Time Speeder
MiSTed: "Time Speeder"
Written by:
Mike Barklage (editor)
Petrea Mitchell
Jess Nevins
With contributions from:
Christine Malcom
Chris French
Veronica Hogan
Original story by:
Stephen Ratliff
"Time Speeder, I'm begining to wish I never posted that story."
-- Stephen Ratliff, 13 Aug 1996,
rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc
[No theme song. The scene simply opens on...]
[The Edge of the Universe. In the background is the abandoned Satellite of
Love, bathed in the eerie glow of a mystical light. Six multi-colored
balls of light frolic amongst the stars. Two of the colored lights, Cambot
and Magic Voice, are silent. The others -- Mike, Tom, Crow, and Gypsy --
are laughing and cheering as they play.]
GYPSY(Purple light): Whee! Hey, this is fun!
CROW(Yellow light): Yeah! Bein' all-knowing and all-powerful and stuff is really pretty cool!
TOM(Red light): Hey, Mike, race ya to Proxima Centauri!
MIKE(Blue-white light): You're on!
[Tom and Mike "line up" in preparation for the race.]
TOM: Okay, ready... set... GO!!
[Tom starts to move, but abruptly stops. Mike darts off-screen.]
TOM: <laughs>
[Mike returns from off-camera, moving slower.]
MIKE: Hey, that's not funny.
TOM: All knowledge is clear to you, and yet you *still* fall for that old gag! <laughs again>
CROW: Hey, Tom! It's *really* impressive and all that you can trick Mike
with dumb old jokes, but can you bend space to your will? Watch this!
[Crow disappears, then instantaneously reappears in another place.]
GYPSY: Neat!
TOM: Neat? That's nothing. I've been able to do that since Crow here
was still in training wheels. I can control both time *and* space!
CROW: Oh, you can not.
TOM: Can too!
CROW: Can not!
TOM: Can too!
CROW: Can too!
TOM: Can not-- D'OH!
[Everyone but Tom giggles.]
TOM: Okay, goldenrod, I'll *prove* it to you! Watch THIS!!
[Tom begins shaking back and forth.]
GYPSY: Are you sure this is really a good--
MIKE: Be careful, Tom, you could--
[All of the balls of light disappear. A moment later, so does the SOL.]
[Bridge of the SOL. Mike, Tom, Crow, and Gypsy blink into existence. They
have returned to their corporeal forms.]
TOM: See? I *told* you I could do it!
MIKE: Yah! We're back on the Satellite of Love!
TOM: Yep!
CROW: <looking out window> Looks like we're back in Earth orbit.
[They all just stand there for a moment.]
CROW: Huh.
MIKE: Okay, that's enough, Tom. Send us back.
TOM: No problem. Here goes!
[Tom begins shaking back and forth again. Nothing happens.]
TOM: Um... let me try that again.
[Tom does it again. Still nothing.]
TOM: Oh poopie...
MIKE: What's wrong?
TOM: <weakly> I, uh, no longer seem to be able to bend space and time
to my will... heh heh... oops...
CROW: Oh, *good* one, Servo.
MIKE: You mean to tell me that you sent us all back in time to a point
at which we no longer have our non-corporeal powers?!
TOM: Pretty much. Um... are you mad?
GYPSY: Mike's not the one you have to worry about, you little SNOT!
[Gypsy lunges for Tom. Tom hides under the counter while Mike holds her
back, trying to prevent her from smashing Tom.]
GYPSY: Let me at him! Let me at him!
MIKE: Come on, calm down, Gypsy!
[Gypsy begins to calm.]
MIKE: There you go. It's no big deal, all right? We just have to figure
out a way to get back. Okay?
GYPSY: Okay.
MIKE: Now, let's find out exactly when we are...
[Mike pushes the Mads button.]
MIKE: Um... sirs? Or sir? Or madam? Whoever? Hello?
[Deep 13. There are stacks of boxes everywhere, but no sign of any of
the Mads. Finally, Dr. Forrester enters, carrying another box. He sets
down the box and prepares to return for another when he glances at the
screen and does a double-take.]
DR.F: Hello, Mike, botkins. You're early today. You just caught me in
in middle of a little redecorating. You see, Mother just arrived,
and while I had planned on letting her stay in Frank's old bedroom,
it turns out that she needs more space than an Iron Maiden can
provide. Hence, the boxes.
MOM F: <offscreen> Clayton! Your mother needs some help with her steamer trunk!
DR.F: <shouting> In a minute, Mother! <to Mike> Anyway, I hadn't planned
on beginning this week's experiment until later, but since you seem
*so* eager... <laughs evilly> Your movie today is a little space-turd
called "Night of the Blood Beast," and...
[SOL.]
MIKE: Seen it.
[D13.]
DR.F: <shocked> Wha...? You've *seen* it?
[SOL.]
MIKE: Sure. Astronaut get impregnated by shrimp. Goofy monster that looks
like a parrot and sounds like Bogart. You know.
[D13.]
DR.F: Ah. I see.
MOM F: <offscreen> CLAYTON!!!
DR.F: IN A MINUTE, MOTHER!
[Dr. Forrester bends down and picks up a box full of tapes. He rifles
through them, looking at the titles.]
DR.F: Well then, I'll just have to go with plan B. This movie is called
"The Brute Man," and it stars Rondo Hatton as...
[SOL.]
CROW: Oh, we've seen that one, too.
[D13.]
DR.F: You have?! Well, what about "Deathstalker?" "Escape 2000?" "The
Incredible Melting Man?" "Laserblast?"
[SOL.]
MIKE: Seen 'em.
TOM: Taped 'em.
CROW: Hated 'em.
[D13. Mother Forrester has entered and is standing behind Dr. Forrester,
who is searching frantically through the box of tapes.]
DR.F: <panicked> You've... seem them... all?! How could...
MOM F: CLAYTON!!!
DR.F: <flinching> Yah!
MOM F: I need help carrying my steamer trunk! Would you let your poor old
mother strain her back lifting it all by herself?
DR.F: No, Mother... I just... ran into a little problem here...
MOM F: So I heard. Can't even keep your own evil experiments organized.
<sigh> What would your father say?
[Mother tsk-tsks and walks off-screen.]
DR.F: Look, Mike, I'm a bit busy so...
[Forrester reaches off-screen and retrieves a computer disk.]
DR.F: Why don't you have a look at this? I *was* going to save it for a
special occasion, for when your spirit was about to be broken, but...
<sigh> It's called "Time Speeder," and it's by Stephen Ratliff. Enjoy.
[SOL. Mike, Tom, and Crow are aghast.]
CROW: Stephen... Ratliff?
MIKE: Tom, are you ABSOLUTELY SURE you can't get us back?!
[Tom begins shaking violently.]
GYPSY: I'm outta here.
[Gypsy exits stage right. Alarms and buzzers go off.]
MIKE: AAAAAH! WE GOT RATLIFF SIGN! NOOOOOOO!!!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... *...
[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]
CROW: Tom, I will never, ever speak to you again.
TOM: <sniffling> I'm sorry... I didn't know...
MIKE: All right, you guys. Let's get it together. We've got to fight off
this fanfic, and it won't help if we're bickering and arguing over
who killed who. Okay, guys? Team?
CROW: Okay, team.
> Star Trek /#######[)
> The Next Generation \\
> The Marrissa Stories \\____-~-_____
> The Stargazer Missions #O#############
MIKE: The Celestine Prophecy
TOM: The Dragon Reborn
CROW: The Vampire Lestat
> // `-./
> Time Speeder //
MIKE: CHiPs in the 24th-and-a-half century!
> \#######[)
> by Stephen Ratliff (sratliff@runet.edu
CROW: Did you know that if you scramble his name and leave out a few
letters, you get "Saten Filter"?
TOM: Ooh, that's a stretch. You can't even spell Satan right.
CROW: Well, this *is* Ratliff, after all -- I think that's appropriate.
> Dedicated to :
>
> My Dad, Donnie Fred Ratliff, Vulcan and Mister Perfection,
MIKE: I think Steve has a few "issues" to work out with his dad...
CROW: <adult> You'd better have everything under 5 letters spelled right this time, son.
TOM: <kid> Boy, dad, you're really into tough love!
> (Yes that's his real first name,
MIKE: That's just his first name??
> if you don't believe
> it, ask his mother, Ocie)
CROW: Yes, it's Ocie, Steve, and Donnie Fred -- the Beverly Trek-billies!
TOM: <singing> Come listen to a story 'bout a boy named Steve
Wrote some crappy stories, made all the MSTies heave...
> and
>
> The Computer Help Desk at Radford University
MIKE: Too bad they couldn't help him with his writing.
> especially,
>
> Todd Joyce, mister I don't know it all
TOM: Sounds like a typical lab staffer to me.
> Rhonda Smith, the help desk's resident Mom and Mac
> expert
CROW: There, there, a little chicken soup will make that nasty Michelangelo virus go away.
> and
> Bruce Buskill, the closest thing Radford has
> to a repair person for Voyager's Computers.
MIKE: Let me guess - even in the 24th Century, Microsoft makes
you wait an hour on the help line, am I right?
> Prologue
>
> Lyam Sympton was your average human from the outside.
TOM: But on the inside, he was filled with E-Z Cheese.
> You would have never guessed that those brown eyes and brown hair covered a obsessed man.
CROW: Well, if I were covered with eyes and hair, I guess I'd be obsessed, too.
> Most people believed that Starfleet was
MIKE: ...the creation of several tedious, overrated television shows.
> an organization devoted to
> Science and Exploration which also protected the Federation's borders.
TOM: So Starfleet's responsible for stopping the Taco Bell ads?
> Lyam believed that it was a military organization just waiting for an
> opening to take over the Federation.
CROW: But unfortunately there were darn few positions available, and they
always hired from within.
> He was willing to die for his convictions, and he wasn't the only one.
> However times being what they where, he did not need to die.
> He had a plan instead.
MIKE: <Rowan Atkinson> A plan so cunning, you could pin a tail on it and call it a weasel!
> In order to carry out that plan however he needed a constitution class starship.
TOM: ...and two cotton balls, a blender, and a rubber hose.
> This was not an easy item to find but if you looked hard enough one could be bought or 'borrowed'.
CROW: Man, these college scavenger hunts are getting brutal...
> As for why he wanted one, that was simple, perhaps too simple.
MIKE: Perhaps simple enough that this story will need an enormous amount of padding.
TOM: You can bet on it.
> Seeking more information to further his theory on Starfleet a friend of his
> had tapped into Starfleet's mission log recorders.
TOM: Yup, just about anybody can do that, right?
CROW: I wonder if they used a Macintosh Powerbook, like in "Independence Day."
MIKE: Or "Mission: Impossible."
TOM: Or "Hackers."
CROW: Or "The Net."
> In particular, those of the original Enterprise. Lyam laughed at the irony that Starfleet would
> provide it's own undoing.
MIKE: He may be a homicidal maniac, but you gotta admit, he's got a great sense of humor!
> Marrissa Amber Picard, Princess, heir to the throne of Essex, Chief helmsman,
TOM: ...athlete, denture wearer...
> starship Enterprise,
CROW: She's a starship, now, too?
MIKE: <Marrissa> I *am* the starship Enterprise! ZOOOOM!!!
> was packing some of her stuff up in preparation for transfer,
TOM: <Marrissa> Hmmm... Double D batteries... all of Starfleet Barbie's
accessories... oh, where did I put that spray bottle of Riker-Away -
can't let him get too close to me...
> when her adopted father entered her room caring
> the sleeping form of his one and a half year old daughter Jackie. "I knew
> Jackie was annoying you, but enough for you to
CROW: ...kill her?!
> pack for a sleep over at
> Clara's?" her father commented.
CROW: Oh.
> "I'll have to watch her more carefully."
MIKE: And I'll have to make that garbage disposal childproof sometime.
> "Dad, did you even read the transfers you approved last week?"
> Marrissa asked. "I'm packing to join the Stargazer as her second officer
> and fighter commander. You approved."
TOM: <whiny kid voice> Daaaaadd, you said I could!
> "I can honestly say that I just signed them and sent them off,"
> Jean-Luc Picard said. "I didn't even look at them.
CROW: <Picard> You know me. I never look at what I'm signing. That's how
I ended up adopting you, remember?
> You say you are leaving. I didn't know."
MIKE: <singing> You say you're leaving, well I didn't know - let it show, yeah, let it show.
> He kidded lightheartedly.
TOM: Hey, I'd be lighthearted if Marrissa was leaving me.
> "And Vulcan froze over," Marrissa replied.
CROW: Hahaha! Give it up for the future empress of the galaxy, folks!
> "Since you encouraged Lieutenant Lockard to apply for the Chief Tactical Officer
> position and backed him very strongly, after my request pasted your desk
> I'd say you know quite well."
MIKE: Hmmmm... I think some wood glue would be more appropriate.
> "Can I get anything past you?" the Admiral asked.
> "Maybe a torpedo at warp 9," Marrissa joked.
TOM: <Picard> Don't tempt me.
> "You do realize that your pushing Lockard made you lose your chief helmsman, one of your
> more promising Security officers and the assistant chief helmsman."
CROW: He's taken them all hostage.
> "Lieutenant Szustakowski?" her father asked.
ALL: Gesundheit.
> "I haven't seen her request yet."
> "Ross asked her to marry him last night," Marrissa replied.
> "She dropped off the transfer request and a request for you to marry them
MIKE: <Marrissa> But this time don't insist on your right to sleep with the
bride beforehand, okay, Dad?
> while you were singing Jackie to sleep with the Doctor."
TOM: Either Picard was singing a duet with Doctor Crusher, or he was singing
a song called "Jackie" to get Crusher to sleep with him.
CROW: Either way, it's just wrong.
> "Well tell Captain Washington that I sent four of my best when
> you pick her up at Deep Space Nine," Picard said.
MIKE: Your best what? Marbles? Wigs? Eight-sided dice? What?
> "I assume you have taken care of your Kid's crew."
MIKE: <pointing to head> You mean "take care" of them??
CROW: No, no, I mean take her out to dinner, show her a good time...
> "Yes, Clara will take over when I leave," Marrissa said.
> "Alexander moves to first officer, Patterson takes second."
TOM: <Harry Caray> ...just beating the throw by a step!
> "Who replaces Alexander at Ops?" her father asked.
> "You will have to ask Clara that," Marrissa replied. "You
> better get Jackie to bed before she wakes up."
MIKE: Not only is she the best officer in Starfleet history, but now she's giving parenting tips.
> "I will, Marrissa," Admiral Picard responded.
CROW: <John Cleese> Yes, *dear*, I'm doing it, *dear*...
> "Have Princess Clarrissa see me sometime tomorrow."
TOM: I want her to explain it all.
> "I'll tell her royal highness that you wanted to see her," Marrissa responded.
MIKE: <sarcastic> Oh, *thank* you *soooo* much.
> "I assume since you are leaving Kid's Crew command, are you
> giving up the position of supervision officer of all Kid's crew," the Admiral stated.
CROW: *Please* say you're giving up supervision of the Kid's Crew. *Please*.
> "Unfortunately not," Marrissa said. "I told Admiral Necheyev
> that I'd like to foster that position off on Jay Gordon, but she didn't
> see the need for me to leave that position.
TOM: By the way, could you tell me what she meant by "Burn, baby, burn?"
> I've got to be serving in the most unique position in Starfleet.
ALL: *giggle*
MIKE: Okay, can we come up with a clean riff here?
CROW: Um...
TOM: How about, those years of contortionist school are finally paying off!
MIKE: Good work!
> I'll be Starfleet's first fighter commander since fighters went out of service back in 2290.
CROW: Let's hope for a reenactment of "Tora Tora Tora."
> I'm a Lieutenant Commander with clearance of a full Admiral, because I'm also the heir to
> the throne of Essex.
TOM: So Starfleet just hands over top security clearance to royalty on any ol' dumb planet?!
> In addition on the Stargazer I'll have under my command about 30 Cardassians.
MIKE: Woo hoo! Now we have someone to root for!
> If that wasn't enough, I'm the supervising
> officer of the Kid's Crew program, which covers two dozen starships.
CROW: Are they all as annoying as Marrissa's?
> How a shy little girl like me every got in such a position is a mystery."
ALL: *sigh*
TOM: Easy, Marrissa - you've got a bad writer doing your stories for you.
> "Marrissa, you haven't been shy since you broke Sel Rahc Selaw's
> legs," Admiral Picard exclaimed.
MIKE: <Marrissa> Hey, he owed me money!
CROW: Homicidal, yes. Psychotic, yes. Shy, not particularly.
> This of coarse caused Jackie to wake up and yawn.
TOM: We hear ya, darlin'.
> "I told you you should have put her to bed," Marrissa commented.
MIKE: Along with your dreams of becoming a writer, Steve-o.
> "Jackie no bed," the little girl in Admiral Picard's arms said.
CROW: Man, the Sioux must *really* be running out of names to call themselves.
> "Oh yes you are, my little lady," her father replied.
> "Come on Jackie, I'll read you a story," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: Once upon a time, a power-mad 13-year-old overthrew a powerful starfaring society...
> "If you go to bed, you can be up early enough to look over my new ship before
> I leave."
> "'Rissa leave?" Jackie asked.
TOM: <Jackie> Please?
> "Not till tomorrow," Marrissa told her little sister.
> " 'Rissa no leave."
TOM: <Jackie> Damn!
> Chapter One
CROW: Audience 0.
> Clara Sutter and Marrissa were saying their good-byes before the
> Stargazer meet the Enterprise. "I'll miss you Marrissa," Clara said.
MIKE: Well, don't lead her so much then, Clara - just point and squeeze the trigger.
> "I know you will, Clara," Marrissa replied.
TOM: <Marrissa> I know everything, after all.
> "but you are going to leave for Starfleet Academy in a couple months. I'll try to arrange
> to be your transportation."
CROW: I guess she really *is* the starship Enterprise.
> "OK," Clara said. "but, I want you to promise me one thing."
> "What's that," Marrissa asked.
MIKE: Never come back!!
> "Thanks to your encouragement, I have a promising Engineering
> career," Clara said. "Don't get yourself killed.
TOM: <Clara> *I* want to be the one who... uh, never mind.
> I'd like to become Chief Engineer some day and becoming a Queen, as you once said, is not
> conductive to a career in Starfleet."
CROW: What a shocking comment. <pause> See, conductive... electricity... oh well.
> "OK, but you have to promise to take good care of my Kid's
> Crew," Marrissa said. "I put a lot of time into making them the best
> and I don't want it to go to waste."
MIKE: Oh, *your* time, *your* Kid's Crew! What about *my* needs?
> "Deal," Clara promised. "Do you a have any advice for me on that?"
TOM: One word: Ritalin.
> "Just remember that you have to be willing to make the big decisions," Marrissa said.
CROW: <Marrissa> Chemise or teddy? Pink nailpolish or purple? And, of
course, bra or no bra? Of course, that'll never be a problem for *you*....
> "When you are in command, you have 1000+ lives in your hand.
MIKE: Remember to wash it before you eat.
> Be firm and decisive. Hesitation is something to avoid.
TOM: <Marrissa> So is thinking. Just shoot first and ask questions later.
That's what I've always done, and look where it's gotten me!
> Other than that, just be yourself. Don't try to copy anyone else.
CROW: <Marrissa> Not even me, although I *know* you want to, stupid copycatter.
> That leads to defeat."
MIKE: ...and the Dark Side of the Force.
> "Marrissa, you are a fountain of wisdom," Clara replied.
TOM: In the same way a broken toilet is a fountain of wisdom.
> "I'm just repeating what Commander Riker told me," Marrissa responded.
CROW: Well, the clean parts, anyway.
> "Admiral Picard to Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard."
> "Marrissa here."
MIKE: <intercom voice> Oh. Uh, whoops. <background> No luck, she's still here.
> "The Stargazer has arrived," her father said. "They are waiting for you to beam aboard."
TOM: <Marrissa> Oh, they can wait... I'll thrill their little lives soon enough.
> "Tell them I'll be right over, Marrissa out," she said, closing
> the channel, then suddenly nervous she turned to Clara.
CROW: <Marrissa> Um... I've never done this with a girl before, but...
> "Care to walk me to the Transporter Room, Clara?"
> "I'd love to."
MIKE: If only to make sure that you finally leave.
> When Marrissa entered the deck on which transporter room 3 was
> located, she found her entire Kid's crew lined up in their navy blue
> and yellow, red, or medium blue uniform.
TOM: This sounds like the introduction to a logic problem.
> "Attention on deck," Clara ordered. They snapped to attention.
CROW: Ready... aim... FIRE!!!
> As Marrissa walked thought the assembled children she commented,
MIKE: <Marrissa> Oh, you must be the little people I stepped on to get where
I am now. I don't think I ever noticed you before.
> "You managed to keep this a secret, very surprising Clara. I thought I'd
> hear of something like this."
TOM: <Marrissa> I will have my spies executed for this.
> As she reached the transporter room door
> and the end of the line Marrissa turned around. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I
> thank you for your service and friendship on this ship.
CROW: Well, your service, anyway.
> You will find a personal note from me along with a token of my thanks when you return to
> your quarters.
MIKE: Please do not be disturbed when the alien fungus starts growing on your hands.
> It has been my pleasure serving with you." Marrissa entered the transporter room.
ALL: <raucous cheer>
TOM: <kid voice> She's leaving! Our long galactic nightmare is over!!
> Inside the room her Kid's crew command crew and the Adult Command crew stood.
CROW: The Adult crew is the one with the skimpy leather uniforms.
> Clara took her place behind the console. "Well '
> this is a surprise," Marrissa commented as the door closed.
MIKE: A dull surprise, apparently.
> "You didn't give us much time, but the Command Crew of the
> Enterprise-E would like to convey it's appreciation of your service
> aboard this ship," Admiral Jean-Luc Picard said.
TOM: ...and its even greater appreciation of your *future* service *not* aboard this ship.
> "Since you have shown a certain fondness for commemorative plaques, we made one for you.
CROW: That's Marrissa -- she's fond of any sort of trophy honoring her dominance.
> It reads,
MIKE: Dear Marrissa: Bite me. Sincerely, the crew of Enterprise-E.
> For her service on board both the Enterprise-D and E the
> command staff of the USS Enterprise awarded Lieutenant
> Commander Marrissa Amber Picard,
TOM: <Marrissa> Flores, you forgot the Flores! I am displeased, infidel!
> Princess of Essex,
> and heir to throne of that world,
CROW: Yes, folks, just in case you forgot, Marrissa is also heir to the
throne of Essex. We cannot stress this fact enough.
> this plaque on STARDATE
> 50534. It is but a small token of how much her service on
> board this ship have meant. Signed,
> Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, Commanding Officer;
MIKE: Why is he still in command if he's an Admiral? I thought only Captains did that.
> Commander William Thomas Riker, First Officer;
CROW: Hey, waitaminute -- he wrote his phone number down here....
> Commander Beverly Picard, Chief Medical Officer;
> Commander Deanna Troi, Ship's Counselor;
> Lieutenant Commander Data, Second Officer and Chief of Operations;
TOM: <announcer> Thrill as Ratliff recites the entire cast list!
> Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge, Chief Engineer;
> Lieutenant Commander Worf son of Mog, Chief of Security."
MIKE: I'm a Mog -- half-man, half-dog. I'm my own best friend!
> Admiral Jean-Luc Picard handed Marrissa the mahogany plaque.
> "Remember to call once in a while," he said as she took it.
CROW: <Marrissa> Yeah, whatever. Hand over the loot.
> "I will," Marrissa said. Then Clara Sutter came forward. She
> was also holding a plaque but hers was gold on oak.
TOM: <Clara> You better like this -- we robbed three Starbases to pay for it.
> "Marrissa, the Kid's Crew was very sorry to here that you were leaving," Clara said.
MIKE: <Clara> We were hoping you'd die in action, and that we'd be there to see it.
> "So we stayed up all night working on this.
CROW: <Clara> The popsicle sticks and glitter were my idea.
> Our plaque to you reads :
TOM: We've always hated you. Sincerely, the Kids Crew. P.S. Get stuffed.
> To Princess-Lieutenant Marrissa Picard From the Kid's
> Crew of the USS Enterprise. We will miss you.
MIKE: We're feeling kind today, and will only fire warning shots.
> We have
> known no others like you.
CROW: Oops, that should read, "We have known no others *who* like you."
> We believe no one can
> replace you.
TOM: At least we hope not.
> Your encouragement has meant a lot to us.
> Never once did you use harsh words with us.
MIKE: Beatings, public humiliation, sure. But never harsh words.
CROW: Of course, the leather strap was strangely pleasant...
> You were
> always their for us. If we had problems weather at
> school,
TOM: Problem weather at school?
MIKE: Oh, you know - tornadoes in the locker rooms, hurricanes in study hall,
flash floods when people flush all the toilets at once - that sort of thing.
> in the Kid's crew, or at home, your door was
> open.
CROW: We'd walk in, explain our problems... then you'd laugh and shove us
out the door. We'll never forget that.
> You were our most valued friend
TOM: This must be some new use of the word "friend" that I'm not aware of.
>
> "It is signed by all 115 current Kid's crew members."
MIKE: <Clara> That's why it's four feet tall. Um, we thought you were taking
your steamer trunk...
> Clara handed the now tearful Princess the plaque, she said, "Marrissa,
> you left me with a very tough act to follow."
> "It's not that hard," Marrissa replied. "I thank you all for
> your kind words. If there is nothing further?"
CROW: <Marrissa> I'm getting bored with you mere mortals. Can I go now?
> As she couldn't detect anything she began to walk towards the transporter platform.
> "There is one more thing," Commander Data said.
TOM: <Data> We would like you to paint this huge neon bullseye on your shuttlecraft.
> "Since this will be the first time you have had your own quarters, I thought it
> would be appropriate to give you this painting." Data pulled
ALL: <cover their eyes>
> a beautiful
> painting of five children coming out of a jungle.
ALL: *whew*!
> The middle one was obviously a younger Marrissa.
MIKE: You could tell by the golden halo surrounding her head.
> To her right stood a eight year-old Jay
> Gordon and to her left Alexander. To the far right stood Clara Sutter
> and the Far left Shayna Sachs.
TOM: It's like a really disturbing version of Da Vinci's "Last Supper."
> Marrissa appeared to be examining her tricorder.
CROW: But you couldn't tell for sure because it was a really crappy painting.
> Jay and Alexander held their phasers out
MIKE: ...at each other.
TOM: John Woo's "Time Speeder."
> and Clara and Shayna
> appeared to be walking as if it was a Sunday stroll. "I call it 'An Early Mission.'"
MIKE: I call it "Horror on Canvas."
TOM: I call it "A Baaad Flashback."
CROW: I call it "Five Convincing Arguments For Retroactive Abortion."
MIKE: <shocked> Crow!
CROW: What?
> "Thank you, Data," Marrissa said as she accepted the gift. "It
> really brings back that field trip.
CROW: It really brings back our lunches.
TOM: URP!
> Although I'd have to say that Shayna had a different expression."
MIKE: She was holding a phaser on Marrissa and screaming, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"
> Back with the rest of the Kid's Crew Command Crew, Shayna blushed.
CROW: <Shayna> Look, we were young and I'd never been camping with boys before...
> "By the way Clara, since I'm leaving,
TOM: ...I just wanted to remind you that you'll never amount to anything.
> you might want to reissue my standing order
>to Shayna never to say 'How much further' again."
MIKE: Ha ha! Marrissa controls what you can say and think! And it's *funny*!
> "Consider it done," Clara responded, looking at Shayna.
CROW: <Shayna> Thanks, you done? You want me to collapse in shame, is that
it? Am I your punching bag?
> Marrissa finally mounted the transporter pad
TOM: <muttering> Since none of the other boys would touch her...
> and said. "Permission to disembark, Admiral?"
MIKE: <Picard> Yes. Go away.
> "Granted and Smooth Sailing, Commander," was Admiral Jean-Luc
> Picards reply to his adopted daughter.
CROW: Is it too late for him to give her back?
> "Remember I'll be inspecting the Stargazer at 1500 hours."
> "Yes, sir. Energize."
TOM: Star Trek: it keeps going and going and...
> Marrissa materialized in the transporter room of her new ship,
> the USS Stargazer NCC-2893.
MIKE: Formerly known as the USS Mary Celeste.
> The first thing she noticed was the increased complexity of the room.
CROW: Whoa... *two* colors of wallpaper!
> The next thing she noticed was a man she met a
> couple years back. "Permission to come aboard, Admiral Scott?"
TOM: The next thing she noticed was the increased complexity of Admiral Scott.
MIKE: <Marrissa> Yikes! I didn't know Starfleet *made* uniforms that big!
> "Granted, lassie," Scotty replied.
CROW: <Scotty> I'm Scottish, by the way!
> "Or should I be calling yea Princess?"
> "Just Marrissa will be fine," Marrissa responded.
TOM: Or 'High Lord and Master.'
> "I dislike titles, although I've accumulated a lot of them.
ALL: <laugh>
MIKE: Oh, come on! Marrissa dislikes titles the same way Courtney Love
dislikes getting high once in a while.
> What are you doing aboard?"
CROW: It's more fun than floating around in the vacuum outside.
> "I came aboard to see to the final tests, then I discovered that
> you'd be going to my next stop so I hitched a ride. I assume you consider
> yourself aboard?"
TOM: No, I think I'm more of a lampshade. Yeesh.
> "Of coarse," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: I consider myself a coarse board!
> "Computer Recognize Scott, Admiral Montgomery, and transfer
> command to Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Amber Picard, per Starfleet orders.
> "Transfer complete, USS Stargazer is now under the command of
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard."
CROW: <computer> God help us all.
> "I though as an Admiral, you would want to be in command," Marrissa stated.
TOM: Standard Ratliffian regulations. Youngest and/or lowest-ranking
officer on board is automatically given command.
> "Marrissa, my lass, I never wanted command," Scotty said.
MIKE: Unless it was of something over 80 proof.
> "I just took the promotions so I could do my job better and with less
> interference from paper pushers."
CROW: Though the million-dollar raises are nice too.
> "Since our Chief Engineer has yet to be assigned, I assume you
> are filling that position?" Marrissa asked.
> "Aye."
TOM: Filling it out quite thoroughly, I'm sure.
MIKE: With enough left over for two or three *other* positions.
> "What's the dirtiest place on the ship?" Marrissa asked.
CROW: That'd be the Red Light district, deck 12.
> "It's just been refit so it's petty clean, but I'd have to say
> Jefferies Tube 45 near the recycling center," Scotty replied.
TOM: Recycling center?! What, does it turn old aluminum cans into antimatter?
> "Then we better clean it up," Marrissa said. "My father, Admiral Picard
MIKE: One more time, just in case you forgot -- Picard is Marrissa's father. Got it?
CROW: I think so.
> is giving an inspection before we leave. So, I better get
> the start of his tour cleaned while you might want to clean up Engineering."
CROW: ...since there's just two us on this ship...
> "Where will he start?" Scotty asked.
> "The same place he started every inspection on the Enterprise in
> the last three years, my quarters," Marrissa replied leaving the room.
TOM: He's always lookin' for my stash, man!
> Marrissa entered the suite of rooms dedicated for the use of the
> Second Officer. They were located next to the Ship's bar which was named
> Seven Slightly Starboard for it's location.
ALL: <weak laughter>
MIKE: Does it hurt much being *you*, Steve-o?
> Marrissa paused for a moment
> as the irony of the fact that the only officer on board who wasn't of
> legal age's quarters would be next to the bar hit her.
CROW: So the Ages have quarters... and the bar hit Marrissa?
TOM: <Marrissa> Ow! I've been hit by a serious collapse of syntax!
> The first room she entered was an office. In contained a desk, a couple chairs and a
> sofa under the window. The desk was perpendicular to outside wall. She
> hung the painting Data had given her behind the desk.
MIKE: Okay, this is a logic puzzle, right? He's going to ask us "on what wall
did she hang the painting?" or "how long did it take to reach Starbase 32?"
> Across the room was the door to the rest of her quarters, next to the replicator.
CROW: Uh-oh-- if she hits the wrong button, we have to deal with multiple Marrissas!
> She walked though it
TOM: She walked through the replicator?
> to discover a well apportioned room with a table and three
> chairs, another sofa and a double bed.
MIKE: <Marrissa> They expect me to live in *this* closet? Where am I going to
put all my commemorative plaques and pictures of me? There's no mirror
over my bed, either! I'll have someone's career for this!
> The far wall sported another opening which lead to a bathroom with a real tub, perfect
>for Marrissa's bubble baths.
CROW: Don't go there, Ratliff... no matter *how* much you want to.
> As Marrissa exited the bathroom her door chimed.
TOM: Maybe it'll be Norman Bates?
MIKE: We should be so lucky.
> Walking back to her office, Marrissa said, "Come."
[A man's shadow appears on the left side of the theater. He is wearing a
robe -- leopard skin, most likely -- and is holding a pipe.]
CZAPLINSKI: Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah YEAH!
[The man disappears.]
CROW: Well. *That* was strange.
> A young woman entered tentatively. She was carrying the rest of Marrissa's belongings.
> "The Quartermaster said you wanted this," she said, indicating
> the stuff she was carrying.
MIKE: Starfleet discovered to have enlisted personnel! Film at 11!
> "Just put it on my desk, Crewman ?" Marrissa
> said indicating that she wanted to know the older woman's name.
CROW: <shakes head> Gotta give it to Ratliff - he writes what he knows.
TOM: And what he knows is clumsiness.
> "Peterson, Yeoman Diane Peterson," the crewman replied. "The
> Quartermaster has assigned me to be your yeoman."
MIKE: Ouch. What'd she do to deserve that - sell Federation secrets to the Cardassians?
> "Well then, Yeoman, get ready for a lot of work," Marrissa
> responded. "I probably hold the most jobs of anyone on the ship."
CROW: That is, if you include running your mouth, self-worship, and otherwise
being an annoying twink as jobs.
> "How so?" Yeoman Peterson asked, curious. "I know you are Second Officer, but what else?"
ALL: *sigh*
TOM: Here we go again, folks -- another recitation of Marrissa's titles.
> "I'm also Fighter Commander," Marrissa responded.
MIKE: Well, wing commander, really, but there's some sort of copyright trouble.
> "Plus I'm also the coordinating officer for all the Kid's Crews in the fleet.
CROW: <Peterson> *You're* the one to blame for that?
> If that weren't enough, I've got the responsibilities outside Starfleet of
> being the heir to the constitutional monarchy of Essex.
TOM: <Marrissa> And I was the made the Warrior-Goddess of Kricfalusi 18 when
the Vulture People attacked the peaceful Eagle kingdom and I fought them
all off all by myself, yes I did, and, and, and I got a magic sword and
big crown and everything!
MIKE: Careful, Tom - you're probably giving Ratliff ideas for the next Marrissa story.
TOM: D'oh!
> I've got to get Victoria to get married." The last was said under her breath.
> "It sounds like I'll be busy, Commander," Yeoman Peterson responded.
CROW: <Peterson> Well, I *suppose* I could marry Victoria...
> "Call me Marrissa, I have a dislike for titles," Marrissa said.
TOM: <laughs> You keep saying that and it's JUST NOT TRUE!
> Then seeing Peterson's puzzled glance she continued. "I simply have too many of them."
MIKE: Kinda like Ratliff fanfics - even one is too many.
> Chapter Two
CROW: Second verse, same as the first!
> Marrissa had what little she had of staff assembled in transporter room 4 to greet
>her father's inspection party. "The Admiral and his party are signaling that they are ready to beam
> aboard," Scotty said.
TOM: I don't think that's what the middle-finger signal means, Scotty.
> "Beam the over, Scotty," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: Beam the *what* over?
> Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, Doctor Beverly Picard, their youngest daughter Jackie (in a
>white dress something that she rarely wore for obvious reasons),
CROW: Which are...?
MIKE: Too obvious to share with the reader, I guess.
> and of all people Guinan materialized on the transporter platform.
> "Permission to come aboard, Commander?" Admiral Picard asked.
> "Permission granted," Marrissa replied. "May I introduce my staff?"
CROW: <Picard> No. Smeg off.
> "Certainly," Picard replied.
TOM: <Curly> Nyuck-nyuck.
> "Admiral Montgomery Scott, acting as chief engineer
> until the regular one arrives," Marrissa began.
MIKE: In the meantime, we'll make do with the constipated one.
> "Lieutenant Sam Lavelle, acting as chief operations officer;
CROW: ...and Jerry Mathers as the Beaver.
> Lieutenant Ross Lockard, Chief Tactical Officer;
TOM: Wasn't he Ross LOCHARD is the last story?
CROW: You paid that close attention?
> and Doctor Jackson Johnson, chief medical officer."
MIKE: Jackson Johnson is right!
> "Commander, shall we begin the inspection?" Admiral Picard asked.
CROW: If this involves rubber gloves, I'm leaving.
> "Certainly, I assume you want to start in the same
> place as on the Enterprise?" Marrissa responded.
> "Yes."
TOM: An inspired choice, sir. <sotto voce> Schmuck.
> "If you don't mind I'll be in Seven Slightly Starboard," Guinan said.
MIKE: I'd like to inspect the stock carefully, if you get my meaning.
> "I have to check up on my daughter while you check up on yours."
CROW: Huh? Guinan's *daughter*?!
TOM: Steve's handing out children at random now!
> "Does my room meet with your approval, Admiral?"
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard asked her father.
MIKE: <Marrissa> If it doesn't, I can have the Yeoman killed.
> "It does, Marrissa," Jean-Luc Picard replied. "One more thing though,
CROW: <Picard> I noticed the box of condoms, and I think it's time we had a little talk...
> one painting is simply not enough for ones quarters.
TOM: No one can eat just one.
> But I think I can remedy that. Admiral Picard to Enterprise, time for my package."
ALL: OH NO!!! <dive for cover>
> Another painting materialized.
ALL: Oh.
MIKE: Whew!
> This one was of Marrissa on the bridge of the Enterprise-D,
CROW: Must have been a self-portrait, signed "An Egotist."
TOM: <French accent> Egotiste!
MIKE: <French accent> Egotiste!
CROW: <French accent> Egotiste!
> standing between Ops and CONN.
TOM: I thought that was where Rhode Island was.
> On the viewscreen was a Cardassian Galor Class Starship with
> the sentence 'I was beaten by a bunch of Kids' written across the port blade.
MIKE: Boy, all the memories this story is dredging up!
CROW: This is the Ratliff equivalent of a clip show.
> "Mister Data isn't the only one aboard the Enterprise who can paint.
TOM: Unfortunately, I'm not the other one.
> I call it 'First Command'."
MIKE: I call it spinach, and I say to hell with it!
> "Thank you Dad," Marrissa said. "It will be perfect
> on that blank wall opposite my bed."
CROW: The blank spot over the garbage disposal.
> "Your welcome," Jean-Luc Picard replied. "Now lets go
> see how dirty Jackie got playing in Jefferies tube 45 near the recycling center."
TOM: Yeah, let's see if she's been split into her component molecules yet.
MIKE: If she's covered in antimatter again, I'm *not* touching her.
> "So that's why Jackie had the white dress on," Marrissa replied.
> "I've never been above using my daughters to test crews," Jean-Luc said.
ALL: Boooooo!
CROW: Stephen Ratliff, have you, at long last, no shame?
> "I remember the Maine," Marrissa said.
TOM: Do you remember the Alamo, too?
> "I also remember running scores of scores of drills for you in the
> last two years. I just didn't think you could use my little sister yet."
ALL: <retch>
> "That's why I'm the Admiral and you are a Lieutenant Commander," Jean-Luc replied.
MIKE: This exchange is just so wrong on so many levels....
> "I'm paid to find things for my crew to do,
CROW: God knows Ratliff could use some help.
> you are paid to follow orders."
TOM: <German accent> Sieg heil! Sieg heil!
> "Give me another three to five years and I'll be in the Captain's chair," Marrissa responded.
MIKE: I'd rather just give you three to five years.
CROW: And she'll be in the *electric* chair, more likely.
> Jean-Luc Picard was momentarily shocked. "You really
> want to shatter that youngest Captain's record don't you."
TOM: Why not? She's already shattered the youngest captain's kneecaps!
> "I intend to have held all of the youngest records," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: And Marrissa "dislikes titles," eh?
> "Clara may have taken the youngest Ensign from me but
CROW: <Marrissa> ...I'm going to steal him back!
> I doubt anyone will take the rest away. I mean
> can you see a Lieutenant at less than 13 years?
TOM: <singing> Looking at you, I see the boredom, listening to you, I hear the ego....
> Plus some officers already think they could had my position as
> Lieutenant Commander because I just turned 15."
MIKE: Oh, how I long for the Tracy-and-Hepburn-like dialogue of "Family Circus."
> "You have a point, I don't think anyone will beat your records," her father said.
CROW: Your hide, maybe. But not your records.
> "But I still don't think you will beat the Captain's record of 26."
TOM: Not if you know what's good for you. The last Lieutenant Commander to do
so had an unfortunate... accident. And I *do* worry about your health.
> "Dad, I have 11 years to make Captain, you jumped from
> Lieutenant to Captain in one jump," Marrissa said.
MIKE: Jean-Luc was nimble, Jean-Luc was quick, Jean-Luc jumped over the
command structure in one leap.
> "Are you saying that even though I've bested your promotion rate by a factor
> of three, I won't beat that 4 years?"
CROW: <Marrissa> Face it, Daddy -- I'm better, stronger, and faster than you ever were!
> "You have a point."
TOM: ...atop your head.
> Meanwhile in Seven Slightly Starboard, Guinan was talking to her daughter who
>appeared to be about 20 years old,
MIKE: ...but was actually 13, in keeping with Ratliff regulations.
> "Being in charge of a Starship's bar isn't like your previous endeavors, Mary."
CROW: That Queen of Scotland thing, for one.
> "It isn't? that's good," Mary replied. "I kind of
> prefer not having to clean up after hotel guests.
MIKE: Now you get to clean up after drunken barflies.
> I really wished you hadn't leave me in charge of that bed and
> breakfast back when the Enterprise-D was commissioned."
TOM: Guinan's Bed and Breakfast? <giggle>
> "You still will have to clean up after the occasional bar fight," Guinan replied.
CROW: Plus, when Scotty overdoes it, you'll have a real mess to deal with.
> "I suggest you get permission from the Chief of Security to keep a weapon behind the bar.
MIKE: What, does Ratliff think this is a Klingon ship?
> And as for the bed and breakfast ... what are you complaining about, you ran a 20 percent
>profit and were booked solid for the last 10 years."
TOM: Yes, profit is much more important than enjoying life.
> "After watching you do it for 80 years, heck since I
> was born," Mary replied. "I should know how. By the way do
> you really think that new owner can do a good job?"
> "No, he doesn't have your charm, and since someone
> messed up the waterfalls, the place was going to go down
> hill anyway," Guinan said.
CROW: Now that the water falls *up*, nobody wants to stay there anymore.
> "But we did sell it at a 300 percent profit."
MIKE: What, is Guinan a Ferengi all of a sudden? Since when did she become
so interested in money?
> "By the way, mother, you promised you'd tell me who my
> father is when I turned 90," Mary said. "Your time is up as of two hours ago."
TOM: <Guinan> Oh all right. You're adopted. You're one of Shatner's.
MIKE: Ouch!
> "I knew I was forgetting something," Guinan said.
CROW: Today's your birthday? Damn, I knew I was forgetting something.
Fine, here's five dollars. Now go get mommy her "medicine."
> "Happy Birthday ... but I still can't tell."
> "Mother," Mary whined.
TOM: Ah, deeply dysfunctional families *are* fun.
MIKE: Am I the only one longing for an attack by the Borg right about now?
> Lyam Sympton was ready to move.
TOM: His old neighborhood had really gone downhill.
> A group of his colleagues had joined him in his private yacht, the Starfleet's Bane.
TOM: 'Cause, see, he hates Starfleet and stuff...
MIKE: A nice, innocuous name like that wouldn't attract any attention from Starfleet, now would it?
> They were just entering the Zed-15 Depot Yard.
CROW: Zed's dead, baby.
> Their objective was the decommissioned USS Eagle NCC-956.
TOM: In space no one can hear you ride through the desert on a horse with no name.
> "Have they detected us?" Lyam asked his comrade and
> Engineering Specialist, Boris Gutanhoff.
MIKE: And his lovely sidekick Natasha.
> "I don't think so," Boris replied.
TOM: <Russian accent> Now we keel moose and squirrel!
> "Ready Boarding parties, Frank," Lyam ordered.
CROW: <Dr. Forrester> Push the button, Frank!
MIKE: Crow, that was *eerie*!
> "Boris, I want that ship operational ASAP."
> "I'll do my best," Boris responded. "Hopefully they won't have stripped it too much."
TOM: Like I said, the old neighborhood's really gone downhill...
> Moment's latter a half a dozen hired guns beamed on board the Eagle.
MIKE: ...and clattered to the floor.
CROW: D'oh! Troops! That's what we forgot!
TOM: <goofy voice> Better get Kooky the Klown off the transporter controls!
> They fanned out and checked out the empty ship.
MIKE: <sleazy voice> Sssaaaaayyyyyy... nice *nacelles* there, Eagle. Come to
this depot often?
> Signaling all clear, the leader requested that the Engineer be beamed aboard. Boris got
>right to work on the shuttlebay doors.
CROW: <Bob Villa> Now, we're going to plane these down, and then put a couple
of nice stained glass windows on the front...
> Despite the fact that the Eagle had been out of service for more than 80 years, the bay
>doors still opened allowing the Starfleet's Bane to squeeze into the bay.
ALL: <grunting, squeezing sounds>
TOM: Okay... put 'er down in the hijackers-only space.
> Lyam Sympton exited the yacht. "Welcome aboard,
> Captain," Boris said.
> "How is our transportation Boris?" Lyam asked.
> "No weapons but she'll go fast enough to break the speed limit
MIKE: Speed limit?
CROW: Yeah, there was that episode where they find out that if they go over a
certain warpspeed they tear holes in the fabric of space. Or something.
MIKE: Then how come every succeeding episode of Trek has ignored that?
CROW: Because it was a really dumb idea?
MIKE: Oh. Yeah.
> and get us where or shall I say when we're going," Boris replied.
> "Then lets get under way before the supply yard notices us," Lyam ordered.
ALL: <laugh>
TOM: <guard> Hey, Ted, anything happening out there?
CROW: <guard> Well, a ship called Starfleet's Bane cruised by a few minutes
ago and reactivated one of our biggest warhorses. Nah, nothing suspicious.
> "I'll be on the Bridge."
TOM: Hey guys, let's get underway before the fanfic notices us.
MIKE: Good idea.
[Mike and the bots exit the theater.]
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Crow and Tom are behind the counter. Crow is wearing a large, goofy,
Guinan-style hat. Tom is wearing a similar hat, but his is much smaller.
Mike, who is standing off-screen to the right, ducks in front of the camera.]
MIKE: And now, Tom and Crow will re-enact the scene between Guinan and
Mary from today's fanfic, "Time Speeder."
[Mike vanishes to the right. Cambot zooms in on Tom and Crow.]
CROW: Hi, Mary!
TOM: Hello, *mother*.
CROW: Long time no see! When *did* I abandon you to that horrible bed and
breakfast, anyway -- fifty, sixty years ago?
TOM: Gee, I don't know, it seemed more like five hundred.
CROW: Oh, what are you complaining about? You made a ton of cash!
TOM: So? I wasted the best years of my life in that dumpster of a bed and breakfast!
CROW: You ran at a 300 percent profit. That's all that matters.
TOM: But you stole my youth from me! <sigh> Anyway. I don't suppose you've
sobered up enough from your neverending rum-and-Coke binge to remember
that today is my birthday, have you?
CROW: Today's your birthday? <pause> Oh yeah! I guess it is!
TOM: Uh huh. Well, don't feel bad that you forgot. I've gotten used to
that over the last ninety years. In fact, when was the last time you
even realized I existed? Or mentioned me to anybody else? Why is it
that everyone you know doesn't know you even had a daughter?
CROW: Um... the subject just never came up, that's all. Nobody asked me if I had a daughter, so...
TOM: And while you're at it, how about telling me who my father is, hmmm?
CROW: Well, see, I can't, because... <pause> Why wouldn't I? This doesn't
make any sense. I can't do this, Mike!
[Mike steps back in front of Cambot.]
MIKE: Crow, what are you doing?! You're stepping out of character!
CROW: But I don't understand the character I'm trying to step *into*! Mike, Guinan on
TNG is *completely* different from Ratliff's version of her! On the show, Guinan
doesn't have a daughter, and she's wise and kind and stuff. But Ratliff makes
her seem greedy and callous and mean and irresponsible...
MIKE: Crow, this is Ratliff. *Every* character is written that way.
CROW: I know, but this is different somehow.
TOM: You know what I think? I think Ratliff's being a racist bastard.
MIKE: Huh?
TOM: Don't you see? Guinan is black, and in Steve's little world, that
means she wouldn't know who the father of her child is. Ratliff's
Guinan is a 24th century version of the stereotypical inner-city welfare mom.
MIKE: Oh, I don't know...
CROW: Well, it *would* make sense. Ratliff *is* from the South, after all.
TOM: <harsh whisper> Crow, no!
CROW: What?
MIKE: I think you may be reading a little too much into this. Come on, let's finish out the skit.
TOM: What, now? After all of this pontification?
MIKE: What else would you suggest we do? Just sit quietly until the next Fanfic Sign?
CROW: Well, yeah! I know *I* can't go on after this.
MIKE: Um... okay.
[Mike, Tom, and Crow sit quietly for a bit. Then lights and buzzers go off,
and the typical pandemonium ensues.]
ALL: WE GOT FANFIC SIGN!!!
MIKE: ...thank God!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... *...
[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]
MIKE: Well, *that* was odd...
> Chapter Three
>
> Captain's Log
> USS Stargazer NCC-2893
TOM: Can we expect a replay of what happened to the last Stargazer?
MIKE: Don't think so, Tommy.
TOM: Darn.
> STARDATE 51371.35
> Lieutenant Commander Picard recording until the arrival of the Captain
> We are currently proceeding to Deep Space Nine to pick up
> Captain T'Gwen Washington and the Cardassian members of our crew. In
> route we are to enforce the speed limit of warp 5 for the older model warp engine.
CROW: We noticed a major invasion force coming in this morning, but that's
not part of our jurisdiction.
> Marrissa surveyed the bridge of the Stargazer.
MIKE: ...and then bid four no-trump.
> In front of her was the CONN position where Lieutenant Katherine Lochard was working.
TOM: And it's LOCHARD again, instead of LOCKARD.
CROW: Jeez, Stephen -- pick a spelling and stay with it!
> Over on the forward port corner, stood the Operations console where some
> ensign Marrissa didn't know sat.
MIKE: Ensign Throwaway?
> Next to the Captains chair on the right was a seat for the First Officer. She
>wondered how long it would take her to get use to a Cardassian in that position.
TOM: Okay folks, we're gonna let you make up your own joke here.
> Directly behind her between the turbolifts was tactical. Lieutenant Ross Lochard was
> seated there, not quite use to having a chair.
CROW: Normally, Ross is strung up from the ceiling by his ankles.
MIKE: It's a wonder anyone makes it to Captain with their knees intact.
> On the port side of the bridge was the Engineering station, currently unmanned. To the
> Starboard was the Fighter Command consoles where Marrissa would probably
> spend most of her time on the bridge. Below that station was one of the
> unique features of the refitted Stargazer.
TOM: The video poker games.
> Since the Tactical, Engineering and Fighter Command needed more room on a fighter carrier
> than most ships, their had not been enough room to put the Ready room
> and Conference Room off the Bridge so a staircase led down to the floor
> below were they had been relocated.
CROW: Gosh. How unique.
> "Captain, I'm detecting a vessel exceeding warp 5," Ross said.
MIKE: <Ross> Can I turn on the siren now? Pretty please??
> "Operations?" Marrissa asked
TOM: The goofy game for loopy lieutenants?
> "Warp signature confirmed, civilian pre-refined warp drive," the
> ensign replied. Traveling at warp 7.32"
MIKE: Real Stories of the Highway Patrol!
> "Registration?" Marrissa inquired.
CROW: <jock> Oh, yeah, I hate that, too - you gotta wait in line to get the
classes you want, and then some dink physics major with tape on his
glasses gets it just `cause he's got a better GPA than you--
MIKE: Crow! Snap out of it!
CROW: *shakes his head* aggida-aggida-aggida. Sorry, Mike.
> "The ship is transmitting the registry of DSK-63689, which is
> listed as the Freeport Rover out of Carse," Ross replied.
MIKE: Johnny Carse?
CROW: <Carson> I won't say the Freeport Rover is slow, but it took it all
day to get to first base with Madonna!
TOM: <Ed McMahon> Hey-oooo!
> "Kathy set a coarse to intercept them in 5 minutes," Marrissa ordered.
TOM: I need a moment to freshen up before we have guests.
> "Hail them Ensign. Ross, give me the full record of this ship's traffic violations.
MIKE: How can there be traffic violations in outer space?
TOM: Mike, this is Ratliff; he probably thinks that traffic cops *are* aliens.
CROW: Y'know, I don't think Ratliff ever even got his driver's license.
TOM: Yeah - he probably had a "Magic" tournament to go to that day.
> Something tells me this is a repeat offender."
CROW: <Marrissa> My Spidey sense is tingling.
> "The Freeport Rover is responding," the ensign at operations replied.
TOM: It's sitting on its hind legs and begging, sir! <quietly> Cause, see,
it's the Freeport 'Rover'... heh heh...
> "On screen," Marrissa responded as Ross handed her a PADD over her shoulder.
> A black haired man appeared on the screen, "This is the
> Freeport Rover out of Carse, why are you chasing us?" he asked.
MIKE: Let me guess - they're following Phil Silvers, Ethel Merman, and
Spencer Tracy to that place with the palm trees?
> "I am Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, presently commanding
> the Starfleet vessel Stargazer," Marrissa said.
CROW: ...and that's reason enough! Nyah!
> "I'm certain that you know your ship is going 2.35 warp factors above what is permitted for
> your warp core design.
TOM: Somehow I don't think this is quite what Gene Roddenberry had in mind...
> I'm afraid I'm going to have to issue a speeding ticket.
MIKE: I'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, sir... would you mind opening the trunk for me?
> Prepare to receive my boarding party."
CROW: Woo! It's like there's a party in my ship and everyone's invited!
> "That won't be necessary," the Freeport Rover's Captain replied.
TOM: <singing> And it's no, nay, never, no never, no more, will I play
Freeport Rover, never, no more...
> "I'm sure we can make arrangements that so you won't have to come
> aboard. It would save us both some time and mean a lot of money."
MIKE: Either that, or edit me out of this story - just so I don't have to
talk to you any more.
> "Sorry, Captain, but I must insist," Marrissa replied. "Plus it
> seems that you are going to have to be charged with bribery.
MIKE: <Captain> But I was just going to recommend a good 401(k) plan!
> Lieutenant Lochard, is your Security team ready?"
> "Yes, Captain," Ross replied.
> "My security team will be arriving in two minutes," Marrissa informed.
CROW: <hoarse> Pepper, I'm sending you undercover to the Freeport Rover.
> "Stargazer out. Ross, did you notice that barrel in the upper left hand corner?"
TOM: Get in.
> "You mean the one which was labeled, Medical substance, bio-mumentic gel," Ross replied.
MIKE: Don't worry, that's part of his act.
> "I saw it. I also wish to note that the Freeport Rover is lacking the necessary permits to carry it."
CROW: Yeah! In the future every ship that uses a red barrel is going to need permits.
<TOM loudly clears his throat>
CROW: Oh... yeah....
> "I think we better call for some one to pick up the Freeport
> Rover and prepare to deviate to the nearest Starbase," Marrissa said.
> "I'll expect you to return with the Captain of that vessel.
MIKE: <Goldfinger> No, Marrissa -- I expect you to die!
> Dismissed."
>
> Meanwhile on the Eagle,
TOM: And now, this quick word from the plot.
> the anti-Starfleetites where ready to move.
CROW: Anti-Starfleetites? Isn't that the longest word in the dictionary?
TOM: No, I'm pretty sure the Anti-Starfleetites played at Red Rocks last summer.
MIKE: I've got it! It's the only thing that can kill Superman, right?
> "Lyam, all systems are ready," Boris said.
> "John set a coarse for Proxima Centauri, Warp 7," Lyam ordered.
TOM: And now, back to more Ratliff.
> Captain's Log
> USS Stargazer NCC-2893
> STARDATE 51372.35
> Lieutenant Commander Picard recording until the arrival of the Captain
MIKE: Hey... why is the ship on patrol without a captain?! Instead of handing
out speeding tickets, shouldn't they be going to pick her up?
> We have dropped off the Freeport Rover and her crew at Starbase 329 to await trail.
TOM: Mark Trail?
> With all the evidence against her, there is a great likelihood that the Freeport Rover
>will become property of the Federation Government.
MIKE: Just to make sure, we planted a bloody glove on the ship. There's no
*way* they're getting off!
> Later that evening, Marrissa organized a poker game in Seven Slightly Starboard.
CROW: Poker? I don't even know her!
> Among the participants were, Lieutenants Ross and
> Katherine Lochard, Lieutenant Sam Lavelle, and Admiral Montgomery Scott.
TOM: Remember, these people are *nothing* without their ranks.
> "I'll see your ten, and raise you 5 lassie," Scotty said.
MIKE: <Marrissa> I'll see your 5... and *stop* calling me a dog!
> "I fold," Katherine said.
TOM: I bend.
MIKE: I crinkle.
CROW: I scream in agony as we start yet another scene with no hope of action.
> "I'm in," Ross stated.
TOM: --to humiliation, if he voluntarily continues to serve under Marrissa.
> "I'll see your 15 and raise you 10," Lavelle called.
> "Sam, you really should work on your bluff," Marrissa said.
MIKE: <Dean Stockwell> Sam, work on that bluff as I send you into the body of Al Capone...
> "I'll see you and raise 10."
> "Too rich for my blood, lassie," Scotty said. "I fold."
> "I'll see you and raise you 20," Sam Lavelle stated.
> "I'll see your 20 and raise you 50," Marrissa said.
CROW: If I see *any* of you I'll raise a militia and have you all shot.
> "Watch those cards, Kathy, Marrissa's got something," Ross asserted.
TOM: ...and it may be contagious.
MIKE: Contagious and fatal, I hope.
> "I ... fold," Sam said.
> "Like I said, work on that bluff," Marrissa said.
CROW: ...not to mention your Shatner impression.
> "It looks like this hand's mine.
TOM: Seeing as it's attached to my arm and everything.
> Since I've now won five straight hands, I'll sit out the next one, Kathy, your deal."
MIKE: Since I've once again shown my complete superiority to you mere
mortals, I shall leave you to your mediocrity.
> Marrissa got up and went over to Mary, who was dusting the piano next to Marrissa's wall.
CROW: <Mary> I still think demoting me to Ship's Maid for not referring to you
as "Her Royal Highness" was a bit severe. Sir.
> "Mary, what is an old fashion upright piano doing in a Starfleet bar."
TOM: Wait, wait, I think I've heard this one already.
> "Piano's have always been in bars since the ancient west on
> Earth," Mary responded. "I here you play."
MIKE: Oh, I... get around.
> "Not much, and I haven't practiced in ages," Marrissa said.
TOM: I've been too busy conquering the universe and stuff.
> "Sometime I'll have to pick it up again."
CROW: Wow, she can pick up pianos??
MIKE: That's nothing. I used to be able to bench-press two Steinways and a clavicle.
CROW: Really?
MIKE: No.
> "Go ahead, try," Mary said.
TOM: But make sure you press that red button first...
> "All right, but I'm warning you I haven't practiced in a good two years - maybe
>more," Marrissa warned. Then she began playing the Blue Danube Waltz. A little hesitant
>and occasionally she made a mistake
ALL: GASP!!!
CROW: A mistake! Marrissa made a mistake!
MIKE: We've found something Marrissa can't do!!
[Choirs of angels appear in the theater singing the Halleluiah Chorus.]
> but on the whole it sounded pretty good.
[The music stops. The choirs of angels disappear.]
CROW: Oh. Well, I had a feeling it was too good to be true.
TOM: Yeah, Marrissa can do everything, can't she? She'd fit right in in one of Heinlein's stories.
MIKE: Um... Tom?
TOM: I didn't mean that as a compliment.
MIKE: <obviously relieved> Oh, okay.
> "Hey, Marrissa, this is a bar, not a consort hall," Ross shouted.
CROW: Hey, just because *you're* married...
> "OK, you asked for it," Marrissa said.
ALL: Fight! Fight! Fight! Wooo!!
> "Mary, get me a strawberry juice."
ALL: <disappointed> Oh.
> Ross looked over at her thinking 'not again,'
TOM: Ross just turned into a recently-transmogrified potted plant falling to the Earth?
> but Marrissa wasn't going to do that.
MIKE: After all, she'd left the balloons in her quarters, and there was no trapeze handy.
> She began playing the Entertainer.
CROW: That word looks *so* out of place in a Ratliff story.
> "Marrissa, that's still not right," Ross said back.
TOM: This whole *fanfic* is not right.
> "Hey, you give me the music and a day to study it and maybe I'll play it,
MIKE: Difficult piano music? No problem! Marrissa can play like a Carnegie
Hall pianist in less than 24 hours!
> otherwise, Kathy, order a strawberry juice and if your husband
> complains again, throw it on him," Marrissa responded.
CROW: And if that doesn't work, try sulfuric acid.
> "You heard the Commander, honey, now be quiet," Katherine Lochard said.
TOM: <whispering> Ross! Ixnay! Don't piss off Marrissa! Tick tick tick, remember??
> As Marrissa continued to play, a young man phased into view behind her.
CROW: <hopefully> The Borg?
> "Are you sure you haven't been practicing?" he whispered in her ear.
MIKE: Not with anyone but you, darling...
> Marrissa whirled around to face him.
TOM: <Marrissa> Joe Don Baker? In a Speedo? For me?
> "Wesley Eugene Crusher,
ALL: NOOOOOO!!!
> brother,
CROW: ...heir to the throne of Essex...
MIKE: No, you're getting your annoying brats mixed up.
> what are you doing here?"
> "Well, little sister, I though I'd drop by to see you," Wesley replied.
TOM: You know, it's as if Ratliff is emphasizing the fact that Wesley and
Marrissa are *brother* and *sister*.
MIKE: Funny, that.
> "Wes, you never 'drop by'," Marrissa retorted.
MIKE: You always barge in and ask for money.
> "Who said I couldn't change?" Wes replied.
CROW: Only a couple million disgusted Trekkies.
> Then under Marrissa's stare he relented.
TOM: <Wes> Don't kill me...
> "Actually the Traveler said I'd be needed here."
MIKE: Are you short of umbrellas?
> "Well if the Traveler said so, who am I to second guess him," Marrissa said.
CROW: Why stop second-guessing everyone else *now*, Marrissa?
TOM: Marrissa not knowing better than everyone else? Now, *there's* something
we're not likely to see again.
> "Come let me introduce you to the crew, but I'd advise
> you not to join the poker game. Your bluff is worse than Lavelle's."
MIKE: So's your breath - whew! No wonder the girls call you "Stinky."
> Chapter Four
CROW: That's rather generous, don't you think? Like calling a Blind Melon song a "masterpiece."
> "0600 hours, Gamma Shift is relieved," Marrissa said.
TOM: Pissssssss...
MIKE: Oh, stop it.
TOM: <giggle>
> "I hope you had a good time in command, Ensign Faraday."
CROW: <Faraday> Well, you weren't here, so yeah, I guess you could say that.
> Thoughout the bridge officers were switching off.
MIKE: Other crewmembers put the limp bodies in a corner where they wouldn't be disturbed.
> "Yes, sir, although I didn't expect hold command so soon after
> graduation," Ensign Faraday replied.
TOM: This is a Ratliff story -- I'm impressed that he actually graduated *before* holding command.
> "Get use to it, I've seen your record and I may be using you
> more often than you think," Marrissa said.
MIKE: Now *there's* something that'll put the fear of God into you...
> "Dismissed. Ross, system status."
> "All systems normal," Lieutenant Ross Lochard replied.
> "Captain, I'm detecting another craft exceeding warp 5. Definite
> pre-refined warp drive.
CROW: <Dustin Hoffman> Definitely pre-refined. Definitely. Time for Wapner.
Not wearing any underwear.
> Current speed is warp 7 and accelerating."
> "Kathy, intercept coarse, maximum warp," Marrissa ordered.
> "Ross, additional data please."
TOM: <panicked> Uh... Lincoln... 42... blue-green! Pass!
> "Sensors indicate, no this can't be right,
MIKE: <Ross> Sensors indicate I'm a weenie, sir!
> Ops, confirm my
> readings," Lieutenant Ross Lochard said.
> "Readings confirmed,
CROW: <Ops> ...you are indeed a weenie.
> vessel is the constitution class starship
> USS Eagle, NCC-956," the ensign at Ops replied.
> "The constitution class was retired over 70 years ago," Marrissa stated.
TOM: So was the original Star Trek cast, but that didn't stop them.
> "Ross, where was the Eagle stored?"
MIKE: In the record libraries of bad radio stations everywhere.
> "The Zed-15 depot yard," Ross said. "Notorious for losing several starships."
CROW: Ah. Must be run by the French navy, then.
> "Well they've lost another one," Marrissa said as Scotty entered
> the bridge. "Time to intercept, Kathy."
> "Ten minutes," Kathy responded. "But their going awful close to that star."
TOM: Maybe it was stolen by moths.
> "It might as well be 10 years," Scotty said. "They're attempting time travel.
MIKE: Now how does he know that?
CROW: <Scottish accent> Because he's Scottish, and not CRAP!
> Helm, you better change coarse to a hyperbolic,
> matching theirs as close as possible, if you want to catch them."
TOM: Hey! He didn't say 'lass' or 'laddie' or 'ach' or 'aye'...
MIKE: How do we know he's still Scottish?
> Kathy looked at Marrissa. "You heard the Admiral," Marrissa
> said. "If I remember the descriptions of time travel, we better strap it.
TOM: Strap it?! Ooh, leather and whips and chains and...
MIKE: Can it, Servo.
CROW: This is getting into a whole weird area now...
> All hands, prepare for rough maneuvers.
TOM: I was right!
MIKE: Okay, that's it!
[Mike detaches Tom's globe and throws it across the theater.]
TOM: Hey! I need that!
[Tom gets out of his seat, hovers across the theater, and ducks below
the seats. He then reappears, globe attached, and goes back to his seat.]
> We have to come out of this as close as possible to the time which the Eagle does, so keep a
> close eye on them, Kathy."
> "And hope the new inertial dampiners are better than they were
> on the original Enterprise," Scotty said.
MIKE: Before either of you say anything about that - your name isn't
"Roger Wilcox" - you can't use the word "damp."
CROW: Well... okay.
> Ahead of them the USS Eagle shot around Proxima Centauri and disappeared.
CROW: The Eagle pops its clutch and tells Marrissa to eat its dust!
> Then the Stargazer followed suit.
TOM: Then the Eagle trumped and won the trick.
> The whole ship shook. Down in Seven Slightly Starboard, the vases on the tables slid off on to
> the floor, shattering.
MIKE: <Mick Jagger> Sh-sh-sh-shattered....
> Thoughout the ship things fell from their places,
CROW: <Michael Palin> And in that time there shall be rumors of things going
astray. And there shall be a great confusion as to where things really
are. And nobody will really know where lieth those things with a sort
of raffia-work base with an attachment. And in that time a friend
shall lose his friend's hammer. And the young shall not know where
lieth the things that their fathers put aside just the night before,
`round eight o'clock.
> however in a tribute to the new ship's engineering, no consoles exploded.
TOM: Wha... hey! Steve is poking fun at Star Trek foibles again!
MIKE: Starfleet finally stopped running the major power cables right under the instrument panels.
CROW: Either that, or they installed those neat little devices called "fuses."
> Moments later they left warp, decelerating in another time.
>
> "Ships status, Engineering?" Marrissa said.
TOM: <engineer> We wet 'em, sir.
> "Tactical determine the location of the Eagle. Ops, current date please.
MIKE: <Ops> I'll call the escort service right away, sir.
> Lieutenant Lavelle, Wesley Crusher report to the bridge."
CROW: Hey guys, you know what to call her attitude? Marrisstocratic! Ha!
TOM: <whimper>
MIKE: <sigh> Crow, you aren't making it any easier for us.
> "All systems are normal, but I'd like to run a level two
> diagnostic to be sure," Scotty replied.
TOM: <Scotty> From the bar, sir.
> "That takes systems off line, I'm afraid we can't risk that
> until we know were we are and what we are going to have to do," Marrissa
> said. "Run a level three instead."
CROW: <Scotty> I'll see your level three and raise you...
MIKE: Uh, the poker game ended last night, Scotty.
> "Aye, sir," Scotty replied.
> "I've found the Eagle, Captain," Ross Lochard replied.
TOM: The Eagle has landed!
MIKE: Oh, you were just *waiting* to use that joke, weren't you.
> "She is headed toward Earth. The Eagle has a lead time of about four hours on
> us."
CROW: Yeah, them V-8s can really move.
> "Kathy, set a coarse to intercept," Marrissa ordered. "Ops, do
> you have the date for me?"
TOM: Dinner and a movie, 7pm, your place. His name is Gary.
> "Aye sir, it is July 26, 1996," the ensign at Ops replied.
> "Happy negative 281st birthday Captain," Ross responded.
CROW: With this kind of comedic touch, I'm surprised Ratliff's not already in Hollywood.
MIKE: He is, Crow - who do you think's been writing for "Central Park West?"
> "Ross," Kathy admonished.
TOM: <Kathy> ...for the last time -- shut up.
> "Captain the Eagle has already entered the Solar System," Ross informed.
> "Kathy where do you think you will catch up with them?" Marrissa asked.
> "I'd have to say in Earth orbit, assuming that's were their
> going," Kathy Lochard replied as Wesley and Lieutenant Lavelle entered the bridge.
CROW: "Were their going?" Looks like Steve finally got a spellchecker, but
still sees no value in proofreading...
MIKE: Maybe Ratliff put this through a reverse spellchecker? One that makes
sure everything is spelled wrong?
> "Any advice for me, big brother?" Marrissa asked Wesley.
TOM: Uh... watch out where the huskies go, and don't eat the yellow snow?
> "Just don't let your ship be seen," Wesley replied.
CROW: <British accent> The first rule of how not to be seen: do not stand up.
> "Admiral Scott?" Marrissa questioned.
> "Visual and ray sensor screen active," Scotty replied.
CROW: <British accent> Mr. Scott has learned the second rule of not being
seen. Unfortunately, his ship has chosen an obvious piece of cover.
> "The Eagle has entered Earth orbit," Ross apprised.
TOM: Right alongside all those Frank Thomas home runs.
> "Time to orbit?" Marrissa asked.
> "Thirty seconds," Kathy said.
> "Hail the Eagle," Marrissa ordered. "Use subspace narrowband channels
> "They are refusing to respond," Ross said. "Detecting transporter activity."
> "Trace beam down location," Marrissa ordered.
MIKE: Jim-- put a handkerchief on your head! Kevin-- swat at imaginary elves!
TOM: Huh?
MIKE: Never mind.
> "Washington D.C.," Ross replied. "The Eagle is moving off."
> "Time for a meeting, Scotty, Ross, Kathy, Wes, Sam,
CROW: Fleagle!
TOM: Bingo!
MIKE: Drooper!
CROW: Snork!
TOM: <goofy announcer voice> It's the Banana Splitz!
> join me in
> the conference room," Marrissa ordered. "Ensign Rettson, you have the
> bridge, just keep us in orbit."
MIKE: ...and keep our breaths minty fresh.
> Marrissa and the aforementioned five
TOM: Didn't they play Lollapalooza last year?
> descended from the bridge on the stair case. Down on the deck below
CROW: ...they cranked up the stereo and discoed 'til they dropped!
> they turned to the right and into a the conference room which faced the front of the ship.
> The Stargazer's conference room was a fine room, the walls were
> a pale yellow and the forward side was a glass wall which opened up to a
> small lounge with large windows. The wall could be transparent, translucent or opaque.
MIKE: Yup, that pretty much covers the possibilities.
> A section of that wall could open up to the lounge. The conference table witch took up
>the center of the room was solid oak with a darker wood trim.
ALL: A WITCH!! A WITCH!! She's made of wood! Build a bridge out of her!
> Around the table were a dozen dark blue chairs with high backs and oak arm rests.
>At each end where large view screens. Decorating the wall near the entrance where paintings of
> the pervious commanders of the Stargazer going back to the original
> Stargazer, an in system survey vessel built at the beginning of the
> twenty-first century
TOM: Vole.
CROW: Huh?
> As Marrissa sat down at the head of the table, she said, "Ladies
> and Gentleman, we have a problem.
MIKE: We've run out of coffee.
ALL: AAAAAAH!
> We've got God knows how many time travelers who just beamed down to Washington D.C.
>for a purpose which we don't know.
CROW: Fortunately, I just talked to God, and he told me everything.
> I'm open to speculation, or if my brother has any information he'd care to share, actual facts."
TOM: Huh. Sounds like Marrissa doesn't like Wesley much, either.
MIKE: Well, she's got that going for her, at least.
> "I don't have much," Wesley said.
CROW: <Marrissa> Yes, I know. I can read the girl's room walls as easily
as the next person, you know.
> "All I know is that the Traveler sent me to make sure they don't mess up the time line."
TOM: Either that or he sent me to put right what once went wrong, hoping
each time that my next leap you be the leap home. I'm not sure exactly.
> "That isn't much to work on," Marrissa said. "Now what do we know.
CROW: <Bugs Bunny> Well, I know that two and two is four, and the capital of
Albuquerque is Phoenix, and that--
MIKE: <gangster> Shut up, rabbit.
CROW: <Bugs Bunny> Oh, I can shut up real good, Rocky. When people tell me
to shut up, I shut up real quick. I'm very good at---
MIKE: <gangster> Shut up shuttin' up, rabbit.
> We know they want to change the past. We know they beamed down to Washington D.C."
TOM: How do you know they want to change the past? Maybe they just wanted to
buy a few souveniers, meet Marion Barry...
> "We know that Washington D.C. was the Capital of the United
> States at the time," Kathy said.
> "Anything else?" Marrissa asked.
CROW: I know how to install an internal modem...
> "Well then, Computer list
> important events that occur between July 27 and August 3, 1996. Include
> any close calls or votes in Congress which had a margin of less than 4."
MIKE: This is the part we like to call "Ratliff Predicts!"
TOM: Oh boy, *this* should be fun!
CROW: Let's see how long it takes for him to completely strike out...
> "July 27: Sadam Hussian attempts to invade Syria," the Computer began.
CROW: Um... nope. Strike one.
> "The Bosnian Serbs surrender to the Bosnian government.
CROW: I don't *think* so. Strike two.
MIKE: As the author demonstrates a firm grasp of geopolitics....
> Prince Charles of Great Britain reveals that the last three years were a joke
> on the press.
CROW: Huh?
TOM: So everything back to 1993 has been a joke? That certainly explains
"Waterworld" and Hootie and the Blowfish.
> He resumes normal marital relationships with Princess
> Diana leading to the birth of Princess Gwenaveare a year later.
CROW: Big whiffer! Strike three, you're out!
MIKE: Why does Ratliff only believe it's true love if children come out of it?
> July 28th : A bill to repeal the ban on logging in areas inhabited by the
> spotted owl is defeated by one vote.
TOM: Wes Cooley is offered as a sacrifice to appease the angry earth spirits.
> July 29th : Bob Dole introduces his Pact with America Platform.
MIKE: This is *just* derivative enough that Dole might actually *do* it.
> July 30th : H. Ross Porit enters the Presidential race.
ALL: <awed silence>
CROW: He *has* to be joking. "H. Ross Porit?"
> July 31st : UN Secretary Bortous-Bortous Gali suffered from an assassination attempt.
TOM: Protect yourself by taking Loon-A-Way Assassin Blockers!
> August 1st : Long time ABC anchor Peter Jennings is shot and suffers a career ending injury by a
> Serb sipper who hadn't heard about the end of the war.
MIKE: Too bad communications were so bad in the Bosnian Tea Wars.
CROW: But what would sipping Peter Jennings accomplish, though?
> International out rage causes the delay of the lifting of sanctions against what was
> left of the Yugoslavia.
TOM: So mass rape and murder doesn't get NATO off its butt, but injuring one
vaguely living anchorman *does*? Come on!
> August 2nd : A bill to increase the size of
ALL: Saaayyyy...
> the Federal Court system
ALL: Oh.
> passes by one vote. August 3rd : A bill to do away
> with NASA is defeated by one vote in the Senate.
CROW: Quite a feat, it being a Saturday.
> Sadam Hussian announces that he has taken over Syria. The Syrians confirm,
MIKE: "Yup, he pretty much kicked our butts."
> thus beginning Hussian's take over of the Middle East."
TOM: Let me get this straight. The U.S. sits around voting on NASA and
spotted owls while a maniacal dictator invades every Middle Eastern
country and assumes total control of our oil supply? I THINK NOT!
> "Well, which ones do you think it was?" Marrissa asked.
> "I think we can safely rule out the events in the Middle East
> and Bosnia," Ross replied.
CROW: Yeah, what did those stupid Arabs ever do for history?
> "I think we can remove everything that took place outside the US," Sam Lavelle reasoned.
TOM: After all, only America counts, right?
MIKE: Those other countries are filled with foreigners...
> "After all they did beam down to Washington D.C."
CROW: They probably couldn't find a parking space.
> "That leaves the logging bill, the court system bill, the bill
> to eliminate NASA and the entry of H. Ross Porit into the presidential
> race," Scotty replied. "On the surface I'd have to say that NASA is a likely target."
> "Why," Marrissa asked.
TOM: Maybe because it's a massive, incompetent bureaucracy?
> "It's the only event which has a clear effect on the future," Scotty replied.
MIKE: Civil war in Bosnia, invasions in Middle East, the possible extinction
of the spotted owl... none of these have any "clear effect on the future??"
> "I don't follow," Marrissa responded.
CROW: I don't dig your authority, man.
> "If NASA is cut, their will be no International Space Agency and
> hence no one will discover other races," Scotty began.
TOM: Because only Americans could possibly make it into space, right?
MIKE: Right. I keep forgetting that in Ratliff's world America's number
one in something other than rate of imprisonment.
> "If Earth doesn't discover other races,
CROW: ...the Indy 500 will continue to reign supreme.
> there will be no driving
> force to create the Federation," Lavelle continued.
MIKE: 'Cause we know all those aliens are stupid and lazy.
> "And no Federation, no Starfleet, and we are out of a job," Marrissa finished.
TOM: Hey... these "anti-Starfleetites" may be on to something!
CROW: I guess we know who to root for now.
> "Gentlemen we have a bigger problem than I thought.
MIKE: <Marrissa> I'll be out of a *job*!
> Lavelle, get yourself a crew and take the upper Warp Pair Detachable Craft.
CROW: You'll be taking the craft up the Mekong. Your mission: kill Colonel Kurtz.
> For convenience sake we will call it
TOM: Fred.
> the Star. I want you to
> take it to keep an eye on the Eagle. Don't let it get back anywhere near Earth.
MIKE: Um... why don't they try boarding it, or something? They've got a
newly-refitted war machine against an 80-year-old junker, after all...
> Ross, provide Lavelle with a security team. Wes, I have a
> feeling I'm going to need you on this mission.
CROW: We may need someone to act as a human shield.
> Do I have your permission to reactivate your Starfleet commission?"
TOM: Remember, you must have a rank in Starfleet to be of any importance.
> "Why not, just as long as I can resign again after this mission," Wes replied.
MIKE: Hey, you're a main character. You can play fast and loose with the rules if you want.
> "Computer note in log, as of this time I am reactivating Ensign
> Wesley Crusher's commission and promoting him to Lieutenant junior grade," Marrissa smiled.
CROW: <Marrissa> I have the power to make or break officers! I can make you
a Lieutenant, even though you were never more than an Ensign when
you were in Starfleet! I'm the god! I'M THE GOD!!
> "I expect you in uniform next time I see you Lieutenant.
TOM: Ah. Notice that she still outranks him, so she can order him around.
> Does anyone have a suggestion on how we can find our time travelers in Washington?"
MIKE: We could keep our eyes and scanners open for 24th-century devices, or
would that be too obvious?
> "I know someone who might be able to help us," Wesley said.
> "We'll begin with that person," Marrissa stated. "We will adjourn for now."
TOM: And so will we.
[Mike and the bots leave the theater.]
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Mike and the bots are just standing around. Mike sighs heavily and
shakes his head.]
TOM: Mike, is there a hell for bad writers?
CROW: If there is, Ratliff's going there.
MIKE: Sure there is, Tom.
CROW: I figure it's probably a hell where you're forced to write for "Barney
and Friends" or "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers."
MIKE: Not exactly, but close.
TOM: Then what is it, Mike?
MIKE: Well, it's...
[Mike is distracted by the flashing of one of the lights on the counter.]
MIKE: What the-- hey, something's coming in on the Hexfield!
[Everyone turns to see who is on the screen as the Hexfield Viewscreen
irises open. It is a nerdish-looking guy in his early twenties.]
MIKE: Um... hello? Who are you?
STEVE: I am Radford University student and Computer Science major Stephen
Ratliff, author of the Marrissa Stories and Keeper of the Sacred FAQs
of alt.startrek.creative!
CROW: Uh oh.
TOM: Say, Mike... I don't suppose we could somehow train a laser cannon on
him and blast him out of existence?
MIKE: Tom, you *know* Forrester wouldn't let me make those alterations to
the SOL like I wanted...
STEVE: Identify yourselves!
MIKE: Huh? Oh, uh, I'm Mike, this is Tom Servo, and this is Crow T...
STEVE: What are your ranks?
MIKE: Excuse me?
STEVE: Ranks! Status! You must have them!
MIKE: Okay... I am Captain Michael J. Nelson of the starship Satellite of
Love, and this is Lieutenant Servo and Yeoman Crow. I guess.
STEVE: I see, Captain Mike Nelson of the Satellite of Love.
TOM: Oh, Steve-o... I have a question.
STEVE: What is it, Lieutenant Servo?
TOM: Reading your stories, I am reminded of Dr. Johnson's quote about
Thomas Sheridan: "Why, sir, Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must
have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him.
Such an excess of stupidity, Sir, is not in Nature." My question is,
exactly *how* hard *do* you work to be this bad at the craft of writing?
STEVE: <confused> I don't understand, Lieutenant Servo of the Satellite of
Love. Did I mention I'm an Admiral in my Star Trek role-playing group?
TOM: Wonderful.
CROW: Hey, I got another question. What color is the sky in your little
world?
TOM: Do you even pay attention to the world around you?
CROW: And what about your "dialogue?" Have you ever held a real conversation
in your life?
TOM: And what's the whole teenage girl obsession about?
MIKE: I have the best question of all: why? Just WHY??
[Pause.]
STEVE: I think it's time to introduce ourselves again! Hi, I'm Radford
University student and Computer Science major Stephen Ratliff, author
of the...
MIKE: Hey, whoa whoa whoa. Stop.
STEVE: What?
MIKE: Is that all you do? You just go around introducing yourself to people?
STEVE: Well... there's also recitations of my accomplishments.
MIKE: Which are...?
STEVE: <nervous> Um... I wrote some stories, and... uh... I have a lot of
Star Trek stuff...
CROW: Have you ever done anything *really* *important*? Something that
*matters*?
STEVE: <long pause, then...> Hi, I'm Radford University student and
Computer Science major...
[Mike and the bots turn away from the Hexfield, disgusted. The Hexfield
Viewscreen irises shut in front of Steve, who is still introducing himself.]
CROW: Yeesh.
TOM: So anyway, Mike, would you finish telling us about Writer's Hell?
MIKE: You really want to know what Writer's Hell is?
TOM&CROW: Yes!
MIKE: Well, it's a very personal hell, where you finally come to know the pain
your works have wrought on those unfortunate enough to read them.
TOM: And that's where Ratliff's going?
MIKE: Nope.
CROW: What?!
MIKE: He's already there, guys... whether he realizes it or not.
[There is a solemn silence.]
CROW: So... lunch?
TOM: Oh, Crow, you...
CROW: What? I'm hungry!
[Buzzers and lights, general chaos.]
ALL: AAAAAAH! FANFIC SIGN!!!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2... *...
[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]
MIKE: Did I mention that we were already in *Reader's* Hell?
TOM: Oh, we already knew that.
> Chapter Five
CROW: Already? I don't think five things have happened yet.
> Captain's Log
> STARDATE unknown, July 27,1996
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard recording.
TOM: Maybe she'll self-destruct in five seconds.
> Having followed the USS Eagle back in time to prevent them from
> altering the future and give them a speeding ticket,
MIKE: <stands up, looks around the theater> It must say *somewhere* that
a writer has to have some sense of self-irony. Doesn't it?
> I find myself with a dilemma.
CROW: One or two sugars in my Earl Grey?
> Do I interfere or not.
ALL: INTERFERE.
MIKE: Come on. We all know how this will turn out.
TOM: Has the Prime Directive *ever* had any effect on the decision of a Starfleet captain?
> However, I've never left anything to chance so I'm beaming down in period custom to try
>to prevent them from interfering.
CROW: Whoops, there's a little mistake in the history files!
> Fortunately, Wesley has an acquaintance in this time period who he believes may be of help.
TOM: His name is Newt Gingrich, and he's used to talking to aliens from the future.
> I am leaving Lieutenant Katherine Lochard in command while I'm away from the Stargazer.
>
> "Are you sure this guy Bill will believe us?" Marrissa asked.
MIKE: Bill Gates believes in aliens and the power of positive thought, so why
not time-traveling Federation officers?
> "After all it does sound a little farfetched. Time traveling because we
> where chasing a speeder, it's almost ridiculous."
CROW: Almost. <pauses, then quietly whimpers>
> "Ever here of a television series called Star Trek?" Wes replied.
TOM: Yeah. I hear it sucks.
MIKE: Wait a second. "Star Trek: the TV show" doesn't exist in the Trek
universe. How would Wesley know about it?
> "No television isn't something that I have had time to study," Marrissa said.
CROW: Too bad Ratliff couldn't say the same thing.
> "You probably wouldn't have come across it," Wes said. "Viacom
> Interplanetary put their copies of the series under timelock when events
> predicted in it began coming true.
ALL: <dumbfounded silence>
TOM: WHAT?!
> The original of the forty-eight
> series to date was re-released last year. The prediction of the future
> was amazingly correct with the exception of some controls and make up.
TOM: NO! I *refuse* to believe that the bunch of overpaid idiots that make
up the current writing staffs of the Trek franchise are more prophetic
than the Book of Revelations! Aside from the fact that most of the
events and technologies depicted in Trek are patently *impossible* by
the laws of nature, are *you* prepared to proclaim morons like Brannon
Braga and Jeri Taylor the second comings of Nostradamus?!
MIKE: Are you finished?
TOM: <pant, pant> Sorry. I have to rant at least once per MiSTing. It's in my contract.
> On the planet below, the Next Generation, which covers the Enterprise-D
> is just about to have it's second movie released.
CROW: And we're all *so* excited about that, I can assure you.
> Deep Space Nine is entering it's fifth season and Voyager has been lost in the Delta
> Quadrant for three years."
MIKE: Voyager's also been lost in the ratings for three years.
TOM: And Gene Roddenberry's original ideas have been lost for about ten years.
> "How close were they to my history?" Marrissa asked.
CROW: <Marrissa> Who cares about them? I wanna know about me, ME, *ME*!
> "You appear in one episode of the Next Generation titled 'Disaster'," Wes replied.
MIKE: An appropriate title if I ever heard one.
> "The rest of your career is covered quite nicely in what is referred to as 'fan fiction'."
TOM: Actually, it's covered quite horribly in what is referred to as "hideous writing."
CROW: Ego trip's over, Steve.
> "And yourself?" Marrissa asked.
> "I'm afraid my character was hated by some fans known as 'Trekkers'," Wesley said.
MIKE: And also by some other people known as 'the rest of the human race.'
TOM: Wesley, face it - you were hated by everybody. Even Star Trek haters didn't like you.
> "Some of the nicknames they gave me were quite creative.
CROW: Like... Weasel Wheaton?
MIKE: Stinkybutt dum-dum?
TOM: Dickweed?
GYPSY: <from off-stage> Poopie-head?
MAGIC VOICE: <from the ceiling of the theater> That Annoying Putz?
> But that's another topic,
MIKE: A far more interesting topic.
> right now you need to know why Bill will trust us.
TOM: He's an idiot.
> Besides the fact I've visited him before, he is
> also a Trekker, and knows Star Trek backward and forward.
CROW: Kert Rats, Star Trek.
> Coincidentally the Star Trek the Next Generation episode in which you appear is on right now.
MIKE: This is Ratliff. Everything that happens is a coincidence.
CROW: You know, someone once said that a coincidence is God's idea of a joke.
TOM: No, Crow. Ratliff's stories are God's idea of a joke.
> He'll probably be watching it when we arrive."
MIKE: Good thing Wes has intimate knowledge of the TV schedules for the Washington DC area.
> The television was on in the room which Marrissa and Wesley beamed down into.
CROW: I'd make a comment about a dangling participle, but Ratliff would
probably think we're being dirty.
> A man with almost white hair was seated before the television on a sofa.
TOM: It's Christopher Lloyd!
> "What?" he said, putting the Big Mac that he had
> been eating down. "Oh, it's you Wes, who's your girl friend?"
MIKE: Guy named Bill... white hair... eats Big Macs... hits on young women...
CROW: Guys, I have a bad feeling about this.
> "Actually she's my stepsister,
TOM: <white-haired man> Oh - so she's fair game?
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa
> Picard, that girl who the Captain, my step-father, is about to make his
> 'Number One',"
CROW: Well, there *weren't* any bathrooms in that damaged turbolift...
MIKE: CROW!
CROW: What?
MIKE: <pause> That sounded dirty, but I have no idea what it means.
CROW: Neither do I.
TOM: We're probably better off that way.
> Wesley said indicating the view of Captain Jean-Luc
> Picard pinning a couple rank pins to Marrissa's outfit on the television.
TOM: <background> Ow-- watch those things!
> "Marrissa, this is President William Jefferson Clinton, also known as Bill."
ALL: AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGH!
CROW: *Just* when I thought Ratliff couldn't get any worse...
> "Always willing to meet an friend of Wes's, he has been a great
> help to this country," the President replied.
MIKE: <Wes> I showed him how to dial 900 numbers for free.
> At Marrissa's glance Wes said, "I'll explain that later, Marrissa.
TOM: <Desi Arnez> Wesley, you got some 'splaining to do...
> Bill, we believe some people from the 24th century are trying to sink NASA."
ALL: GOOD!
> "Why would they do that?" Bill replied. "I know you can't tell me.
CROW: If you knew that, then why ask?
> How do you think they are going to do it?"
> "Our leading method is their going to influence some members of
> the House of the Representatives," Marrissa replied. "Probably, using
> some method which is not exactly legal."
MIKE: NO! Say it ain't so!
TOM: Not legal? The bastards!
> "I think it's time to reactivate plan Oklahoma," Wes said.
TOM: You! Put on a farmer costume! You! Start singing!
> "Don't let anyone, ever members of Congress, bring any object of size into the Capital Building."
CROW: Does Ratliff think that the security guards in the Capitol building
let people waltz in with anything?
> "I then everyone will think their has been a bomb threat but
> really we will be looking for large sums of cash and other methods of
> conversion," Bill Clinton replied.
MIKE: We'll have to search everyone for holy water.
> "But you'll have to cover any twenty fourth century methods."
> "That shouldn't be a problem, if I have the right accesses,"
> Marrissa responded. "After all I have a whole Constellation Class
> Starship at my disposal."
TOM: <Marrissa> And three more at my townhouse. Impressed?
> Bill Clinton did a double take.
CROW: Chins a-flappin'!
> "You have a starship?" he said.
MIKE: They just *beamed into* the White House, and Clinton the Star Trek fan
already knows Wesley Crusher, but he's surprised that there's a starship involved?
CROW: I think Ratliff thinks everyone is as dim as he is.
TOM: <British accent> We called him Dim, on account of his being dim.
> "The Stargazer, NCC-2893," Marrissa said.
CROW: <Marvin Martian> It can cleave your puny planet in two.
> "The Captain and first officer haven't arrived yet.
TOM: <Marrissa> And if my agents are successful, they never will.
> I'm second officer. It occurs to me that
> you'll need to contact me sometime in the next couple of days, so."
MIKE: <Marrissa> Of course, *everyone* wants to talk to me. I'm just so
popular! Did I tell you I had 18 dates to the prom? I did, you know.
I just didn't want to go.
> Marrissa pulled a second communicator out of her pocket. "Take this communicator,
CROW: Oh, honey, don't give future technology to the natives. They'll just
go and incite a temporal paradox.
> I assume I won't have to explain how to use it?"
TOM: You tap it, then talk.
CROW: Or you don't tap it, then talk.
MIKE: Or you tap it, and somebody else talks.
TOM: Or you don't tap it to complete a conversation, but the channel is
magically cut anyway.
MIKE: We've never been too clear on how it works, ourselves.
> "If you had to I wouldn't have been watching Star Trek for the
> last nine years," Bill said.
CROW: So *that's* what he's been doing instead of making good decisions and
providing sound leadership.
> "I should have everything in place in an hour.
TOM: <Clinton> Just so long as... *urp*... I can stop off beforehand
at McDonald's for a couple of Family Meals...
> If you need to install anything, let me know I can get you the documents you need to do so."
MIKE: Oh yeah? Tell that to Al D'Amato.
> "I don't think that will be a problem," Marrissa said. "A
> little work with the Transporter will be all it takes. However I might
> need a place in Washington to beam my security officers down once I find those time travelers."
TOM: Send Marrissa into Bob Dornan's office - he's from outer space already,
so she should be right at home.
> "I'll arrange for a suite in the Executive Office Building," the
> President said. "First floor with it's own exit."
MIKE: <Clinton> I use it for certain late-night encounters with...uh, never mind.
> "That should be all, Wes?" Marrissa asked.
> "I can't think of anything," Wesley replied. "Bill, give my love to Chelsea."
CROW: Um... I really hope there's nothing going on between Wes and Chelsea.
TOM: If there is, my head's going to explode. That'd be the last straw.
MIKE: I'll take it one step further: if there is, *my* head will explode.
> "I will, Wes," Bill replied. "Just make sure you stop in more often."
TOM: Just another lying politician...
> "That's a promise," Wes replied and nodded toward Marrissa.
> Marrissa tapped her communicator and said, "Picard to Stargazer, two to beam up."
> As they dematerialized President Clinton said, "That's one nice sister, Wes has."
CROW: Nice? You obviously don't know her very well.
> On board the Eagle Boris was getting nervous.
MIKE: <nervous> What am I still doing in this piece of cow flop? Why haven't
I been written out yet??
> "Boris, I don't think we will be leaving the area around Jupiter anytime soon," the man
> at the helm said.
TOM: <helm> Heh, I forgot to gas up...
> "That craft, what ever it is just too good at cutting me off."
CROW: So? Just flip them off and get off at the next exit.
> "Well we don't have to return to Earth until after the third,"
> Boris replied. "So you and your relief have five days to get us free."
MIKE: Let me get this straight. They're surrounded by the infinite depths
of space, capable of bending space itself using their warp drive,
but they are somehow completely trapped by half of a single starship?
TOM: That's what Ratliff would have you believe.
> On board the Warp Pair Detectable Craft nicknamed the Star,
CROW: The White Star?
> Lieutenant Sam Lavelle was enjoying command.
TOM: Woo-hoo! No Marrissa! Party on, everybody!
> He was also admiring the abilities of the young ensign at CONN.
MIKE: <Lavelle> Wow! I didn't know it was *possible* do that with three
pencils and a jar of hot wax!
> "Ensign Hijanda, where did you learn how to block ships like that?" he asked.
CROW: <Hijanda> Oh, I studied directing at Tisch.
> "I was the first female running back on the Starfleet Academy
> football team," Hijanda replied.
TOM: So she's either built like bull moose, or that was the year the Starfleet
Academy football team went 0-17.
> "I'm simply blocking the routes I'd like to take if this was a football field."
MIKE: Well, a really big, three-dimensional football field with no boundaries
and only two players and no football.
> "You were on the Academy football team?" Lavelle exclaimed.
> "Usually that team is made up of security cadets with the occasional
> command cadet in at Quarterback, not running back. And as for females,
> usually they don't even tryout."
TOM: <Chicago accent> It ain't dat wimmen ain't welcome on Da Bearsss - dey
just can't make da cut, ya know.
CROW: <Chicago accent> Well, dere was dat one woman - what's her name?
MIKE: <Chicago accent> Michelle Singletary.
CROW: <Chicago accent> Yah, dat's right. She made da team.
> "So I'm the exception," Hijanda replied. "Every rule has one, or so I'm told."
CROW: For every regulation, there is an equal and opposite plot hole.
> "And our Lieutenant Commander Picard is the exception to a lot of them," Lavelle responded.
MIKE: Child labor statutes, murder laws, the Golden Rule...
> "She is? I've never met her," Hijanda returned.
TOM: Oh, lucky you.
> "Well, our second officer is fifteen years old," Sam Lavelle
> began. "She is heir to the throne of Essex, and hence has a clearance of level fourteen.
CROW: Which means she can watch 90210 whenever she wants.
> She's also in charge of the Kid's crew program,
MIKE: <Hijanda> Oh, so *she's* the one to blame for that.
> and the only person on the ship who isn't of legal age to drink.
TOM: Of course, that doesn't stop the little lush.
> Princess Marrissa is one big
CROW: ...pain in the ass?
> exception."
CROW: Oh.
> "Sounds like this ship is going to be a very interesting place
> to be assigned," Hijanda responded. "Vulcan Captain, Cardassian First
> Officer, and a Second Officer who isn't old enough to drink." Hijanda shook her head.
MIKE: <Hijanda> We're doomed!
> "That's one thing for certain about the Stargazer," Lavelle said.
TOM: We're the most hated ship in Starfleet, and it's all Marrissa's fault.
> "She's one interesting ship."
CROW: ...but stupid.
> As Wes and Marrissa materialized in the transporter room, Marrissa ordered,
MIKE: "You! Lick me!"
> "Admiral Scott, begin operation Bug Congress.
TOM: Does this bug you? I'm not touching you...
> Lieutenant Crusher, I want to see you in my office in thirty minutes.
CROW: <John Cleese> Yes, *dear*... coming *dear*... how can I do it if you
keep calling me about it, you great fat cow...
> Admiral, what's the status of Lieutenant Ross Lockard's security teams?"
> "Their outfits are ready," the Admiral began.
MIKE: We're just putting the finishing touches on the runway.
> "The phasers have been modified to look like regular guns.
TOM: We've even added that unrealistic booming noise they use on TV.
MIKE: Of course, if anyone sees these "guns," they'll be arrested anyway, so why bother?
> Ross is training them on the holodeck now."
> "Thanks Scotty," Marrissa said. "If anyone needs me I'll be in my quarters."
CROW: ...taking a bath in a tub of vodka.
> A half-an-hour later Wesley Crusher entered his sister's
> quarters. "Very nicely done, sister," was is comment as he entered.
TOM: <Wes> Wow, you can really stack those beer cans, Marrissa!
> "You aren't here to admire my quarters, Lieutenant," Lieutenant
> Commander Picard commented.
MIKE: Which ones, head or hind?
> "You are here to explain that comment by the President. 'he has been a great help to this country.'"
CROW: Oh, he was thinking of "Stand By Me." He really likes that movie.
> "Actually it's quite simple," Wes said.
TOM: The huge demand for "Kill Wesley" buttons revitalized the sagging paper industry.
> "I was sent by the Traveler a month ago to a time just about two months before now. I was
> to thwart a Romulan plan to alter Earth history.
MIKE: He was trying to convince Rick Berman to write cooler Romulan weapons into the shows.
> I successful identified the Romulan agent
CROW: He was the one with the pointed ears. It was pretty easy.
> who was trying to make it look like the United States had plans to invade every country in the world.
TOM: And nothing could be farther from the truth, as witnessed by the
countries of Korea, Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Iraq, Somalia, Bosnia...
> The agent was captured and thoroughly exposed.
MIKE: Thereby getting his sensitive Romulan area completely sunburned.
> I took the agent back to his proper time where his government executed him for failure."
CROW: So I guess taking him back was kind of a waste of time.
> "That sounds like what the Romulans would do to such a person," Marrissa said.
TOM: That'll happen. Ha ha!
> "But what about his comment concerning his daughter Chelsea?"
> "An unfortunate side-effect, I kind of fell in love with her last time," Wes said.
[Mike's head explodes.]
TOM: Ewww!
CROW: Oh, gross! There's hair and stuff everywhere!
[Mike ducks under the seats. When he reappears, he has a head again.]
MIKE: Well, I'm not gonna try *that* again... it kinda hurts.
TOM: At least you were true to your word, Mike.
> "Leaving her was quite hard,
CROW: She's the only girl I've ever known who didn't automatically snicker-snag on me.
> but the Traveler
> said I would eventually marry her, so it wasn't too bad."
TOM: Let's see... Chelsea is 16, and Wes is, what, mid-20's?
MIKE: Yes, it's another one of Ratliff's May-January romances.
> "How you are going to accomplish such a feet is beyond me, but
> then much of what you do is beyond me," Marrissa replied.
CROW: The way you dress, for example. And peeing standing up.
> "I have to admit that you do allot of things that are beyond me," Wesley said.
TOM: <Wes> I have to admit it, or you'll hurt me.
> "Lets see, diplomacy,
MIKE: Yeah, locking ambassadors in a room and threatening them with physical
violence shows a lot of diplomatic skill.
> those evasive maneuvers you make,
CROW: The way you pout your lips in that sultry way...
> inspiring that Kid's crew of yours,
TOM: Fear is a great motivator.
> and you have more friends than I ever had."
MIKE: You're confusing 'friends' with 'subordinates.'
> "But you timetravel," Marrissa responded.
> "Don't look now,
CROW: ...but the story's about to get worse.
> but I think you are in the twentieth century,
> and you and your ship got here you here without any assistance from me," Wes said.
TOM: <Wes> I may help keep you here, though.
> "Yeah, but you don't need a twenty quadrillion dollar starship
> to do it," Marrissa replied.
MIKE: Well, it's good to see that American currency and inflation are still
dominant in the 24th century.
>
> Chapter Six
CROW: If you've written six stupid plot contrivances this morning, why not
top it off with breakfast at the Restaurant of Bad Fanfics?
> The Stargazer had just moved into morning, when the President
> called. "President Clinton to Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard," he
> said over his communicator.
TOM: <Clinton> You got any doughnuts in that spaceship?
> Marrissa answered after swallowing her last bite of strawberry
> toast, "Marrissa here, how can I help you Mister President?"
MIKE: Looks like Steve is vicariously living yet another fantasy through Marrissa.
TOM: That's better than a fantasy *of* Marrissa...
MIKE: But not by much.
> "My advisors have just informed me that Congress has taken up
> the matter of cutting NASA," the President said.
CROW: <Clinton> They also inform me that Saddam Hussein is violently
overthrowing the Middle East, but this is much more important.
> "They say that it looks like most of the Senate is in favor of it.
TOM: <Clinton> Me, I think I'll waffle some more.
CROW: He's Willy the Waffle! <whistle>
> I think we may need to revise our plans."
> "I'll be down with some of my staff in an hour," Marrissa said.
> "I suggest you an Chelsea met us in the Oval Office."
MIKE: Great. Chelsea will be about as useful as a fifth wheel.
> "Excellent idea, Commander," the President replied. "I'll have everything prepared."
TOM: <Clinton> Hope you like french fries, 'cause that's what we're having!
> "Are you sure it's wise for all of us to beam down," Admiral
> Scott asked as he, Ross, Wesley, and Marrissa got up on the transporter disks.
CROW: No, but this is Star Trek. Wise doesn't matter.
> "Would you rather I beam them up here?" Marrissa asked.
MIKE: Why not? All these little planet-side meetings violate the Prime Directive anyway...
> "Kathy can take care of the Stargazer well enough if something should happen to
> us. Energize."
TOM: Sadly, due to Ensign Wiffle's degenerating hearing, they were turned into
pink bunnies with bass drums.
> The four materialized inside the Oval Office. President Bill
> Clinton and his daughter Chelsea were waiting for them. "'Morning,
> everyone," the President said.
ALL: NORM!
> "Mister President, I believe some introductions are in order," Marrissa said.
MIKE: It wouldn't be a Ratliff story without a few dozen repeat introductions.
> "I better start with myself, since Chelsea hasn't met
> me. I'm Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, acting commanding officer of the Stargazer.
CROW: Let's see now... one, two, three, four... five. She only referred to
herself five times in those three sentences - that's two below her average.
> This is Rear-Admiral Montgomery Scott, my acting Chief Engineer.
TOM: With the emphasis on *rear*.
> Lieutenant junior grade Wesley Crusher, you know.
MIKE: <Chelsea> *sighs* Yes, unfortunately.
> And rounding out my team is
CROW: The other side of Admiral Scott.
> Lieutenant Ross Lochard, our Chief Tactical
> Officer. Gentlemen, this is President Bill Clinton and his daughter Chelsea.
TOM: Yes, Ratliff introduces characters... and keeps introducing them.
> Shall we get down to business?"
> "Yes," Clinton said indicating that they should sit in the sofas
> surrounding a coffee table. After they were all seated, he began,
> "After you visited me last night, an aide came to me with an urgent pole
ALL: <bust up laughing>
MIKE: Is it too juvenile of us to find stuff like that funny?
TOM: Hey, works for me...
> on recent items which Congress was considering cutting. After your
> visit, I wasn't surprised to hear that NASA was at the top of the list.
> However, I was surprised to here that 90 Senators favored cutting it."
CROW: Good lord! How'd they get that many Democrats and Republicans to
vote the same way on *anything*?
> "That is a problem, we've got to make sure it isn't cut," Marrissa said.
TOM: <singing Groucho Marx-style> Whatever it is, I'm against it!
> "That was my thought as well," Clinton said.
MIKE: There goes Clinton, stealing someone else's ideas yet again.
> "However changing
> 40 or so Senators minds hasn't been easy since the Republicans got
> control of the Senate and the House a couple years ago."
CROW: Sure it has -- just claim you're from the tobacco lobby, and they'll do
anything you say!
> "It sounds like you need some personal lobbyists," Marrissa said.
TOM: Apparently the entire presidential staff has been eaten by grues.
> "Exactly," the President responded. "I though maybe you could help."
MIKE: So in Ratliff's version of reality, Bill Clinton is the only good guy
in Washington, Hilary doesn't exist, and Chelsea is one hot mama.
CROW: Yep. This is like one of those bizarre 50's sitcoms where there's a
dad and some kids, but no Mom.
TOM: "Clinton Knows Best?" Or maybe "Leave it to Chelsea?"
CROW: Exactly.
> "We can't do it alone," Marrissa said. "But maybe if we pair up
> with some of your people.
TOM: We'll hold a mixer. It'll be fun!
> And if we don't have any effect you might want to consider a press conference,
MIKE: Yeah, Clinton *never* holds one of those.
> I've used them to my advantage in the past."
> "Pairing up sounds like a good idea,
CROW: Uh, not *that* kind of 'pairing up,' Bill...
> that way we'd be sure that
> they knew where the appeal was coming from," Clinton replied.
TOM: I thought the whole point of the disguises and stuff was so they *wouldn't* know.
> "Then I suggest you and I pair up and Wes and Chelsea do the
> same," Marrissa organized.
ALL: YAH!
MIKE: Don't *say* that!
> "Ross will pose as a body guard for your
> wife when she does here part, not that is very far from the truth."
CROW: Not good Ratliff command English, or so here part from the truth.
> "In fact that might be a good cover for Lieutenant Crusher as well," Ross suggested.
TOM: Somehow I can't picture Wesley as a security guard and keep a straight face.
> "But what cover can you use, Commander?"
MIKE: Oh, the usual -- Queen of the Universe.
> "Me, well I'm one of Chelsea's friends that the President agreed
> to show around Congress," Marrissa smiled.
CROW: What about the intense media coverage every move of the President generates?
TOM: Maybe the whole DC press corps was eaten by grues too.
> "Right Chelsea?"
> "Sounds fine with me," Chelsea said. "Just don't make to many comments about me."
MIKE: That's *our* job!
> "Yeah, I don't want to fall out of my cover," Marrissa said.
CROW: ...and into a dry martini?
> "Before we begin, I suggest that Chelsea might be able to improve my
> cover so If you don't mind I'll leave with her.
TOM: <Clinton, muttering> Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
> Admiral, beam back to the Stargazer and relieve Kathy. She needs her rest."
MIKE: She's been hopping up and down with her legs crossed for the past three hours.
> "All right then we will hit Capital hill in an hour," the President said.
>
> Marrissa and President Clinton hit the Hill.
CROW: Body parts were later found strewn over several acres.
> They began walking from office to office courting votes.
TOM: <vaudevillian voice> My darling vote, let me count the ways I love you....
> In Senator Warner of Virginia's office, they met the Senator, and quite oddly,
MIKE: ...he didn't drop an anvil on them.
> his Democratic counterpart, Robb.
CROW: <sigh> Ratliff, do you know *anything* about politics? Robb and Warner
*hate* each other. They wouldn't be caught *dead* together.
> "I don't know how you get by without a desk,"
> Senator Robb said. "I mean there is no place to do any work here."
TOM: Oh, like *that's* a problem for Chuck Robb.
> "And nothing between myself and my constituency," Warner replied.
MIKE: Except his Calvins?
> "It's a grand idea, Senator, but it won't work in the Oval
> Office," President Clinton said entering the room. "The door was open
> so I thought I'd see what you were up too."
CROW: Let me guess, Bill - the door to the FBI files room was "open," too, right?
> "Well, Mister President, I didn't expect to see you on the hill today," Robb responded.
TOM: <Robb> I thought you were already over it.
> "Who's your companion?"
MIKE: ...and is she of legal age?
> "This is Marrissa, one of Chelsea's friends," Clinton replied.
> "I promised to show her around the halls of government."
CROW: And, as President, I really didn't have anything else to do.
> "So that's what brings you around here," Warner said. "To see
> the oddest office on the Hill."
TOM: Yeah, why *are* you working out of a water tower?
> "Actually I'm killing two birds, or in this case
MIKE: ...two idiots.
> three with one
> stone," the President said. "I here you both are considering voting to
> eliminate funding for NASA."
> "Yes, I just don't see the benefit to the American people," Warner replied.
CROW: <Clinton> Well then, you're a big poopie-head.
> "I think your wrong Senator," Clinton began. "It has provided
> jobs. It has provided scientific advances.
TOM: Remember Tang? Everyone loves Tang!
> And most of all,
MIKE: ...it's provided years of pork!
> a working
> effective space program is a source of inspiration and encouragement to all Americans.
CROW: Wouldn't it be neat if we had one?
> The people need some exploration, they need something new around the corner."
TOM: The people need the great tasting freshness of Thunderbird.
> "We need to see someone seeking out new worlds, someone boldly
> going where we've never gone before," Marrissa added.
MIKE: Someone boldly spouting cliches where many have spouted them before.
> "What about the cost?" Senator Robb said.
CROW: Yeah! And the inefficiency and red tape and political backstabbing and
occasional exploding shuttle?
> "What about the cost of it's loss," Clinton replied "Millions will lose their jobs."
TOM: *Millions*? Oh, I seriously doubt that figure...
CROW: Hey, Steve, check your facts before writing an impassioned political argument.
MIKE: Are you kidding? Ratliff can't even check his *spelling*!
> "Not to mention the loss of inspiration," Marrissa continued.
TOM: Christa MacAuliffe's fate certainly inspired me never to fly Air NASA.
> "Senators, some things seem to be easy to cut," Clinton said.
CROW: Cheese, for one.
> "NASA is not as easy of a cut as one would think.
MIKE: <Scandahoovian> Oh yah hey, better use dat der circular saw fer dat.
> You cut jobs, millions go on welfare, raising costs of that program.
CROW: What?! Assuming NASA was *completely* shut down -- which it never
would be -- the laid-off engineers and bureaucrats would almost
certainly be able to find jobs in the suddenly-opened corporate space
exploration business! And even if they couldn't, there's always the
cushy government layoff plan to fall back on! They wouldn't go on
*welfare*, fer crying out loud!!
TOM: Nice rant, Crow! Almost as good as mine!
> You cut the inspiration, you lose hope.
MIKE: Yeah, as if the average American cares one *iota* about whether NASA
is able to conduct further experiments about the mating habits of
hamsters in zero-gravity...
> And gentlemen, hope is something you don't want to lose.
TOM: Thank you, President Obvious.
> So can I count on the Gentlemen from Virginia to vote against any such cut?"
CROW: <Warner> I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?
> "You have my vote, Mister President," Senator Robb replied.
MIKE: Boy, Congressmen are *easy* to convince!
> "Mine as well, but before you go, I want to know," Warner
> asked. "Are you planning on hitting all the Senators?"
TOM: <mobster> Yeah. We're gonna whack `em all.
> "No, I've got 34 now 35 on my list, as Senator Robb was on my
> wife's list," Clinton said. "My wife has 32 now and Chelsea has 33, the
> ones I thought would be easier to convince."
CROW: You know the chicks can't handle real work.
> "You've got your daughter involved?" Robb inquired.
MIKE: Hey, it wasn't my call. One of the author's secret fantasies, I guess.
> "It's a more personal visit than an aid," Clinton said.
TOM: ...huh?
> "Plus, she's good and convincing people.
CROW: <Clinton> I almost believe her when she says she loves me.
> Just last night she convinced me to let her stay out past ten."
MIKE: Ah, the rich comedic wit of Stephen Ratliff. And it's all ours!
> "Remember that, John, next time we need to convince the President," Robb replied.
TOM: Okay, Marsha.
> "Senator Kennedy, I bring a personal message from my father,"
> Chelsea said entering the Senior Senator from Massachusetts's office.
CROW: He says, "Party tonight at Delta Delta Delta. Bring the keg."
TOM: This is like sending a message by Boy Scout to Michael Jackson!
> "And what does our beloved President have to say," Senator Kennedy asked.
> "He's wondering why you of all people would chose to cut funding
> for NASA," Chelsea replied.
MIKE: <Kennedy> Have you seen the women involved with NASA? Phew! Dog's breakfast!
> "Because a poll that some of my constitutes presented indicated
> that was a program they would like cut," Kennedy replied.
TOM: Well, Ratliff got *one* aspect of Congressional life right, at least.
> "Where these constitutes a brown haired man in his thirties and
> an blond haired man in his twenties?" Chelsea asked. "The brown haired
> man wearing a gray suit with a orange tie.
ALL: Eww...
CROW: Well, if he can still see, it wasn't them.
> The blond a blue suit with a Spock tie."
> "Yes, I believe they were," Kennedy said.
MIKE: He followed the advice of someone wearing a *Spock tie*?!
TOM: Hey, if they have money, he's all ears.
> "Wes, didn't we run across them in Senator Braun of Illinois's office?" Chelsea asked.
CROW: Didn't we leave some lovely tire tracks on them?
> "Yes, and Senator Glenn's and Senator Bradley's as well," Wes replied.
> "Personally Senator, I wouldn't trust any poll from them.
MIKE: They're with CNN.
> The can't be from Illinois, Iowa, Ohio and Massachusetts," Chelsea added.
> "Plus it would sound rather bad if you voted for eliminating NASA."
> "How so?" Senator Edward Kennedy asked.
TOM: Well, we'll run out of green cheese, and it'll be all your fault!
> "'We chose to go to the Moon', ring a bell," Chelsea asked.
CROW: But if you went to the moon and rung a bell, you couldn't hear it.
> Kennedy grimaced, "You have a point. Tell the President that I
> won't be voting for such a measure. In fact the moment someone
> introduces such a major, they will receive a serious reply from me.
MIKE: "Hic!"
CROW: There's a first time for everything, I suppose.
> In fact I'll filibuster on that measure until I receive word that it will
> not pass from the President.
TOM: So the first and only heroic act in this fanfic is a filibuster?
MIKE: Looks that way, Tommy.
TOM: Great.
> Now if you don't mind, I've got to prepare
> for the longest filibuster in the History of the United States."
CROW: <Kennedy> I'm going to read Stephen Ratliff's entire collection of stories!
ALL: NO!
TOM: He wants to filibuster, not kill them all!
>
> Chapter Seven
>
> Captain's Log
> July 29th, 1996
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard recording
> We enter our third day tracking down the time travelers. We now
> have a picture of our opponents.
MIKE: Unfortunately, it's by Leroy Neiman, so it looks like some large
circus animal was violently ill.
> The leader is a brown eyed, brown haired man in his thirties.
TOM: Oh, that narrows it down.
> His companion is blond and in his forties.
> The leader is named Lyam or James and wears a gray suit with an orange tie.
CROW: I guess humanity loses its fashion sense in the future.
TOM: How else can you explain all those doofy jumpsuits?
MIKE: Hey!
> His companion wears a blue suit with a Spock tie.
MIKE: If we catch this pair, we'll be ready to go after Carmen Sandiego.
> We have recruited several allies in our battle, but only the
> President knows were we are from.
CROW: Earth, as I recall.
> Senators Kennedy of Massachusetts, Robb and Warner of Virginia, Braun of Illinois are
TOM: ...the Four Horsemen of the Budget Apocalypse - they never saw a
tax increase they didn't like.
> preparing to
> filibuster on our behalf until we can insure the failure of the
> eliminate NASA amendment.
MIKE: Well, if they fail to eliminate it, there's always a high colonic.
> I wish the Speaker of the House hadn't decided to work on next year's budget early.
CROW: Now I *know* I'm reading a fantasy story -- he hasn't finished up
*last* year's budget yet!
> "Quarter Master Greig
TOM: Grignr? Is he in this, too?
CROW: It wouldn't surprise me.
> to Lieutenant Commander Picard," came the
> call while Marrissa sipped some strawberry soda in the conference lounge.
MIKE: What is it with the strawberries?? This is like the Ratliff equivalent
of angora sweaters!
TOM: I have a theory about the strawberries.
CROW: Oh, do tell.
TOM: I think strawberries are what gives Marrissa the power to bend reality
to her will and dominate the universe.
CROW: Nah. That power comes from Ratliff's unhealthy fascination with
domineering teenage girls.
> She had been going over the organization of the Congress to
> help her better understand the mess, it wasn't making it much easier.
MIKE: House Minority Whip, Speaker of the House, Electoral College...
who planned this thing, Bozo the Clown?
> "Go ahead, Quarter Master," Marrissa responded.
TOM: <barbarian> It is I, Grignr, Master of Quarters!
> "You had me looking for matches for that mystery man we caught a
> picture of leaving Senator Glenn's office," the Quarter Master replied.
> "I've found a match."
CROW: Good work. Now go light the pilot light.
> "Good, send all the information you have on him to the
> Conference lounge below the Bridge," Marrissa said. "And thanks for
> helping us out. I know such duty isn't normally the Quarter Masters."
MIKE: And while you're at it, go fetch me a pail of prop wash, will you?
> "It was my pleasure, every once in a while I need to break up
> the routine and this was a refreshing change for a while," the Quarter Master replied.
TOM: <Greig> Now I can return to laundry duty knowing there are far more
ridiculous ways I could spend my time.
> "Thanks again, Commander Picard out," Marrissa said, she was
> finally getting use to using here last name. On the Enterprise, since
> there where three Picards the crew made things easier by referring to her as
CROW: ...Queen Stinky-Pants.
> Marrissa, Doctor Beverly Picard as the Doctor,
MIKE: She wasn't as good as Tom Baker, though.
> and of coarse her
> father got to use the last name, rank hath it's privileges.
TOM: So says Ratliff. I can't wait until someone in his stories realizes
that high rank brings responsibility and worry, too.
MIKE: It'll never happen.
> The data on this Lyam Sympton wasn't very enlightening.
CROW: Neither are Ratliff's fanfics, but we have to read them anyway.
> He was an ordinary citizen, his only vice seemed to be a intense dislike for Starfleet.
MIKE: That's a big check in his favor, in my book.
TOM: I'm starting to like this guy more and more!
> Could it be that he hated it to the point that he was willing to risk time travel to
> change the past, possibly changing history so he was never born?
CROW: Mmmmm... nah.
> "Enjoying Command Kathy?" Marrissa asked entering the Bridge.
TOM: Not as much as Command is enjoying Kathy!
CROW: ZING!
> "Yes, but I thought I was assigned as a fighter wing commander,"
> Kathy replied, getting up from the Command Chair.
MIKE: They wouldn't trust me with a *whole* fighter, oh, no...
> "Don't bother, I'm just checking in before another day on the
> hill convincing senators," Marrissa said.
CROW: <brightening> Really? <it passes> Oh, darn. I thought she said she
was *convicting* Senators.
> "As for being assigned as a fighter wing commander,
TOM: I've had second thoughts about facing the Kilrathi.
> the fighters have to arrive first."
> "True," Kathy said.
> "Well I'll be visiting Senators Dole,
MIKE: Why? He's retired!
> Nunn, and Wellstone this
> morning so if anyone needs me, that's were to look," Marrissa said.
> "You have the Bridge, Kathy, enjoy!"
CROW: *sigh* Why does Ratliff think command is something to be *enjoyed*?
TOM: Probably because he's never been in command of anything except his
Star Trek videotape collection, and he figures it must be pretty nice.
> "You are getting good at this, Marrissa," President Clinton
> commented. "Normally people start out on the hill like a fish out of
> water."
MIKE: You'd know, eh, Bill?
> "I'm use to unusual situations," Marrissa commented. "I once got thrown into
CROW: A vat of acid?
TOM: Unfortunately, no.
> a mediation of the continuation of Today's Balkan
> problem. I had an agreement in a week, not bad for a twelve year old."
CROW: <growls> Don't get me started on *that* again.
MIKE: I hope Ratliff has to meet with some of the survivors of the *real*
"Balkan problem." In an alleyway.
> "That problem is still going on in the 24th,"
TOM: <Harry Caray> And that's a great time for another ice cold Budweiser...
> Clinton said as
> they walked up the Mall toward the Capital.
CROW: <Marrissa> Ooo, wait a sec-- I wanna stop by the Macy's.
> "It went on off and on until the late 21st century when each of
> the sides were given their own planet," Marrissa said.
MIKE: You see, Tom, I *told* you you could get anything you wanted at Marshall Fields.
TOM: I guess.
> "Unfortunately they each got one of the four inhabitable planets in the Naklab system.
TOM: I guess they figured that was appropriate, given the name and all.
> A hundred and fifty years later, they went at it again."
CROW: I'm impressed they were able to wait 150 years!
> "How did you solve it," Clinton asked.
> "I call it enforced appeasement," Marrissa said.
MIKE: In other words, I threatened to wipe their civilizations out of existence.
> "Each side was given something it wanted and all the troops were transported off Sobnia
> - their version of Bosnia.
TOM: Give each side exactly what it wants? Why didn't Jimmy Carter think of that?
MIKE: Carter's mistake was not kidnapping all their troops, I guess.
> The agreement has lasted two years so far, and if it is broken, they will be in big trouble."
CROW: <Ralph Kramden> Oh, you'll be in trouble, Bosnia, biiiiiiggg trouble! To da moon!
> As they reached the Capital they meet Senator Warner.
TOM: There's baloney in his slacks!
> "What's going on Senator?" Clinton asked the Senator.
MIKE: A three-piece suit, most likely.
TOM: <singing> Senator, Senator, Senator, there are far too many of us
voting... oh, what's going on....
> "They've introduced the amendment and Kennedy has begun the filibuster," Warner said.
CROW: More likely he's started on a Dairy Queen Belly-buster.
TOM: Has Teddy topped 350 pounds yet?
> "He hands off to me in fifteen minutes."
MIKE: Then I fade right, and lateral to Gingrich.
> Warner mounted the stairs going up them at a rapid rate. As he reached
> the top you could here him mutter, "No retirement this week."
CROW: <Lloyd Bridges> Looks like I picked the wrong week to give up amphetamines.
> "We've run into a stumbling block," Lyam said to his companion.
> "Senator Kennedy is filibustering."
TOM: Eww! And it's all over the carpet!
> "I'll see if I can arrange for it to be broken then," the companion said.
MIKE: Make him drive down a bridge in the dark.
> "Go, and while your at it, get rid of the Spock tie," Lyam said.
CROW: Yeah! You know, this Lyam doesn't seem like such a bad guy.
> "Why, it's a good cover," the companion responded. "No one would
> ever suspect some one with a Spock tie of hating Starfleet."
> Lyam groaned.
TOM: Thereby echoing the feelings of the entire reading audience.
CROW: Lyam Sympton is my hero.
> "Mister President, I think I know how you can sink the eliminate NASA amendment,"
MIKE: <Burton> I don't care how you do it - you must sink the Bismarck amendment.
> Marrissa said as they left Senator Dole's office.
TOM: Senator Dole's *empty* office, I'd imagine.
> "How?" the President asked.
CROW: Threaten to have Carl Sagan speak in favor of it?
> "Remember Kennedy's 'We chose to go to the moon speech,'" Marrissa asked.
MIKE: Good thing Marrissa's up on the speeches of Presidents who died
500 years before she was born.
> "How could I forget?" Bill Clinton replied.
TOM: Especially since his memory is so good otherwise...
> "Well if you have a clear goal in space they won't cut it," Marrissa stated.
CROW: Wanna bet?
> "Great idea, and I think I have one," Clinton said, getting out his cellar phone.
MIKE: <Clinton> NASA's new goal is to find hot chicks in outer space!
> "Hello, Hillary, get our new press secretary
TOM: ...out of your bed and get him to put on some clothes.
> and have him set up a press conference
>for tonight at 9 p.m.. Tell him that the topic is America in Space.
CROW: The potheads'll love it.
> Thanks Hillary."
MIKE: <Clinton> Oh, and you're taking the fall for Whitewater, not me. Bye, honey!
> He shut the phone. "Now all I have to do is write a speech."
TOM: Or, at least, have my elite team of speech writers and campaign
strategists write it for me.
> Marrissa continued to get reports on Lyam and his companion.
CROW: Seems it was all a stunt for "TV Nation".
> They seemed to be everywhere, spreading disinformation.
MIKE: So they work for the Christian Coalition?
TOM: Or the tobacco lobby.
CROW: Or the anti-drug commission.
TOM: Or Rush Limbaugh.
> Fortunately the President had quite a bit of resources
MIKE: ...most of them tied up in the fast food industry...
> and every place they visited, one
> of the President's people, usually Chelsea or Hillary visited quickly there after.
TOM: Was English Ratliff's first language?
> However Marrissa had no luck in capturing these time travelers.
> Already Ross's team had been sent down a couple times to pick them up and failed.
CROW: <Ross> Okay, men-- next time we wear the *sheer* pantyhose.
> The preparations for the Press Conference were going well and
> Kennedy had given way to Warner
MIKE: ...who told punny jokes and sprayed seltzer on Congress for two hours.
> and him to Robb in the filibuster.
TOM: Things were looking mighty grim for the Windbag Nine that day...
> Braun had the night shift. Apparently in Congress seniority had it's privileges as well.
CROW: They don't have to work the Congressional 7-11.
> Lieutenant Lavelle reported that the Eagle wasn't visiting Earth
> any time soon as it's orbit around Jupiter had been made difficult to leave.
TOM: On the other hand, it's not difficult at *all* to leave this crappy
fanfic. Let's roll, guys.
[Mike and the bots leave the theater.]
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Tom and Crow are behind Crow's computer. Crow is typing. Mike enters
and stands behind them.]
MIKE: Okay, explain this plan to me again?
TOM: You know how in today's fanfic Ratliff claims that every Star Trek
episode, movie, novel, comic book, and work of fanfiction would someday
come true?
MIKE: Yeah.
TOM: Well, we've decided to use Ratliff's theory against him. If everything
he or anybody else writes using the Trek universe comes true, then *we*
can write a Marrissa story, too!
MIKE: You're writing... a *Marrissa* story?!
TOM: Yeah! Cool, huh?
[Mike begins edging off to the side.]
MIKE: Um, yeah. Excuse me while get the chainsaw from underneath my bed...
CROW: Wait, Mike. It's not what you're thinking.
[Mike stops edging.]
MIKE: It isn't?
CROW: Nope! See, what *we're* planning to do is put Marrissa through pain
and torture and suffering and death and stuff.
TOM: Hee hee hee! We're gonna kill Marrissa!
MIKE: Ah! I get it! Can I help?
TOM: Sure!
[Everyone looks to the computer screen. Crow begins typing.]
CROW: Okay. <typing> "Marrissa vs Soup. Chapter One."
TOM: Marrissa vs *Soup*??
CROW: Well, why not? Trust me.
TOM: Okay.
CROW: <typing> "Marrissa entered her quarters on the Stargazer to find a
large bowl of soup waiting for her."
TOM: ...and it has a gun and it kills her!
CROW: What? Soup can't hold a gun!
TOM: Maybe it's really a changeling or something...
CROW: No, it's soup.
TOM: Okay, what about if she trips, hits her head on the bowl, and drowns
in a puddle of soup?
CROW: She *could* do that, but do you really want to kill her right away?
TOM: YES!!!
CROW: No, we don't!
TOM: No?
CROW: I have a large, intricate plan to make Marrissa suffer. Slowly at
first, and then, inch by inch, the torture becomes more and more
horrible... and *then* she dies.
TOM: How long will this take?
CROW: Well, it might take two or three stories...
TOM: WHAT?!
CROW: Well, there's twists and turns in the plot, and I *really* want to
make Marrissa suffer for a long time...
TOM: But I want to kill her *now*!!
MIKE: Uh... I hate to interrupt, here, but... can we get on with it?
CROW: Fine. I shall continue. <typing> "Marrissa wondered how the soup
could have gotten into her quarters -- she always left the door
locked. Nervously, she dipped a finger into the soup and tasted it..."
TOM: ...and the soup was poisoned, so she died!
CROW: <angrily> TOM!!!
[Crow attacks Tom, but is held back by Mike. Suddenly, the buzzers and
flashing lights go off.]
ALL: FANFIC SIGN!!!
6... 5... 4... 3... 2.. *...
[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]
MIKE: I think that's enough writing for today.
CROW: <muttering> Nobody understands my art...
> Chapter Eight
>
> The Press Conference was about to start, Marrissa had been given
> a great seat in the Rose Garden beside Chelsea.
MIKE: <stands up and looks around theater> Oh, Mister Princip?
Mister Oswald? Mister McVeigh? That's your cue....
> All the major networks were there, even Warner and UPN had managed to find people to cover the
> event for their affiliates.
TOM: <Jonathan Frakes> Tonight on "The Paranormal Borderline": ancient
numerological formulas used in the construction of the White House.
> President William Jefferson Clinton emerged from the White House.
CROW: <singing> Hail to the chief, he's a fatty side of beef...
> The setting was perfect.
MIKE: Clinton had his orange clown shoes on, and the Secret Service had
arranged for Washington's 19 sleaziest hookers to act as the
Presidential entourage.
> The podium had been located so the full moon had come up behind him
TOM: Someone get Bob Dole down from there, and give him some pants!
> and the stars were out.
CROW: My god, the podium is full of stars!
> The Presidential dais was lit just enough for the president to be
MIKE: ...all sparkly and fabulous in his rhinestone-encrusted leather cape.
> easily
> seen and the Press had been prohibited from bringing any lights to ruin it.
TOM: And no lights, of course, means no cameras, which means no TV coverage
and no point for this whole stupid press conference.
CROW: Ratliff really *doesn't* have any idea how the real world works, does he?
> The Press Secretary having lost his voice, much to the Press's amusement,
MIKE: Laryngitis! Ha ha! That cracks me up every time!
> Chelsea went to the microphone to introduce her father.
TOM: <Chelsea> Okay. Dad, this is my friend the microphone. Microphone, this is my dad.
> As the band begin hail to the chief
CROW: The band is hailing Robert Parish?
> she said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the
> President of the United States." Surrendering the podium to her father
> she sat back down next to Marrissa.
MIKE: I'm sure that the Secret Service is just sooo pleased to have a perfect
stranger that close to the President...
> "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, and people of the United States,"
TOM: <Martin Lawrence> WHASSUP?!?!
> Clinton began. "We are gathered here today to
CROW: ...witness the joining of these two in holy matrimony.
> discuss America in Space,
MIKE: Pork... in... spaaaaace!
> while our good friends on the hill, Senators Kennedy, Warner,
> Robb, and Braun prevent us from leaving space.
TOM: That could've been phrased better.
CROW: Hey, it's the Four Stooges!
MIKE: <Curly> Hey Moe! What're we doing today?
TOM: <Kennedy> Er-ah, we-ah going to the-ah bah, Curly...
> However in order to be effective in space, we need goals.
MIKE: And we won't score goals until we get a high-powered forward.
> Over thirty years ago my predecessor, John F. Kennedy
CROW: JFK was the President before Clinton?
TOM: Well, I'm sure we'd all like for the Reagan-Bush era to never have
happened, but I'm not sure that wishing will make it so...
> did just that when he inspired the world with his we
> chose to go to the moon speech.
MIKE: And today, I will inspire no one with a pointless, rambling speech.
> "I however have more permanent goals for us in mind. They are
> as follows; We must establish before the end of the century a permanent base on our moon.
TOM: <looking around> What's that I hear?
CROW: Oh, that's all the NASA engineers laughing their butts off.
> In addition a fleet of manned space vessels must be
> build to continue our exploration. We must not only be willing to go
> where no one has gone before, but to stay their as well.
MIKE: And the cost of all this is only 40 quadrillion dollars! A bargain at twice the price!
> "You ask what good does this do for those at home?
TOM: You do? Really? Um... I'll get back to you.
> There are many advantages to our continued presence in space and many benefits to
> it's expansion.
CROW: Yeah, remember Tang? I can't stress that enough!
> It will create jobs in many industries who produce
> materials needed in space in addition to those who work in space. It
> will and has been a focus for our sciences to discover more about the
> solar system we live in. It will also provide inspiration for our
> young, to inspire them to reach for the stars.
MIKE: <Casey Kasem> ...and keep their feet on the ground!
> "However some in congress,
TOM: And lonely people too.
> and in the nation, wish to cut off
> this source of jobs, knowledge and inspiration.
CROW: You mean the schools?
> This must not happen. I believe such a move would hurt our nation hard, perhaps beyond
> recovery.
MIKE: How does one get "hurt hard?"
TOM: I don't know, but I think I'd like to do it to Ratliff.
> "We must reach for the stars,
CROW: Even if some of us are in the gutter.
> for if we don't we will end up
> buried under the Earth like the dinosaurs before us.
TOM: So Clinton's saying that if we don't go into space we're going to be turned into oil?
MIKE: Or be dug up by Sam Neill....
> Humanity, dispute our faults, deserves more.
CROW: Oh, I don't know about that.
MIKE: HEY!
TOM: Face it, Mike -- Crow's right.
GYPSY: <from off-stage> Yeah!
MIKE: I'm completely alone, aren't I?
TOM: Yup.
> We must reach for the stars, for in the stars lies knowledge; for in the stars lies
>inspiration; for in the stars lies our future.
TOM: ...for in the stars lies a mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace.
> "It is a future we can not afford to waste, it is a future we
> can not afford to delay.
CROW: It is a future we cannot afford.
> It is time for us to start living by that sentence at the beginning of the popular show Star Trek,
MIKE: You mean the one that goes, "Captain's Log, Stardate?"
> to seek out new life, new civilizations,
TOM: ...and exploit them without mercy. We're Americans, after all.
> to boldly go were no one has gone before.
CROW: He's quoting from a TV show? That doesn't seem like a good way to
build political credibility.
TOM: Hey, it worked for Reagan!
> For where no one has gone is were we need to go.
MIKE: <snicker> Maybe he really *did* write this himself.
CROW: That sounds like the motto of the Atlanta sewer department.
> The president concluded his remarks
TOM: ...by hitting on every one of the female reporters.
> with, "Remember, space is
> our future, to deny that future is to deny ourselves existence.
CROW: I don't see a downside to this.
> Therefore we must reach for our future, for it is time for America to
> reach for the stars, for in the stars lies our future."
MIKE: <Criswell> And remember, my friends, future events such as these will
affect *you* in the future!
TOM: Eh. It's still better than Bill Pullman's speech in "Independence Day."
> As he finished he looked up expectantly,
CROW: ...and found the room completely empty.
TOM: <cricket chirps>
> The press after a beautiful silence
MIKE: I'm with you on *that*.
> began shouting,
TOM: "Get off the podium, you crook!"
> "Mister President!," and "Mister President what about ..."
CROW: ...and, "Mister President, what the *hell* were you talking about?"
> "One at a time, we will start with the man from UPN,
MIKE: Napoleon Solo?
> but before he asks his question I want to know
TOM: What on earth compelled his network to broadcast "Voyager?"
> how he got
> suckered into becoming a reporter," Clinton said. "Your suppose to be an actor, Robert."
CROW: "Your suppose" to be a writer, Ratliff, but that doesn't stop you from
mangling the language.
> "I know, but apparently UPN needed a news division in a hurry
MIKE: Just to cover this stupid press conference? Who cares?
> so, I got the call and ran from the Star Trek Convention," Robert McNeil said.
TOM: Good idea! If I ever found myself at a Star Trek convention, I'd run like hell, too!
> "They figured that after answering all those fans I should be able to ask some questions.
CROW: So a regular role on Trek and con appearances is enough preparation
for a career as a reporter. Okay.
TOM: <sigh>
MIKE: Do you think Steve-o is happy in his own little world?
> UPN news is almost all Voyager staff today, Kate Mulgrew is anchoring it from the ready room set.
ALL: <snicker>
MIKE: UPN must be *designed* to lose money - a tax dodge, maybe?
> My question is how are you going to implement these goals?"
CROW: <Clinton> A very good question. Next?
> "Are you sure you're an actor," Clinton replied.
TOM: I've wondered that myself.
> "Senators Warner, Robb, Kennedy, and Braun have agreed to co-sponsor a bill making
> a more fleshed out version of the goals stated in my speech.
MIKE: That still doesn't explain how you're going to pay for it.
> If I find one senator who votes against it I will ... well lets just say that it
> won't be pleasant.
CROW: I'll harrrm youuu...
TOM: Like *that's* gonna scare a Republican.
MIKE: Well, Clinton might decide to endorse that Senator.
> Tom Brocaw, NBC News."
CROW: <British accent> That's Brocaw with a 'c', the well-known Dutch anchor
for the Netherlands Broadcasting Company.
> "What will become of Senators Warner's, Robb's, Kennedy's, and
> Braun's filibuster," Brocaw asked.
MIKE: The voice of the people *will* be known, and all four *will* be voted
out of office, and end up on M Street holding signs that read "Will
filibuster for food."
> "The Senators will end their filibuster when
TOM: ...someone waves money in their direction.
> 51 or more Senators
> publicly announce their support for NASA," Clinton said.
CROW: In other words, about a year and a half from now.
> "Or so Senator Kennedy said.
MIKE: ...in between chugs of Corona.
> Connie Chung, ABC News."
> And so the conference went ...
TOM: On and on, speeches without end, amen.
>
> Chapter Nine
>
> Captain's Log
> August 3, 1996
> Lieutenant Marrissa Picard recording
CROW: <Shabba Ranks> Check one, mi check microphone checker...
> The vote to cancel the funding of NASA failed today by the
> narrowest of margins. However, the votes against were all cast at the
> end of the balloting, after the 51 votes necessary to guarantee it's
> failure were recorded.
TOM: ...thereby making the voting completely suspenseless.
MIKE: What else did you expect from a Ratliff fanfic?
> It is my belief that those votes against NASA
> was what lead to those senators losing re-election in 1998 and 2000.
CROW: Let's see. Senators vote to cut expenditures on a bloated, corrupt, and
wasteful program... and the people vote them *out* of office?
MIKE: It's Ratliff's world, Crow; his sky is green, his sun is purple, and
the electorate are complete poltroons.
> In other news, I we believe we have found were the time
> travelers from the Essex are hiding to await the Eagle's return.
TOM: From Essex? They're from Marrissa's planet?
MIKE: Maybe this was all a convoluted scheme to erase Marrissa's existence
from history and spare themselves having her become Queen.
CROW: Convoluted or no, I can see why they might try it.
> I believe that they checked into the Quality Inn, Capital Hill, under the
> names James T. Kirk, and Jean-Luc Picard.
TOM: The hotel staff, of course, had *no idea* these were aliases...
MIKE: This Quality Inn is staffed by the only five people on the planet
who've never heard of Star Trek.
> My opinion concerning the two is based on the fact we have traced the signal of a subspace transceiver
> originating in their room.
CROW: <snicker> Well, that would make it rather obvious, I guess.
> I'm afraid 'Jean-Luc Picard' is about to visit his daughter.
MIKE: Is that some sort of Czaplinski-esque code phrase?
CROW: Oh, you mean like "draining the lizard?"
TOM: "Taking the old boy out for a walk?"
CROW: "Going to see a man about a horse?"
TOM: "Shaking hands with the legend?"
MIKE: Enough, guys - I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in the Shakopee
high school locker room.
> Getting them onboard should be easy, President Clinton has had
> his Attorney General issue warrants for their arrests for bribing a member of Congress.
CROW: That's a crime?
MIKE: If it were, we'd have 493 congressmen awaiting trial...
> (You really shouldn't pass money to a Senator in front of a C-Span camera.)
TOM: You should do it somewhere private, and via check or computer, the way
everyone else in Washington does it.
> My security team has been empowered to serve those warrants
MIKE: Man, all this loose procedure is enough to make me join the Freemen.
> with the understanding that they will be tried for the
> charge when we return to the 24th century, although such a charge is the
> least of their worries.
CROW: That speeding ticket, though... <whistle>
TOM: Starfleet's deepest dungeons are reserved for traffic offenders.
> Lieutenant Ross Lochard was readying his away team.
CROW: <prissy> Come on, girls, let's give them a makeover they wouldn't believe!
> "Remember gentlemen, our job is to apprehend the suspects and return them to the
> Stargazer," he began. "We must avoid all potential of temporal interference.
MIKE: So no leaving behind those Starfleet beer bottles like last time.
> We will be beaming down a block away behind a trash bin.
TOM: In it, you'll find a copy of this fanfic.
> Upon our capture of the suspect, we will get in a van which the
> President is providing and be beamed up.
CROW: Upon our capture by the local constabulary, kooky humor will begin.
> Any questions?"
TOM: If it's Clinton's van, will there be any weed stashed in the glove compartment?
CROW: What do we do if someone says "Hello, sailor"?
MIKE: What's the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
> As no questions were evident, Ross and his six security men, all
> that were aboard at the time were beamed down. They materialized behind
> the dumpster beside a building on New Jersey Avenue.
TOM: Oh, the fittingness of it all!
> The security team in their FBI uniforms
CROW: <narrator> ...cut a stylish path as they stride down the runaway; take
a look at Jacques in a double-breasted worsted from Anton's of London.
Then, feast your eyes on Raoul, in a *very* nice sleeveless kevlar
vest - new this season from Yukio's of Paris!
> proceeded orderly to the Quality Inn, Capital
> Hill. At the Desk in the lobby, Ross asked, "Lieutenant Ross Lochard,
> FBI, I was wondering if misters James T. Kirk, and Jean-Luc Picard are in?"
MIKE: <manager> Sure, they *were* gonna leave, but a feeble plot device kept them here.
> "Mister Picard just picked up his mail, I believe Mister Kirk
> was with him," the manager replied.
TOM: *Mail*?! Time traveling criminals from the 24th century, and they're
getting *mail*?!
CROW: Those Publisher's Clearinghouse people are *very* thorough.
> "Is he in some sort of trouble?"
MIKE: <manager> I just assumed they were doing some kind of weird sex-shul
things to each other, what with the pseudonyms and hotel room and all...
> "Actually, yes," Ross replied. "I'm here to arrest them for bribing a congressman.
TOM: <Ross> And, by the way, I'm not a stranger from the 24th century with a fake ID.
> Could you take me to their room?"
CROW: <manager> On a first date? What kind of man do you think I am?
> "Room 104 is this way gentlemen," the manager said.
> They approached the room and knocked on the door, "Open up, FBI." Ross said.
MIKE: <quietly> Psst-- sir, *we're* the FBI.
> The door opened. Lyam Sympton was sitting on the bed.
TOM: Naked, except for a leather bikini.
> His companion, had opened the door and backed up to lean against the wall.
CROW: He's assuming the position already?
TOM: Does that mean he's--
MIKE: Tom... just don't, okay?
> "Misters Kirk and Picard I presume?"
CROW: Does that make Ross Mr. Stanley?
> "That's our names, don't wear them out," Lyam, also known as Picard, said.
ALL: <pause>
TOM: Okay, I don't like him anymore.
MIKE: Now I *hope* he's caught. He deserves to be arrested just for
*thinking* of using that line.
TOM: Arrested? He deserves the *Chair*!
CROW: <growling> Die... die... you must die...
> "You both are under arrest for bribing a member of congress," Ross began,
TOM: Oh, like *that* will ever happen.
MIKE: Well, this *is* a work of science fiction.
TOM: More like fantasy -- science fiction usually has some basis in reality.
> "You have a right to remain silent, anything you say, can
> and will be used against you. You have a right to an attorney, if you
> can not afford one, one will be provided for you ..."
> After finishing the reading of the prisoner's rights,
CROW: Either Ratliff is saving space and quickening the pace of the fanfic...
TOM: Unlikely.
CROW: ...or he doesn't know the rest of the words.
TOM: Highly probable.
> Ross and
> his team brought the two handcuffed prisoners to the van parked outside.
MIKE: COPS in Starfleet.
TOM: <singing> Bad boys, bad boys...
> The five other security officers crowded into the back of the 10 person
> van and Ross joined the driver in the front.
CROW: <Scandahoovian> Now, I don't want you kids complaining about anything.
I gave you a chance to go and you wouldn't take it. Now, your father
and I are going to drive -- why don't you put your headphones on and
listen to some of that grunge rock that you like so much, and we'll be
at your grandmother's before you know it.
> Lyam's companion said as the van began moving, "I can't believe we got caught."
TOM: Maybe you should have picked less-obvious pseudonyms.
MIKE: And a less-stupid plan for destroying Starfleet. After all, you only
talked to half of Congress under false pretenses.
> "At least it's not Starfleet," Lyam said.
CROW: Nobody expects the Starfleet Inquisition!
> "Don't be so sure 'Mister Picard,'" Ross said.
TOM: <Ross> I get to be smug again!
> "You are about to be beamed aboard the Stargazer to meet your 'daughter.'"
MIKE: Oh, *that's* why Marrissa wanted to capture him -- he's a deadbeat dad!
> "Ross, I hate to inform you but there's been a change of plans,"
> the driver, Wesley Crusher said as the van turned down Constitution Avenue.
> "What changed?" Ross asked.
CROW: Instead of the FBI, we're supposed to by the Publisher's Clearing House Prize Patrol.
> "Marrissa thinks we need to cover our tracks more," Wesley said.
TOM: She's going to vaporize Washington from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.
> "So President Clinton just donated this van to Starfleet."
MIKE: You need to cover your tracks more, so you're going to make a piece of
government property disappear? I know the GAO is sloppy, but still...
> "How?"
> As Wes turned entered the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, he
> explained, "We are about to go over board."
TOM: Oh, okay... HUH?!
> The van speeded up and shot though a gap in the rail, (removed for repair earlier in the mourning.
MIKE: "Mourning?" They're dead!
ALL: <cheer>
> The van fell into the Potomac. It began sinking.
ALL: Woo! USA! USA!
CROW: Vindication, at last!
> Fortunately the inside was waterproof
TOM: But if we're lucky, not watertight.
> and when they landed on the bottom of the river,
> one of the Stargazer's cargo transporters engaged and brought the whole van aboard.
ALL: D'oh!
CROW: RATLIFF, YOU BASTARD, I'LL SEE YOU HANG FOR THIS!
> When they had fully materialized, they discovered that Marrissa was waiting for them.
MIKE: <airport announcer> We have smug, self-righteous Marrissa speech #3
cleared for landing on runway 6.
> "Lyam Sympton or should I call you father?" she began.
TOM: <Lyam> You can't prove that! I want a DNA test!
> "As a representative of Starfleet, which is charged with
> preventing temporal violations, I am hereby charging you with such a
> violation. In addition, you are charged with stealing a Starfleet
> vessel and if you are the Captain of that vessel a speeding ticket has
> also been issued.
MIKE: <airport announcer> Uh, yeah, Tower, that's a copy, Marrissa has landed
with full ego deploy on runway 6, ETA to swelled head is 30 seconds.
> "Who are you to charge me?" Lyam asked. "You are just a little girl."
CROW: It's official. *Every* Ratliff villain has said this line.
> "I'm Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Amber Picard, acting Captain
> of the USS Stargazer," Marrissa said.
ALL: <dully reciting> ...Princess, heir to the throne of Essex, commander of
the Kids' Crew...
> "Lieutenant, take them to the brig and report to the bridge."
MIKE: <airport announcer> Tower, this is the landing crew, Marrissa's head
has now swelled to full capacity and mouth is running at 100%.
> When Lieutenant Lochard arrived on the bridge of the Stargazer,
> he noticed his wife was missing.
TOM: <singing> One of our Starfleet wives, is missing... we think she ran
aground to avoid Marrissa...
> Marrissa sat at her station. "Where's Kathy?" he asked.
CROW: She's looking for Waldo.
> "She has the lower warp pair, or as I call it the Gazer," Marrissa said.
MIKE: How very hip of you.
> "I intend to surround the Eagle and board it.
TOM: Is it possible to surround something with two objects?
CROW: Only if the two objects are Rush Limbaugh and Roseanne.
> As you can see, I've got the helm.
MIKE: No, that was Dean Martin.
> So sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. And while your at it, open a channel to the Eagle."
> "Channel open," Ross replied. "No response."
TOM: <Marrissa> I get no response from more men... why don't they see how wonderful I am?
> As the Stargazer closed on the Eagle in Jupiter orbit, the upper warp pair, Star, could
> be seen diligently blocking the Eagle's attempts to leave orbit. The
> Gazer, the other warp pair was closing from behind.
TOM: <hums "Jaws" theme>
CROW: So one warp pair, the "Star," and the other warp pair, the "Gazer,"
have detached from the ship. What does that leave?
MIKE: An engineless disk called the " ".
> "Message to warp pairs, code Beethoven one," Marrissa said.
MIKE: Ah, the popular "slobber" stratagem.
> "Engage tractors when the lights go on."
> "Message sent," Ross said. "Lights go on?"'
TOM: <Ross> Duhhh... lights go on, lights go off.
> "You haven't notice?" Marrissa replied. "I turned off the
> running lights after the Gazer left."
> "Commander, that's a volition of regulations," Ross replied.
CROW: Not to mention silly and pointless.
MIKE: Well, see, in space nobody knows you're there if you don't have your
lights on. That's how the Romulan cloaking device works -- they just
turn off their lights.
TOM: <Chief Wiggum> Oooooh... ghost ship... valley's full of them.
> "It would be if it weren't for subsection 8 of Regulation 103," Marrissa said.
MIKE: That subsection reads, "Marrissa Picard can do whatever the heck she wants."
> "I recommend reading regulations to get to sleep.
TOM: I recommend reading Ratliff stories to cause brain hemmorages.
> Hail them again Ross."
CROW: <Ross, muttering> How I loathe you....
> From the Bridge of the Eagle, Boris watched the two craft
> blocking his ship. The helmsman was struggling futility to escape.
MIKE: Boy, don't you hate it when you meet someone in a hall, and you move to
the same side they do, and you both move to the other side, and you
can't get around each other?
> Then the navigator announced. "I'm detecting a third craft, bearing 87
> mark 310 distance 12 hundred meters."
TOM: It got to within 1200 meters before you detected it? What are you
using for radar, equipment you cobbled from a game of Pong??
> "On screen," Boris asked. A darkened craft was seen.
CROW: Look, you guys, it's Supercar!
ALL: <sing "Supercar" theme>
> Suddenly the ship lit up, it's registry and name clearly visible.
MIKE: <Boris> The SS... Petticoat Junction? Where do I know that name from?
> USS Stargazer, NCC-2893, United Federation of Planets, her markings proudly said.
TOM: Below them was a bumper sticker reading, "Ask me about the Picard Maneuver".
> Her hull was a bright white with the a massive shuttlebay door facing forward.
CROW: Hey, that's no way to talk about Marrissa!
> Before Boris had the time to take in the beauty of the new ship,
MIKE: Duh... ship shiny...
> the Eagle shook
TOM: Where Eagles Shimmy!
> as the warp pair crafts took hold of the Constitution Class vessel.
> "The Stargazer is hailing us again," the communications person said.
> "I guess we better see what they have to say," Boris capitulated.
CROW: I'll bet you a hundred RAM chips that Ratliff doesn't know what
"capitulated" means, and he just used his Word 6.0 thesaurus.
> "They are responding," Ross said.
MIKE: Oh, *my*, are they responding!
> "On screen," Marrissa ordered. The Russian Boris appeared on
> screen in the command chair of the constitution class starship Eagle.
TOM: The Irish Boris sat at the helm, and the Thai Boris at Conn.
> The week he had spent in command, trapped in the Jovian system had marked him.
CROW: ...on the hand, so that he could get back into the Jovian Club without
paying admission again.
> His eyes were bloodshot and his face drawn.
MIKE: He's not bad. He's just drawn that way.
> Marrissa wondered how she would react in such a situation,
TOM: What, being a bad guy in a Ratliff fanfic? Being forced to make lousy
decisions and being defeated by flimsy plot devices?
> but Marrissa had no plans to find out.
CROW: Ratliff, I beg of you -- make Marrissa find out how she'd react to
being shot by a phaser set to kill. Please.
> "Eagle, this is the Starfleet vessel Stargazer, I am
MIKE: ...the walrus, koo koo kachoo.
> Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, acting Captain. I'm afraid I'm
> going to have to ask you to surrender your vessel to my officers and
> permit yourselves to be confined while we return to our correct time."
TOM: Truth in advertising should force Ratliff to bill this as
"0% Pure Adrenalin."
> "Are these other vessels under your command as well?" Boris asked, tiredly.
CROW: <Marrissa> Yes, of course they are -- I'm in command of the entire
Starfleet. Well, not quite yet, but I'm about to be. And then I'm
going to be elected Queen of Starfleet, and then I'll take over the
Klingon empire once Gowron sees how cool I am, and then we'll go wipe
out those stinky Cardassians and those poopy Dominion people, and I'll
be Queen of the Universe!
MIKE: Crow, you just outlined the plots of the next five Marrissa stories.
CROW: D'oh!
> "Yes, the other vessels are, in fact you might say they are a
> part of my ship," Marrissa said.
TOM: You might also say this fanfic sucks and Ratliff should be strapped to
the Tree of Despair and have his liver picked out by vultures and...
> "Stand by for boarding. Stargazer out. Commander Picard to Admiral Scott."
> "Scotty here, lassie."
MIKE: <Marrissa> Admiral Scott, please take that bottle of Manishewitz out of
your mouth when you're speaking to me.
> "Admiral, how would you like to command a Constitution class starship again," Marrissa inquired.
CROW: <Scotty> I never commanded one, ye little twerp!
> "I'm rather short on command staff."
TOM: Not to mention intelligence, patience, mercy, or human warmth.
MIKE: <Marrissa> I don't understand it... people seem almost reluctant to work under me.
> "As long as it's not permanent, lassie," Scotty said.
CROW: Scotty's been burned by home body waves before.
> "I'd enjoy seeing if I can get one back in shape."
TOM: "In shape," of course, being a phrase that Scotty's never been that familiar with.
> "Then, pick some crew and take the Eagle for me," Marrissa said.
> "Lieutenant Crusher has the equations for your return to the correct time.
MIKE: <Scotty> Wesley did the equations? We're doomed...
> I'll be following as soon as I can dock the warp pair crafts. Picard out. Marrissa, to Wesley."
CROW: <irritated> What?
> "Lieutenant Crusher, how may I help you Princess?"
> "Don't call me Princess brother,
TOM: <Wes> Can I call you Earl Daddy?
> and tell me that you have those
> equations ready?" Marrissa inquired.
MIKE: <Marrissa> Don't call me a monarch, but obey my every command.
> "I have them ready, Duchess," Wes replied.
CROW: <weak laughter, then...> Kill him!
TOM: Kill *me*...
> "Don't call me that either," Marrissa stated.
MIKE: <Marrissa> In fact, don't call me at all.
> "My chief engineer just left for the Eagle
TOM: ...in return for two linebackers to be named later.
> so I need someone at Engineering on our
> return flight. Get up here, Sir Wesley."
CROW: As... you... wish...!
> "Aye, Aye, Risa, Lieutenant Crusher out."
TOM: Risa? The Nookie Planet? Where?
> "Sometimes, I think brothers are more trouble than their worth," Marrissa muttered.
MIKE: I *knew* I'd encountered this unique brand of comedic wit before.
Ratliff writes for "Blossom," doesn't he?
> Then she grinned.
CROW: <Marrissa> But they're so tasty!
> "But Wesley has no idea what he's up against."
TOM: <Joker> Wait'll they get a load of *me*!
> "I do, and I pity the poor Lieutenant," Ross said. "Would you
> care for some strawberry juice, Commander."
MIKE: <Ross> Uh, pay no mind to that almond smell...
> "Ross, I'm absolutely shocked," Marrissa responded.
CROW: <Claude Rains> Shocked, do you hear, to find gambling on these premises!
> "You actual want me to inflict one of my jokes on the Lieutenant? After all the
> trouble mine have caused you during drills."
> "Better him than me," Ross replied.
TOM: Gotta love that Starfleet spirit.
CROW: That about sums up my feelings for any disfiguring disease Ratliff
should ever suffer from.
> "Ross, you are senior staff now," Marrissa said. "Have you ever
> seen me bother senior staff?"
MIKE: Only those that realize children shouldn't be Starfleet officers.
> "No, but, your not on the Enterprise now," Ross said.
CROW: Quintessential Shatner punctuation there...
TOM: No! But! You're... not on the! Enterprise! Now!
> "I'm not sure what you will do outside of your natural environment."
MIKE: So toss her out the airlock and let's find out.
> "Ross, my natural environment is a starship," Marrissa said.
TOM: An exploding one.
> "As long as I'm within reach of Command of one, I'm home."
CROW: <Marrissa> My natural environment is commanding others! KNEEL BEFORE
ME, SON OF JOR-EL!
>
> Epilogue
ALL: Thank God!
>
> Captain's Log
> Deep Space Nine
> STARDATE 51375.32
> Captain Benjamin Sisko recording
MIKE: Oh, good, Ratliff - why don't you drag in Janeway and the Voyager
while you're at it?
TOM: Shh! Don't give him any ideas.
> The USS Stargazer is due to arrive later this morning.
CROW: ...by scheduled C-section.
> Her second officer, Lieutenant Marrissa Picard, has informed me to expect a surprise.
TOM: <Sisko> As such, I've beefed up station security and given them orders
to be on the lookout for plot contrivances.
> Not that I didn't all ready expect one, as Marrissa Picard
> has long been know to provide Starfleet with surprises.
MIKE: <Sisko> All series regulars are currently hiding underneath their beds.
And I don't mind telling you, I wet 'em.
> The Stargazer will be taking on Cardassian crewmembers and her
> Captain, T'Gwen Washington here in preparation for their mission in the
> Demilitarized Zone.
CROW: Marrissa's going to Vietnam?
TOM: We can only hope!
> It is hoped that the new fighter carrier class based on the Constellation space frame,
>the Stargazer class will fill a void in the Federation fleet.
MIKE: What about the bigger void -- the one in the show's writing talent?
> I look forward to finding out how the Stargazer does against the more experience Marqui fighters.
TOM: Our Monte Carlos should dust those Fords good!
> Their logs should be most interesting.
ALL: EWWWWW!!!
> Admiral Scott is due in later this week to pick up the Victory,
> which will be undergoing a refit for the next 18 months.
CROW: Would it be in bad taste to suggest that Admiral Scott undergo a refit?
MIKE: No.
> Captain Zimbata will be temporary taking command of the Miranda until the refit
> is complete.
TOM: He's not happy about having to wear the fruit headpiece, but such is life.
> "Captain, two starships are approaching from Federation space,"
> Major Kira announced.
MIKE: Captain, we're being dragged into this fanfic at the last second!
> "Two? Benjamin, we are only expecting the Stargazer," Lieutenant Dax responded.
> "I know, but Lieutenant Commander Picard said to expect a
> surprise," Sisko said. "Identify the vessels, Dax."
CROW: Hmmm... A 1970 Dodge Torino, lime green?
> "It's the Stargazer and, this can't be right," Dax said puzzled.
TOM: <Sisko> Never heard of that ship before.
> "The second ship is constitution class, the USS Eagle NCC-956."
> "Hail the Stargazer, I want to know where she dragged this up," Sisko ordered.
MIKE: Where does she pick these guys up? I need to have a talk with her.
> "The Stargazer is responding," Major Kira said.
> "On Screen," Sisko ordered.
> Marrissa appeared on the main viewscreen, she began,
CROW: <Marrissa> Eek! Have you no decency?
> "USS Stargazer, Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard in command, how may I help you?"
ALL: BY SHUTTING UP!
> "Commander, where did you pick up that old ship beside you,"
> Sisko asked, getting straight to the point.
TOM: Hey, be nice to Scotty.
> "A couple dozen Starfleet haters stold it from the Zed-15 depot
> yard," Marrissa said.
MIKE: Which leaves only another 3 million of us left.
> "They had an interesting idea concerning what to
> do with it, but unfortunately I can't tell you about it except for in person.
CROW: <Marrissa> Because it involved a jackhammer and one of my naughty bits.
> Needless to say we recaptured it and brought it here. I've
> been discussing with Admiral Necheyev what to do with it,
TOM: And the Admiral said, "My what?"
> and she's
> decided that to let you do whatever you want with it."
> "Just what I need another starship, this one older than anyone
> in Starfleet," Sisko stated.
MIKE: Ho hum, the excesses of power.
> "I wouldn't let Admiral Scott here you say that," Marrissa said.
CROW: Oh, what's he gonna do - throw an empty bottle of Thunderbird at me?
> "Or maybe I would as it's twenty years younger than him."
TOM: Marrissa, honey, the Rosetta Stone is twenty years younger than Doohan.
> "Admiral Scott's on board?" Sisko said.
MIKE: Yeah - all 350 pounds of him.
TOM: <Dangerfield> I won't say Doohan is fat, but when he flies near a
black hole *he* draws the black hole into *his* gravity field!
> "I wasn't expecting him for another week."
> "He heard I was going his way," Marrissa said.
CROW: Well, that answers Lenny Kravitz's question.
>"I believe I'm going to need to know were to dock."
MIKE: I'm sure he'd be glad to tell you where to go, honey, but I don't
think docking is what he'd have in mind.
> "Tell the Eagle to take upper pylon one," Sisko ordered.
TOM: Next on Monty Pylon's Flying Circus, a fanfic writer with three buttocks.
> "The Stargazer has lower pylon two as scheduled. You've got quite a lot of
> officers wanting to board."
CROW: They're expecting a warrant any minute now.
> "About those officers," Marrissa began. "Tell the fighter pilots
MIKE: ...that never have so few done so much in a crappy fanfic.
> to keep their station quarters until further notice. I need to evaluate them
TOM: <Marrissa> I need to see whether they pass the male pencil test.
> before they can be placed in a wing and quarters will be
> given out by wing to promote unity among them."
CROW: <singing Latifah-style> U-N-I-T-Y!
> "I'll pass your message along," Sisko said. "Captain Washington
> would like to see you aboard the Miranda as soon as you arrive."
MIKE: Be careful, she brought her belt.
> "Thank you Captain, Stargazer out."
> "That girl has certainly grown up," Dax commented.
> "We've met her before?" Kira inquired.
TOM: Now, *that* is unrealistic.
CROW: Yeah - people only *wish* they could forget Marrissa.
> "She was the girl who had that Galor class warship engraved 'I
> was beaten by a bunch of kids, twice'" Dax replied.
> "That girl," Kira realized.
MIKE: With Marlo Thomas played by Nana Visitor.
> "She sounds like a kind of Commander I wouldn't mind serving under."
TOM: <Sisko, in background> I heard that!
> "Don't give Starfleet any ideas, Major," Captain Sisko said.
CROW: That would give Starfleet a grand total of one.
> "Three years ago that girl wasn't even in Starfleet. She has every
> Captain in the fleet looking over their shoulder."
MIKE: Living in constant fear of the next white-hot blast from Marrissa's phaser.
> "She can only replace one of you, Captain," Major Kira said.
> "But we don't know which one," Sisko said. "And that has us worried."
TOM: <Sisko> She could be anywhere... plotting... scheming...
> Marrissa's Personal Log
> STARDATE 51375.5
> Presently Second Officer aboard the USS Stargazer, NCC-2893
CROW: <Marrissa> At least until my ninjas arrive. <evil laugh>
> After the Stargazer docked at Deep Space Nine, my brother
> resigned from Starfleet again, as expected.
MIKE: <sigh> He'll never amount to anything. Well, it's about time to pick
him up from detox.
> I was curious about his comment that the Traveler said he and Chelsea Clinton would get together
> again.
TOM: Geez, what is *with* Chelsea? Who did she hack off, to deserve *that*?
CROW: Poor thing... I hope Amy Carter slips her a cyanide capsule or something...
> So I researched this daughter of the 42nd President and found
> that she became the first and only Captain of the first manned planetary
> exploration craft Stargazer. After successfully completing a half a
> dozen missions, the Stargazer disappeared in 2015 with all hands while orbiting Saturn.
TOM: <jock> Huh huh, I bet they were checking out the Klingons around
Uranus, huh huh, wooo, huh huh.
> No traces of her were ever found.
MIKE: After she heard she was destined to marry Wesley, she vaporized herself.
> The Stargazer's disappearance is one of the great mysteries of early space travel.
TOM: Along with the continued popularity of Star Trek.
CROW: <Leonard Nimoy> Tonight, on "In Search Of," we investigate the baffling
longevity of a certain badly-written sci-fi television show...
> Someday perhaps it will be solved.
MIKE: Probably in a sequel or two.
ALL: NOOOO!!!!
> Marrissa looked at the pictures of the former Captains of the
> Stargazer. Her eyes strayed from her father's self-portrait
CROW: The one done in edible paint?
[Mike and Tom look at Crow.]
CROW: I have no idea why I just said that.
> to the
> first and only Captain of the original Stargazer, Chelsea Clinton.
TOM: What an awful life.
MIKE: Yeah, really - grow up in the White House in the public eye, knowing
your parents are a pair of crooks--
CROW: Then finding out you have to marry Wesley, becoming an astronaut just
to escape, and blowing up somewhere around Jupiter.
TOM: That's some bad karma she's gotta be working off...
> Somehow Marrissa knew that they would meet again.
CROW: Oh god...
MIKE: Ratliff, I hope I run into you in a dark alley somewhere.
TOM: I hope I run *over* Ratliff in a dark alley somewhere.
>
> Appendix A:
CROW: Well, this part of the fanfic's body doesn't do anything, so let's remove it, okay?
>
> Crew of the Stargazer (during most of the story)
>
> Acting Commanding Officer Lieutenant Commander Picard
MIKE: ...in a role that will bore you to tears.
> Chief Tactical Officer Lieutenant Ross Lochard
TOM: Known to the women of the Stargazer as the Ross Loch Monster.
> Acting Chief of Operations Lieutenant Sam Lavelle
> Acting Chief Engineer Rear Admiral Montgomery Scott
CROW: This has been a test. Had this been a real crew, there might have been some action.
> CONN Officer Lieutenant Katherine Lochard
> Quartermaster Grieg
MIKE: Ensign Peer Gynt, quartermaster's assistant.
> Another CONN Officer Ensign Hijanda
TOM: <singing> Oh, mi hijanda.....
> Ensign in Command Ensign Faraday
CROW: I wish he would have invented a dynamo that would have shorted out
Ratliff's word-processor.
> Bartender Mary, daughter of Guinan
> Marrissa's Yeoman Yeoman Peterson
>
> Anti Starfleetites:
TOM: Me.
MIKE: Me.
CROW: Me!
> Captain Lyam Symton (Jean-Luc Picard)
MIKE: Yeah, he was symptomatic of *something*, all right...
> Chief Engineer Boris
> Asst to Captain (James T. Kirk)
> () aliases
>
> Additional Cast :
TOM: Casting by Plaster's of Paris.
> Time Travel Advisor Ltj Wesley Crusher
CROW: ...in a special dual role as the superhero sidekick Weenie Boy.
> President of the United States William Jefferson 'Bill' Clinton
MIKE: I heard that had to reshoot that scene with him and the Big Mac
43 times - he kept eating them too quickly.
> President's Daughter Chelsea Clinton
> Senoir Senator from VA John Warner (R)
> Junior Senator from VA Charles 'Chuck' Robb (D)
TOM: You know what they say - never trust a man with three first names.
> Junior Senator from IL Carol Mosley Buarn
CROW: What party is she?
MIKE: Token minority, I guess.
> Senoir Senator from MA Edward Kennedy (D)
> UPN Reporter Robert Duncan McNeil
TOM: Soon to start a long-running news program with Tom Lehrer.
> NBC Reporter Tob Brocaw
CROW: Heh, he must have had a cold when he typed that.
> ABC Reporter Connie Chung
MIKE: When did she leave CBS?
>
> --
> Stephen Ratliff Computer Science Major, Radford University.
TOM: Just think, someday he'll be writing the manual for your PC.
> sratliff@runet.edu Marrissa Stories Author
> homepage: http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/ ___/\___
> FAQ Maintainer for alt.startrek.creative : |_| |_|
CROW: Eh, FAQ you, Ratliff.
> Status of Recently Posted Stories on a.st.c. |/^|
> Introduction to alt.startrek.creative, A Guide to the Newsgroup
MIKE: Rule #1: Don't read anything posted there.
> "I think I chose the wrong intelligence agency."
> -Garak, in ST:DS9's "Our Man Bashir"
MIKE: The hell does THAT mean?
TOM: Let's get out of here.
CROW: Yeah, I have a hot date with a phaser tonight.
[Mike and the bots leave the theater.]
*... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
[SOL. Crow is breathing deeply, attempting to cleanse himself of the
fanfic. Mike is rubbing his temples and grimacing. Tom is shaking his
head back and forth, softly mumbling, "aggida aggida aggida..."]
ALL: *WHEW*...
[Everyone stops their attempts to recover from the fanfic.]
MIKE: Yet *another* Ratliff fanfic down the drain, eh, fellas?
TOM: This was, what, Ratliff fanfic number seven for us? Eight, maybe?
CROW: Yeah, and only about 20 billion more to go.
TOM: Shut up, Crow.
CROW: For the record, I would like to point out that "Time Speeder" is,
without a doubt, the single WORST story Ratliff has EVER WRITTEN!!
TOM: No argument here.
MIKE: You know, something else occured to me during this fanfic...
CROW: You mean *besides* thoughts of suicide?
MIKE: Yeah. I figured that Ratliff's Trek universe must be completely
separate from the *real* Trek universe. Aside from the fact that
Starfleet would never in its right mind promote a 15-year-old to
Second Officer, the clincher for me was the existence of the TV show
"Star Trek" in Ratliff's universe. The Trek franchise doesn't exist
in the Trek universe. Otherwise, Kirk would have been recognized
immediately and torn apart by crazed Trekkies when he went back to
1986 San Fransisco in "Star Trek IV."
[There is a pause.]
CROW: So what?
MIKE: Well, okay, so it's no flash of divine inspiration. It's just
something I noticed.
[Another pause. Everyone sighs.]
TOM: Hmmm... so if Ratliff's universe isn't the Trek universe, then what
is it? Could it be *our* universe?
CROW: Hell no! There are even *more* differences between Ratliff's
reality and *our* reality!
MIKE: Take NASA, for example. In real life, NASA is a bloated, inefficient
mess that never quite recovered from Kennedy's push for a moon-shot
ahead of schedule so that he could gain popularity and political
prestige. But in Ratliff's reality, NASA employs *millions*, and is
an inspiration to more!
CROW: Is that really true? About Kennedy?
MIKE: I think so. That's what I heard, anyway.
CROW: Huh!
TOM: Don't stop there! How about Bill Clinton? In real life, Clinton is
an adulterer, a draft-dodger, and a crook.
MIKE: Allegedly.
TOM: Um... yeah. But in Ratliff's reality, Bill's a single father, a
Trekkie, and a genuine nice guy!
CROW: In real life, 15-year-olds can't even *drive*, at least not in this
country. But in Ratliff's reality, 15-year-olds can command starships
better than experienced officers who spent *years* in Starfleet Academy
and ascending the command structure.
MIKE: In real life, there are statutory rape laws to protect young girls --
like Chelsea Clinton -- from the advances of older men -- like Wesley Crusher.
TOM: And in Ratliff's reality?
MIKE: Hey, no problem!
CROW: Yep.
TOM: In real life, Star Trek is a bloated franchise that started out with
good intentions, but has become a souless, money-making machine. But
in Ratliff's reality, Trek is the BOOK OF FRIGGIN' *REVELATIONS*!!!
MIKE: There's one more difference that *really* sets off our two realities.
CROW: What's that?
MIKE: In real life, writers must not *only* use a spellchecker, but also
read and re-read their stories several times, taking great care to
make sure their art reflects well on them. But in Ratliff's reality, well...
TOM: 'Nuff said.
MIKE: So, basically, Ratliff's universe is completely separate and distinct
reality from both Star Trek *and* us. Ratliffland is a universe unto itself.
CROW: A truly stinky universe that no one in their right minds would even
*think* about visiting.
MIKE: <to Cambot> What do you think, sirs?
[Deep 13. There are piles upon piles of videotapes in the lab. Forrester
is searching through them like a man possessed. He grabs the tapes, looks
at the labels, then throws them away.]
DR.F: The "Gamera" series? Been done! Ah, "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!"
Hmmm... I'd never get it past the censors. "This Island Earth?"
<appears thoughtful> Naaahhh...
[Forrester finally throws his remaining tapes away in frustration.]
DR.F: Can it be? Have I... RUN OUT OF BAD MOVIES?! I'm *ruined*, do you hear me?! RUINED!!!
[Mother Forrester enters from the right.]
MOM F: Clayton! What *are* you blabbering on about?
DR.F: Mother! There must be *some* way I can find more bad movies, isn't
there? There *must* be!
MOM F: <sigh> Oh, Clayton.
[Mother Forrester hands her son a stack of videotapes.]
MOM F: Here. Take these blank tapes into the living room and start recording
the Sci-Fi Channel. Eventually, there's gotta be *something* you can use.
[Mom Forrester exists. Dr. Forrester, clutching the videotapes, breaks into
a large, demented smile.]
DR.F: The Sci-Fi Channel? Yes... YES! It could work! IT COULD WORK!!!
[Forrester looks into the screen.]
DR.F: It appears I have some taping to do, so... until next time, proles!
[Dr. Forrester pushes the button.]
\ | /
\ | /
--- * --- PWOOOOSH!
/ | \
/ | \
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters are the copyright of
Best Brains, Inc. Star Trek in its many, many forms (all of which are
completely accurate depictions of the future) is a copyright of Paramount.
Infringement of neither copyright is intended. Don't sue me. (And if you
do, at least tell me that you thought of the MiSTing.)
We were pretty harsh on Stephen Ratliff in this MiSTing, but this was not
intentioned as a mean-spirited flame. It is meant to be a humorous form
of criticism, and as such should be perceived as a little fun and games.
Mike Czaplinski's appearance made possible by ConHugeCo, Inc.
> "If I remember the descriptions of time travel, we better strap it.
> All hands, prepare for rough maneuvers."
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