow and Mike look at Tom, then edge away from him.]
> commanding such a ship. An old
>ship, not one of those modern luxury yachts like the Galaxy
>Class.
Mike: Registration: Norway and Tunisia.
> Of coarse that was part of the problem with Star Fleet.
Tom: They wouldn't accept *him*.
Mike: I think we've found the root of his problem with Starfleet.
>They were luxury minded warmongers
Crow: Can one be that? I mean, wouldn't war destroy a lot of
luxuries?
> who used their power to
>interfere with every conflict from Earth to the Gamma Quadrant.
Mike: Hey, who doesn't?
Tom: Yeah, lighten up man.
>He and his group believed that it would have been better if the
>Earth hadn't been the primary influence in creating Star Fleet.
Tom: After all, Fire would have made more sense.
>If Earth hadn't had some planetary exploration under it's belt,
Mike: Yeah, Mir is the lynch pin to a galactic civilization.
Crow: I wouldn't make the Mir a lynch pin in an AMC Gremlin.
>than his organization, Exploration Not Exploitation,
Crow: Execrable, not Excellent.
Tom: Excess, not Exactitude.
> believed
>that Vulcans would have been able to control Star Fleet.
Mike: Great. You could have a whole fleet whose captains would
react to any situation with one word. "Fascinating."
> This
>would, in there opinion,
Mike: [dryly] There opinion. There wolf. There reactor core.
Crow: That does it! I'm buying him that "Homonyms and You" book.
> have reduced the exploitation that Star
>Fleet Captains did.
Tom: Strunk and White are spinning in their graves, guys.
Crow: Heck, at this point, they're probably shambling into Roanoke,
ready to give Ratliff a twirling wedgie that'd do Bob the
Dinosaur proud!
> "Lyam, all systems are ready," Boris said.
Crow: Thanks Noel. Did I ever tell you you're my wonderwall?
Mike: D'oh! I was hoping you wouldn't do that.
> "John set a coarse for Proxima Centauri, Warp 7," Lyam
>ordered.
Tom: It's more of a STATEMENT than an order, really...
Mike: [John] A coarse *what,* sir?
Crow: [John] Setting course for Sid Meyer's Proxima Centauri
sir...
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
Crow: Are enlisted men fair game?
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Mar 04 18:11:58 1999
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 05/11 (Marrissa Stories)
Tom: Come back to the Five and Eleven, Marrissa Stories,
Marrissa Stories.
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. Marrissa's too young to
drink beer o/~
>Date: 5 Mar 1999 01:11:58 GMT
Mike: Yeah, this story is *marred,* all right.
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
Crow: Codes not applicable in Montana, Alaska, or Tennessee.
>Parts: NEW 05/11
>
>Summary:
Mike: Actually, the temperature is quite pleasant here.
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer
Crow: ...make some *great* land deals in Arkansas.
> must stop them
>from stopping
Tom: Or keep them from keeping.
Crow: Or prevent them from preventing.
> the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>
>101374
Crow: I'll just bet that was a Friday.
>Chapter Four
>
> Marrissa came out of the Port Turbolift in the rear of the
>Stargazer's bridge.
Tom: She decided to take the Gin Turbolift next time.
> Before sitting down, she took a quick tour
>of the bridge.
Mike: [Miss Information] We're walking...we're walking...we're
stopping before we run into the viewscreen...
> The Engineering station on her left when she
>entered was unmanned at the moment,
Crow: It had just had a terrible breakup with its girlfriend.
> and showed the ship to be in
>good condition to Marrissa's quick look.
Mike: [Marrissa] Hmmm, core breach, nothing that concerns me...
> In the forward corner,
>past some auxiliary stations was Operations.
Crow: Okay...um...Water On the Knee--go!
Tom: [buzzing sound effect]
Crow: Get it? 'Cause...it's OPERATIONS...
Mike: I get it.
> Marrissa didn't
>know the name of the Ensign manning it,
Tom: But she was pretty sure it was Ensign Throwaway,
in his usual post.
> but he seemed competent
>as she checked.
Mike: He'd immediately genuflected when she approached him.
Crow: He had just taken out the funny bone without setting off the
buzzer, and was now proceeding to the wrenched ankle.
Mike: Yes, we get it Crow.
> In the center below the view screen was the
>helm, referred to in current Star Fleet parlance as CONN,
[Crow and Mike turn towards Tom.]
Tom: Referred to in the past as 'that place you steer the ship
from.'
Mike: Huh.
Tom: Something wrong?
Crow: Well, it's just that you usually go with a different riff on
that line.
Tom: Oh, you mean...?
Crow: Oh no.
Tom: COOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!
>currently held by her Assistant Fighter Commander, who insisted
>on being called Kathy.
Crow: Even though his real name was Phil...
> Marrissa didn't mind.
Crow: After all, Marrissa insisted on being called "Ruler
of All Worlds." And she liked the name Kathy.
> It solved the
>problem of two Lieutenant Lochards on the bridge.
Crow: [Marrissa] I was going to have one of you killed, but
if you'd rather do the Kathy thing, fine, I suppose.
> Next was the
>stairs to the Office Floor below, where the Captain's Ready Room,
Crow: Captain's private video arcade,
Tom: Captain's personal mini-mall,
Mike: Captain's comic book collection...
>Primary Conference Room, Officer's Lounge, and First Officer's
>Office were located.
Mike: Great. Now we've slipped into an excerpt from "Marrissa
Picard's guide to the Stargazer."
Crow: And now, the Office-holding Officious First Officer's
Official Officiating Office.
> Back towards the rear on the other side of
>the bridge from the Engineering Station was Fighter Command.
Tom: The author doesn't just establish place, he clings on for
dear life!
>Marrissa knew she'd be spending a lot of time at that station
>once the Captain arrived.
Tom: Oh, her ACTUAL position?
Mike: Don't worry, no adults will ever show up to fill the
captain's chair.
> It seemed to be well arranged, but
>since Star Fleet hadn't had a Fighter Carrier since before the
>Stargazer was originally commissioned,
Mike: ...or ever.
Crow: I think Starfleet command may have watched Star Wars one
too many times.
> she was sure something
>wouldn't be right once the ship got into regular service.
Crow: Something ALWAYS breaks down...the Starfleet computers
are on Windows 98.
> In the
>middle of the rear of the bridge, on the other side of the
>Starboard Turbolift was Tactical and Security,
Mike: Two words that generally don't go together in Star Trek.
> with Lieutenant
>Ross Lochard manning it. As Marrissa moved to take her seat in
>the Captain's chair, she asked Ross,
Crow: [Marrissa] Where do you want to be in two years?
> "Ship's status?"
Crow: [Ross] Well, Tactical and Security at the back of the
bridge is functional, someone spilled a drink in the
lounge, which is on the Office Floor. The...
Mike: Ok! Ok!
> "All systems normal," Ross replied. "No problems reported
>in the last two shifts from any department"
Mike: What happened two shifts ago?
Tom: Romulans came aboard, killed the Stargazer bowling team.
Mike: Oh, is that all?
> "Very well," Marrissa said, looking to her right at the
>First Officer's chair. She wondered what it would be like to see
>a Cardassian in that seat.
Mike: I would say just like seeing a regular person in that seat,
only with more makeup.
> "Captain, I'm detecting a craft exceeding warp 5," Lieutenat
>Ross Lochard interupted.
Crow: Is he manning a radar gun, or something?
> " Definite pre-refined warp drive.
>Current speed is warp 7 and accelerating."
Mike: Yes, that would be exceeding Warp 5.
Tom: [Marrissa] Ok, get someone to go outside in a pressure
suit and put the blue light on top of the saucer.
> "Kathy, intercept coarse,
Tom: Ratliff always has to be different. Instead of verbing
nouns, he nouns adjectives.
> maximum warp," Marrissa ordered.
Mike: [Kathy] "Ack!" Ma'am.
Tom: Engage burlap drive!
>Fleet vessels were required to stop speeding ships. Federation
>congress had tacked the duty on
Crow: ...the bulletin board outside their main office.
> when the subspace rupture problem
>had been found.
Mike: This plot has a subspace rupture problem not even a quantum
truss could help.
> "Ross, additional data please."
Crow: [Ross] I'll have it for you in a sec . . . let's see,
positronic net, fully functional -- I hope Noonian Soong
left the specs here somewhere . . .
> "Sensors indicate, no this can't be right,
Mike: That's what *we* said!
Tom: Man, those sensors are smart!
> Ops, confirm my
>readings," Lieutenant Ross Lochard said.
> "Readings confirmed, vessel is the constitution class
Tom: [jock voice] Man, that class is *such* an easy A.
Mike: [ditto] Only if you get Mr. Stodemeyer.
>starship USS Eagle, NCC-956," the ensign at Ops replied.
Mike: [Ops] Wait! Sensors indicate, no wait hold on, it doesn't
make sense! Stargazer, did you get that, over.
> "The constitution class was retired over 50 years ago,"
>Marrissa stated.
Tom: No, they got back together. I saw them on VH1 the other night.
> "Ross, where was the Eagle stored?"
Crow: I imagine you can get a copy at the Virgin Megastore.
> "The Zed-15 depot yard," Ross said. "Didn't they lose
>several starships several years ago?"
Mike: They lose one whenever it's needed for a plot contrivance.
> "Well they've lost another one,"
Mike: They sure haven't stepped up their security, have they?
> Marrissa said as Scotty
>entered the bridge.
Tom: [Marrissa] So, back you go, Scotty!
> "Time to intercept, Kathy."
Tom: [Kathy] I'll be taking off for lunch soon, you can meet
then I guess.
> "Ten minutes," Kathy responded.
Crow: [Kathy] So we have time for a snack first, if you want.
> "But they're going awful
>close to that star."
Crow: Well, so long as it's not Sean Penn, what's the problem?
> "It might as well be 10 years," Scotty said. "They're
>attempting time travel.
Mike: [Golf announcer] They're attempting to travel through
time; the wheels have been coming off.
> Helm, you better change coarse to a
>hyperbolic,
Tom: Which is actually a *great* description of these stories.
> matching theirs as close as possible, if you want to
>catch them."
Crow: Yeah, because if you're off by a centimeter you might end up
years away from where they go.
Mike: So, just travel right through time without consulting
Starfleet regulations?
Tom: Well, you gotta remember this guy served under KIRK.
Captain James T. "Prime Directive? What Prime Directive?"
Kirk.
> Kathy looked at Marrissa.
Mike: [Kathy] You've got to be *kidding!* You're going to
listen to *him?*
> "You heard the Admiral," Marrissa
>said. "If I remember the descriptions of time travel, we better
>strap in.
Crow: Apparently Marrissa has seen every episode of "The Time
Tunnel."
> All hands, prepare for rough maneuvers.
All: All right!
Mike: I have to admit, these stories do occasionally contain
nuggets of joy.
> We have to
>come out of this
Tom: [Marrissa] ...with our sanity intact.
Mike: I think that's *our* mission, Tom.
> as close as possible to the time which the Eagle
>does,
Tom: Which could be any time at all...
> so keep a close eye on them, Kathy."
> "And hope the new inertial dampeners are better than they
>were on the original Enterprise," Scotty said.
>
Mike: Didn't they need a complex set of calculations to get
them through a time warp to the proper time?
Tom: That was in the show; here the calculations are being
replaced by a 'Ratliff Plot Simplifier'.
Mike: What's that?
Tom: That's when people do stuff without effort that takes a
lot of careful planning in the show.
Mike: Crow? You're being awfully quiet...
Crow: Huh, huh. He said 'inertial.'
Mike: Nevermind.
> Ahead of them the USS Eagle shot around Proxima Centauri and
Mike: ... just missed a seven-point buck.
>disappeared.
Crow: THE END
All: Yay!
> Then the Stargazer followed suit. The whole ship
>shook.
Tom: Did it get its Schick out of shape, too?
> Down in Seven Slightly Starboard, the vases on the tables
>slid off on to the floor, shattering.
Mike: Well, I'd be a bit peeved about it, but I hardly think it's
a shattering experience.
Tom: Besides, Marrissa's PLANET can pay for it.
> Throughout the ship things
>fell from their places,
Crow: Things Fall Apart.
Tom: Somehow, I don't think this is what Achebe had in mind.
> however in a tribute to the new ship's
>engineering,
Crow: With Art Carney, Francis Scott Key and--
Mike: Not that again, please.
> no consoles exploded.
Tom: Much to the disappointment of the audience.
Crow: Too bad. That's a good way to weed out the extras.
Mike: So, this new ship is at least as sturdy as an old Klingon
Bird of Prey?
> Moments later they left
>warp, decelerating in another time.
>
Tom: Yeah, decelerate another time. No need to rush.
> "Ships status, Engineering?" Marrissa said.
Mike: Well, it's--
> "Tactical
>determine the location of the Eagle.
Tom: They're at--
> Ops, current date please.
Crow: The date is--
>Lieutenant Lavelle, Lieutenant Crusher report to the bridge."
All: Will you stop interrupting?!
> "All systems are normal, but I'd like to run a level two
>diagnostic to be sure," Scotty replied.
> "That takes systems off line, I'm afraid we can't risk that
>until we know
Tom: [Marrissa] ...who Felicity left with for summer vacation.
Then we can turn off the TV.
> were we are and what we are going to have to do,"
>Marrissa said. "Run a level three instead."
Mike: Scandisk, but don't defrag.
> "Aye, sir," Scotty replied.
Mike: [Scotty] OH, you are SO wise; why didn't I think of that?
> "I've found the Eagle, Captain," Ross Lochard replied.
Mike: Right where we left it--in the Sea of Tranquillity.
Crow: [Ross] They're playing Central Park!
> "She
>is headed toward Earth. The Eagle has a lead time of about four
>hours on us."
Mike: Oh, wonderful precision flying there, Ross. Now they'll
never get to the concert in time.
> "Kathy, set a coarse to intercept," Marrissa ordered.
Tom: You know, someday, Ratliff will spell that word right.
Then, Armageddon shall be close at hand.
> "Ops,
>do you have the date for me?"
Mike: [Kathy] Well, Rogers in Stellar Cartography is pretty nice.
> "Aye sir, it is July 26, 1999," the ensign at Ops replied.
Mike: Wow! Got it that accurately in seconds!
Crow: Makes Spock seem like a real slacker, doesn't it?
> "Happy negative 280th birthday Captain," Ross responded,
>grinning.
Crow: Ross Lochard, mathematical genius!
Mike: Ooh, let's get her an un-birthday present.
> "Ross," Kathy admonished,
Crow: [Kathy] Party's over, we're out of time...
> not sparing a look back at her
>husband, but her tone
Tom: At Kathy's tone, the time will be...
> telling him of what she thought of his
>attempt at levity on the Bridge.
Tom: All that in one WORD? Not too shabby.
Mike: The thing I like about fan fiction stories is that you
can usually tell what time they're written. Heaven forbid
they should travel to an interesting time instead.
> "Captain the Eagle has already entered the Solar System,"
>Ross informed.
Mike: Who is Captain the Eagle?
Tom: Isn't he that guy from the Muppets?
Mike: Don't think so...
> "Kathy where do you think you will catch up with them?"
>Marrissa asked.
Tom: [Kathy] Well, they're playing Baton Rouge next week.
Mike: Okay, I call time on the Eagles refs, Tom.
Tom: Okay, okay...
> "I'd have to say in Earth orbit, assuming that's where
>they're going," Kathy Lochard replied as Wesley and Lieutenant
>Lavelle entered the bridge.
> "Any advice for me, big brother?" Marrissa asked Wesley.
Crow: You shall invade Eurasia, now!
> "Just don't let your ship be seen," Wesley replied.
Tom: How not to be seen.
> "Admiral Scott?" Marrissa questioned.
Mike: [Wesley] Well, they can't HELP seeing HIM; I mean,
LOOK at him, for crying out loud...
> "Visual and ray sensor screen active," Scotty replied.
Crow: Ray won't be able to see us at all.
Mike: Jeez, now from over here...
> "The Eagle has entered Earth orbit," Ross appraised.
Tom: ...the bridge furniture, deciding which pieces should be
sent to auction.
> "Time to orbit?" Marrissa asked.
Crow: Why not? Any time's a good time to orbit! This message
brought to you by the Geosynchronous Council.
> "Thirty seconds," Kathy said.
Crow: They're orbiting a bit fast aren't they?
Mike: That was a fast four hours.
> "Hail the Eagle," Marrissa ordered.
All: Hail Eagle!
> "Use subspace
>narrowband channels
Tom: [Marrissa] And find those missing quotation marks!
> "They are refusing to respond," Ross said. "Detecting
>transporter activity."
> "Trace beam down location," Marrissa ordered.
[Mike and Tom look at Crow.]
Crow: What?
Mike: Never mind. [He pats Crow onna head.]
> "Somewhere in Florida," Ross replied.
Crow: Oh no! They're going to retire!
Tom: No...it can't...why, yes it is! They're going to
DISNEY WORLD! They're planning to assassinate Mickey Mouse!
They'll have to enlist the help of the Disney Secret
Service!!
> "The Eagle is moving
>off."
Mike: [Ross] It seems to be flying with the dove, oh omnipotent
one.
> "Follow them," Marrissa ordered. "Ross, save those
>coordinates.
Mike: [Marrissa] You know how endangered they are.
> Scotty, easiest way to take down their shields."
Tom: Shoot at them?
> "I can bring them down," Scotty said.
Mike: [Scotty] I'll just read them passages from Time Speeder.
> "The question is what
>are they trying to do here?"
Mike: Steal Shamu so that orcas will exist in the future?
Tom: Take hostages at Universal Studios?
Crow: Ride "Star Tours"?
Tom: Collect rare coins?
Crow: Party like it's --
Mike: No.
> "Good Question," Marrissa responded. "Computer Significant
>events in Earth History within the next two weeks."
Crow: Oh, goodie! Ratliff's playing "Criswell Predicts" again...
Tom: I guess he really is the Ed Wood of fan fiction.
> "July 29, King William V ascends the throne of Great
>Britain.
[All snicker.]
Tom: Yeah, like Elizabeth would ever release her stranglehold on
the throne before her death.
Mike: Maybe she does die in this story.
Tom: All right, then. Like Charles would ever abdicate in favor
of William.
> August 1, first manned mission to Mars Launched.
[All laugh uproariously.]
Mike: August 2, Americans realize the actual mission won't be as
funny as "Rocketman" and completely lose interest in it.
>August 3, Iraq tries to invade Syria."
Tom: August 4, two million Iraqi soldiers attempt to surrender to
a goat herder that happened to walk by.
Mike: Earth had a busy few days, eh?
Crow: I can actually believe that one might happen.
Mike: Well, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
Tom: Unless one of the hands falls off.
> "Computer, elaborate on the second one," Marrissa said.
Tom: [computer voice] The second manned mission to Mars -
Crow: [Marrissa] No, the first one.
Tom: [computer voice] King William the Fifth was crowned -
Crow: [Marrissa] No, the second one.
Tom: [computer voice] King William the Second ascended the throne
in -
Crow: [Marrissa] No, not the second king - the second one, like I
said at first.
Tom: [computer voice] King William the First ruled in ----
> "August 1, 1999.
Tom: Prince, finally realizing the horror he's unleashed on the
world, buys every copy of *that* song and destroys them.
> The United States launched the Endeavor,
>the last part of the hybrid spacecraft Athena from Cape
>Canaveral, Florida.
Mike: The poor thing was always being picked on by the pure blooded
spacecraft.
> The mission was launched after the Mars
>Explorer landing in 1997 renewed interest.
Crow: Bzzt! I'm sorry, Stephen, that was actually Mars
*Pathfinder.* But thanks for playing!
Tom: [newscaster] A new report from the surface of Mars today:
Pathfinder has found a new ROCK! Details at eleven.
Mike: [newscaster] News from NASA and their Pathfinder space
probe: A ROCK has been found on Mars!
Tom: [newscaster] Today the Pathfinder probe sent back startling
readings; the surface of Mars is apparently COVERED with
ROCKS!
> Despite being rushed
>to launch, the mission was an astounding success.
[All laugh even more uproariously than before.]
Tom: He really does live in his own world, doesn't he?
Crow: Yep. Should we disabuse him of a few notions?
Mike: Naah. This child-like faith in technology is endearing.
[The bots look at Mike.]
Mike: Besides, we wouldn't be able to make fun of it in future
stories.
Crow: Good point.
> That mission
>enabled an accelerated launch of several additional missions of
>exploration including the ill-fated Stargazer mission to Saturn."
Crow: I get the feeling that it all comes down to this.
Tom: Whatever gave you that idea?
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
>From sratliff@runet.edu Sat Mar 13 16:52:46 1999
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 06/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~ Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. Cardassians view him in
fear. o/~
>Date: 13 Mar 1999 23:52:46 GMT
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
Crow: As in, "Gee whiz, we gotta keep reading this?!"
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 6/11
Tom: 6 out of 11 doctors recommend this story to induce vomiting.
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa
Crow: Shortly's after Marrissa? Go Shortly!
> leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
Mike: Marrissa would let budget cutbacks and public apathy do
that instead.
>
>101374
Crow: Pointless numbers strike again!
>Chapter Five
>
Crow: ...is alive!
> After beaming something or someone down to Florida, the
>Eagle moved out of orbit.
Mike: Previously on 'Athena Prospects...'
> Marrissa had to take action.
Tom: She had to take some aspirin, too.
> She
>couldn't let the Eagle get away, but she couldn't let what ever
>beamed down to Florida get away either.
Crow: Ahh, to be able to bi-locate...
> She spied Wesley out of
>the corner of her eye and an idea hit.
Mike: [Marrissa] Don't just stand there! Go rent 'Stand By Me.'
> "Wes, can you go after
>whatever beamed down to Florida?" she asked.
Mike: [Wesley] Sure, just let me get my inhaler.
> "Certainly, Sis," Wesley replied.
All: Bricker bracker, firecracker, Sis-boom-bah!
> "Go," Marrissa ordered.
Crow: Go like you've never goed before.
> Wesley phased out of view as she
>turned back toward the viewscreen.
Crow: Just like in real life.
Tom: [Marrissa] Ho-hum. I'm inured to such displays of
omnipotence.
> "Kathy, close in on the
>Eagle. I don't need them at my back.
Mike: I don't need you bustin' my chops!
> Admiral Scott, is there
>any way to take those shields down without a light show?"
Mike: Well, Wesley could have used his miraculous time-freeze
powers, if you hadn't sent him down to Florida.
Tom: o/~ He's a Smmmmaaalll Wonder... o/~
> "Aye, lassie," Scotty said, sitting down at the Engineering
>station and limbering up his fingers theatrically.
Mike: [Scotty] A keyboard...how quaint!
> "Just let me
>have a word with her computers and she'll be marching to my
>beat."
Mike: Jack Kerouac IS Montgomery Scott.
Crow: I have seen the best minds of my generation, destroyed by
fanfics.
Mike: I think that was Ginsberg.
Crow: Wow! Beat poet *and* Supreme Court Justice!
Tom: o/~ You and I/ Travel to the drum of a different beat... o/~
> "You know the Eagle's prefix code?" Marrissa inquired.
Tom: [Scotty] Aye, lass, I downloaded a file of hacks & cracks
from a Starfleet warez site.
> "Aye, lass, I borrowed her to do some supply delivery for my
>refit projects," Scotty said, typing away.
Crow: But Ratliff said earlier that it'd been out of service for
50 years...
Mike: Now, now. Stay away from the nasty continuity error.
> "I've lowered her
>shields."
Crow: Wow! Plot contrivance from out of nowhere! Nice!
> "Ross, I want that ship under our control
Tom: [Marrissa] Just the way I like my men!
> and her crew in
>our brig," Lieutenant Commander Picard ordered.
>
Tom: [Marrissa] Err...also the way I like my men.
> Wesley phased into existence in an alley near a beach.
Crow: Wow! I feel like I'm really there!
Tom: Looks like he beamed down to Galveston.
> The
>interfering time travelers had beamed down into that very alley
>just five minutes before.
Crow: He knew that 'cause he could do MAGIC things.
> Wesley would have arrived at the same
>time as they did if he could, but
Tom: ...he was in cahoots with them?
Mike: Somehow, I doubt that.
> his recent travel had left him
>somewhat drained.
Crow: Oh sure, phasing in and out is fine, but five little minutes
difference is a big problem? I'm starting to not believe
this fic.
Mike: You're just starting now?
> Wesley wore black shorts and a white t-shirt
Mike: Did he also wear black socks with white shoes? [snickers]
> which read
Mike: My parents went to Risa and all I got was this stupid
T-shirt.
Tom: Think universally - act galactically.
Crow: Star Trek CXXXVII: Still Milking the Franchise.
>"Stanford University Computer Science: We don't have a life, we
>have a program."
Crow: Mi-ike! He's breaking the fourth wall again!
Tom: HA HA HA HA HA!
[Tom falls out of his chair]
Mike: Oh, come on now...
[Mike picks Tom back up]
Tom: [giggling] I'm sorry Mike, it was really funny.
> He quickly scanned the area, looking for clues.
Mike: Wesley, searching for clues - I can't do it. It's too easy.
Crow: Where's Jupiter Jones when you need him?
>Other than the recent tire prints in the sand of the alley,
Tom: Haven't these people heard of pavement?
> there
>was no sign of anyone having been there in weeks.
Crow: Gee, I wonder what the CLUE is.
Tom: So whoever beamed down beamed directly into the vehicle? And
where'd they get it, anyway?
Mike: Maybe they brought it with them from the FUTURE!
Tom: So where'd they get it *then?*
Mike: Now, now. Just turn off your brain--you'll feel better.
> The five
>minutes had been enough to let them get away.
Crow: Gee, too bad Wesley can't *time-travel*.
> He tapped his communicator, which had been attached to his
>belt buckle.
Tom: [Sarcasm] Ooh, stylish.
Mike: He's been on Earth for under a minute, but between the
T-shirt and the Star Trek buckle, I don't know why he
hasn't been beaten up already.
> "Crusher to Stargazer," he said.
> "Stargazer here," his sister replied. "I assume you have
>good news?"
Tom: [Wesley] Well, duuuuhhh...there are some TIRETRACKS here,
but I'm not sure if it was THEM or not...help me solve
this mystery of Scoobydooish proportions!
> "I'm afraid I got here to late," Wesley said. "I'm at the
>coordinates now, but they're long gone."
Mike: Well, only if you consider five minutes long.
Crow: Yeah, stop making excuses, Wesley!
> "Can't you travel back to when they arrive?" Marrissa asked.
Tom: [Marrissa] You're not an adult! You can't have limitations in
this story.
> "No, I don't have that much fine control, time-wise," Wesley
>explained
Mike: How inconvenient for Marrissa. How convenient for the plot.
> "In addition, all my recent travel has dulled my
>abilities. I could use a good night's sleep."
Mike: So get a good night's sleep and *then* go to the right time!
Crow: For a time traveler, he sure doesn't know much about the
possibilities.
> "OK, as soon as we finish securing the Eagle,
Tom: [Marrissa] I just have to set the parking brake...
> we'll beam you
>up and see about finding a new plan," Marrissa decided.
>"Stargazer out."
Crow: Marrissa's first crushing defeat, I guess.
Tom: Yeah, well... small comfort. Story's not over yet.
Plenty of time for some patented Ratliff action.
Mike: Wait, wait...so he doesn't have enough "power left" to
beam himself back up?
Tom: Yeah, you don't really get THAT many teleportations
until you get another dot in the auspex.
> Wesley walked toward the beach, killing time
Crow: ...and several dozen crabs...
> until the
>Stargazer was back in range.
Mike: Wonderful. Even the author admits he's just killing time.
Tom: Welcome to Miami...
Crow: Party in the city where the heat is on...
Mike: All right, that's enough.
> It was early morning, about seven,
>and the beach was almost empty.
Tom: Wait a sec. It's Florida, in the middle of the summer, and
the beaches are still empty at 7:00? I don't *think* so.
> There was red haired woman in a
>gray sweat shirt jogging up the beach
Crow: *Just* a sweatshirt? Yowza!
> with a man in a black suit
>following her.
Mike: Tommy Lee Jones?
> As she drew closer, Wes read the black words on
>her shirt, "Stanford University."
Mike: [groan]
Tom: Oh, no, not CHELSEA...
> Wes smiled, she was right on
>schedule. There was some advantage to being from the future.
Tom: Oh, apparently he has fine enough "control" to meet up
with his GIRLFRIEND.
Crow: So it's a matter of historical record that she was jogging on
that beach at that time?
Mike: Sure. It's all on that "Hampton's Painfully Detailed Interactive
Encyclopedia of Stuff people did in 1999" CD-ROM.
>"Good morning, Chelsea," he said.
[All groan.]
Mike: Well, it WAS a red-haired woman followed by a man in a
suit on the beach...who were you expecting?
Crow: Dana Scully, maybe.
Tom: No sense taking advantage of his amazing powers to make
millions in the stock market, prevent uncounted tragedies,
bring humankind cures for disease, or end world hunger and
poverty. Wes is just gonna hit on Chelsea Clinton.
> Chelsea stopped, and her escort skidded to a stop beside
>her.
Mike: Yeah, them beaches can really ice up of a morning.
> "Wes, when did you get here?"
Tom: [Wesley] When, when, when . . . you pathetic 4-dimensional
beings are all so *linear*.
> "Five Minutes ago," Wesley said, as he closed the distance
>between them.
Crow: Miami Beach! Slowly I turned...step by step...
> "What took you so long?" Chelsea asked. "Its been three
>months since I last saw you."
Crow: [Chelsea] Three wonderful, glorious, Wesley-free months!
Tom: Isn't there some regulation against messing with the past?
Mike: Apparently, all the Federation's efforts went into passing
that speed limit.
> "Well you know, I live a couple hundred parsecs and 374
>years away, and it's a hell of a commute,"
Crow: Well, it is until they build that new expressway.
> Wesley said smiling as
>Chelsea stepped up to him.
Tom: Wow! Look guys! You can actually see history circling the
drain!
Mike+Crow: Ooooooh!
> "I know," Chelsea replied, hugging the time traveler. "I
>suppose you aren't going to tell me why you're here again."
Mike: [Chelsea] Since you *never* come just to see me.
> "That depends on my sister," Wesley responded, enjoying the
>feel of Chelsea in his arms.
Tom: Poor Chelsea.
Crow: That's one heck of a secret service agent she has. Hmm.
Strange guy, pops up out of nowhere, starts pawing the
first daughter - well, no harm there, I guess.
> "Sister?"
> "Marrissa's in charge of this mission,"
Tom: As USUAL...
> Wesley replied, as a
>soft beep was heard.
Crow: Monica Lewinsky must be backing up.
> "Stargazer to Crusher," a voice said.
Crow: Saved by the comm badge.
> "I assume that's her now," Chelsea said. "I'll leave you to
>talk to her.
Mike: What, she's "leaving him"? That's a break-up line...
Crow: Yeah, look familiar, Mike?
> Come see me, if you can.
Mike: [Chelsea] I'll have the Secret Service waiting to stop you.
> I'm at 7631 Armstrong
>Drive."
Tom: Okay Mike, I know I've said things like this before, but I am
serious this time...
Mike: Okay.
Tom: If we ever, I mean EVER, see Wesley Crusher... you know...
I want you to kill me as quickly as possible.
Mike: I will do this thing you request of me.
Crow: Me too, Mike.
> She withdrew from Wesley's arms and resumed her jog, with
>her Secret Service escort behind her.
Mike: [Secret Service Agent] Hey...how's about a little sugar
for the security, honey?
> Wesley sighed.
>Maintaining a long distance relationship was not easy.
Tom: Especially when it's a sure-fire way to destroy the timeline.
> "Crusher
>here," he said, answering the call.
Crow: [Wesley] *Fabulous* timing, Sis.
> "Transporters are now available."
Mike: Thank you for your patience. Please hold for the next
available transporter. We hope you will choose Star Fleet
for all your transporting needs.
> "One to beam up now."
Mike: [Wesley] Can you beam me directly to a cold shower?
>
> Marrissa sat at the head of the table in the observation
>lounge
Crow: ...vowing never to have a family reunion again.
> receiving the bad news.
Tom: [Marrissa] What do you mean, B*witched is breaking up?
> Admiral Scott sat to her right,
>and her brother Wesley on her left.
Crow: Damn, that is bad news.
> Lieutenant Ross Lochard, the
>Chief of Security, was next to Wesley.
Mike: The thrilling "placecard" scene.
> At the moment, Lochard
>was telling of his frustrated
Mike: Movie career?
> questioning of the crew of the
>Eagle.
Mike: Oh.
Tom: [Ross] I was questioning the crew of the Eagle. It was
really frustrating.
> "I'm really getting tired of them calling me a war hawk and
>militarist," Lochard said.
Tom: [Ross] And they won't let me join in their terrorist games.
*sniffle* And they won't even call me 'G-Dog' like I asked.
> "It wouldn't be so bad if they would
>tell me something about what they plan to do, but they won't.
Crow: [Ross] I mean, just because I represent an organization they
view as militarist and meddlesome doesn't mean they shouldn't
confide in me, right?
>The only thing I could get out is what they were saying when my
>security team beamed aboard. 'The prospects of Athena do not look
>good.' That's all I have."
Mike: Hey! Look! The title!
Bots: [weakly] Hooray.
> "Admiral Scott, what information do we have on the Athena?"
>Marrissa asked.
Tom: This mythical miss sprang full-grown from the brow of Zeus.
Athena's turn-ons include olive groves, owls, smart guys, and
the Parthenon. Turn-offs include Trojans, temple-destroyers,
and stuck-up conceited goddesses who think they're better
than she is.
Mike: To be fair, Trojans are a turn-off for a lot of people.
Tom: Hey, I *like* USC.
> "The Athena is a hybrid
Crow: ...seed corn that's more resistant to blight?
> spacecraft to be assembled in
>orbit,"
Tom: It is part spacecraft, part ALIEN BEING!!
Mike: So, she's the Greek goddess of wisdom, battle, olive trees,
and hybrid space technology?
> Scotty said. "The first two components were launched by
>the Russians last week.
Mike: Where'd they get the money for that?
> They are the engine and fuel compartment
>and a secondary living space.
Tom: [Scotty] They've already started falling apart, there's some
homeless guy squatting in the living space, and a bunch of
empty vodka bottles are clogging the fuel pump.
> The finial component is the Space
>Shuttle Endeavor.
Mike: It goes here, just above the entablature and the architrave,
by the pediment, between the metopes.
Tom: So we just lashed our space shuttle to a bunch of Russian
components and suddenly we have a mission to Mars?
Crow: You know there's a problem when your space program is less
prepared than the kids in the movie "Explorers."
> It will be launched from Cape Canaveral on the
>first, amid a quite a bit of fan fare
Crow: They're charging fans to watch the launch?
Mike: Those budget cuts are really hurting.
> and docked with the rest of
>the Athena on the third."
Crow: I wonder if any aging astronauts are going to wedge their
way onto *this* mission under flimsy pretenses?
> "OK, that's their target," Marrissa stated.
Tom: They work at that store? Let's see if they can get us
jobs there.
> "We know that
>at least four members of the Eagle's crew are in Florida with a
>24th Century Technology.
Mike: -and a hankering for something chicken-y.
> How can we stop them without revealing
>ourselves?"
Mike: Hey, it's Florida. Some plaid golf pants, Bermuda shorts with
sandals & black socks, 3 cameras around your neck - you'll
blend right in.
> "I have some contacts that may help us," Wesley said.
Tom: Thanks, but I'm going with laser refractive surgery.
Crow: [Wesley] They're to cover up your yellow, glowing,
"future" eyes.
> "I've
>worked in this time period before.
Mike: [Wesley] From what I know about the 1990's, we'll blend in
JUST fine if we all wear long wigs and talk a lot about
peace!
> I know the current President
>and his daughter.
Crow: One more intimately than the other.
Tom: Eeewww.
> They've helped before. Since the President
>will be attending the launch,
Tom: No, he's been doing too much of that lately.
> I think he will allow us to be
>added to the Secret Service Advance Team. I've still got my
>Secret Service badge anyway."
Mike: Good thing, too. They can traverse interstellar distances,
replicate matter, and travel back and forth through time, but
the 24th century lacks sophisticated badge-laminating
technology.
> "OK, how do you suggest we approach President Clinton?"
>Marrissa inquired.
Mike: Oh lord.
Crow: On your knees is always a good way.
Tom: Buy him a plate of ribs, he'll love you forever.
Crow: Or with donuts.
Tom: Or ring his doorbell, and run.
Crow: Just *don't* wear a blue dress. Trust me on this one.
> "Well his daughter Chelsea is currently an intern at the
>Kennedy Space Center,"
Crow: Apparently it's a federal law for Presidential offspring
to make foolish career decisions.
Tom: An intern?
Mike: Uh, Steve, seen a newspaper lately?
Tom: An INTERN?
Mike: A TV newscast, magazine, cnn.com, bookstore, anything?
> Wesley began. "I can contact her and then
>I suggest that Chelsea and I go talk to her father."
Mike: [Wesley] CONTACT and SUGGEST, if you know what I mean.
> "I'll agree with that, but I'm coming as well," Marrissa
>said.
Tom: Marrissa doesn't trust Wesley. That's a positive sign.
[Crow starts shaking visibly but manages to remain silent.]
> "Respectfully, Captain," Ross began,
Crow: [Ross] Bite me.
> "but you are our
>commanding officer
Mike: [Ross, mumbling] God help us all.
> and should not be going into risky
>situations."
Mike: ...don't pull this Riker crap on me now.
Crow: Where did that come from?
Mike: [puzzled] I... don't... know...
Tom: I'm reading this in a whole new light now.
> "Lieutenant, I don't think that visiting the President of
>the United States of America is a risky situation," Marrissa
>replied.
[No comment. Just long, loud laughter from the trio.]
> "If you think so, I'd like to know why."
Tom: Hey! If he comes after you with a box of cigars, don't say I
didn't warn you!
Mike: Steve, surely you've seen ONE DAMNED HEADLINE in the last
year or so!
Tom: Now, Mike, don't get all worked up and go off on some
pointless rant. That's my schtick.
Crow: Hang on: a young, virile woman is going to visit BILL CLINTON
with only the likes of Wimpy Wesley as protection, and she's
wondering how it COULD be dangerous?
Tom: "Virile"?
Crow: [ignoring] HELLO! "Marrissa Lewinsky," anyone?
>
> Timothy Mann stood outside the Oval Office.
Mike: [Mann] Man, am I gonna have to hose those two off?
> His job was to
>guard the President.
Crow: ...from Hilary.
> That had not been an easy job.
Mike: There were days he's had to beat the pizza delivery boys
away with a stick.
>Theoretically, everyone had to pass numerous guards to reach the
>President.
Tom: They also had to cross a lava moat and the "Gauntlet of
a Thousand Deaths."
> Last spring had disproved that theory.
Mike: [sighing] Do you get the feeling that if Steve had been
around in the early 1960's, Kennedy's assassination would
have escaped his notice?
Crow: I can remember exactly where I was when I heard the movie
JFK had been shot.
> Several time
>the First Daughter and her boyfriend
Crow: Who's Several? And why's he timing Chelsea and Wes? Are they
running the 400-meter hurdles or something?
> had somehow visited without
>passing either.
Tom: Either *what?*
Mike: Ummm...either the guards or a sobriety test?
Tom: Sounds about right.
> It was almost enough to make the head of the
>Presidential Detail wish that the FBI really had an X-Files
>division.
Mike: Oh, I'm sure more than just his head is wishing that.
Tom: No way, Ratliff! You leave the X-Files alone!
Crow: Yeah, we're not letting you ruin another genre!
> But Wesley had been given full access and even given Secret
>Service credentials. Mann didn't like this.
Mike: Dissed by the Mann!
Tom: A Mann after our own hearts.
Crow: He must be portraying the standard EveryMann character.
> After all, Wesley
>had no background
Mike: Wherever he stood, there was just a blank white space behind
him.
> and claimed to be from the future.
Tom: Uh, what was it that they said earlier about not wanting to
reveal themselves?
Crow: Wes doesn't have to play by their rules, he's SuperWeenie!
> He had to
>be crazy.
Mike: But what the Hell, let him sneak into the Oval Office!
It's fun!
Crow: The Mann is crazy!
> On the other hand, he did have some extraordinary
>talents,
Crow: We've yet to see them.
> and Mann wasn't one to argue with the Commander and
>Chief.
Mike: Both of them.
Crow: Stick it to the Mann!
> In his ear came the message,
Mike: Uh, oh. He's hearing voices again...
> "First Daughter, Future Guy,
>and companion heading for Oval Office."
Mike: [Secret Service Agent] Meanwhile, "Woodchuck," "Chicken
Soup," and "Stinky" heading for Lincoln Bedroom.
Crow: I want my Secret Service Code Name to be "God."
Tom: Nice code name, Wes. Way to stay undercover.
> They came into view
>around the corner.
All: o/~ Here they come... Walkin' down the hall... o/~
> Chelsea was wearing a blue polo shirt with
>tan slacks. Wesley wore the traditional Secret Service attire of
>a black suit complete with sunglasses.
Crow: Here comes the Dork In Black! Galaxy defender...
> Behind them was a blond
>girl in a red blouse and black skirt who couldn't be more than 15
>years old.
Crow: [Mann] Oh, boy...here we go again.
Tom: It's Sailor Moon!
Mike: Red blouse.
Tom: Sailor Mars, then!
> Mann knocked on the door and announced,
Mike: ...his resignation.
> "Chelsea, Wesley,
>and
Crow: [Mann] ...your new intern...
> a friend to see you, sir."
>
Tom: [Clinton] Thanks. You da Mann.
Mike: [Mann] Please stop that sir.
Crow: Oh sure, that's a big security check there.
> President Clinton was going though the latest intelligence
>reports on Iraq when his daughter and her friends arrived.
>Saddam Hussein was due to make his quarterly defiance of UN
>resolutions,
Tom: He'd even scheduled it in his budget.
> and Clinton intended to head him off this year.
Mike: [Clinton] *I'll* be the first one to defy the UN this year!
Tom: When Ratliff wrestles with politics, they're out of his
weight class!
Crow: Yes, some day, we'll get Saddam, just like we nailed that
Fidel Castro! Oh...wait.
> If
>he would have just let the inspectors inspect everywhere back in
>1997, Saddam probably wouldn't be still under the said
>resolutions, but who ever said dictators had to be sane.
Mike: Actually, I thought insanity was one of the prerequisites.
Crow: Oh, in PERSON, Saddam Hussein is the NICEST GUY ever. I
met him once in Vegas.
> The President would have asked Chelsea to wait, but So Damn
>Insane
[Weak laughter from the trio.]
Crow: So Damn Insane, huh? Move over, Mark Russel.
> didn't seem to be doing anything at the moment, and she
>had come all the way from Florida
Tom: ...with the land deal of a lifetime!
> without the aid of traditional
>transportation.
Mike: She took a zeppelin.
Tom: He inferred that from "Chelsea, Wesley, and a friend to see
you, sir?"
> Plus Wesley was with her, and if he was with
>her, chances are it was important.
Tom: Chances are he wanted the President to get him back on Star
Trek somehow.
> "Send them in," Clinton
>ordered,
Mike: His own daughter doesn't matter, but Wesley's here, so let
them in.
> his voice still a little horse
Tom: Does he have a colt?
Crow: No, it's marely a sore throat.
> from the previous night's
>speeches.
Mike: Saying, "I'm *so* sorry," over and over takes a lot out
of you.
Tom: Is it sounding a little "COURSE," Ratliff? Is it?
> At least he didn't have to answer any more questions
>about Whitewater.
Mike: Yeah, older scandals tend to be overshadowed by the newer
ones.
> A special prosecutor with too much time on his
>hands was a real pain.
Crow: Prosecutions, and he's wondering about WHITEWATER?
Mike: [Prosecutor] AND there is the small matter of a suspected
rape, but we can settle that out of court.
> As for a Congress set on taking him down
>any way they could, the thought still sent chiles down his spine.
Tom: Rip-roarin' Texas-style, Dancin' Green Chiles! On their way
to make a zesty salsa in his pants!
[Mike shudders.]
>Thankfully, this current Congress seemed to be trying to avoid
>partisan politics.
[All snicker.]
Mike: How, exactly? By not openly exchanging gunfire?
Tom: There's that fantasy world again.
> His daughter entered in a most exuberant mood.
Mike: The balloons and confetti tipped him off.
> He had to
>admit that his daughter was in love with Wesley, but he really
>didn't want her to grow up.
Crow: If she did, he wouldn't get any more free trips to Never-
never Land.
> Wesley came in behind her. Clinton
>liked Wesley, in fact he'd trust him with his daughter's life.
Crow: But, let's face it, Clinton's an idiot.
Mike: Yep. No sense having all these high-paid, highly trained,
willing-to-die-for-you secret service agents cluttering
up the place.
>Not that he intended to let Wesley know that.
Tom: He'd let that come as a complete surprise when the bullets
started flying.
> Last came a young
>girl who had an air of command around her,
Mike: Or was it Chanel #5?
> like he'd come to
>expect from his better Admirals and Generals.
Tom: Most of whom now worked as commentators at Fox and NBC...
Mike: It still could be Chanel. Don't ask, don't tell...
> It wasn't a stare
>the pierced your soul,
Crow: Just your navel.
> or a stiff ram-rod posture like he'd
>assumed that was a sign of a good commander
Tom: Or at least a good chiropractor.
> when he began his
>first term as President.
Crow: Ah, how much he'd learned since then!
> No, it was a comfortable posture and a
>confident expression, with a tint of fear at the new
>surroundings,
Crow: So, fear is a color now?
Mike: Yeah, it's kinda like burnt umber.
> but determined as well.
Tom: [whispers to Mike] Wow, he's falling for her, hard...
> "Chelsea, Wesley, what brings you here,
All: Great selection. Low, low prices.
> and who is your
>young friend," the President asked, coming around his desk.
Crow: Oh lord, no!
Mike: [Clinton] Is she single? Aw, hell, who cares?
> "We've got another group of interfering time travelers, Dad"
>Chelsea explained.
Mike: [Chelsea] Have you seen a strange British guy wearing a scarf
or two dorky looking guys in white turtlenecks running around
D.C. lately?
Tom: She says that like it happens every other Thursday.
Crow: In the Ratliffverse, it probably does.
> "And this is Wes's little sister, Marrissa
>Picard."
> "Then you must be following in your older brother's
>footsteps," Clinton assumed.
Crow: Nope... no teleporting at will.
Tom: Yet.
Mike: ...staring at her... air of command...
> "Actually, no," Marrissa said, a glint of amusement in her
>eyes.
Mike: [Marrissa] I'd like to stand at least a chance of
getting laid at some point in my life.
Bots: Ewwww!
Mike: Sorry guys. Now *I'm* doing it.
> "I'm his commanding officer."
Crow: [Marrissa] Tee hee. It's fun to command.
> "Really?" Clinton said in disbelief.
All: Join the club!
> "Mr. President, meet my little sister, Lieutenant Commander
>Marrissa Picard, acting Captain of the USS Stargazer, currently
>in orbit," Wesley said.
Tom: [Clinton] You wanna smoke some of this and join it?
Mike: [Clinton] Remember, don't inhale.
> "You command a starship," Clinton asked.
Tom: [Clinton] But you're just a GIRL.
> "Technically, I'm Second Officer," Marrissa said.
Mike: [Marrissa] But I never let technicalities inhibit my iron
rule.
> "However
>the Captain and First Officer hadn't arrived
Crow: [Marrissa] They're stuck on Risa. Poor dopes.
> when we had to chase
>the Eagle back to prevent her from interfering with the past."
Crow: There it is, the most believable part of the whole story,
and it's not even that good.
> "So there is a rogue starship up there whose crew is trying
>to interfere with history," Clinton summed up.
Mike: Groping interns, providing helpful exposition, and leading the
nation into the 21st century - Clinton's a full-service
president.
> "Close,
Tom: Glenn Close?
> I've captured the starship, but several members of
>her crew beamed down with equipment before I could stop them,"
Mike: [Clinton] So you're a total feeb.
>Marrissa replied.
Crow: Speakers, strobe lights, keyboards...they're gonna have
one heck of a concert!
> "We think they are after the Athena."
Tom: [Bill] It's in the entertainment center with the other
Nintendo games.
> "Why would they want to harm the first manned mission to
>Mars?" Clinton asked.
Crow: Ah, yes. The master of expository dialog struts his stuff
again.
Tom: [sarcastic] Uh...isn't it OBVIOUS?
> "As near as we can figure out, some technology or discovery
>was necessary for the some event they don't want to happen,"
>Wesley stated.
Crow: You have no real idea, do you?
Mike: Hey, maybe they're going to destroy the technology that made
Jar Jar Binks possible! Come on, let's root for the terrorists,
guys!
Tom: As if we weren't already.
> "For some reason, they don't like Star Fleet,
Mike: See? I was right! Star Wars fans!
> so
>we can't find out more."
Tom: Or that might be a major component of this plot.
> "According to our analysts,
Mike: Is Gag Halfront among them?
Tom: [Gag] Look, Marrissa's just zis gal, ya know?
> if the Athena doesn't complete
>it's mission," Marrissa said, "The Federation will not be founded
>in the late twenty-first century. Personally, I don't want to
>find out what happens instead."
Crow: Something about a war, and explosions, and then there's a
"Neo-Tokyo..."
> "I will do what I can to help you," the President replied.
Tom: [Clinton] I know! I'll bomb some third-world country! That
always solves my problems!
>"As I intend to watch the Athena's launch, an increase in Secret
>Service personnel would not be unusual.
Crow: Oh yeah... that'll do it.
> Since Mr. Mann has
>worked with you before,
Tom: [Mindy] Hello, Mr. Mann.
> I'll have him sent to Florida, with
>orders to assist you.
Crow: [Mann] Yeah, right. I'm gonna hide out at Universal Studios.
> Chelsea, I assume you won't stay out of
>this."
Tom: It's amazing - the language, phrasing, the cadence of the
dialogue! It's just so totally, completely unlike President
Clinton!
Crow: Yeah! And he hasn't flirted with Marrissa ONCE!
> "Did I stay out of the Stanford incident?" Chelsea asked.
Mike: "The Stanford Incident." A novel by John Grisham.
Crow: What's it about?
Mike: It involves lawyers, wet noodles, a live goat, and the
heating vents.
Crow: Say no more.
> "No."
> "That's your answer," Chelsea said.
Mike: Anyone else as confused as I am?
Crow: Boy, when *Ratliff* can't be bothered to supply backstory...
> "Then I trust that you can keep my daughter out of trouble,
>Wesley?" the President said.
> "I'll try... but you know it's a hopeless cause, sir,"
>Wesley said.
Tom: [Sarcastically] Good answer, Wes.
Mike: I have a feeling it's not the first time 'hopeless cause'
and 'Wesley' have appeared in the same sentence.
Crow: Jeez, Wes. You're never gonna score.
Mike: Crow, come on!
Crow: What?!
> "Wes, when we get back to the Stargazer, we are going to be
>having a long talk," Marrissa stated.
Mike: [Marrissa] Meanwhile, Mister Commander and Chief, now that
you've fulfilled your role as exposition provider, you'll be
shot out of the fan-fic. Good day!
Tom: Thank goodness that's over. I really didn't want to be around
for Marrissa having 'the talk' with Wesley.
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
Crow: I've never seen a better argument against higher education.
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
Mike: But Klingons do it all the time!
Crow: If the Klingons all jumped out the airlock, would you do it
too?
Tom: Let's jump outta here guys.
[Mike and the bots stand and exit the theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[SOL Bridge.]
[Mike is staring at a TV sitting on the console.]
TV: ...and the nation is still celebrating the heroic
actions of NASA astronauts Ralph Gershon, Phil
Stone, and Natalie York. A thankful world can't
even begin to express their gratitude to these
noble souls...
[Mike turns the TV off. Tom and Crow enter.]
Mike: It would have worked...
Crow: Mike? Are you still moping about that space
rock?
Tom: It's over, Mike. Move on.
Mike: But there's got to be another way. Wait a minute!
Guys! The ozone hole! It's still there! If I can
just find a way to close it...
Crow: You could re-ionize the sea water, releasing the
ozone trapped in it.
Mike: Yeah! That could work. But how did you figure out
a solution so quickly?
Tom: Because that's how Scott Wolf fixed it yesterday.
Mike: Scott Wolf? From Party of Five?
Crow: Yep. Geez, Mike. don't you read the paper?
[Crow holds up a copy of USA Today with the headline
"Hunky Scott Wolf Saves the World!"]
Mike: This just isn't my day.
Tom: Well, Mike. We've got something that'll cheer you
right up!
Mike: And what would that be?
Tom: We were just looking over Stephen Ratliff's right
spiffy plan to send a space shuttle to Mars, and,
well...
Crow: We found it a bit lacking in technical detail.
Mike: And that's a bad thing?
Crow: Of course it is! As smart, witty readers in these
modern times, we *must* have every little bolt,
container, and dial explained or else we can't
believe in the story!
Tom: So we've gotta fill in the gaps!
Crow: Under the table there you'll find some plastic models
demonstrating our proposed Mars Mission Timeline.
[Mike reaches under and takes out a six-inch plastic space
shuttle model. ]
Tom: Now the real space shuttle, you understand, isn't
designed to carry food, oxygen, power and such for more
than about a month, so it'll have to be carefully modified.
Crow: We've simulated that by putting two "D" cells in the
cargo bay.
[Mike flips the bay doors open. ]
Tom: The weird thing about planning a spaceflight is that you
really need to think first about what you're getting back
at the end, and then figure out each of the little steps
along the way, and how much rocketry you need to get
the last step done, then the next to the last step and
so on.
Crow: Eventually you figure out how big a rocket you need in
the first place.
Mike: So, what are the components of a Mars mission?
Tom: First, launch from Earth. Then assemble your rocket in
earth orbit. Break out of Earth orbit toward Mars.
Accelerate into Mars orbit. Then send a lander down.
Mike: Can't land the shuttle, huh?
Crow: [With a bit of disgust] There are no landing strips
in Valles Marinaris, Michael.
Tom: Anyway. Then your lander has to send some ascent rocket
back up, then you transfer the Mars rocks over, get out
of Mars orbit, aim yourself at Earth, break into Earth
orbit, and let the shuttle carry you down.
Mike: Carry on, then.
Crow: So, the last step is slowing down from interplanetary
speeds, which are too fast for the shuttle to land from,
to orbital speeds. So you need some braking rockets.
We've modeled those with one of the Solid Rocket Boosters
from the same kit.
[Mike reaches under, holds up an SRB, under the shuttle's body. ]
Tom: Which means that back when you were leaving Mars, you
needed a rocket big enough to boost both the shuttle and
that braking rocket to a rather zippy speed.
Crow: We simulated that, with some tube socks.
[Mike reaches under, takes out tube socks. ]
Tom: So, finally, we have something that can go from Mars orbit
back to Earth. Now we need to add the Mars lander.
Crow: That's gonna be a big rocket. Mars is big.
Tom: We've simulated that with a telephone book for the upper
Michigan peninsula.
[Mike reaches under, pulls out the book, puts it on top. ]
Mike: Quite the collection.
Crow: Yup. Now you need to slow that amalgam from interplanetary
speeds to Mars orbital speeds, or else your space shuttle
is just going to fly right by the Red Planet. You know what
that means...
Mike: The shuttle deploys a giant drag chute?
Tom: No. Reach under there, Mike.
[Mike pulls out a can of spinach. ]
Crow: You get Popeye to do it.
Mike: Popeye.
Tom: Surely the greatest sailor of all time would be willing
to sail the new ocean, wouldn't he?
Mike: Well, I just think...
Crow: You just think. How many deep space missions have you
been on, anyway?
Mike: Well, this one...
Tom: [Continuing] Now of course, to get Popeye to Mars
ahead of you, you have to have Martians come and pick him
up in a flying saucer and bring him back for experiments
designed to prove human's inherent weakness.
[Mike starts looking away. ]
Crow: For this, of course, you need a bunch of Martians who look
and act like Bluto, who want to invade the Earth.
[Mike starts wandering away.]
Tom: So, you start the ball rolling, as it were, by getting
some scientists to stuff your favorite rabbit in a rocket
and send *him* to the moon, where he finds Marvin
[Noticing Mike has left] Hey!
[The movie sign begins to flash.]
Tom: Great. Mike's gone, *and* we've got movie sign. Ahhh!!!
We've got movie sign!!!!
Crow: And we didn't even get to Betty Boop's role in this!
[The door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]
[The bots enter. Mike is already seated in the theater.]
Crow: Geez, Mike. Thanks for sticking around.
Tom: Yeah, we listened to your cockamamie plan! You should
do the same!
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Mar 18 15:50:54 1999
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 07/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~ Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. He doesn't live in Tangiers. o/~
Tom: What?
Mike: Sorry. I had a bit of a mental block.
>Date: 18 Mar 1999 22:50:54 GMT
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 07/11
>
Crow: Mike, can we get a Slurpie?
Mike: Maybe later, honey.
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E
Tom: ...she entered the Hundred Acre Wood. 'Golly,' thought Pooh
Bear. 'She's got such an air of command about her. Who
needs Christopher Robin?'
Mike: Tom, you are one weird mamma-jamma.
> to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>
>101374
Crow: Nice to see the typo counter is keeping up.
>Chapter Six
>
> The room was not your typical briefing room.
Mike: Lately it was more of a DEbriefing room...
Tom: Yuck.
> You don't
>normally hold briefings around a college student's kitchen table.
Crow: True. They usually occur in the bedroom.
>However, they needed to include Agent Mann and Chelsea Clinton,
Tom: God knows why.
>so they couldn't hold it on the Stargazer.
Mike: Why not? They've already told them they're from the future!
Crow: Well, that would have altered time and brought the
progression of the future to a grinding halt.
Tom: Neat!
> So they held it in
>the First Daughter's Kitchen, among dirty dishes
Crow: ...pizza boxes piles high...
Tom: ...furry cans of Spaghetti-O's...
Mike: ...half-empty bottles of home brew...
> (Chelsea was
>washing them as they ran the briefing)
Crow: God forbid Wesley, HER BOYFRIEND, should help.
> and the notes for a summer
>research project.
Mike: She's probably building the next NASA spaceship.
> Marrissa conducted the meeting,
Tom: With Yo-yo Ma on cello.
> in a nice blue jeans and
>polo shirt, befitting her age.
Mike: Jean Luc must have confiscated her Korn t-shirt.
Tom: Now, for your enjoyment, ladies and gentlemen, the "What
Everyone's Wearing" passage.
Crow: Hey, it's either this or another introduction scene.
> Wesley and Agent Mann were both
>in typical Secret Service attire.
Tom: [Wesley] Well, they told me that tutus and dog collars were
Secret service attire...
> Chelsea wore a Stanford T-
>shirt with a pair of blue shorts. Seemingly out of place, was
>Lieutenant Lochard,
Crow: Dressed as Krusty the Klown.
> who wore his uniform.
Tom: Once again, if they want to keep the whole "future" thing
secret, WHY IS HE WEARING A STARFLEET UNIFORM!?
Crow: But what about the accessories? Is Chelsea wearing sneakers
or sandals? And Marrissa: Levi's or Wranglers? 501 or zip
fly? The socks: knee-high or crew? The scene just doesn't
make sense without all the sartorial details.
> "What does today look like?" Marrissa asked.
Mike: [Mann] There's a low pressure front sweeping in from the
north, bringing showers that should clear out by
noon.
> "At eleven o'clock, we've got a tour scheduled for Prince
>William of Wales, and Princess Beatrice of York," Mann began.
All: Oh, *no!*
Crow: Just what we need--another set of precociously competent
teenagers!
> "I'll be conducting it," Chelsea said. "Doctor Grissom
>informed me of it yesterday."
Crow: YESTERDAY? Wow; they're on top of current events
there at NASA.
Mike: Someday, they'll name a ship after that guy, and it'll
blow up. Just like he did.
> "Is it possible for me to tag along?" Marrissa asked.
Tom: Just so long as it's *Freeze* Tag.
> "Why?" Mann asked.
Mike: Good question!
Tom: Who's da Mann?
Crow: He's da Mann!
> "I have a personal stake in making sure he survives this
>mess," Marrissa said,
Mike: How about making sure *we* survive it...by ending the
story right now?
> cutting off Wesley and Ross,
Tom: ...without a penny.
> who seemed to
>be about to say something in protest.
> "And that is?" Mann inquired.
> "William is an ancestor of mine," Marrissa said. "If he
>dies, I will never be born."
[All sputter.]
Tom: Out of NOWHERE--Marrissa is British royalty!
Crow: Hey, I thought she was ESSEX royalty!
Mike: Thanks to Queen Victoria, practically all royalty is related.
Tom: And what do they have to show for it? Ears like Dumbo,
hemophilia, and the receding Hanover chin.
Crow: Now that you mention it, Marrissa DOES kinda have
Prince Charles's nose.
Tom: Mike? Can I put out a contract on Prince William?
Mike: We'll talk later.
> "Someone to keep Princess Beatrice entertained would be a
>good idea," Chelsea suggested.
Tom: Somehow, I think the Hansons would be more in line with what
Beatrice considers entertainment.
> "I'll run it by the Space Center staff," Mann replied.
Crow: That won't do much good...unless you slow down long enough
to get their reply.
> "In
>the afternoon, Governor Gilmore of Virginia will be taking a tour
>along with Senators Robb and Warner, also of Virginia..."
Mike: [Mann] And a boring tour with stuffy senators would be just
the thing to entertain a young girl.
['Da Bots cheer.]
Crow: Yay, the senator cameo!
Tom: That was WORTH waiting for.
>
> Chelsea and Marrissa met Prince William and Princess
>Beatrice at the front of the space center.
Crow: Then they all snuck out the back and headed for EPCOT Center!
> The two royals had
>been traveling
Tom: o/~ They're travelin' royals, they've made a lot of stops/
All over the world... o/~
> one of those bullet proof Rolls Royces that
>governments tended to prefer in the traditional black shade.
Crow: I can't understand why the fuschia and chartreuse versions
never caught on.
> The
>Prince had apparently just finished telling a joke to his cousin,
Crow: He was saying, "What? And give up show business?"
>who was trying to stop laughing as she climbed out of the car.
Mike: Wow, hey, if you watch her laugh you can see the drool!
Crow: Ummm...little too much coffee today, Princess Bea?
>Also greeting the Prince and Princess was the Chief of Operations
Crow: Haven't I seen him on that one TLC show?
>and of course the ever present Secret Service Agent of Chelsea's
>(Today being none other than Wesley Crusher.)
[All groan.]
Tom: We're gonna have another 'Wesley saves the day' scene,
aren't we?
Mike: Boy, no one needs training to do anything anymore, do they?
Crow: I thought only temps did that.
Mike: Hey!
> The Royals were
>accompanied by four agents of their own Special Air Service.
Tom: Flush this information from your short-term memory, it won't
be important later.
Crow: So the SAS provides back-up singers?
> "Welcome to NASA's Kennedy Space Center, your royal
>highnesses. I'm John Smith, director of operations here," a man
>said.
[All burst into laughter.]
Mike: John Smith?
Crow: Apparently Steve peaked creatively with 'Ensign Throwaway.'
Tom: Or he didn't want anyone to know he's appearing in a
Ratliff 'fic.
> "This is Chelsea Clinton, and Marrissa Picard, they'll be
>conducting your tour today."
Mike: [John Smith] And that's my only line; I'm out of here!
Crow: What a great character.
Tom: I'm going to *miss* him!
> "Chelsea and I have met," William said.
Crow: [William] We've started a support group. Children of
Philandering World Leaders.
> "I don't think
>she's met my cousin Beatrice, though."
> "It is a pleasure to meet you, your highness," Chelsea said.
Mike: [Chelsea] And by pleasure, I mean sheer torture.
Crow: [Beatrice] Please don't call me your highness. I hate titles.
I guess it's because I have so many of them. Let me recite them
for you. Besides being Princess, I'm the Duchess of Puddingham-
on-Thames, Marchioness of Worcestershire-on-Sauce, Acting
Brigade Commander of the Third Regiment of Knobby-Kneed Guys
in Skirts, and Captain of the Windsor Castle Kids' Crew. Oh,
and I get to run the country whenever Grandma falls asleep.
>"I take it you have had a good time here in the United States."
Crow: Well, naturally! *Everyone* has a good time in the US!
>Beatrice nodded.
> "Bea..." William began.
> "I have, Miss Clinton," Princess Beatrice said.
Tom: [Beatrice] And that's *my* only line.
> "Please call me Chelsea, and don't ever call Marrissa here
>Miss Picard," Chelsea said.
Mike: She's...
All: Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, Second Officer and Fighter
Commander of the USS Stargazer, Princess and heir to the
throne of Essex...
Mike: You know the rest.
> "Her older brother tells me that
>people have been thrown over board for less."
Crow: OVERBOARD?
Tom: Gee, that does seem a little bit drastic, considering that
they would decompress in the vacuum of space, and all...
Mike: Marrissa can be a cruel master...
> "What has Wesley been telling you?" Marrissa said.
Crow: That people have been thrown overboard for less! Aren't
you listening?
> Before a reply could be made,
Tom: Crocheted or knitted?
> the sound of automatic weapons
>fire broke out.
Tom: Well, there she goes, shooting off her mouth again.
> The group dived for cover, with no less than two
>SAS agents landing on top of William.
Mike: They're SAS-sy!
Crow: William was promptly crushed and smothered, causing Marrissa
to disappear from existence.
> Wesley, meanwhile had the
>presence of mind to pull out his gun and return fire.
Crow: However, other SAS agents, seeing an obvious loony waving a
gun around, mistook Wesley for the assassin and fired several
rounds into his chest.
Mike: And the crowd goes wild!
Bots: (flatly) Yay.
> Good hand
>eye condonation and perhaps a little time outside of time,
Crow: ...But, remember, folks, he doesn't have very "fine
control."
>resulted in two shots hitting the gunman, partially concealeder
>behind a car outside of the gates, in each shoulder.
Tom: I...
Mike: Ahh...
Crow: Hmmm...
Mike: Let's just call that a very poorly-constructed sentence and
move on, m'kay?
Bots: M'Kay.
> Wesley and
>one of the SAS agents slowly approached the car outside the
>gates, once the shots ended.
Tom: Boy, those shoe manufacturers are *really* getting militant.
> The lone gunmen
Tom: Was seen fleeing a Star Fleet Academy archives site. Ensign
Zapruder, replay from time index 0.01.
Crow: You can see how the so-called 'magic phaser blast' had to hit
the gunman in the left shoulder, ricochet off the hood of his
'98 Le Sabre, pass through his right shoulder, make a 45
degree turn, penetrate the trunk, dent the tire iron, rip a
hole in the back seat's genuine imitation leatherette, then
strike the rear passenger window, tearing the suction cup
from Garfield's right front paw, sending it back and to the
left, back and to the left, back and to the left . . . .
> was behind the dark red Buick, bleeding
>profusely from his two gunshot wounds.
Mike: Well, unless that guy is one of the Anti-Starfleet people,
the timeline just took another direct hit.
Tom: I don't think it matters at this point.
Crow: Hey, his car matches his blood! Now *that's* foresight.
> Wesley picked up the gun
Crow: ...and shot Jack Ruby.
>with a pen kept in his pocket,
Tom: *Someone's* been watching too many cop shows.
Mike: Oooo...check it out, guys; it's one of those million
dollar NASA Astronaut pens!
Bots: Oooooo...
> ordering the SAS Officer, "Get an
>ambulance." Once the man ran back to the Rolls Royce,
Tom: He remembered it was an ambulance they wanted, not a Rolls.
Crow: Rolls? I specifically asked for sourdough bread! I'll...
oh, uh... nevermind.
> to use its
>phone, Wesley brought out his modified scanner. One quick scan
>was all he needed.
Tom: ...and he was high as a kite.
Crow: Bet ya can't scan just once.
> Then Wesley began what first aid he could do.
>He was a doctor's son after all.
Mike: [Wesley] Do you have insurance? Who is your carrier? What's
your deductible? Does your policy cover multiple phaser
wounds? Oh, you have an HMO? In that case, let me tighten
this neck tourniquet . . .
Crow: Or he could just pause time for the man forever, putting
him in a permanent state of sub-life. Or he could travel
back five minutes in time and stop his future self from
allowing him to get shot at all, and back himself up in
protecting the...
Mike: Knock it off; we get the point.
Crow: What I'm saying is that Wesley is really pointless,
is all.
> The ambulance quickly arrived, along with the local police.
>Wesley turned the man over
Mike: ...and finished baking him at 350 degrees.
> to them, and walked back to Marrissa.
>"Future," was the verdict he informed.
Tom: Wha? He's informing a verdict named Future about...
something?
> "Find out why," Marrissa replied, before the group was
>hustled into the building.
Crow: The lure of "Live Nude Girls" was just too much to resist.
>
> Marrissa collapsed into the lazy-boy chair
Tom: Product placement!
Crow: But it's La-Z-Boy! He can't even spell *that* right!
Mike: Crow, let's not get too nit-picky. I mean, only a
underemployed geek who worked in the furniture
industry would know how to spell that.
Tom: You worked there, didn't you?
Mike: [bowing head] 1992-3.
> and Chelsea
>slumped on the loveseat, next to Wesley.
Mike: Chelsea, Wesley, and loveseat. Three things I did *not* want
to see together.
> They had just come back
>from their long day giving tours of NASA to all the politicians
>attending the launch.
All: WHAT??!!!
Crow: Did they forget to do something? Oh, yeah--stop those guys
from the future! Those tours must have been so fun that
they forgot!
Mike: Actual NASA OFFICIALS could have done that. But no, they
gave the job to their newest intern and a couple of
complete strangers.
Tom: If you close off the Kennedy Space Center and investigate the
assassination attempt, turn to page 76. If you continue to
hold tours as if nothing had happened, thus possibly risking
more lives and destroying valuable evidence, turn to page 80.
> "So how was your day, Chelsea?" Wesley
>asked.
Crow: [Chelsea] Well, first there was that shooting, but after
that, business as usual.
> "OK, especially when compared to poor William," Chelsea
>said.
Tom: That's okay, we're not interested.
> "Being shot at tends to ruin a day," Wesley said.
Tom: But not to the extent that, say, a picnic being cancelled by
rain does.
> "That was just the being of it,
Mike: Wow. Chelsea gets philosophical all of a sudden.
> but I'm to tired to
>explain," Chelsea said. She picked up the remote. "I'll let the
>news tell it."
>
Tom: How convenient.
> The NBC News Theme played in Chelsea's apartment.
Crow: [whispering] She's got *dozens* of copies of it, and plays it
night and day. Don't provoke her...
> Chelsea's
>Security Service Agent came in to standing in the doorway to the
>kitchen, where he could see both Chelsea and the television.
Crow: But...but...he said *Wesley* was her assigned Agent that day!
Can we *please* have some shred of continuity?
> "Tragedy in Ireland, Prince Charles assassinated less than
>an hour after his ascension.
[All sit stunned for a moment.]
Tom: Well. It's nice to see that Stephen's continuing his
tradition of killing off everyone who stands in the way
of his teenaged-characters' advancements.
Mike: Stephen makes Wanda Holloway look like a piker.
[The bots give Mike a puzzled look.]
Mike: How soon we forget. Let's just hope Marrissa doesn't try
out for any Texas cheerleading squads, okay?
> Attempted bombing in Florida, man
>found installing bomb on British Royal plane.
Crow: He was bringing on the in-flight movie--'Waterworld!'
> Senator Warner of
>Virginia announces his candidacy for President.
Mike: From Florida? Wouldn't he be more likely to do that in his
home state?
Crow: [Brokaw] He is backed by his two campaign managers and
siblings: Wakko and Dot.
> And tonight, an
>in depth report on the mission to Mars," Tom Brokaw's voice said
>to a series of clips.
Tom: WHAT? Prince Charles gets assassinated and they're going
to blabber about the Red Planet?
Crow: Hey, remember how, in "Time Speeder," Ratliff said
Princess Diana and Prince Charles were going to have
another kid...
Mike: Yeah, actually.
Crow: Then she died and it was all that was on TV for a month.
Why isn't TV in the Ratliff World like that?
Mike: Just wait, Crow...soon this, too, will be tragically
chronistically incorrect.
Crow: Oh, oh good.
> "NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw. Live from the Kennedy
>Space Center," the announcer said, as the graphics went by.
Crow: Wow, news graphics make for gripping drama, don't they?
Tom: Prince Charles was assassinated, but screw him, we're
sending up another spaceshuttle.
> Tom Brokaw appeared in his traditional grey suit.
Crow: [in Roy-type voice] Poof! Where is Peter?
Mike: [in Sigfried-type voice] Where is Tom?
Crow: [same] Hello Peter!
Mike: [same] Hello Tom!
> "Behind
>me you can see the Shuttle Endeavor, about to become part of the
>Athena Mission to Mars, which today had it's right rocket booster
>replaced.
Crow: Well, it's official. This is the first ever "NBC Nightly
News" fan-fic ever composed.
Mike: I've read some good "Dateline" fics...
Tom: Now hold on! Stephen, *think* a little, huh? There's no
*way* they could do that on the pad! They'd have to bring the
shuttle back to the hangar. And if they had a problem that
necessitated replacing one of the boosters, you'd best *bet*
they'd go over everything else with a fine-tooth comb. All
that would delay the mission by days, probably *weeks!* And
here you've got them continuing on as if nothing had
happened?!
Crow: Well, they did have a couple of guys from Jiffy Lube change
the anti-matter and put a new plasma filter on the warp core.
Mike: Normally, Tom, I'd tell you to calm down. But I have the
feeling I'll have plenty of opportunities to join you later.
> More on that later, but first, our lead story,
Crow: Which will go over like a lead balloon.
> the
>tragedies suffered today by the British Royal Family. At one
>minute to four, local time, Queen Elizabeth the Second of Great
>Britain and Northern Ireland died of a heart attack.
Tom: After reading this.
> She was
>seventy-three.
Tom: She was immediately dragged out and buried in the back yard
by her Corgies.
> This unexpected death was followed by an even
>more tragic event.
Mike: Andy Dick got his own movie.
> Her son and heir, who intended to go by the
>title King Charles III,
Mike: Though 'King Dumbo' was a close second choice.
Crow: Wow, thought that one up all by himself?
Tom: A man with a plan, that Charles.
> had just been informed and left the
>hospital that he had been touring in Northern Ireland.
Mike: His last words were: "Come on! I thought I'd at least
outlast William Henry Harrison!"
Crow: Whoa, whoa, *whoa!* What in the Sam Scratch was he doing
*there?*
Tom: My guess is he went there with vague motivations to serve as
a catalyst for future plot developments.
Crow: Typical Ratliff character, then?
Tom: Yep.
> Just as
>he exited, he was shot by an unknown assassin.
Tom: Well, if you're gonna get shot, a hospital's the place.
> He was
>immediately rushed back into the hospital's emergency room where
>he expired..
Mike: I'm guessing no one's going to *that* hospital if they can
help it.
> He was fifty.
Mike: You s'pose Ratliff checked that fact?
All: Nahhh.
> A search was immediately begun by
>authorities and all fights from the island were grounded by both
>British and Irish authorities.
Tom: Hey, you know those Irish--always fighting!
Mike: Thanks a lot, Tom. Now we'll get even *more* accusations of
racism!
Crow: We're *always* racist, Mike! We're robots making fun of
humans, after all.
> Our Stone Phillips,
Crow: [Brokaw] Meaning that he's not yours and you can't have him,
> has the story.
Tom: Oh, it's *our* Stone Phillips now? When she piddled on the
rug last night, she was *my* Stone Phillips.
> Thank you Tom.
Mike: [Phillips] It is currently impossible to get a flight in
or out of Ireland or the United Kingdom...
> Tragedy upon tragedy
Mike: Tragedy upon tragedy upon tragedy creeps at a weary pace...
> seems to be heaped upon
>the British Royal Family in the past couple of years. This
>morning brought a new double dose of it.
Bots: Two! Two! Two tragedies in one!
> The Queen died while
>taking her tea, of an apparent heart attack.
Tom: Wow, died during tea-time. Now that's a hard-core Englander.
Crow: Well, she is England.
> Meanwhile her son,
>Prince Charles was touring the new children's wing of the Belfast
>Hospital.
Tom: Sorry, Stephen. We aren't buying it this time either.
Crow: No kidding. As if any royal would go there before there'd
been...what, five years peace?
Tom: Oh, at *least* five.
Mike: Guys? In real life, he *was* in Belfast, just a few months
ago.
Crow: Well, duh.
Tom: That's why he got shot.
> He was informed of his mother's death outside the
>cancer ward.
Tom: They tried to get her inside the cancer ward, but she wanted
to die in the hall.
Crow: History's circling the drain again, isn't it?
> Less than a half an hour later, King Charles III's exit from
>the Hospital was greeted with gunfire.
Mike: Let's see, shake in America, bow in Japan, open fire in
Ireland. Got it.
> He took two shots to the
>chest.
Tom: Apparently the assailant had good hand-eye condonation and
was a little time out of time.
> The King was rushed back into the hospital were he died
>at seventeen minutes past five local time, some seven hours ago.
Crow: In sports today...
> His assassin escaped into the crowds,
Tom: All of whom, evidently, were blind, deaf, and dumb.
> but both Ireland and
>Great Britain immediately closed down all flights and began
>inspecting all ships leaving port.
Crow: For what? Did they get a description of the guy, or are they
hoping he'll be wearing an "I'm the Bastard Who Killed
Charles" shirt?
Mike: No more South Park reruns for you.
> When asked to explain the
>unprecedented moves by Irish and British authorities, the Irish
>President had the following statement.
Tom: I told ye I'd be dancing on your grave, you pommy bastard!
> "Ireland may no longer be
>under the British Crown
Crow: That's one *big* crown!
> and in fact has had many difficulties
>with the British in the past,
All: Really?
> however, when it comes to killing
>or attacking the Royal Family, especially the King,
Tom: [Irish President] We try harder! No, wait, that's not right.
> we will do
>everything in our power to make sure anyone foolish enough to try
>will never get away with it.
Mike: Um... he's dead. They guy *did* get away with it.
> Ireland is committed to peace.
Crow: ...and drinking. But mostly peace.
>It's time that everyone realize that it is time to move on.
Mike: It's also time to remember that time in September.
> I
>had hoped that we were beyond such childish attacks, but I see
>some still cling to old hatreds."
Tom: So shooting the royal monarch has been relegated to the
category of 'childish attacks?'
Mike: You've never seen a playground at recess, have you?
> Just a half-an-hour ago a trio consisting of
Crow: Michelle Yeoh, Anita Mui, and Maggie Cheung?
> Catholic
>Priest, a former member of the British Royal Navy,
Tom: That's a strange name.
Mike: I guess his parents *really* wanted him to enter the
priesthood.
> and a
>housewife,
Crow: ...walked into a bar. The bartender said...
> delivered the assassin to a police station in Dublin.
Crow: This new Mod Squad just doesn't seem all that mod to me.
>The assassin has been identified as Ian O'Toole, a known
Mike: Stereotype?
> IRA
>member from Dublin.
Tom: He must have been drinking more than *Peter* O'Toole to get
caught like that.
> Irish officials immediately turned him over
>to British authorities. O'Toole had be release from prison as a
>result of the Peace Agreement.
Crow: Sooo...a murderer is immediately released. Okaaay.
Mike: Once again, Ratliff attempts to comment on current political
issues.
Tom: And once again, he fails miserably.
> Prime Minister Tony Blair has indicated that O'Toole will be
>prosecuted to the maximum extent under law.
Tom: ...after they catch him again, of course.
> Stone, what is the maximum penalty for murder in Great
>Britain?
Tom: [Stone] Being forced to watch Benny Hill non-stop for 25
years.
Mike: Who's talking?
Crow: Probably the floating, disembodied head of Anne Boelyn.
Mike: I thought she worked for ABC.
> Tom, since it was the King who died, this is a capital
>offense.
Tom: [British accent] Oh, yes. A capital offense. Simply
smashing.
> The British have never repealed the ancient laws
>concerning an attack on their monarchs.
Mike: The guy who succeeds becomes king?
Tom: You know, the lack of quotation marks really gives this a
down-home kind of feeling.
Crow: Hey, you s'pose the British never repealed ancient
laws involving other things? Like cart traffic on Saturdays,
and whether or not livestock can attend church? And hat-
wearing laws?
Mike: I wouldn't doubt it.
> What is the public opinion about this attack?
Tom: Mike, the British have just had their monarch of over 50
years, and another of 15 minutes, die in the same day.
Their reaction?
Mike: Dull surprise!
> Britain tonight is a nation in shock.
Mike: The Spice Girls return from their world tour.
> I don't think anyone
>has had the time to think yet.
Crow: Including the author.
> It was a one two punch to the
>British and the monarchy today, and they have yet to get up off
>the floor.
Tom: Referee Mills Lane is giving the count now!
> Just a hour ago, Prince Andrew and Prince Henry
>entered the hospital where King Charles died to pick up his body
>for the trip back to London
Mike: If you send a heavily-armed guard to pick up the body of King
Charles, turn to page 63. If you send two more royals to the
*exact* *same* *place* where your king was assassinated, turn
to page 3.
> where he will be lain in state beside
>his mother the Queen.
Crow: [British accent] Mumsy, can I come in with you? I'm scared
of the dark.
> As they entered the hospital, by the same
>entrance as his father had been shot at,
Mike: ...they too were shot.
Tom: Yes, it's a one-two-three punch for the British monarchy
today!
> Prince Harry paused to
>place a single white Irish rose
Tom: o/~ Irish rose, my Irish, Irish rose... o/~
> where the sidewalk had been
>nicked by one of the bullets fired at his father.
Mike: Man, not only do those bullets kill people, they steal
sidewalks!
> Since then
>it's been joined by many more, as every passing person has
>seemingly stopped to leave their own white rose.
Tom: The prime suspect right now is the florist across the street.
> Thank Stone,
Mike: Thank Stone It's Friday!
> Stone Phillips, live from Belfast.
Crow: Ahh, Stone Phillips, the Dash Riprock of TV news.
> We have to
>break for commercials.
Crow: You think Ratliff will write fan-fic commercials, too?
Tom: Ooo! Goodie! We get to read about all the awesome
products there will be in the year 2000!
> When we come back, more on the events
>surrounding the British Royal Family, and later,
Tom: [Anchor] A quotation mark shortage sweeps the area. What
can be done?
> the manned
>mission to Mars.
Mike: Come on, Tom, let it go! The royal family's been killed for
heaven's sake!
Tom: Who, me?
Mike: No, Tom Brokaw.
Tom: Oh...
Mike: I mean, we don't need chocolate that badly!
[The bots stare at Mike for a moment. Then Crow turns to Tom.]
Crow: [to Tom] It's your turn to stop him from going on that
damn fool quest for the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
Tom: I know, I know.
>
> Welcome back, earlier we told you about the deaths of Queen
>Elizabeth II and her son King Charles III, but what about the new
>king?
Crow: Well, I'm sure he'll die at *some* point.
> Charles's oldest son, William was touring NASA's Command
>and Control Center, here at Cape Canaveral when he was informed
>of his ascension.
Tom: Just so long as it's not his apotheosis.
> He had just escaped an attempt on his and his
>cousin, Princess Beatrice's life.
Tom: What does the Royal family have to do with Starfleet?!?
Mike: I'm afraid we're going to find out by the time this is over.
> The young King, who will be
>crowned as William the fifth, after consulting with Prime
>Minister Blair,
Mike: Why'd he need to consult Blair about that? There were four
Williams before him, so he's William the Fifth. What's so
tough about that?
> ordered his plane to be readied to return him to
>London. However, a prudent inspection
Tom: No, no. It was inspected by a woman *named* Prudence.
> revealed that the plane
>had been rigged to explode.
ALL: GAH!!
Crow: Those terrorists really get around, don't they?
Tom: Do these people have *no* security at all?
Mike: Who IS it that hates the royalty this much?! You'd think
they had some real POWER or something, the way they keep
getting near-assassinated!
> Members of the FBI and Secret
>Service
Mike: ...are about ready to go on strike after this whole Monica
thing.
> are assisting British Special Air Service Officers in the
>investigation.
Tom: That's great, but what about the bomb?!
> However, King William has chosen to delay his
>return home until after the launch of the Endeavor.
Crow: Yeah, what're the needs of his kingdom compared to another
country's space program?
> He will be
>addressing his subjects around the world at one in the afternoon
>eastern daylight time, after the Endeavor is launched.
Tom: This sounds more like a Super Bowl halftime show than a news
event.
> Yesterday, our Jane Pauley
Mike: It's true. Jane Pauley belongs to the world.
> interviewed then Prince William
>for a feature that was to air on Dateline NBC tonight.
Tom:...and attempted to shoot him.
> In it,
>she asked what he thought of becoming King.
Mike: He immediately started singing a certain selection from 'The
Lion King.'
Crow: We're never going to let Stephen live that down.
> Tonight, King
>William the Fifth, in his own words...
>
Mike: Well, Elton John's words, anyway.
Tom: Said that he *JUST* *CAN'T* *WAIT* *TO BE* *KING*
Mike: Okay. We got it. Let's move along now, okay?
> Chelsea shut off the television.
Mike: [Chelsea] Well, at least dad's not in the news again
tonight.
Crow: Awww...no more news? That means we have to read the
fan-fic again.
>
> "That is a bad day," Wesley remarked.
Tom: That is a stilted, pretentious understatement.
> "Yes, but it could have been worse," Marrissa said.
Mike: Uhh...HOW?
Tom: He could be trapped somewhere in space, forced to read not
only crappy fanfics, but crappy revisions of crappy fanfics.
Mike: Good point.
> "The
>President has moved William and Beatrice to the safest place he
>could find.
Crow: He put them where no one would look for them- in a Sci-Fi
Channel original movie!
> The aircraft carrier Enterprise
Tom: Oh, you know, I was waiting for that.
Mike: Just wouldn't be Star Trek without an Enterprise in it.
Crow: What about DS9 and Voyager?
Mike: Just kill my joke, then.
Tom: Besides, Mike, it's actually the U.S.S. Ranger.
> is off the coast, as
>part of a naval honor guard, and it's a lot harder to take down
>someone on a ship than on shore.
Mike: Unless, of course, you take down the whole ship.
Crow: Stephen Ratliff--master of military tactics!
> Now what motives did you find
>for this attack?"
Mike: [Wesley] Um... nothing. I was here watching TV all day.
> "We searched the records for descendants of William and
>Beatrice for any project and names of Athena,"
Tom: And, of course, this attack *has* to be linked to the name
Athena.
Crow: Yeah, it can't be because the guy was of Irish descent, or
was a historian with a dislike for British history, or
something like that.
Mike: Come on. It's pretty obvious they're after the Athena
Project, you know -- the name of the story!
Tom: A case of being too close to the problem, I think.
> Wesley said. "We
>came up with five matches.
Tom: One. Athena. Greek Goddess.
Crow: That's it! That's the target!!
> Princess Athena,
Crow: Shouldn't that be Princess Athena Contessa Louisa Francesca--
Mike: No.
> born 2053, died
>2126, noted diplomat. Captain Henry Carvelle,
Tom: Sounds like a new line of Chrysler luxury automobiles.
> a descendant of
>Beatrice's who as Captain of the Athena made the first Prime
>Directive breach.
Mike: Definite assassination target, right there. What
would Starfleet BE without people willing to break the
Prime Directive?
Crow: I think kinda like the U.S. Postal Service.
> Athena Weapons Research Project, which had two
>descendants on it in 2224. Heather Athena Grenville, descendant
>of William, noted writer.
Tom: Unfortunate initials too.
> Mary Athena Green, founder of Peace at
>any Price movement,
Mike: Now, be peaceful or we'll kill you.
> 2335, descendent of William."
Crow: Played by Joan Collins.
> "I think we can rule out the writer," Marrissa said.
>"People don't go back in time to stop writers."
Tom: Why not? I did it to stop a writer/director once.
Mike: Yeah, and look how that turned out.
Crow: [wails in anguish] Stop tormenting me, Ratliff! Mike,
make him stop!
Mike: Crow - go ahead.
Crow: Really?
Mike: As dark as you want.
Crow: Nah. Having permission takes all the fun out of it.
> "Burning the books is bad enough," Chelsea remarked.
>
Tom: Not in the case of THIS STORY! If it ever gets published, I
want to see it burn, Burn, BURN! Then STOMP on the ashes,
GRIND them into dust and SCATTER them to the four corners
of the Earth where there is no chance they'll ever reform
into a Marrissa story! AUUUUGH!
>
>
>
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
Tom: Hey, Ratliff! You're missing the "because I am the" between
those two phrases!
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
>
>
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Apr 01 08:53:58 1999
>Path: ix.netcom.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!news-peer1.sprintlink.net!
Mike: Ah. The return of the nearly unriffable long headers.
Crow: I've missed them so.
>news-in-east1.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!hearst.acc.Virginia.EDU!
>newslink.runet.edu!not-for-mail
Crow: Not for internal consumption either.
Tom: If accidentally consumed, please consult your doctor.
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~ Stephen... o/~
Crow: Mike? Can we have silence for one of these?
Mike: Well, okay. But under protest.
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 8/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>Date: 1 Apr 1999 15:53:58 GMT
>Organization: Radford University
>Lines: 96
>Approved: asca@pnx.com
>Message-ID: <7e04qm$blu@newslink.runet.edu>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: rucs2.sunlab.cs.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [UNIX 1.3 950824BETA PL0]
>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:107474
>alt.startrek.creative.all-ages:1745
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 8/11
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer,
Crow: [Marrissa] ...you'll be *begging* me to come back! I know
you'll come crawling back to me! Hahaha!
> a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>101374
Mike: Uh... the serial number of the diskette this fic was stored
on?
>Chapter Seven
>
Crow: And no end in sight.
> Marrissa returned to the Stargazer, hoping to get a good
>night's sleep,
Crow: Or at least a good BM...
> before the day of the launch. She hoped it was
>the Athena they were after, and the Royals were merely a
>distraction.
Mike: Isn't that pretty much the job description of a royal?
Distract the populace. Provide tabloid fodder. Show up at
parades. Big goofy ears not required but a plus.
> But before she could prove that, she had to talk to
>some people.
Tom: o/~ People, people who need to talk to some people, are the
luckiest people in the Ratliffworld. o/~
> "Doctor Johnson, Admiral Scott, report to my
>office," she ordered.
Crow: She couldn't pick any better people than that?
> Scotty arrived first, but Doctor Johnson wasn't far behind.
Tom: Scotty must've already been 3/4 of the way there before he
got the message.
>"What can we do for you, Marrissa?" Doctor Johnson asked.
Mike: [Marrissa] Just keep talking. I need some rest, and you guys
are enough to cure chronic insomnia.
> "Has that guy we brought up talked any?" Marrissa asked.
Crow: Oh, great. Not only is she a princess and a Second Officer
and all that, she's already raising kids!
> "He's been real quiet," Johnson said.
Tom: [Marrissa] Well, are you sure the baby monitor is on?
> "Says nothing but
>complaints on my doctoring skill."
Crow: Maybe it's the bowie knife you prefer over a laser scalpel.
> "Oh?" Marrissa said, wondering.
Mike: He's questioning the competence of a Ratliff character?
Tom: Definitely a villain of the deepest dye!
> "He doesn't like the fact I'm keeping him immobilized until
>his shoulders heal," the Doctor replied.
Crow: How long does it take?!? Run the saltshakers over him and
it's over!
> "Standard procedure
>when they've been shattered like that. What was Lieutenant
>Crusher firing?"
Mike: Pop Rocks and soda. Who knew how dangerous they could be?
> "I'm not sure?"
Crow: You're asking me?
> Marrissa said, as she turned toward the
>Admiral.
Tom: [Marrissa] Anyway, moving on...
> "So, Scotty, were you involved in today's emergency
>booster repair?"
> "Aye," Scotty said.
Crow: If you leave the repairs of the booster rocket to the NASA
engineers, turn to page 28. If you have your chief engineer
perform the almost miraculous repairs, thus tipping off
reporters, politicians, and NASA workers to the presence of
people from the future, turn to page 39.
> "And why did I end up hearing about it on the Evening News
>first?" Marrissa asked.
Mike: Well, that's how good Tom Brokaw is.
> "You were unavailable at the time, and we had to act quick,"
>Scotty said. "Our friends from the Eagle scored the area near
>the O-ring that failed during the Challenger disaster.
Tom: Heh. These NASA security guys must be the ancestors of the
people at the Depot Yard.
> If it
>hadn't been caught, the Endeavor would have been destroyed."
> "Good work," Marrissa said.
Crow: [Marrissa] Even though I wasn't there.
> "Did you finish work on
>Wesley's temporal displacement scanner?"
Tom: The *what*?!?
Mike: Come again?
Crow: The plot device thing that does stuff.
Mike & Tom: Ooooh!
> "Aye, and a lovely piece of design it was," Scotty said.
Crow: [Scotty, under his breath] Until I pulled a few wee parts
out, heh heh.
> "Give a half dozen copies to Lieutenant Lochard,
Tom: [Marrissa] ...and fax a copy to our Detroit office.
> and have
>him and Agent Mann organize a search for our displaced persons,"
Tom: Whoa. When did we jump to Europe?
Crow: Now, I'm *sure* handing out advanced technology is some
kind of temporal no-no.
Mike: You're wasting your breath, Crow.
>Marrissa ordered.
Tom: Stick with the Mann!
> "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get a
>good night's sleep, tomorrow is going to be a very busy day."
>
Crow: [Marrissa] I've got to write acceptance speeches for the
plethora of awards I'm sure to get for this escapade, and go
to fittings for the new dress uniforms I'll wear to the
ceremonies...oh, and I suppose I'll have to beam down and
save the Endeavor at some point.
> Boris was an Engineer.
Mike: Well, not really. But he sure loved to sit by the tracks
wearing his little hat and scream "WHOO-WHOO!"
> He didn't know much about how to
>attack things and change history.
Tom: He also didn't know much about biology, sciences, or the
French he took.
> He did know a lot about
>plastic explosives, missiles, and lasers though.
Tom: So, he knew plenty about WEAPONS, but not how to use them.
Crow: Right.
Tom: Understanding everything about missles, but not how to
attack with missles.
Crow: Right.
Tom: Just checking.
> That was why he
>had been brought into this conspiracy.
Crow: The James Cameron conspiracy?
> He really didn't care
>about its success or failure.
Tom: Remember, folks. When recruiting for your terrorist
organization, make sure you choose people who are *not*
committed to your cause in any way.
> So he only reluctantly wished
>"James T. Kirk" and "Jean-Luc Picard" luck when they departed for
>their last attempt.
Mike: [groaning] Not *this* again!
Crow: No kidding! I could understand someone named Jean-Luc Picard
*or* James Kirk checking in at some point, but both of them?
Together? Shouldn't the hotel staff find this a *little*
suspicious?
> Then he plopped down on the bed in front of
>the TV set
Tom: Boris: Gen-X terrorist.
> and turned on the History Channel.
Mike: Oh, it's sweeps week, so they'll be showing "World's Most
Dangerous Centurion Chases" and "When Hitler Attacks."
Crow: Now it makes sense. He just came along because the hotel
had cable.
> They were having a
>neat series on
Crow: Underwear?
Mike: Sorry. Wrong channel.
> the development of missile technology this week
>and he didn't want to miss tonight's installment.
Mike: I'm not sure if "The Missile" really warrants an entire
series.
Tom: [announcer] Tonight on "Missile!" A very special look
at the Cuban crisis.
> So it was with
>annoyance that he greeted the two men that knocked on the door.
Crow: [Boris] Look, I'm sorry, but I'm just not in the mood. Would
you tell your agency to stop sending you guys here?
> Both were dressed in black suits with red ties.
Mike: Ooh. Power ties.
> Both wore
>dark sunglasses.
All: o/~ I wear my sunglasses at night... o/~
> They pulled out their wallets,
Crow: [Secret Service guy] Can I have your autograph?
> opening them to
>reveal their badges.
Mike: To prove they weren't real government agents.
> "Agents Mann and Lochard, United States
>Secret Service.
Crow: Ha! They're so full of it. I KNOW Lochard's just
pretending...look... you can see him snickering.
> Would you be Mister James T. Kirk, Mister Jean-
>Luc Picard, or Mister Pavel Chekov?"
[All laugh.]
Crow: Chekov, too? C'mon, that hotel staff would've had the cops
over five minutes after they checked in!
> "I'm Chekov," Boris said, after the pause it took for him to
>remember the name he had been registered under.
Mike: An organization is only as strong as its weakest link.
Tom: In which case, 'ENE' is about as strong as your average piece
of pumice.
> He noticed that
>Agent Lochard had just put a small device back in his pocket.
Crow: Wow, Lochard's a man of many hidden talents.
> "Would you happen to know where Misters Kirk and Picard
>are?" Agent Mann asked.
Mike: [Gutanhoff] I don't know. But I'm supposed to meet them
at the mission at midnight and we'll divvy up there.
Tom: [Mann] That seems fair.
> "I believe they went fishing," Boris said. "That is why we
>came to Florida."
Mike: Fishing. At night.
Tom: Sheesh, even Boris Badinov is a more successful spy than
this guy.
Crow: Heck! C.H.A.O.S. has better spies than him!
> "I sure you did," Agent Lochard replied.
Crow: I think the Secret Service guy just developed a Russian
accent.
Mike: [Lochard] Fishing...for EVIL!!
> "Would you please
>come with us. We have some questions we'd like answered back at
>the office."
Tom: What kind of fishing? Deep sea or freshwater? Lures or live
bait? Trolling or fly-fishing? We want answers, damn it!
Crow: Wow. Even in *text,* Lochard is a bad actor.
> To his credit, Boris made no attempt to resist, even when
>the transporter beamed him directly into the Stargazer's brig.
Tom: How could you resist a transporter? Just will your atoms to
stay in place?
Crow: Well, I don't suppose the Secret Service covered their eyes
while Boris transported away, do you?
Mike: Just forget it, Crow.
>Agents Lochard and Mann then searched his room
Crow: Without a warrant, those JERKS!
> before returning
>to their headquarters in Chelsea's apartment.
>
Mike: ...where they listened to Marilyn Manson and downed the keg
they'd confiscated.
>
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
Tom: I'd guess that if the Founding Fathers knew that America would
eventually produce Ratliff, they'd've high-tailed it back to
England.
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>"Starfleet officers do not go around *murdering* other officers."
>"Not usually, anyway." -- Bashir and Odo, ST:DS9 "Field of Fire"
>From sratliff@runet.edu Thu Apr 01 08:53:58 1999
>Path: ix.netcom.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!
Crow: Good to the last post!
Tom: Do you hear an echo?
Crow: No.
Tom: Huh. I must be hearing things.
>news-peer1.sprintlink.net!news-in-east1.sprintlink.net!
>news.sprintlink.net!hearst.acc.Virginia.EDU!
>newslink.runet.edu!not-for-mail
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~Stephen. Stephen Ratliff. His lawnmower came from Sears. o/~
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 8/11 (Marrissa Stories)
Mike: Next Thursday at Red Rocks: Lisa Loeb and Marrissa Stories.
>Date: 1 Apr 1999 15:53:58 GMT
>Organization: Radford University
>Lines: 96
>Approved: asca@pnx.com
>Message-ID: <7e04qm$blu@newslink.runet.edu>
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>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:107474 alt.startrek.creative.
>all-ages:1745
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
Tom: Yes, the Greek goddess Athena prospects with Acme's Prospector's
Kit! Shouldn't you?
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
Crow: G is for garrulous, gut-wrenching and gruesome.
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 8/11
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists
Tom: EXTREEEEEEEEME terrorists!
> steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>
>101374
Tom: I think that's the number of people who died attempting to
proofread this.
>Chapter Eight
>
> Lyam Sympton stood on the deck of the small boat.
Crow: Oh, *please* say that's the Minnow.
> His
>companion in crime was at the helm.
Mike: This is gonna end like Mitchell, isn't it?
> He took in a deep breath of
>the sea air
Mike: ...and quickly exhaled. It was red tide season.
> and turned to look at the launch pad.
Tom: It was absolutely filthy!
> He lined up
>the sights on the launcher and waited for the launch to begin.
Crow: Let's count all the permutations of the word "launch" in
that sentence, shall we?
Mike: No.
Crow: Ok.
>Three minutes to go.
Tom: Oh, come *on,* Stephen! Surely even *you* know that they
don't allow boats *that* close to the launching site on the
big day!
> He looked back at his companion. The man was still wearing
>that ridiculous "My Hero, my Captain" t-shirt.
Tom: That makes no sense.
Mike: Well, that's way geekier than my Flash logo T-shirt.
Crow: *sigh* Sure, Mike...
> Lyam thought that
>the shirt made him stand out instead of blend in, but James
>insisted on wearing his Garret t-shirt.
Crow: Wow! Garrett Morris is my hero, too!
Mike: Huh. I was picturing an attic.
> Lyam was sure that the
>body attached to Garret's head wasn't hers,
[All snicker.]
Tom: Apparently, they still have horny teenagers and Photoshop in
the future.
> and really should
>someone against Starfleet wear or even own such a shirt.
Mike: I wonder whose body they used.
Crow: Marina Sirtis from 'The Wicked Lady.'
Tom: Or Denise Crosby from 'The Red Shoe Diaries.'
> After
>all, Garret, no matter how noble her death had been, was one of
>those accursed Prime Directive breaking Captains of the
>Enterprise.
Crow: They still LIKE the ones that DON'T break the Prime
Directive. Like... ummmmm...like... hold on; I know I can
think of one...
> Beyond James and the small craft was Lyam's real worry
>though.
Tom: ...James and the Giant Peach!
> Apparently President Clinton had decided that an honor
>guard of ships should be off the shore
Mike: Best place for them, really.
> when the Endeavor
>launched.
> The aircraft carrier Enterprise had been in off the
>coast for several days. She and her battle group could easily
>take down his attempt,
Crow: "SHE" meaning "Marrissa," and "take down" meaning "send
him back crying to Mommy," I presume?
> if the cloaking device didn't work.
[Stunned silence.]
Mike: Wowsers! He actually answered one of our objections before
he knew about it!
Tom: Okay, okay. So maybe their boat *could* get that close to
the launch. It doesn't explain how those navy ships could do
the same!
Mike: Well, they could be just *outside* the proscribed zone.
Crow: Yeah, face it, Tom. Stephen got us, for once.
> Two
>minutes to go.
>
Crow: Thank God, this thing is taking forever!
> Wesley Crusher stood on board the aircraft carrier
>Enterprise.
Mike: He kept teasing the crew by asking where the 'nuclear
wessals' were.
> The President had chosen to watch the launch from
>the ship, and Wesley and Chelsea had joined him.
Tom: In a stirring rendition of Cole Porter favorites.
> Wesley was also
>using a discrete scanner to try to detect the two unaccounted for
>ENE members.
Crow: If you prudently delay the launch until the last two
terrorists are captured, turn to page 105. If you continue
with the launch countdown and trust that Wesley will find
them at the last minute, turn to page 93.
> He had built the time traveler detector drawing on
>his own experience time traveling and working for Temporal
>Investigations.
Tom: Unfortunately, that meant it would only detect him.
> Scotty had helped him finial get it into a
>working model,
Crow: Cindy Crawford protested, mind you, but they managed to wedge
it in there...
> but it had some limitations.
Mike: First, it was the size of an Edsel.
Tom: Second, it heated up to 1,000 degrees whenever you turned
it on.
Crow: Third, it didn't work.
> The range was just
>under a mile, so it really couldn't be used from orbit.
Mike: No, it probably couldn't, at that. *snicker*
> The
>device beeped.
Mike: [Scotty] It worked! It's a miracle!
> The scanner had detected two time travelers. He
>queried the Stargazer for a view of the area.
Crow: And just as quickly as the reasonable plot twist arrives, it
vanishes.
Tom: A cloaking device that can't block a simple--well, relatively
simple--life scan? Boy, I can't decide which side is more
incompetent!
>
> One minute to go.
Bots: Yayyy!
Mike: No, he means the countdown. This story's just going to drag
on until it dies of exhaustion.
> Lyam made the final adjustments and stood
>back. In the distance, a Coast Guard Cutter turned and began
>bearing down
Mike: It's giving birth!
All: Awwww!
> on the ENE craft.
Mike: That's not fair for such a big ship to be hunting down such
an ENE craft.
Tom: Oh, that was bad, Mike.
Mike: It's Ratliff's fault!
> James saw and pointed out the
>cutter.
Crow: [James] They appear to be cutting a giant pizza. Should we
prepare the paper plates?
> It would be too late. Forty-Five seconds. Lyam cleared
>the forward deck and moved behind the splash shield.
Mike: I officially have no idea what's going on.
Tom: Me too. I'm thinking about chewing gum right now. Chewing
gum is neat...the way it gets all gooey in your mouth. And
all those fabulous flavors... mint... cinnamon... mint...
peppermint... juicyfruit...mintier mint...
> Thirty seconds. A girl in scuba gear climbed up the forward
>portside ladder, and two men similarly dressed came over the rear
>end.
Crow: Now it's 'Catalina Caper!'
Tom: Pleaseohpleaseoh*please* let that be Creepy Girl!
> The ENE members turned to engage the two men.
Mike: Diamond rings at the ready.
> Meanwhile
>the girl pressed her communicator up against the launcher and
>said, "Now"
Crow: I hope she took it off first. Otherwise, that's one *heck*
of a mental picture.
> Ten seconds, nine,
Mike: Oh, no, it's a countdown! Get ready for suspense!
> eight,
Crow: ... is enough?
> seven,
Tom: Well, maybe not *exactly* now...
> six,
Crow: point 022 times 10 to the 23rd!
> five,
Mike: WILL they make it to the next number? WILL they remember
how to count backwards?
> four,
Mike: 12!
Tom: 48!
Crow: Pi!
> three,
Tom: Coins in the Fountain!
>two,
Crow: For tea!
> one.
Tom: And here I thought countdowns on film were boring.
> The Endeavor launched from it's pad off in the
>distance.
[Collective sigh of relief.]
> But the missile launcher was no more than a pile of
>ash.
Crow: So she told the ship to fire on her communicator?
Tom: We'll never know, Mike.
> ENE's attempt had failed.
Mike: Well, that was dramatic.
Tom: What was it? One of those effects too good to describe?
> The space shuttle Endeavor rose on it's way to orbit and
>eventually, Mars.
Tom: Carrying Lloyd Bridges and Hugh O'Brien.
> The girl pulled down the head covering on her
>gear, revealing
Mike: ...the black visage of a damned, tormented soul!
> her long blond hair.
All: Ohhhh...
Mike: Of COURSE. It was her all ALONG. How COULD we have
been so lost back there?
Tom: Yay! Marrissa did good stuff, I guess! Hooray!
> She pulled it out from
>under the suit and turned to the shocked and now handcuffed ENE
>members.
Crow: [Marrissa] You may refer to me as Mistress Marrissa.
Mike: Ewww... there's a thought I didn't need in my head.
Crow: Sorry, Mike.
> "Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard of the Star Fleet
>Carrier USS Stargazer," she introduced herself.
Crow: Marrissa's learning brevity. *Now* I've seen everything.
> "You would be
>Misters Lyam Sympton and James Kirk?"
Crow: Obviously, not the real James Kirk; he didn't hit on any
women in the entire fanfic.
> They nodded.
Tom: No, it's Lyam Sympton and James...somebody.
Crow: Unless his name really *is* James Kirk. In which case,
Ratliff should have revealed that a lot sooner--it could have
created some nice irony.
> "On behalf
>of Temporal Investigations,
Tom: [Sailor Marrissa] ...I will punish you!
> I'm taking you into custody on
>charges of first degree temporal interference,
Crow: Which pales in comparison to the interference of Marrissa and
company.
> attempted murder,
>and hijacking.
Mike: Oh, and bad fashion sense.
Tom: And having a STUPID fake name.
Crow: Don't forget registering at a hotel under an assumed name!
Tom: And parking the Eagle in a loading zone.
Crow: And third degree lameness.
Mike: And *speeding.* For God's sake don't forget the speeding
ticket!
> The United States Coast Guard will transfer you
>to the local jail where we will take you to the Stargazer.
Crow: So they enter the legal system and are never seen again? I
wonder what Amnesty International would say about that.
Mike: [Marrissa] We'd just beam you up from here, but we want more
trans-temporal interaction between you and the people in this
time period.
Tom: Yeah, but they get them there using that plane from
"Con Air," so they escape and there's a sequel.
[Mike jabs Tom with his elbow.]
> You
>have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be
>used against you.
Mike: [Lyam] Even if I said I love your hair? Heh, heh...
> You have a right to counsel from your proper
>time.
Crow: I think Bobo's available...
> If you can not afford or find counsel, one will be
>provided for you..."
>
Crow: ...as soon as Ratliff remembers the rest of the Miranda
Rights.
Tom: The Miranda Rights, as seen on TV.
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
Mike: Target - your polite savings place.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>Have you voted in the Alt.StarTrek.Creative.All-Ages Tribble Awards?
>
>Do so now at: http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/awards/
>From sratliff@runet.edu Sat Apr 17 13:19:41 1999
>Path: ix.netcom.com!su-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.gtei.net!
>logbridge.uoregon.edu!hearst.acc.Virginia.EDU!newslink.runet.edu
>!not-for-mail
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~Stephen. Stephen Ratliff. He's yet to visit Zamphyr. o/~
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 10/11 (Marrissa Stories)
[The bots begin laughing hysterically. Mike looks at
Tom, then he quickly looks at Crow, then back to Tom.]
Mike: What?
Tom: Oh, that was great!
Crow: I never thought Ratliff had it in him!
Mike: What are you talking about?
Tom: You know what? I was so busy laughing that I didn't
even riff once!
Crow: Me too!
Tom: And the sheer poetry of the words!
Crow: Yes! And we knew him when he was a nobody!
Tom: That'll change soon.
Crow: Yep.
Mike: WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT?
[The bots turn to stare at Mike.]
Tom: Chapter nine.
Crow: Duh.
Mike: What Chapter nine? It went from Marrissa reading
the Miranda rights to Ratliff's credits to Chapter
ten! There was no Chapter nine!
Crow: Oh, Mike.
Tom: This is terrible.
Mike: What's terrible?
Crow: This is a textbook example.
Tom: True.
Mike: What's a textbook example? What is going on?
Crow: We better act soon, before we run out of time.
Tom: Come on, Mike. Let's get you out of here.
Mike: What?
[The bots stand and push Mike out of the theater.]
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[The Bridge of the SoL]
[Mike sits in a chair, looking visibly nervous. The
bridge is dark, save for a spotlight, illuminating
the chair in a circle of light. Tom and Crow pace around
Mike. Tom is dressed in a dark suit and tie. A smoldering
cigarette hangs out of Crow's mouth.]
Tom: So, you don't remember *anything* about Chapter Nine?
Mike: No. Guys, what's going on?
[The bots look at each other with concern.]
Tom: Mike, this might be hard for you to accept, but
there *was* a Chapter Nine...
Crow: [interrupting] ...and it was the best thing that
he ever wrote!
Tom: Oh, and how! It was incredible, Mike!
Crow: Shakespeare couldn't have done better!
Tom: It was funny and witty!
Crow: But at the same time, it was poignant too!
Tom: Ratliff did everything right!
Crow: Marrissa was a charismatic leader!
Tom: The enemy fought with tactical brilliance, and
Marrissa was even more brilliant!
Crow: We finally got to see why Ross is tolerated by the
rest of the Crew!
Tom: And the Kid's Crew was explained in a manner that
really made sense!
Crow: Oh, and Marrissa got into a cat fight with Heather
Locklear! It wasn't really explained why, but it
was really cool!
Mike: Hold it, hold it, HOLD IT! Crow, why are you smoking
a cigarette?
Crow: It fits the ambiance.
Tom: Look, right now, you're exhibiting the classic symptoms
of 'missing time syndrome'. Someone, or some *thing,*
doesn't want you to remember Chapter Nine.
Mike: Missing time syndrome? Oh, come on.
Crow: It's true, Mike. Mulder talked about it when he was here..
Tom: [Stage Whispering] Crow! Stick to canon!
Crow: Oh, right.
Tom: Anyway, Mike? Do you want to recover your memories?
Mike: Sure, I guess...
Tom: Well then, let's get you ready for hypnosis then.
Crow? If you'll do the honors?
Crow: Sure thing.
[Crow pulls out a thick manual marked "Tax Codes" and
begins to read.]
Crow: Paragraph 31, subsection 3a. The following are
examples of allowable, business-related deductions
in the HVAC industry: coolants, including....
[Cambot pans over to a nearby clock, whose hands
rapidly spin, advancing ahead an hour. Cambot pans
back over to the bots and Mike. Crow is still reading;
Mike's eyes are closed and he seems to be snoring
lightly. Tom seems to also be nodding off.]
Crow: ...monoethyl diglyserine, deoxy nitric tricarbide...
Tom: [waking with a start] Huh? Crow? I think we can
stop with the hypnosis.
Crow: Sure thing. Y'know, I never realized how exciting
the world of taxes was...
Tom: [mumbling] I should have just said "Sleeeep" again...
[Tom sighs loudly, and then turns towards Mike.]
Tom: Okay, let's get this show on the road. Mike? Can
you hear me?
Mike: [drowsily] Yes...
Tom: Mike, we need to determine why you have...
[Crow whispers something in Tom's dome.]
Tom: Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it. Mike, we need to take you back
to yesterday. Can you remember anything unusual that happened?
Something odd?
Mike: [drowsily] Well, when I was eating my waffles at breakfast, I
realized that I had cut all the pieces into 4x4 squares. That
was pretty odd.
Crow: Um, yeah.
Tom: Mike, what about your prom? Describe what happened at your
Prom.
Mike: [Ibid] I picked up Becky Lou in my brother's Firebird...
Crow: And you ran out of gas?
Mike: [Ibid] No. We had a full tank. We got to the prom and then
we started to dance...
Tom: And you failed horribly?
Mike: [Ibid] No. I danced almost as well as one of the Solid Gold
dancers. Then she had some punch..
Crow: Was it spiked, and she got drunk and made a fool of herself?
Mike: [Ibid] No.
Tom: Oh, this is hopeless! Mike! You're under my command! You will
reveal to us your most embarrassing moment! Now!
Mike: [Ibid] Well, there was this time where my robot friends talked
me into doing something really stupid...
Crow: Go on...
Mike: [Ibid] They convinced me to go under hypnosis and tried to get
me to tell them embarrassing stories about myself...
Tom: Uh-oh.
Mike: [Normal voice] Then they realized that I wasn't really
hypnotized...
Crow: Run!!!!
[Mike leaps up and chases after the bots, as the Ratliff sign
flashes. The door sequence begins.]
[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ]
[The bots are dragged in by Mike, who forcibly puts them
in their seats.]
Mike: There wasn't a chapter nine, was there?
Crow: No. How'd you avoid being hypnotized?
Tom: [mumbling] There was nothing there to work with.
Mike: I grew up in Wisconsin, remember? Compared to that,
accounting is fascinating.
>Date: 17 Apr 1999 19:19:41 GMT
>Organization: ASCA Moderation Team
>Lines: 100
>Approved: asca@pnx.com
>Message-ID: <7famsd$ef0@newslink.runet.edu>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: rucs2.sunlab.cs.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [UNIX 1.3 950824BETA PL0]
>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:108706
>alt.startrek.creative.all-ages:1766
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 10/11
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
Mike: ...steer it, Studebaker-like, to Stillwater, and strand it
at Starbucks.
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>
>101374
Tom: Let me try one! The number of times the author was dropped
as a child?
Mike: That's kinda off the pattern... well, not by much, actually.
>Chapter Ten
>
>Captain's Log
>Lieutenant Commander Picard recording, in the absence of the
>Captain.
>
Tom: [Marrissa] ...who should really stop skipping school...
> We've captured all the crew of the Eagle.
Crow: Now if I could just find that hidden door to the castle
level...
> Lieutenant
>Crusher has assisted the Secret Service in cleaning up the mess
>resulting from the crew of the Eagle's attempts.
Mike: [Marrissa] They scrubbed the floor to a beautiful shine,
and for that I shall give them an extra penny.
> We will be
>departing shortly after King William V of Great Britain finishes
>his speech.
Mike: *ahem* What I Did Last Summer, by King William V.
> I intend to record a copy of this speech as it is
>considered a historic one,
Crow: Well, I suppose so, in the sense that it occurred in
the past.
> whose text has been lost.
Crow: It must have been in chapter nine.
Tom: Waaaait a minute. In an age where everybody and their dog
owns a camcorder, fifty news networks are desperately trying
to fill air time, and the internet lets you make a million
copies of something and send it around the world, NOBODY
thought to record his FREAKING ASCENSION SPEECH!?
Mike: Shhhh. Don't provoke the Ratliff.
>
> Ladies and Gentlemen,
Tom: Pre-Ops and Post-Ops...
> we interrupt tonight's programming for
>a special presentation.
Mike: [announcer] We interrupt our fan-fic for the public
apology.
> Live from the United States Aircraft
>Carrier,Enterprise,
Crow: It's Saturday Niiiight!
> His Majesty,
Tom: [announcer] ...the reigning monarch of rock and ROLL,
> King William the Fifth.
Crow: This is what western literature is declining to, is it?
Endless television transcripts? Copying stuff they saw on TV?
Mike: Huh?
> Good evening people of Britain, Ireland, and all people
>around the world.
Tom: How y'all doin!?
Mike: There's a kind of hush...
Crow: Yeah, they've already fallen asleep on him. *snicker*
> As many of you know,
Tom: [William] The square of the hypotenuse equals the sum of the
squares of the other two sides.
> yesterday evening was a
>time of tragedy for my family and our nation.
Mike: [William] "Athena Prospects" was released upon the
world.
> My grandmother the
>late Queen passed away. So too did my father,
Crow: ...the late Queen.
> although in a much
>more tragic fashion.
Tom: He poisoned himself in the mistaken belief that Camilla
Parker Bowles had poisoned *herself.*
> My father was visiting Belfast, a hospital
>where he had talked to many in the children's cancer ward.
Mike: So the entire city of Belfast is one hospital?
> When
>he exited the hospital, he was cruelly assassinated in the prime
>of his life.
Mike: Well...at fifty, anyway.
Crow: In his death throes, he desperately tried to grab hold of a
crown, any crown...
> We are sure that many of you were shocked at his death,
Tom: There was a major thunderstorm at the time.
> and
>fully expect us to demand the harshest penalty under law for the
>assassin,
Mike: Community service.
Tom: Huh?
Mike: He'll have to make appearances around the country as Tinky-
Winky.
[Bots shudder.]
> who I have been told has been captured.
Tom: Conveniently and cheaply off-screen, er, page.
> However, now
>is a time which Ireland needs healing.
Crow: And yours is a grammar checker which needs updating.
Mike: Those things never work.
> It does not need more
>blood and pain.
Mike: Adam Cadre can handle that.
Crow: Who?
Mike: Never mind...
> It was my Ancestor, whose name I share,
Crow: [William] Though he's very selfish--he only shared with me
when I told Mom he wouldn't.
> King
>William III, who brought Ireland under English rule. I have no
>desire to prolong the struggle which began with him.
Tom: Yeah, let's completely ignore what Henry II, Henry VIII, and
Cromwell did to them.
> Ireland is
>know governed by the will and choice of its people.
Mike: It is?
> I will not
>interfere with their rule,
Crow: You're *not!* Northern Ireland's still part of your flippin'
country!
> but I will set an example for them to
>follow.
Mike: Guys, I got a bad feeling about what's coming up...
> We will issue a pardon to our father's assassin,
>conditional on his departing our realm.
[A few seconds of stunned silence, then hysterical laughter.]
Mike: Oh, now *this* takes the cake! Let's assume for one second
that William *is* foolish enough to suggest this--which I
greatly doubt; the man *murdered* his father and king, for
crying in silence! But what he's proposing is *illegal!*
The monarch of Great Britain doesn't *have* that kind of
power anymore! Heck, he could be arrested for being an
accessory after the fact!
Tom: Maybe he *is* an accessory...ya think?
Crow: Hmmm...well, that family's certainly dysfunctional enough
for it.
> It is not our wish that
>he go unpunished,
Crow: Even though that's *exactly* what's happening...
> but that our example of forgiveness be followed
>throughout Ireland and Britain in the hopes that all of us be
>able to exist peacefully,
Mike: Side by side with people who have just learned that you can
kill the king and get away with it.
> and that one day, we will be able to
>walk down the streets of Northern Ireland without the fear of
>bombing, shooting, or other violence.
Tom: [William] That's why we're deporting him to continue his
killing spree abroad.
> Early next year, I will be crowned King over many of you.
Crow: Is he being crowned in the Scottish Highlands?
>We have tried to stay out of the harsh glare of the press,
Mike: You can get *such* a sunburn that way.
> trying
>to have a normal of a life as possible for one in our position.
Tom: Good luck.
>Earlier this month, with the consent of the late Queen and my
>father, as well as the consent of the current government,
Crow: [William] I scheduled a sex-change operation.
> I
>proposed to Miss Gweneveare Everham of Windsor.
[All groan.]
Tom: [William] I did this because there should ALWAYS be a
princess named Gweneveare. Anyone in Britian who is named
Lancelot will be shot immediately.
Crow: BUT the murderer goes free.
Tom: Right.
> We intend to be
>married before I am crowned.
[All groan louder.]
Tom: Stephen, do you even *know* how old William is?
Mike: Two points. One: you know how much Ratliff endorses early
marriage. Two: remember that we just pointed out how
dysfunctional William's family is.
Tom: Good points.
> When We return to England, aboard
>the Enterprise,
Mike: [Clinton] Wait, I never said anything about that! I'm taking
it to the Chicago Comic Con!"
> I will introduce you to her by way of several
>walkabouts throughout the country.
Crow: Then we're going to hoist some Fosters!
> We ask, however that you
>allow us some breathing room, and do not hound us with cameras.
Mike: [William] We are not a fox hunt. Except when Queen
Gwennie wants to play "Mistress of the Hounds and the
Naughty Little Puppy."
>We are a young couple that would like some privacy every once in
>awhile.
Tom: [William] Since the paparazzi were so kind to my mum . . .
> We would like to thank
Tom: [William] ...the Academy, and Our agent, and the producer of
Our film...
> several people for their help during
>this trying time. President William Clinton, whose abilities as
>a world leader
Crow: ...will be debated for decades to come.
> extend to reassuring a newly ascended King,
[All laugh.]
Mike: [William] ...and picking up all the royal women...
> and
>wish to especially thank him for lending us the Enterprise for
>our journey home.
Tom: Star Trek 0.4, the Voyage Home.
> We would like to especially thank Chelsea
>Clinton for calming down a hysterical cousin after yesterday's
>attack.
Tom: Insert appropriate 'Airplane' sketch here.
Crow: [William] I'd also like to thank time travelers from the
future who helped thwart a sabotage attempt on the shuttle...
> We are not yet sure if we are ready to be King.
Mike: Oh no! He's been assimilated!
> Our
>constant change between the Royal We and I is only the most
>visible evidence of this.
Crow: [William] It is not, repeat, NOT, because the author
forgot to proofread.
> I did not expect to become King this
>soon.
Crow: Sigh. We. You just wrote that line a sentence ago.
Mike: But William, don't you know- [Tom Petty]: It's good to
be kiiiing-
Tom: No, Mike!
Crow: Never again, Mike.
> It was something to prepare for that wouldn't occur for
>another fifty years.
Mike: Hey, your Dad waited fifty years, and he never got to be
King!
Tom: It's ironic that Steve wrote something so darkly comic and
he probably doesn't even realize it.
> As you can tell, life is full of surprises
>and We have been dealt a full hand of them.
Crow: Not another poker scene! Not now! No!
> It is my wish that
>any remaining surprises I receive in my reign will be pleasant
>ones, and that we may all live in peace and harmony, willing to
>turn the other cheek to those that harm us.
Tom: [William] But I'm going to be realistic and just throw
myself to a pack of starving wolves right now.
> It is with that message of forgiveness, and with a hope that
>We may serve you well for decades to come,
Mike: [William] Would you like fries with that?
> that I leave you
>today. Thank you for listening.
>
Tom: [Paul Harvey] Good *day.*
Crow: Turn it OFF and get back to Star Trek, already.
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
>
>Have you voted in the Alt.StarTrek.Creative.All-Ages Tribble
>Awards?
>
Crow: Well, what's in it for us if we do?
Tom: You get a neat "I voted" sticker.
>Do so now at: http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/awards/
>From sratliff@runet.edu Sun Apr 25 21:13:38 1999
>Path: ix.netcom.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!news-
>peer1.sprintlink.net!news-in-central.sprintlink.net!
>news.sprintlink.net!hearst.acc.Virginia.EDU!
>newslink.runet.edu!not-for-mail
>From: sratliff@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
Mike: o/~ Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. He's yet to perform in King
Lear. o/~
Tom: Enough, Mike.
Mike: o/~ Stephen, Stephen Ratliff. His computer sits over there. o/~
Crow: No more, please.
Mike: o/~ Stephen, Stephen... o/~
Bots: Stop it!
Mike: Sorry. [mumbling] Well, *I* thought it was funny....
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.startrek.creative.all-ages
>Subject: NEW TNG Athena Prospects 11/11 (Marrissa Stories)
>Date: 26 Apr 1999 03:13:38 GMT
>Organization: ASCA Moderation Team
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>NNTP-Posting-Host: ruacad.runet.edu
>X-Newsreader: TIN [UNIX 1.3 950824BETA PL0]
>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:109366
>alt.startrek.creative.all-ages:1778
>
>
>Title: Athena Prospects
>Author: Stephen Ratliff
>Series: TNG, Marrissa Stories #10
>Rating: [G]
>Codes: n/a
>Parts: NEW 11/11
>
>Summary:
>Shortly After Marrissa leaves the Enterprise-E to serve as Second
>Officer on the Stargazer, a group of extremists steal a starship
>and attempt to change the past. With the help of the Clintons,
Tom: Whose appearance here will do more damage than Monica *and*
Whitewater.
>Marrissa, Wesley, and the crew of the Stargazer must stop them
>from stopping the first manned mission to Mars.
>
>101374
Crow: My turn! The number of... um... ah... I forgot what I was
going to say.
>Epilogue
>
All: Thank God!
> The Stargazer came out of warp at Deep Space Nine.
Mike: It could not, however, quite escape the weft.
> Marrissa
>was glad that they had arrived.
Crow: The crew of DS9 wasn't.
> The last couple days of the
>journey had been rather trying.
Mike: Not to mention having very little to do with Star Trek.
> The paper work alone from the
>Temporal Incursion was overwhelming.
Tom: So it was *time consuming*!
Crow & Mike: [Groan]
> As for those two Temporal
>Investigations Agents who came to review the mission,
Tom: Ebert and whomever's filling in for Siskel?
> well,
>Marrissa had been strongly tempted to toss them into
Mike: ...a Caesar salad?
Tom: [British accent] And when I say there's no cannibalism in
Starfleet, I mean there's some.
> one impulse
>engine reactors and forget about them.
Crow: Well, if you don't want to deal with the consequences, how
about you stop mucking about in time?!
> If this was how
>commanding a Starship on a day to day basis went,
Tom: Oh, SURE. Commanders ALWAYS go back in time, meet British
royalty, stop explosions, and watch newcasts for HOURS AND
HOURS!
Crow: Well, actually, they DO, but there's usually more aliens.
> Marrissa would
>need a lot more patience before she was ready for her own
>command.
>
Mike: Maybe she can fall into it! Ha!
Crow: Don't make us hurt you, Mike.
> "Commander, Deep Space Nine has assigned us to dock at upper
>pylon two," Lavelle announced from Operations.
Tom: [Lavelle] Funny, I thought they were still trying to repair
that one. Oh, well.
> "Captain
>Washington will meet us once we dock."
Tom: [Lavelle] Unfortunately, she's 98 years old... I think we
came out of time warp a little too late.
> "Very well," Marrissa said. "Kathy, slow to one eight, move
>us into position."
Crow: [Kathy] 218 it is. Vroommm...*crash!*
> Marrissa watched as the Stargazer slid into
>its space.
Mike: [Marrissa] Wait a minute...how'd I get outside the ship?
> "Cut forward motion. Port thrusters, one second
>blast. Open docking clamps."
> "Commander, we are docked at Deep Space Nine," Lavelle
>announced. "Captain Sisko sends his regards."
Tom: And an uncredited cameo by Sisko!
All: [dully] Hooray.
> "Acknowledged." Marrissa said, standing up and straightening
>her uniform like her father did.
Crow: [Marrissa] Ah-how! Heh, I forgot--he doesn't have to worry
about breasts.
> "Command Crew and honor guard
>to starboard docking port to pipe the Captain aboard."
>
Mike: And other random words.
>Appendix
>
Crow: That's appropriate.
Mike: Why's that?
Crow: Because it's useless and painfully inflamed.
>Crew of the Enterprise
Mike: Most of whom escaped this disaster.
Crow: Let's give it up for the cast and crew!!
>
>R.Adm. Jean-Luc Picard Commanding Officer
>Ltjg Clara Sutter 4th Assistant Chief Engineer
Crow: She'd better watch out--she's one step away from the minor
leagues.
Tom: They were the crew of 20th century Enterprise? That's wierd.
>
>Crew of the Stargazer
>
>LCD Marrissa Amber Picard Acting Captain
Tom: [Kirk]: I think he did a little too much LCD...
> Second Officer
> Fighter Commander
Mike: Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Crow: And your candidate for City Council!
>Adm. Montgomery Scott Chief Engineer
>Yeoman Peterson Marrissa's Yeoman
Mike: Hence the name.
Crow: Hey, that's DIANE Peterson to you!
Tom: Yeah! We may have just butchered two names from "Cheers,"
but they were two DIFFERENT names from "Cheers"!
>Lt. Sam Lavelle Assistant Chief of Operations
Crow: That's like being an assistant fan fiction writer.
>Lt. Ross Lochard Chief Tactical Officer
Mike: Go!
Tom: Brack Jacklock!
Crow: Tuff McBeefbutt!
Mike: Stuff Bigstuff!
>Lt. Katherine Lochard Assistant Fighter Commander
Tom: Assistant cardboard box tender...
Mike: Do not let *any* of these people get near a casino!
>Doctor Jackson Johnson Chief Medical Officer
Mike: Jackson Johnson Richardson Anderson Philip-Morrison...
>Ltjg Wesley Crusher Temporal Investigations
Crow: Oh, so THAT's what they're calling it, these days.
>Mary Barkeeper in Seven Slightly Starboard
> Quartermaster
>
>Crew of the Eagle
>
Tom: If these guys are the best Yale has, I'm *definitely*
betting on Harvard.
>Lyam Sympton aka Jean-Luc Picard
>Boris aka Pavel Chekov
Mike: You know what *really* would have been ironic?
Crow: What?
Mike: To have this guy watching "Babylon 5" when he was caught.
[Bots snicker.]
>"James T. Kirk"
Tom: You know, Kirk mucked about in time quite a lot himself;
it could've actually been him.
>an unnamed gunman
Tom: But we like to call him "Ladybird."
>
>Those from the 20th Century
>
Tom: ...are *very* embarrassed to have been dragged into this.
Crow: I think we know the people from our own century. Not to
mention they were JUST IN THE STORY!!
Mike: Down, boy...
>William Jefferson Clinton The 42nd President of the United
>States
Mike: I did NOT lie under oath...
Crow: I did Not, Have, Sexual, relationswiththatwoman...
Tom: I did NOT appear in a Ratliff fan-fic...
>Chelsea Clinton His daughter
Mike: I see Ratliff has once again refused to acknowledge the
existence of Hilary.
Crow: She's probably counting her blessings.
>Agent Thomas Mann A member of the Presidential Detail
> United States Secret Service
Tom: o/~ Secret... Agent Mann! Secret... Agent Mann! Odds are
he'll be an insignificant supporting character tomorrow! o/~
>Prince William/King William V Son of Prince Charles
>Princess Beatrice Daughter of Prince Andrew and Fergie
Mike: I take it Ratliff doesn't think much of Lady Sarah Ferguson.
Crow: Who does, these days?
>Tom Brokaw Anchor, NBC Nightly News
Tom: Yeah, he's weighing that show down.
Crow: Hey, I *like* Brokaw.
>Stone Phillips NBC Correspondent
> Co-anchor, Dateline NBC
>Jane Pauley Co-anchor, Dateline NBC
>
Mike: Yikes. She's mentioned in *one* sentence, and she has
to show up in the credits? Poor gal...
>--
>Stephen Ratliff Radford University
>sratliff@runet.edu Roanoke, VA 24018
>rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/FAQs/ FAQ Maintainer for ASC.
>http://www.runet.edu/~sratliff/ascindex/ Index Maintainer too.
>also at: http://archive.nu/ ASCA Moderator
Tom: OK, fine. You're king of the whole ASC world. Happy now?
>
>Have you voted in the Alt.StarTrek.Creative.All-Ages Tribble
>Awards?
>
>Do so now at: http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/awards/
Crow: I hear MTV's doing a "Rock the Vote" thing again to get
more brain-dead slackers and stoners to vote on the Tribble
Awards...
Tom: Let's head back to the world guys! It's over!
[1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ]
[The bots stare, shell-shocked, into space. Mike enters,
carrying an armful of books: "The Seven Habits of Highly
Effective People Who Get off Satellites," "If Life is a Game,
These are the Rules for Getting Off Satellites," "Dianetics:
Getting off Satellites? Chapter Seven," and "Don't Sweat the
Small Stuff Unless You're Stuck on a Satellite."]
Mike: Okay, guys. That did it. Sitting through "Time Speeder"
not once, but twice... there has to be a way to get me
off of here. And I'm going to find it.
Crow: Mike? This isn't really a good time....
Tom: We've worked through our post-Ratliff anger and denial
and we're currently in deep depression.
Crow: Bargaining's scheduled to start in about half an hour,
so can you come back then?
Mike: No time. For all we know, Ratliff's revising "The Only
Constant" even as we speak. Let's see... [Mike flips
through a book]. How about I find a way to dramatically
increase the world's food output while using less land
to do so?
Tom: Scientists at Cornell did that last week.
Mike: All right. I'll create a cheap, abundant, clean
burning fuel.
Crow: CalTech. Last month.
Mike: I'll create a way to reintroduce extinct species
back into the ecosystem.
Tom: Courtney Love issued a paper on that last Tuesday.
Mike: Really? Courtney Love?
Crow: Apparently, she's been dabbling in genetics in
between CDs.
Mike: Well then, how about...?
Tom: Face it, Mike! The chances of you discovering something
that'll get you out of here are worse than the chances
of a cable network renewing a goofy puppet show!
Crow: Besides, there's something *much* more important at stake
here.
Mike: What's that?
Crow: You've got to help us through *our* pain.
Mike: [Sighing] Oh, all right. Where do you want to begin?
Crow: Let's start at the beginning. Ahem. Given the
difficulties involved in characterization, plot,
structure and continuity, WHAT ON EARTH MADE RATLIFF
DECIDE THAT HE WANTED TO WRITE TIME SPEEDER *AGAIN*?
Mike: Come on. He's repeatedly stated that he wishes that
he'd never written it. How can you blame him for
trying to do it better this time?
Tom: That implies that he *did* write it better.
Mike: Look, the goofy Guinan/Mary mother/daughter scene?
Gone. The Congressional subplot? Gone. Clinton's
nighttime press conference? Gone. That inane Spock
tie? Gone.
Crow: Yes, Mike. All of those things are gone, but look
what Ratliff put in their place!
Tom: A bunch of terrorists who really didn't care about
the cause they're fighting for!
Crow: Someone gunning down the British Royals for no apparent
reason!
Tom: The new monarch deciding that letting a royal assassin
go is a really good idea.
Crow: As well as his confusion on the fact that Ireland isn't
part of England.
Tom: Dodging an assassin's bullets and then blithely showing
busloads of Farmer's Union tour groups around NASA like
nothing happened.
Crow: A totally gratuitous Stone Phillips.
Tom: Not to mention commando-action Marrissa.
Crow: Wesley Crusher of the FBI.
Tom: And let's not forget Tim/Tom Mann, FBI load extraordinaire.
Crow: Let's not forget Picard, Kirk, and Chekov.
Tom: And, of course the thrilling...
Mike: Enough! I get the idea!
Crow: And he left that ghastly, nightmare inducing, Chelsea
Clinton/ Wesley Crusher romance in the story!
Mike: Done?
Crow: Yes, thank you.
Mike: I get your point. It wasn't a very good story.
Tom: Well, it wasn't that bad.
Crow: But it certainly wasn't good.
Mike: Let's see what Pearl's up to.
[Mike hits the castle light.]
[Castle Forrester]
[Pearl nervously paces back and forth. Behind her, Pitch
taps his foot impatiently.]
Pearl: Hi, Mike. We've got a bit of a situation down
here. You see, Peach isn't going to leave unless
we give him a soul, and we're fresh out. Observer
doesn't have one. We traded Bobo's away, and well,
I'm just not going to give him mine. So Poach is
down here doing evil devilly things, like souring
the milk, causing the Cubs to lose and giving
Jesse Camp a sitcom. You know, evil stuff like that.
[Suddenly, there's a clap of thunder and a hooded, black
robed figure strides out. He walks towards Pitch and
stops a few feet away from the devil. He throws back
his hood to reveal the smiling face of TV's Frank.]
TV's Frank: Whaddaya think you're doing, Pitch?
Pitch: Hi, Frank. How's the soul-taking business these days?
Pearl: [to Mike] Never mind. Frank will get us out of this.
TV's F: This is *my* territory, pal. Do you honestly
think that you can just waltz in here and
steal away my hard earned commissions that easily?
Why, I ought to...
[While Frank speaks, Pitch reaches into his briefcase
and pulls out a large, highly polished coin, which
he holds enticingly before Frank's face.]
TV's F: ...oooooooh! Shiny!
[Pitch tosses the coin out of camera view. Frank scampers
madly after it. Pitch then turns and looks at Pearl,
raising his eyebrow as if to say "Next."]
Pearl: Okay, Mike. I'm outta ideas.
[SoL]
[The bots and Mike huddle.]
Mike: If I can save Pearl from Pitch, I'll be a hero! She'll
bring me back to earth!
Tom: Mike, it's too risky.
Crow: Yeah, for what does it profit a man if he gets back to
earth but loses his soul and then he'd be all soul-less
and icky and stuff?
Mike: It's not like anyone would notice that I don't have a soul.
And even if they do, I could just move to L.A. It's an asset
there. Heck, I'm going to do it! I'm going to sacrifice my
soul to save our beloved -
Tom: Uh, *beloved*?
Mike: Our fairly well-liked -
[Tom & Crow shake their heads]
Mike: Our not totally loathed . . . .
[Mike pauses and watches while the bots consider, then nod.]
Mike: -- to save our not totally loathed Pearl Forrester.
Crow: Hey, where did our not totally loathed Pearl Forrester go,
anyway?
[Castle Forrester]
[The castle seems empty. We hear Pearl opening the door offscreen.]
TBR: [O.S.] Hi. I'm Lord High Admiral Timmy Bobby Rusty. I'm here
to command your castle's Kids Crew. If you'll just let me
come in and incapacitate all the adults, we can get started.
Pearl: [O.S.] Oh look, an adorable, precious little urchin. Come
inside with your Auntie Pearl, sweetheart. [Pearl leads TBR
into the castle] Auntie Pearl just wants to sacrifice your
soul to the devil. Only take a sec. Oh Pooch . . . .
Pitch: That's *Patch*.
Pearl: Whatever. Listen, red boy, got a soul for you here. Nice,
fresh one.
Pitch: I dunno. It looks kind of scrawny.
Pearl: He's just scrawny on the outside. Inside, little Tommy
Billy Roger-
TBR: That's *Overlord* Timmy Bobby Rusty!
Pearl: Whatever. Inside, little whats-his-name's soul is as
big as . . . oh, I don't know. Something just really,
really big, and ...
[Before Pearl can finish, a loud 'crash' can be heard
off screen as the castle door is battered open. ]
Pitch: Oh no. Not *him*. Protect me, my minions!
[Throngs of devils appear on the left side of the
Castle foyer and run screaming towards the right to
disappear off screen. The sounds of a fight can be
heard and several dead-looking devils are tossed back
into view.]
Pitch: [hastily] Tell you what, Pearl. This little soul
will do me just fine. I'm on a bit of a diet anyway.
Ineedtobegoingnowbyebye.
[Pitch grabs TBR and exits, screaming in terror.]
[SoL]
[The bots, along with Mike, stare at the screen, aghast.]
Mike: This is horrible! What could frighten a servant of
darkness?
Crow: This is terrible! Our not totally loathed Pearl is
in mortal peril!
Tom: This is awful! Timmy Bobby Rusty survived!
[Castle Forrester]
[A thin layer of fog now permeates the Castle.
Dramatic music plays in the background as a shadowy
figure strides through the fog towards Pearl.]
[SoL]
Mike: Oh my gosh!
Crow: It can't be!
Tom: But it is!
All: It's....
Mike: If either of you say "Monty Python's Flying
Circus", you'll be going out the airlock.
[Castle Forrester]
[The figure steps forward, revealing a young, bespectacled
man wearing a black leather jacket and carrying a variety
of weapons.]
Figure: Me. Stephen Ratliff. Devil Slayer.
[SoL]
[Pause. Then...]
All: WHAT???
Tom: Where the heck did this come from?
Mike: Stephen? Since when are you a 'devil slayer'?
You're a computer science major, for Pete's
sake!
[Castle Forrester]
SRDS: Mike, I do have a life outside of school and fanfic,
you know. I've been doing the devil hunting gig for
years now. It's fun! Besides, I'm a natural. I scored
83 quadrillion points in "Mavis Beacon Teaches Devil-
Slaying."
[SoL]
Tom: ...I mean, where in the story was there even an
inference towards that show?
Mike: But, how did you know that there was a devil there?
[Castle Forrester]
SRDS: Oh, my helpful sidekicks were monitoring the newsgroups
and alerted me to the problem. Let me introduce you to
them...
[Several teenagers step into view. In the background, Pearl
is slowly backing away.]
SRDS: This is Birch, our computer expert and a budding psychic;
Kiwi, a musician who's secretly an alien; Xavier, who's...
well, I'm not really sure what he's good for...
[SoL]
Tom: ...I mean, if we were riffing a BtVS story, I can see
how it might come up , but here? In this story?
Mike: Tom, give it a rest. It's already happened. You can't
change it now.
Crow: [to Mike] Mike, it's an introduction scene! Shut him up!
Mike: So, Stephen? Have you met Pearl? She's one of your
biggest fans.
[Castle Forrester]
[Pearl freezes in her tracks as Stephen and his compatriots
turn to face her. She gives a little wave to them.]
[SoL]
Crow: Oh yeah. She's read all of them. In fact, she anxiously
awaits each of your new stories.
Tom: Say... why don't you read her one of your new stories?
Mike: Yeah! That'd be a great way to salute one of your
biggest fans!
[Castle Forrester]
[Pearl, who has blanched noticeably, is frantically punching
buttons on her cell phone.]
SRDS: Say! That's a great idea! Thanks, Mike!
Pearl: [into the phone] Pouch! Get back here! [voice changes
to a wheedling tone] I have another soul for you. Nice,
fresh, juicy soul . . . .
Pitch: [Phone voice] Sorry Pearl. Got a little project going
here. But thanks for calling Beelzebub technical support.
Have a damned day. [as he starts to hang up, we hear this
in the background] So, Lord Supreme Timmy Bobby Rusty,
tell me how this "Hell's Kids' Crew" would work.
[Stephen walks over to Pearl.]
SRDS: How'd you like a sneak preview of my newest story?
It's a crossover between Marrissa, the Wheel of
Time series, Blue's Clues and Dawson's Creek. I
call it "A Night in the USS Roxbury."
Pearl: Mike, you're going to pay for this!
SRDS: Once upon a time, Marrissa was on a top secret
mission to Steve and Blue's house.... Wait. I better
introduce my cast of characters. Then I'll give you
all their titles.
Pearl: Mike!!!!
[The transmission ends abruptly.]
[SoL]
Tom: [enters from left] Hey, guys, come on. My infield
is grilling pan-blackened Cajun tex-mex yellowfin tuna
steaks with zesty zucchini-papaya chipolte.
Crow: Yum! [the bots start to exit]
Tom: Coming, Mike?
Mike: I'll be there in a sec. I just want to check the news
first.
[Mike turns on the TV, still sitting on the console.]
TV: In other news today, the vicious devil Pitch was finally
cast back into the bottomless pit of hell by the quick heroics
of part-time fanfic writer and full-time devil slayer Stephen
Ratliff. People the world over are celebrating and proclaiming
Mr. Ratliff to be the best hero ever! 97% of the respondents
to the latest Zogby poll agreed with the statement "We'd
rescue Stephen Ratliff from anywhere, anytime, even if he was
stranded on a satellite or something!"
[Mike stares blankly at the screen.]
Crow: Wow. I never would have thought.
Tom: Me neither.
Crow: Zesty zucchini-papaya chipolte? Tom: I know! Grilled pan-
blackened cajun tex-mex yellowfin tuna
steaks simply cry out for a dill-raspberrry vinagrette, but
try telling that to the shortstop.
[Gypsy rushes onstage]
Gypsy: Making zesty zucchini-papaya chipolte is *my* job, Tom!
I won't be downsized! I won't be right-sized! [Gypsy
starts battering Tom.]
Tom: Ouch! You can make the mango chutney! Ouch!
Gypsy: [Still bashing Tom] I won't be outplaced!
Mike: [Restraining Gypsy.] Now, Gyps, honey, no one's outplacing
you. You're irre-outplaceable. If that's a word. The point
is, Gypsy, we couldn't run the satellite without you.
Gypsy: [stops bashing Tom] Really?
Mike: Of course. Now run along and realign the inductor coils to
route auxiliary power through the emitter array . . . or
something.
Gypsy: Sure. Can I get dental and a 401K?
Mike: We'll talk later.
Gypsy: Okay [Gypsy exits]
Tom: How can I ever thank you? You saved my life. Mike, did you
ever know that you're my hero? If I had wings, or wing-like
appendages, you'd be the wind beneath them.
Mike: Great. I'm finally a hero, and where does it get me?
Crow: SOL, I guess.
Mike: Exactly.
[With that, the screen contracts with the usual...]
\ | /
\ | /
--- * --- PWOOOOSH!
/ | \
/ | \
"Athena Propsects": by Stephen B for 'Buffy' Ratliff
Misted by: Matt Blackwell <mblackwl@ix.netcom.com>
Bart Fargo <z_cannadaycd@titan.sfasu.edu>
Amanda Flowers <samusstar@aol.com>
Sarah Heiner <bookworm25@my-dejanews.com>
Karen Kallestad <kkallestad@inetzone.com>
Jeffrey Ray Roberts <jr_roberts1@hotmail.com>
TV's Francis <francis@net-thing.net>
With additional material by:
Bill Livingston and Joseph Nebus
Star Trek: The Next Generation and all related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyright of Paramount Picture
Corporation and Viacom. All rights reserved. (Sorry, you can't
check them out.)
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and
situations are trademarks of and copyright of Best Brains, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Stephen Ratliff appears courtesy of Time-Warner Communications.
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.
Do you want to join the fast paced world of misting? If so, just
subscribe to the dibs list by sending an e-mail message to
majordomo@neylonpc.engin.umich.edu with the message "subscribe
dibslist [<your name>]" in the message body. Then, just send
$100 in small unmarked bills to Matt Blackwell, PO Box 67852,
Denver, Colorado, USA 80222 and you're in!
Keep circulating the posts.
Twang.
7/4/99
--------------------------------------------------------------
> "Well his daughter Chelsea is currently an intern at the
>Kennedy Space Center,"
--------------------------------------------------------------
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