Mystery Science Usenet Theater 3000: "Hail to the Queen" by Rob Tounts Based on "The Marrissa Stories" by Stephen B. Ratliff Misted by Matt Blackwell, Doug Earlham, Michael K. Neylon, Bill Livingston, Steven Savage [Note: This takes place just after Episode 822: "Overdrawn at the Memory Bank"] [Season 8 Opening.] [The Bridge of the Satellite of Love is a mess. There are streamers hung one the walls and balloons are scattered about the Bridge. Confetti is everywhere. On the far wall is a banner proclaiming "Wrap Party!" Mike walks in and is startled to see that Cambot is active.] Mike: Oh, hi everyone. I'm Mike Nelson, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. Pearl threw a party for us last night after her successful beg-a-thon, and I'm afraid that we're still not quite up to speed today. And I'm pretty sure that Pearl doesn't have anything else to show us for another few months, but you're welcome to hang around if you'd like. [Tom walks on screen, humming a tune.] Tom: Hi Mike. Have you seen the coffee? Mike: The hazelnut, the Brazilian, the Vanilla, or the Mochachino strawberry surprise? Tom: The motoroil flavored. [Tom walks offscreen.] Mike: It's in the cupboard by the box of Yummy Mummy. Tom: [Off screen] Found it! [Appearing on screen again with a cup of coffee.] Say, what's Cambot doing on? Mike: He was on when I came in. Maybe we're doing another special. Tom: Another "Little Gold Statue" maybe? Mike: [Shrugs] Could be. [Crow walks onscreen. He's wearing an ascot, and a monocle and he's smoking a cigarette through a long cigarette holder.] Crow: [Speaking in a fake uppercrust English Accent.] Top of the morning to you chaps. Smashing party last night. Why, who would have ever thought that Pearl was such a talented dancer? And those blasted Mole Men kept droning on and on and on and on. . . Mike: Crow, we're on. Crow: I beg your pardon? Michael, whatever do you mean that we're. . . [He turns to Cambot.] Yikes! [Normal voice] Oh, hi everyone! Um, Breasts? Tom: Busted. Crow: Knock it off Tom! I'm, uh, getting into character for my one man play celebrating the life of Noel Coward. Tom: Suuuure Crow. Crow: That's it! You're going down Gumball boy! Mike: Hold it guys. I think an explanation is here. [He hits the light.] Hello? [The Studio] [The scene shifts to the studio where Pearl held her fund- raiser. Pearl stands uneasily in the middle of the floor, while Bobo ,The Observer, and Ortega stand in the background looking very glum.] Pearl: [Monotone] Good Morning fellow employee of Amalgamated Diversified Compudyne Research, Entertainment and Pets. And how are you today? [SoL] Mike: Pearl, are you okay? [Studio] Pearl: Of course, fellow employee. All is well here today. How is productivity in your area? [SoL] Mike: We don't have any products, Pearl. Tom: Well, I've been selling Magic cards over the Internet. Does that count? Mike: No, Tom. What's going on? [Studio] Pearl: [Normal voice] All right, I'll come clean. After Clayton became a space baby, I sold Deep 13 to some investors to earn money to find you. Well, they're still around, and it turns out that they own the satellite, the studio, and even the Widowmaker, lock, stock and barrel. And they're not too pleased with our ratings. [A middle aged man clad in a yellow and black checkered sportscoat appears next to Pearl, flanked by what looks to be a stagehand.] Herb: Hello, Mr. Nelson. Love your work. It's really funny stuff. However... [SoL] Mike: Hold it. What do you mean? This isn't a show! I'm trapped up here on a satellite and they've been torturing me by showing me bad movies! It's not a show! [Studio] Pearl: Actually Mike, Clayton put a video camera on board and sold tapes of the experiments to his fellow scientists when money ran low. Then Frank would squander the money on duct tape. [mumbling] That little weasel. [normal voice] So, there is a show. Herb: Anyway, it's really funny stuff. But, we're having problems with the show's demographics. You're not pulling in the male 18-30 year olds. So, we're going to have to replace one of you with a new character. [SoL] [All aboard are visibly nervous.] Mike: Replace one of us? Who? [Studio] Herb: That purple one, Gypsum. [SoL] [Gypsy pushes past Mike] Gypsy: What?! [Studio] Herb: [shrugging] The kids just don't understand her. Besides, we need some sex appeal for the show, so we've arranged for you to gain a new companion. [SoL] Gypsy: I'm not going anywhere! I run this satellite! Everyone aboard will die without me being here! Besides, I've got a contract! Where's my agent?! [Curtis, the stagehand, appears from off screen.] Curtis: Come on. Your contract's been picked up by "Jenny." Gypsy: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Gypsy and Curtis disappear off stage.] Crow: Well that sucks. Tom: Hey, we won't work without Gypsy here! We can just wait this out until she's back here. Well, Mike will die of asphyxiation in a few hours, but we can wait forever! [Mike visibly pales.] [Studio] Herb: Relax guys. The ship's functions will be taken over by some good Unionized help. We'll have her replacement there in a little while. Pearl: By the way, to celebrate your new shipmate, we've got a special piece of work for you today. It's a piece of fan-fiction. [SoL] Tom: Uh-oh. Mike: Stephen Ratliff didn't write this by any chance? [Studio] Pearl: No, no. [SoL] Mike: Whew. Crow: Thank goodness. [Studio] Pearl: It's called "Hail to the Queen" by Rob Tounts, and it's actually a fan-fic of a popular series of fan-fiction stories. [She grins evilly] The Marrissa Stories to be precise. Enjoy, Michael. [SoL] Crow: Marrissa fan-fic fan-fic? Tom: Oh look, that seventh seal is being broken. [The lights begin to flash.] Mike: Too late guys. We've got Marrissa sign! [The bots race around while Mike hits the lights. The door sequence begins.] [6. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . . ] >--=====================_884558027==_ >Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" >From: Ron Tonts Tom: Well, my respect for that country just went down the drain. Crow: First "Kids in the Hall," now this. >Subject: NEW Hail to the Queen Crow: ...not to mention sleet, lightning, sheets of flame from a clear sky... > 1/4 [PG] (TNG, Marrissa Stories) All: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! >Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 00:00:00 GMT Tom: Midnight, the witching hour! BOO-WAH-HAH-HAH-HAHAHAHAHA!!! >Message-ID: <34B680F9.3BCB0AF2@direct.ca> >X-Priority: 3 (Normal) >Mime-Version: 1.0 Crow: In Mime 1.0, the mime will still occasionally speak. Tom: They'll fix that feature in 2.0. >Reply-To: rtonts@direct.ca >Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="------------ 5A807124EEAB09BA89D59BC5" Mike: BC5? Isn't that that sci-fi show by that guy who used to write for "The Real Ghostbusters?" >Organization: XSM Systems Inc. >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Tom: [Jack Nicholson] I have given a name to my pain...and it is a.s.c. > > > >--------------5A807124EEAB09BA89D59BC5 >Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; x-mac- >type="54455854"; x-mac->creator="4D4F5353" >Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit > > > Star Trek Mike: Where our motto is "We'll keep this series on the air until Rick Berman runs it into the ground!" > Hail to the Queen Tom: The Queen Latifah Story! Mike: The Freddie Mercury Story! Crow: The Majel Barrett Story! > A Marrissa Story Crow: I bet she can't sing "Fat Bottom Girls" as good as Freddie. > by Rob Tonts Tom: Didn't the header say that his name was Ron? Mike: Tom, he knows what his own name is. I hope. >Disclaimer: Mike: Gene Roddenberry should not take the blame for this. > Paramount owns Star Trek. To my knowledge, >Marrissa and gang are property of Stephen Ratliff, Mike: I take it Rob has never seen the episode "Disaster". Tom: Lucky Rob! > and the story is >mine. I promise to return the characters in an almost intact >condition. Tom: Well, okay, my dog chewed Marrissa's head off. Is that a problem? > Any mental or >physical damage sustained from reading, holding, or >downloading this story, is your own stupid fault. > Crow: I hear that was going to be the new disclaimer on the McDonald's coffee cups, only with "coffee" instead of "story". > This Story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places >and incidents Tom: Have been changed to protect the galaxy. > are either a product of the author's >imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to >actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is >entirely coincidental. Although if there was, I would panic. > Crow: You and me both, pal. > This story is dedicated to the following: > My Family (because they're my Family) Crow: Er, does he know he used a capital 'F'? Tom: Maybe it IS the Freddie Mercury story! Mike: Uh...oh. Should we be riffing on a story by a made guy? > and Stephen Ratliff (the inspiration for the story) [All visibly shiver] Tom: Shouldn't Satan be on that list too? > This story is set shortly after the Marrissa story >Return to Glory. I'm afraid it isn't out yet, but should be >one day. [All scream] Mike: Oh, what I wouldn't give for a good cancel-bot about now.... Crow: Actually, it takes a little bit of chutzpah to write a sequel to a story that hasn't happened yet Tom: Especially a Marrissa story! [shudders] > This is my FIRST FANFIC!! All: Uh-oh. Mike: This is bad. Tom: If this is a self-insertion fic too. . . > Comments and Questions >are welcome. >Please send them to rtonts@direct.ca . In addition, for >those people over at rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc, Mike: Huh? Who's he talking about? Crow: Oh, probably a group of unclean, unshaven college students hovering about a computer in the basement of some dorm somewhere. > this is NOT a >parody like Borged to Death. I didn't even know about it >until I read it. Tom: Well, now you know. Mike: And knowing is half the battle! > And if you are going to MiST >this story, please let me know. [All smirks] Crow: Poor, innocent *us*? Nooo.... Tom: Uh-hum. Mike: What's MiST? That prequel to Riven? Tom: We'll tell you later. > I worked very hard on this >fanfic, so enjoy! > Crow: [Falsetto] Eat! Eat! How're you boys gonna keep up your strength if you don't eat?!? > Prologue > Tom: It was a time of war, it was a time of peace... >Time: Shortly after Star Trek: First Contact > Tom: Riker has been placed in command of the next half-dozen sequels, Data has been possessed by the katra of John Adams, and Lily has escaped to HBO and collected several CableACE awards. Mike: Nice to know *someone* besides Larry Sanders is! Crow: Bitter much, Mike? Mike: Oh, just a tad. > The scream was heard across the galaxy by the Collective. Crow: Somewhere, one of the Borg had assimilated the complete works of Pauly Shore. > It >knew at once, their Queen was dead. Mike: There would be no more Bohemian Rhapsody any more. Crow: Okay, enough Queen riffs. Agreed? Mike: Okay. Tom: Well, I guess. But I had a great riff using "Another One Bites the Dust" planned. > The race known across the >galaxy as the Borg Mike: I'm sensing a strong "across the galaxy" motif here." > was thrown into chaos in the span of ten >minutes. Mike: There's an implant sale at Bloomingdales! > This turmoil was started by the only race to repel >the Borg to this point, the Humans. Mike: [pointing to his left] First the Tholians repelled them to that point... [pointing to his right] then the Ferengi repelled them to that point... [pointing straight ahead, at the Borg] and now the Humans have repelled them to *this* point. Any questions? Crow: Just forget the sacrifice of Vulcans, Betazoids, and other members of the Federation. Tom: Oh, yeah, those Humans are sooooo great . . . oh, sorry Mike. Mike: Don't worry about it. > More specifically, Jean- >Luc Picard/ Locutus was the one who had removed the Queen from >her hive. Tom: Wearing a black veil and spraying in a lot of smoke first, I'd guess. > The Borg could sustain itself until a new queen was >created, but the process took time. Crow: There were forms to fill out, and the Borg HR department had budget cutbacks. >There was only one quick, easy solution, Tom: They would have to go to Queens. > assimilation. Crow: Isn't that Microsoft's job? Tom: Geez, that's the Borg's answer to everything! Mike: Well, you have to admit it did work up to now. > Using >the all encompassing knowledge of the race, the Collective >searched through records regarding races from Earth, the >Delta Quadrant, and anywhere in between. Crow: Results: "assimilation," 41511 hits; "Federation," 613351 hits; "Marina Sirtis+nude OR naked," 31515782 hits. > The whole process >took a mere hour, Mike: And 45 minutes of that was just trying to connect onto "Borg On-Line." > when a candidate was found. Tom: But before that, the Borg would be forced to endure ten months of campaigning. > The irony, the gains, the sheer power that could be gained >from the assimilation of this one human. Tom: Anyone else getting a cold, queasy lump right in the middle of your stomach? Mike & Crow: Yes. > The target was >selected, and seven functional Borg cube ships moved towards >it. Tom: Yeah, FULLY-functional Borg cubes, if you know what I mean! Mike: Tom is there NOTHING you can't make sound dirty? Tom: Only 672 things. Mike: I'd say you're being anal but you'd probably make that sound dirty too. > Chapter 1 > Mike: Call me Ishmael Amber Flores Picard. . . >Time: After Return to Glory > Crow: Not the most exciting sequel ever made, since everyone died at the end of "Glory," but the studio insisted. > Cruising along the former Romulan Neutral Zone, >the fleet led by the Enterprise-F was on simulated night. Mike: So they had their brights on, and they accidentally blinded the planet of Argus V. > They >were escorting a convoy of twenty Romulan Warbirds through >Federation space to the point where they could go it alone. All: o/~ We've got a great big convoy, traveling through the night... o/~ Mike: Hey, wait a minute! This is the plot for 'Battlestar Galactica!' Tom: Great, now we remember Battlestar Galactica! We could have used those riffs in 'Space Mutiny!' > The >Enterprise-F was top-of-the-line quality in all fields >imaginable. Mike: It took them 5 tries to get it, but, mind you, it was top-of-the-line! Crow: Scrimshaw? Mike: Yep. Tom: Web page design? Mike: Yep. Crow: Slugging averages? Mike: Yep. Tom: Singing the blues? Mike: Yep. > The ship was undeniably effective in both war and >peace time. Crow: Since the latter only lasted about five minutes when it was around, no one was truly sure. > Systems on board were like muscles of a finely >toned athlete. Crow: They were filled with steroids. > In comfort, the mile-long craft was unsurpassed. Tom: I have this horrible, horrible feeling that any second now, Richard Simmons and Kathie Lee Gifford are going to show up. > Yet, >not even the ocean soundtrack, Mike: The Enterprise has a SOUNDTRACK? Of the Ocean? Tom: After all these years, that Celine Dion song is *still* on top of the charts?! All: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! > soothing temperature-controlled >pillow, or silky blankets could hold off what was coming. Tom: The entire ship is coated in silky blankets? Crow: Maybe there won't be the usual level of Marrissa- intensive violence. > "WWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, >WAH WAH WAH WAH!" Tom: SAILOR MOON, NO! Crow: But enough about Hanson... > pierced the simulated night of the Quarters. >Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard of the Starship >Enterprise-F, Tom: ...Once and Future King... > heir to the throne of Essex, Crow: Keeper of the Sacred Rings of Betazed... Mike: ...holder of the sacred chalice of Riix... >and former Commander in Chief of the Kids Crews, Mike: CEO of General Motors... Crow: Queen of the Silver Dollar... Tom: Owner of the largest ball of twine in Minnesota... Mike: I'll say this, Tonts knows his source material. > stumbled from >her bed to answer the call of the only being that had any >true power over her. Mike: Stephen Ratliff? Tom: No, Mike, even Ratliff cannot control the force that *is* Marrissa anymore. > Sarah Alara Picard, her baby girl. Tom: First name after Fergie, middle name after the elf NPC Stephen had a crush on in his junior high D&D campaign. Crow: I notice the kid doesn't get Jay's last name. Mike: Are you really surprised? Crow: Well, no. > The crib was set up as a partial bio-bed that allowed the >parent to discern why the baby was malcontent. Tom: Specifically, it emitted a high-pitched "WHAAAAAAAH!!" noise. Mike: "Malcontent?" So she's unhappy with the Federation government? Crow: Don't forget, Lwaxanna Troi's running it now. > This particular >case was because the baby was hungry. Mike: Uh, oh.. I don't like the way this is going... >It missed its evening feeding due to a Romulan skirmish that >Marrissa had effortlessly beaten down. Crow: Like her husband Jay. > The baby began to >suckle its mothers bosom, All: ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGH!!! [All make retching noises] Tom: This is the *LAST* thing I needed to see! Mike: I think I'm going to be sick!! Crow: Should I go get the milk of magnesium ? Tom: AARRRRGGGGH!!!! > just as a computer began to >signal an incoming message. With a sigh, Marrissa made her >way to the terminal holding the child, Crow: The terminal is holding the child, and Marrissa is nursing it but she has to walk over to it? Either that kid has long lips, or... Mike: For the love of Pete, stop right there. > and answered the call. Mike: If she left the video on, someone's gonna get a surprise. Crow: Let's hope that's not Cal on the screen, else, calcium. Tom & Mike: ARRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!! > "Attention all starships.", Mike: [Picard] I regret to report--YAUUGH!! Marrissa, for God's sake, cover yourself! > Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard's >visage appeared on the screen. Crow: I mean, it's not like I'm milking this for all it's worth... [Tom is visibly shivering on his seat] Mike: Crow, that's enough for now... > "A colony on the outskirts of >the Federation was destroyed this morning. Crow: Suddenly, a bare chested Riker pops up besides Picard, with "Soy Bomb" painted on his pallid, doughy torso, and begins gyrating suggestively. Mike: Well, thanks for permanently putting me off my feed, Crow. Crow: Any time, Mike. > All indications >point to a Borg ship. Mike: Since there aren't any other known murderous simple geometric shapes. Crow: Plus they spray painted "Borg Roolz!" on the colony walls. > Please route any ships available to >Earth. Tom: [Picard] Your assignment: evacuate the Picard family wine cellar. > I will lead the assault personally. Crow: No ship, no space suit, no nothin' - just Jean-Luc and a slingshot. Mike: [Picard] I have just been handed a correction. I will lead the assault with the aid of a starship and fifteen hundred crewmen. > Starfleet out." Tom: So, Harry Kim sent the message? > The terminal turned off, as Marrissa let out a sigh. Crow: [Marrissa] I guess it's up to little ol' me to save the day again... > Her fleet >was capable of taking on even the strongest renegade Romulan >attacks. But such an attack seemed like less of a worry. >After the Romulan attack on the Sol System, and the conquering >of the Romulan Empire, Tom: ... Life just didn't seem to be interesting, so she took her own. > the Romulans began to run low on >warbirds. Mike: Too bad the Romulans didn't have access to "Voyager Shuttlecraft" technology. Crow: Yeah, then they'd be up to their prominent eyebrows in warbirds! > Having the Warbirds allowed as home defence, resulted >in tight registration and tracking procedures, which cut off >renegade Romulan resources. Crow: So there's a five-day waiting period before buying a warbird now? Mike: Remember, when warbirds are outlawed, only outlaws will have warbirds! Tom: [Charlton Heston] Join the National Warbird Association today. > The Romulans still needed to be >escorted back home. Tom: So Marrissa's running an escort service now? Mike: You know, your head just twists right off, Tom. Tom: Okay, okay, it was just a joke! Sheesh! > As a result, about five of her ships, including the >Enterprise could make the battle. She got on the comm and >called the Captain of the Elizabeth, Tom: Montgomery? Mike: Hurley? Crow: Shue? > one of the two new >Sovereign class vessels that arrived the previous day. Crow: Well, someone's literal-minded. I suppose the other one is the "Mary" or the "Victoria" or something? Tom: Just once I'd like to see a ship named after Mad King Ludwig. > "I have >received a message from Starfleet command. Crow: [Marrissa] From now on we are to be known as the "Dil-rats." What the--?! > We are to proceed >to Earth in order to stop the Borg." The same order went out >to the Captain of the Nelson. Crow: It was named after some clod who manned a space station and watched movies. Mike: Watch it. > Marrissa selected the two final >candidates for the fleet. Tom: Yeah, but then the USS Perot entered the race... > The Defiant class Henson, All: [snort in amused disbelief] Mike: [Link Hogthrob] First Mate Piggy, what do the sensors say, hmmm? Tom: [Miss Piggy] Hm? Oh, I'm sorry, I was just admiring my reflection in these readouts. What did you say? Crow: [Julius Strangepork] I'm detecting an inappropriate reference to port,Captain. > and the >Nebula class Merrimac. Tom: Where they continued to *monitor* the situation! > The Defiant class had been mass >produced as of late, and it didn't need to worry about lack >of comfort for personnel. Mike: Yep, it's war, but at least we've got our Playstations. > This was thanks to the mass production of neural nets Mike: All their tuna is brain-cell safe > by >SoongCorp, run by Data, Tom: So, it's an information based corporation then? > located on Omicron Theta. After being >promoted from First Officer of the Enterprise- E, Data >commanded the USS Andromeda on several exploration missions in >the remainder of the Alpha Quadrant. Mike: ...what was left of it after Berman got through, anyway. > He was credited with >discovering and inducting five new species into the >Federation. Crow: All of which he'd invented himself. Tom: SoongCorp, when you need a new species overnight. > After this mission, Data was promoted to >Admiral and placed in command of Developing Technology. Mike: Looks like the same guy names their departments that names their starships. Tom: [George Takei] This is Lieutenant Sulu, of the Driving the Ship department. Crow: [James Doohan] I'm Commander Scott, of the Fixing Stuff department. Mike: [Marina Sirtis] Counselor Troi, of the Showing Cleavage department. >After spending a year behind the desk, Data began to feel >trapped in a dull All: Fanfic? > role. Tom: He longed to reprise his role on Night Court and asked to be killed in the next movie. > Even after his withdrawal from >Starfleet, Data was still bombarded by despondent emotions. Crow: Including an as-yet-unexplained obsession with Angora. >The feelings propelled him to return to Omicron Theta, his >birthplace. Crow: Data's going to spawn? Tom: I certainly hope not! We've already seen the spawn of Marrissa, and that's all *I* need to see today! > Searching through the equipment left behind, Data found Tom: Another brother, Hearsay. Or so I'm told, anyway. > records on the creation of his neural net. Crow: The original CFV for alt.fan.pale.androids. > Recalling one of his father's wishes, Mike: ...he finally got around to mowing the lawn. > Data requested >a grant from Fleet Admiral Jean-Luc Picard to follow his newly >chosen path. Tom: [Picard] I agree you should be free to pursue your dreams, Data, but is "Second star to the left and straight on 'til morning" really practical? > This path was one his father had wished, and yet >still followed his Prime Directive, to aid and make life >better for sentinent life forms. Mike: Yet all his attempts on Marrissa's life had failed. > Using himself, his brother >Lore, and his failed experiments with Lal as prototypes, Data >built replicas of the neural net that was used as a brain. Mike: So a third of the technology is based on an unsuccessful model, while another third is based on a murderously psychopathic model? Tom: If I didn't know better, I'd think Data was suffering aftereffects of Ratliff Gas exposure. > These electronic brains were attached to anything with >computers, allowing them to think on their own. Tom: I seem to remember them rejecting the idea of a whole race of Datas on the grounds that robots shouldn't be slaves. Crow: Something I heartily agree with, by the way...*Mike*. Mike: Well, invent a self-cleaning load pan bay and we'll talk. > In the >Twenty-fourth century, almost everything has a computer >attached to it. Tom: Which gave a whole new sense of adventure to the use of prophylactic devices. > From farming machinery, to starships. Tom: Boy, this mall's got everything. > The nets >could also be attached to service robots that could be used >to operate a ship. Mike: Now, who would be stupid enough to put a robot in charge of a ship? [pause] Tom: No slamming old sleepy eyes, Mike. Mike: Oh. Sorry. Crow: She's gone! And we'll never see her again! WAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Mike: There, there. I'm sure that we'll see her everytime "Jenny" comes on. Tom: So, we might see her two or three times again? > These new robots could be put on >less-than-plum assignments, Mike: Prunes, for example. > such as the mothballable Defiant >fleet, and older, less reliable ships. Tom & Crow: Booo! > This group could be >active in war, and inactive in peace Mike: And semi-active in the hearts of its countrymen. > without protest, since >modifications in their neural nets prevented emotions and >ambitions. Tom: If they wanted people without emotions and ambitions, they should have just hired someone from a temp agency. Mike: Keep it up and you'll never see a RAM chip again. > In addition, each Defiant had a senior staff of >members of the Humanoid races, since this bond between >Organics and Machines increased efficiency. Crow: [snort] For the Organics, maybe. Tom: Ha! The Federation'll show those Borg - they'll assimilate themselves first! > Data was >attempting to build androids to aid humanity, but to date all >his attempts failed. Mike: WE DON'T CARE. SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Tom: Has anyone even *thought* of going back to Mudd's Planet and seeing what makes *those* androids tick? Mike: They can't risk unleashing the Stellas on the galaxy. Crow: [Stella Mudd] You lazy good for nothing- Mike & Tom: SHUT UP!! Crow: [fading] thing- thing- thing- > Feeling the baby stop nursing, Tom: Bored to sleep by the backstory. > Marrissa put Sarah back >in the crib. Being unable to sleep, Marrissa went to the >computer and called up a history of all the Borg battles >fought. Mike: Search - FLEET BORG BUTTS WHUPPED. Crow: [as Marrissa] Gee, no wonder we always lost! These Captains never had a 21 minute Kobiyasi Maru time! > Staying up for two hours devising tactics to use >against the Collective, Tom: Well, if you can call playing "Borg" deep planning. > her power to stay awake dropped like >bricks on Jupiter. Crow: Through clouds of hydrogen? > Staggering back to bed, Marrissa prepared >herself for the next day and the upcoming battle. > Tom: Sacrificing virgins, performing dark rituals, the usual. > The following morning, the Earth Defence fleet had gathered >into position in the middle of the Borg Cube's path. Mike: Why not? Let's make it easy on the Borg! > Fleet >Admiral Jean-Luc Picard sat in the command chair of the >Sovereign class vessel, USS James T Kirk. [Quickfire...] Tom: With separable "Toupee" section! Crow: And extra "below deck" capacity! Mike: Plays "Rocket Man" 24 hours a day! Tom: But, wait! There's more! Crow: It comes with the fantastic "Stutter" warp drive! Mike: The entire TekWar library at your fingertips! Tom: Now how much will you pay!? > So much like the >Enterprise-E, he couldn't help think. Mike: Help think what? Crow: I guess he's no longer a casual thinker, he's addicted. > The entire fleet >represented the indomitable willpower of the Federation, Tom: Is this the same indomitable willpower that wimps out at any application of the Prime Directive? > consisting >of some of the more advanced starships of the time. Composed >of Five Sovereign class Battleships, seven Ambassador class >Cruisers, a Galaxy class ship, Mike: Ooooh...I bet the Borg are just quaking in their cubicles over that one. > five Nebula class Cruisers, the >Nova class Enterprise, Crow: Insert standard "exploding star" joke here. Tom: Insert standard "it doesn't go" joke here. Mike: Insert standard anti-Chevy joke here. Crow & Tom: Huh? Mike: Sorry, sorry. [clutches head] I'm turning into my Ford- drivin' friends from high school. > and the main body of the force was the >twelve Defiant class Destroyers(sans cloak). Tom: Why would the Federation build something to destroy their own ships? [Mike whispers in his dome] Tom: Oh. Never mind. Crow: This is the trekkie equivalent of guys who love to discuss gun types and bullet sizes, isn't it? >The Federation fleet waited, until a large object entered >their sensor range. Crow: [Picard] Open fire! No, wait...it's just Shatner's ego. > It came in without fear, like a grim >spectre of death. Mike: Now would this be the likable if morose Death of Terry Pratchett? Tom: How about the petite, attractive Death of Neil Gaiman's Sandman? Crow: Guys, it's the grim spectre of death of mediocre writing, get over it. > The Borg opened the battle, not with cutting lasers or >tractor beams, not even the customary "Resistance is Futile" >speech, but instead scanning each of the fleet ships. The >vessel moved against the two targets first, the Kirk, and the >Nova class Enterprise. Crow: Having detected a major character on at least one. >The battle commenced, with the Federation gaining an advantage >almost immediately. Tom: Just trust us on this one. Crow: Well, he's got the gist of the Ratliffian battle scenes at least. >"Launch all fighters" Marrissa called. Mike: The Federation fighter program's motto: "If one really big phaser blast won't get through their shields, maybe a bunch of tiny ones will do something." > Responding to the order, >a squadron of Essex class fighters streaked from the Fighter >Bay. Crow: Essex class. Named after a backwards quasi-medieval planet. Wonderful. Mike: Quick! Fire your crossbows at the Borg and ready your mace launchers! > Swarming around the cube, the fighters fired phasers and >mini-torpedoes. The results of the efforts were small pocks >and scars across the hull. Mike: Sounds like a bad case of acne. Tom: Oxycute them! > Determined to put more than the >minor dents in the hull, the Capital ships opened fire. Mike: USS Newt Gingrich, fire! Tom: USS Strom Thurmond, this is USS Ted Kennedy, I'm sinking fast! Crow: Oh no! USS Dick Armey & USS Dick Gephardt have started firing on each other! > "This is the Kirk, Tom: [Nomad] I am the creator. The Borg are imperfect. They must be sterilized. > to all ships. Target the following >coordinates." ordered Jean-Luc Picard. Tom: It may be better to target a ship. > The Federation ships >lanced out with phasers and Quantum torpedoes, while fighters >from the Enterprise ran interference. Despite the severe >beating the cube took, it only attacked the Kirk and the >Enterprise, soon just ignoring the Kirk. Mike: Just like the Grammys. When will the Transformed Man get the respect that it deserves? Crow: Quiet Mike. Tom: I'm sure that the rest of the Federation wishes they could ignore Kirk. Crow: [Shatner] Look, I'm dead again! Now I'm alive again! Now I'm dead again! Huzzah! >The Enterprise took the shots, and lost its shields in the >process. Crow: Hey, is this an actual battle scene? Mike: I think so. Tom: Well, it can't be a Ratliff story, then. Mike: It's *not* a Ratliff story - it's just an incredible simulation. > The Borg began beaming into locations throughout the >Enterprise; Engineering, the fighter bay, and the Bridge. >Five Borg appeared on the Bridge. Crow: They've assimilated the Jacksons! Mike: Well, at least Michael's skin won't get any paler. > Putting into practice the >security measures, Marrissa had devised, she ducked out of her >seat, Mike: Ah, our fearless captain shows her true colors! > reaching for something under the cushion. Mike: It's where she stores her used Juicy Fruit for safe keeping. Crow: [Marrissa] Ooh! A quarter! Now I can pay the security staff this week! Tom: If relying on your captain to duck and reach under her hemorrhoid ring is a security plan, I'm not impressed. >Hand secured around the object, Tom: Oh! It must be her life vest! Crow: [Marrissa] Woman and children first! And since I'm both of those, CLEAR THE WAY! > Marrissa blasted the first one >she could, using the phaser rifle that was stored under her >seat. Mike: I see that Marrissa has been preparing 'just in case' someone disobeys her. > Five more appeared and were blasted again by Marrissa, >Jay, and Shayna. Crow: Leaving the first four that Marrissa ignored, of course. > Compartments such as the one under the >cushion of the Command chair, Crow: Which, of course, could also be used as a floatation device... Tom: Commas such as this one, were scattered randomly through the sentences. > were placed throughout the bridge. Mike: So... there were random cushions placed about the bridge? Crow: Apparently so, Mike. But most of the Bridge crew had filled the compartments underneath with liquor. Tom: What type? Crow: Er, blue. > Another wave of the drones appeared on the bridge. [Mike enthusiastically waves at the screen.] >Keeping with the training on fighting the Borg everyone >received, they believed the phasers were useless. Mike: And if they aren't, that training stank. > The blank >minded drones Crow: I know Bertie Wooster isn't very bright, but isn't that a little harsh? > moved up closer to use their nanite injectors, >and were met with clubs in the form of phaser rifles. Tom: Looks like the Borg forgot that solid matter setting again. >Marrissa took a mighty swing with the butt of her rifle, Tom: But there was no joy in Muddville that day ... the mighty Marrissa had struck out. > that >shattered the back of the unfortunate drones skull. Mike: Fortunately, the Borg had video taped the entire thing. Tom: Unfortunately, Marrissa's trial took place in Simi Valley, Essex. Crow: "Can't we all just get along?" the Borg drone later asked. > Another >Borg was stumbling up behind Marrissa, Tom: [singing] Stumblin' in... > and on instinct she >turned and fired the phaser into the cybernetic zombie. >None of the expected defence shields popped up to intercept >the angry red beam of energy, and the victim was vaporised in >a flare. Tom: [Borg drone] Strategy is irrelevant. Crow: Looks like common sense is irrelevant too. > Other bridge members noticed Tom: [monotonous] Oh, look, we're in the middle of a battle. > and resumed firing the >weapons into the vessels of the Collective. Mike: [snorts] They're shooting out the windows at the Borg ships? I think this is a new low... > The Kirk >manoeuvred into a better firing position, Tom: [as Shatner] Must get...to...executive...producer! > as Admiral Picard >listened to the Borg collective. Crow: The Borg collective is not in right now. If you leave your name and number, we will assimilate you at your convenience. > The weak areas were >highlighted in his mind, with one point over all. Crow: [Picard] It all hinges on tapioca. I have no idea why. > The massive cube grabbed hold of the Enterprise, >and was about to begin the assimilation. The plans were >terminated when the cube burst into a ball of fire and >debris. Crow: Oops. The Borg must have assimilated Ted Kazinsky. > Thanks to the Kirk's Quantum torpedo that struck home. Crow: Not to mention. Mike: All of those. Tom: Random sentence fragments. >The remaining drones aboard the Enterprise were slowly but >surely eliminated by the angry red phaser beams. Crow: Unfortunately, they were stopped by the cheerful yellow shields, and everyone was slaughtered by the melancholy gray drones. Mike: *Angry* phaser beams? Tom: Sure, Mike! And happy phaser beams are the ones that will give you a back rub and a soothing foot massage before they vaporize you. > The Borg had lost the battle, but at the same >time, had come closer to winning the war. The cube had >accomplished its job, diverting the Federation from the >neutral zone long enough for the six vessels to sneak into >Romulan territory. Mike: Since we all know that the Romulans never watch their borders, after all. Crow: Too bad there's no sort of *sensor* that could detect ships...some sort of *sensor* would come in handy here, huh? > Head Preador Stovin Crow: So what, exactly, is a "Preador"? Tom: I think it's one of those other guys in a bullfight - y'know, matador, preador, stevedore. > watched in terror from >the Command centre. Mike: [Stovin] Oh no! I'm a male Romulan in a Kids Crew story! I'm dooooooomed! Crow: Centre? Tom: Canadian author. Crow: Ah. > After the Federation had taken over, they >had allowed a number of Warbirds to be kept as a Defence >fleet. This way they could defend Romulus without diverting >any Federation craft. No one could have predicted how soon >they would be needed to fill that role. Tom: Yeah, the role of "target." > Romulan Warbirds swarmed over the cubes, Crow: They've got discontinued Beanie babies on those warbirds! Get them! > as they moved >relentlessly towards Romulus. As if swatting flies, All: RAAAAAAID!!!!! > the Borg tractor >beams swung out grabbing Warbirds. > Instead of slicing them into a ring of debris, the Borg >pulled the ships onto their surface. The whole Warbird armada >was stuck to the cubes like flies to flypaper. Crow: What's with all the insect references? Mike: [giggling] If I could, I'd just squash this fanfic flat. Tom: [giggling as well] I'm just bugged out by the whole thing. Crow: Ha-ha, very funny. > The now >undefended world of Romulus then prepared itself for the >horrors of assimilation. Tom: [as Borg] You will like Kenny G. Resistance is futile! >Yet, the only other notice that the Borg took of the planet, >was launching an Electromagnetic pulse at the surface, sending >all the electronic equipment off line. Mike: And with all the electronic equipment knocked out, the entire Romulan Empire was left without access to reruns of CBS's Friday night Block Party. > After a day or so, the Warbirds removed themselves >from the cubes and merged together. Crow: Wow. The action. Mike: The tension. Tom: The brevity. > The Borg were once again >with seven ships. Crow: Soooo, this is Snow Marrissa and the Seven Borg Cubes? > Their business with Romulus complete, the >seven ships used their newly acquired technology to cloak and >move off towards the Federation Border. Mike: Er, haven't the Borg assimilated all sorts of stuff anyway? I mean, you think they'd have a Cloak. Crow: Maybe they needed to assimilate the "ON" switch. Tom: Y'know, if they'd just thought to bring two more ships, they could merge into one real big cube. > Chapter 2 All: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO! > > Rejoining the fleet had been dull and uneventful. Mike: Much like--oh, you know the rest. > The group of ships had just sat there the whole time with >nothing occurring. Mike: Well, that does describe dull and uneventful rather well. > The Romulan ships moved away from the >fleet, heading into their territory. The Romulan Empire had >been stripped of it's war machine without causing any odd >behaviour in the Federation. Mike: What exactly IS odd behavior for the Federation? Tom: When they act rationally. > The fleet moved off along a >patrol route. Crow: Somewhere, a nightingale sang. A frog is dissected. Pinkerton does not return. > In the evening, in the lounge room of the >Enterprise, Jay Gordon stumbled towards the bar, dark bags >under his eyes. Mike: Well, sleepin' with Marrissa'll do that to a guy. Crow: If he looks like that, he should LEAVE the bar. > "Coffee, 50% caffeine, black." Jay mumbled to the >Replicator. His voice slow and sluggish from fatigue. Crow: 50% caffeine? Why not just ask for a bag of crack and some crystal meth and be done with it? Tom: Unfortunately he forgot to specify "hot" so it'll come out all lukewarm and stuff. > "Having trouble sleeping, Captain?" inquired >Counsellor Martin Sussex, with a grin on his face. Mike: A song in his heart and a knife in his pocket. > He was >seated at a nearby table. Jay stumbled towards the table and >sat down. Tom: [Jay] Ask me that again and I'll kill you, doe-eyes. > "Oh yes," replied Jay. "Marrissa forgot the evening >feeding for the kid again. All: [screaming] WAAH! Tom: Marrissa would probably stop a war, *just* so she could feed her child! > Woke up at two in the morning >bawling. Crow: And she cried so hard that Sarah woke up. Sarah went right out again, but I was up all night trying to put Marrissa down again. > Stayed that way until three." Crow: [Jay] That's when I realized I can't nurse. > "What happened then?" > "I took Sarah to her, so she could feed it and stay >in bed." Mike: It? Jay refers to his daughter as it? Tom: I detect a Dark Marrissa moment coming on. . . Crow: Ahhhh, nothing like breastfast in bed, eh guys? Mike & Tom: [groaning and moaning] ARGGHH! > "Sounds like the only thing different from >Marrissa's lifestyle, is that the baby's on the outside now, >hmmm?" Martin inquired, with the smile spreading wider. Crow: You know any moment the top of his head is going to fall off. > " I guess." > "By the way, I've been giving some thought to that song >we've been practising. Maybe there's something wrong with the >lyrics or chords. Tom: So, basically the entire song's messed up then? > Maybe You, Me, Mike: ...a dog named Free. > and the band can get together >tomorrow. Mike: Can you see the light?! Tom: THE BAND! THE BAND! > How about after Alpha shift?" Crow: Jay has a band? Tom: I'm detecting major wish-fulfillment here. Mike. Mike: [Weeping Silently] > "No good. Marrissa's dragging me off to show Sarah >what Earth looks like, on the Holodeck of course." Crow: [Marrissa] Sarah, this is what Earth looks like on the Holodeck. You can't see it because there aren't any windows. Okay, here's what Vulcan looks like on the Holodeck... > "Oh, how about this upcoming weekend?" > "Sorry, diplomatic function. We're meeting with a >Garidian ambassador. He requested the presence of the >'Admiral who conquered the Romulans'. I was going to >be exempt, but Marrissa said he wanted the family." Crow: [Martin] Jay, uh...you do know that Garidians like the taste of humans? Tom: [Jay] Who cares? What about the music!? Can we get a gig at the function? > "Look," Martin's voice dropped to a whisper, and his >face lost the smile. "I didn't want to tell you this, but >you have to stand up for yourself in front of Marrissa." Crow: Y'know, I like Martin! Tom: Too bad his sacrilege has doomed him to die Real Soon Now. Mike: [Standing] Yes! We have something approaching reality! Crow: [To Tom] That brought him back! > "WHAT?!?" Jay yelled incredulously, all signs of >fatigue gone from his visage. Mike: Replaced by fear and terror. > "Keep your voice down" Martin whispered. Crow: Ooooh, please tell me they're planning a coup! Oh please oh please oh please! > "She >presently sees you as a lackey, Mike: Well, so do we. > and she's used to you waiting >on her whim because of the pregnancy. You've got to break out >of the routine. My guess is that for every time she's woke up >to feed the kid, you've woke up twice as many times, if not >more. Mike: Now all Martin has to do is get rid of Marrissa's deathgrip on the Federation and bring back the millions she's slaughtered and it'll all be okay! > "That's true, poor Sarah can't get back to sleep >without me singing to her." Mike: Yeah, a few bars of some dear old favorites, like "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Jeremy", and she's out like a light. > Martin nodded, then went on. Tom: [Martin Lawrence] WAZUUUUUUUUP?!?!!??? > "And since she ranks >you, you've probably been bossed around quite a bit lately. Mike: Yes, using a very, very, very, very, broad definition of "lately"! > And Marrissa's probably a little more aggressive about >getting what she wants, right?" [All smirk and giggle] Tom: That's quite an understatement there, Martin. > "What should I do?" Jay replied, a little embarrassed >" I'd like to have some control over the relationship, I mean, >even last night she was telling me what to do during ..." All: EWWWWWWWWWW! Tom: Geez, Rob, are you *trying* to blind us?!?! Mike: Not a word, Crow. Crow: What? > "Shut the heck up!" Martin interrupted, [All cheer] Mike: Oh wow. That was fun. I can see why Marrissa likes doing that. Let me try some more. Sit up straight! Clean the room before I get home! Fix me Dinner! Crow: Mike. . . . Mike: Turn off that stupid holodeck! Watch the kid while I go out with Clara! Tom: Mike. . . Mike: Stop practicing your stupid guitar! And when are you going to get a real job instead of that stupid temp job? Bots: Mike! Mike: Huh? What? Tom: [To Crow] We need to up his dosage again. Crow: [To Tom] Agreed. > surprised at the >dialogues new course. Calming himself, he continued "Sorry, >but I don't need to hear that, Tom: Neither did we!!! Mike: This story is just probing the dark steamy underside of the Marrissa universe that we never wanted to see! Crow: We'll probably learn about Marrissa's hot flashes next.... Tom & Mike: AIE!! > it's a little too personal. Tom: And this is the ship's *counselor*?!? Mike: Yeah, and the ship's doctor doesn't like to do invasive surgery, it's too icky. > Anyway, what I think you should do, is go back to your >quarters, ask Marrissa to feed the kid, then have a heart to >heart. Sound like a plan?" Mike: [Martin] When I snap my fingers, you will wake up and have a backbone. Three...two...[snap] Crow: [Jay] YES! I WILL THINK FOR MYSELF! What next, Martin? > With that, Martin got up and left, while Jay finished >his coffee. That's what I'm gonna do, kept running full tilt >through his brain. Maybe those tabloid reporters were right, Tom: [As Jay] Maybe Marrissa WAS Bigfoot... > maybe they got married too young. Mike: Again, that's quite an understatement. Crow: Keep this up, and the Marrissa line is going to be retiring before they're 8. Tom: Theirs Was A Love That Spanned The Stars, But Society Said They Were Too Young. Read "Jay And Marrissa: Thank You, Ma'am, May I Have Another?" in "Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love" from DC Comics. > Back on the >Endeavour there was romance and flowers and love gushing from >every pore. Mike: [Jay] No, wait, that's not love. Ewww... Crow: It's the Loooooooove Boat, the Next Generation! > Now it became more routine, less special. Tom: [Jay] 1800 hours: Have dinner. 1900 hours: Argue with Marrissa. 1930: Make love to Marrissa. 2000 hours: Fall asleep. > He wondered if he even loved Marrissa anymore. Mike: Jay's finally sorted out the difference between love and lust and fear. > The coffee was >gone, Crow: Where's that donkey when you need him?! > and Jay marched back to his quarters. His head was held >high, both from the courage he gained, and from the caffeine >entering his system. The doors slid open to reveal Marrissa >once again nursing the child All: [scream again] WAAAH! Mike: [panting] Come on, guys, we can do this! It's not like we've never seen this before... Tom: Actually, Mike, this is our first time. Mike: Oh. Then prepare for EXTREME PAIN! All: [scream again] > with a surprised, and vaguely >annoyed,look when she saw Jay. Mike: Fortunately, Jay was used to this. > "Where have you been, Jay? I had to get up and feed >Sarah. Mike: What? Like it was *his* turn to feed Sarah?! > I need my beauty sleep." Said Marrissa. Jay couldn't >help but remember a joke involving an old childhood story >about Rip Van Winkle. Tom: Sooooo, apparently, if Marrissa sleeps too long, she becomes a 70 year old man with a long white beard? Crow: Hey, Jay! Get the sleeping gas now while you have time! > "Besides, you know our poor wittle babykins can't get to >sleep without you singing to her. Crow: If Jay strangled her right now, there's not a jury in the galaxy that would convict him. > Why she likes 'Achy Breaky >Heart', I doubt I'll ever understand." continued Marrissa. [appalled silence] Crow: That sound you just heard? Everything good & decent in the universe dying. Tom: Yep - joy, laughter, kindness, warmth - all gone! Mike: Man, I *hate* when that happens. > That was true enough, Jay decided. He should have >stayed home to get the coffee, but he needed a social >atmosphere. Tom: Like an empty bar? > Too late to worry about it now, though. Jay was >>about to launch into the speech he concocted, when the call >came through. "Attention all hands. Shift change. Crow: go from lowercase to ALL CAPS. THAT IS ALL... > Alpha Shift >to duty stations." Crow: [sleepily] Time to make the donuts. Time to make the donuts. Mike: Jay, return your manhood to it's previous position. > "We'll talk later, Jay." warned Marrissa. The ice in >her voice made Jay wonder if he could apply for a transfer. Mike: [Jay] "Power Rangers", "Space Cases", "Saved by the Bell" - there's *got* to be another series I can sneak into! Crow: You know, this really is a shocking and unsettling turn. Tom: I know. I appreciated it when Jay was so P-whipped you could use him as a harem guard. > They prepared for another day on the job, and made their >way to the Bridge. All the way, Jay felt as if Marrissa had >the pull of a planet's gravity, Mike: Which would have promptly caused the Enterprise to implode, and ended this little fanfic. Tom: Unfortunately, for us, this was not the case. > and was going to yank the >rebellious thoughts from his mind. Mike: She's a P-12. Call the Psi-Corp! Crow: Wrong show Mike. Unfortunately. Tom: Could you imagine Marrissa on Babylon 5? Crow: Only in an airlock. > On the bridge, Jay tried >to bury himself in his duties, Crow: Let's hope that doesn't include Sarah's diaper duty. Tom & Mike: Ewwwww! > yet continually felt the glare >of his wife Crow: MAKEUP! Could we have some more pancake on Marrissa? We're still getting a terrible glare off her. > burying into his back. Mike: Yep, the marriage has NO effect on the efficiency of the command structure whatsoever. > He was almost happy when >something happened in the Neutral Zone. Mike: [as Helmsman] Oh, wait, sorry, just a sensor blurp. Something didn't happen. Tom: [as Jay] Oh, damn! > The feeling dropped >when he saw what it was. A decloaking vessel, too big to be a >Romulan, appeared in front of them. > "Shields," Marrissa barked. [All do dog barking noises] > "Weapons to full power, all >fighters stand by to launch." Mike: Where they'll just go "plink plink plink" against the inside of the shields. Want to rethink that order, Marrissa? > The bridge crew stood in shock as the ship became fully visible, it was a Borg Cube. The crew came to its senses and Crow: Threw Marrissa overboard & joined the Borg of their own free will. > moved to obey their Commanding Officer. Tom: The two parts of that last sentence do NOT make sense. > The Borg came through on all channels. Tom: [as Borg] This has been a test of the Emergency Borg Systems. In case of an actual Borg attack... > "We are the Borg. Tom: [Borg] Stand by for an important announcement concerning your life insurance. Mike: [Borg] Wolf 359 veterans cannot be turned down for this offer. >lower your shields and surrender your vessels. We will >acquire the future queen of the Borg. We shall then >assimilate the remaining individuals. Crow: We will then download the "Salvage Starship" objective and assimilate your ship. Do not attempt to make your Enterprise-E staffing icon backwards- compatible. Downloading "Sense the Borg" is futile. > Resistance is futile." Mike: Second verse, same as the first. > Then, behind the first cube, the six others appeared. Tom: [Borg] We will telegraph our plans. We will make ourselves vulnerable. We will display the originality of "Family Matters." > The Federation fleet attacked, with the unfortunate effect >of being set adrift by electromagnetic beams. Tom: Why do the ultra-adaptable Borg never learn that no one ever believes that resistance is futile? Mike: Or that you don't mess with Marrissa? > Soon, only the >Enterprise was operable, but loosing shields. Mike: Man, the action doesn't let up. Of course it never really begins either. >Marrissa took a lucky guess and managed to destroy the cube >formerly made out of Warbirds, by breaching their warp core. Mike: Oh, like that one little weak spot in "Generations." Toughest ships in the galaxy, but one little tap and BOOM! Tom: Hey, the djinn in the "Arabian Nights" had the same problem, y'know. > The >victory was ruined when they recalled the six other cubes All: [shouting] YAHTZEE! >had taken out the shields and were beaming aboard. Mike: "Recalled?" Forgot to mention that little detail, Rob? Crow: Either that or this crew has lots of severe memory problems. > A group of >ten appeared in engineering. Mike: Amway salesborgs! Run! > The Security teams fired >repeatedly at the Borg who still would not adapt, Crow & Tom: HELL, NO, WE WON'T ADAPT! HELL, NO, WE--urrrrrk... > taking down >five while the other Borg grabbed random engineers and Crow: ...subjected them to a fascinating survey about George Wednt and beans! Tom: [as Borg] Resistance is futile. You will be surveyed. Mike: Actually, that would explain a lot at the mall... >injected their nanites into them. The infected engineers >stood in shock, trying to differentiate between their own >motives and the Collective's, Crow: [trance-like] Regular or decaf? > then took up phasers >against the security team. > Crow: Which was actually pretty fun! > On the bridge, Marrissa was trying everything she >could think of to try and defeat the over whelming odds. She >flipped the ship, Crow: Oooooh! Marrissa's from New York! That would explain a lot! > rolled the ship, Crow: o/~ The captains in Starfleet, they say they're mighty fine/They'll flip you for a nickel, and roll you for a dime/I don't want no more Starfleet life... o/~ > beamed Quantum torpedoes >onto the Borg ships, All: *snort* Crow: Hi, I'm putting a bullet on your shoulder. You die now, okay? > and even tried the Shelton slide >manoeuvre, Mike: Then the Mashed Potato, followed by the Boot-Scootin' Boogie, the Smurf, the Batusi, and even - Tom & Crow: NO!!! Mike: Yes - *Lambada*, the Forbidden Dance!!! > all to no avail. Tom: And she did all this herself with no help from the crew. Crow: Unfortunately, most of the crew died while trying to untangle the extra vowels from the author's spelling. > The Borg seemed to be able to anticipate the moves >then halt them. Mike: That's what happens when your fight scenes are choreographed by Paula Abdul. > The Borg beamed in next to the security >personnel posted at the doors of the bridge. Instead of >the assimilation tactics used in Engineering, the Security >team was vaporised, and the other members of the bridge >scrambled to react. Tom: Laughing proved ineffective so they tried different reactions. Mike: Didn't Sun Tzu say that it was better to capture your opponent's resources than just destroy them? Crow: Well, unlike you, the Borg didn't learn everything they know about tactics by playing "The Ancient Art of War." > Marrissa took up the phaser rifle once >again and managed to take out two of the cybernetic terrors, >who were replaced with more of the same. The Borg fired >again, killing the helm officer. Crow: Oh my God! The Borg killed Ensign Kenny! You bastards! > Alex, who had grabbed his >phaser rifle, avenged the officer's death by firing a >vaporising blast into the Borg that killed him. Tom: Another Borg grabbed the rifle and shot Alex. Patterson grabbed the rifle and killed the Borg. A third drone grabbed the rifle and killed Patterson. Jay grabbed the rifle... Mike: Thank you, Thomas Malory. > A Borg >materialised behind him, then in front of him, the whole >Bridge was crawling with Borg drones. Tom: Jim, this bridge is swarming with Borg drones! > Marrissa couldn't stand >it. Mike: Thus Marrissa achieves empathy with her audience. > Remembering an old Schwarzenegger movie Crow: Pumping Iron? Tom: Twins? Mike: Jingle all the Way? > she saw as a kid, >she cried Tom: [Ahnuld] It's not a too-mah! > "Everybody Down!!!!" at the top of her lungs. Tom: Yep, all that Starfleet training and she turns to Schwarzenegger for inspiration. > The Bridge crew dropped to the deck, as Marrissa fired at >full power. She was surrounded, but pirouetting like a >professional dancer while firing, she cut the Borg down to >ribbons. [All laugh hysterically.] Mike: If I spin fast enough they can't hit me! Crow: Oh, sure, Starfleet won't mind the ring of burn marks in the walls around the bridge. Tom: I won't bother adapting to her frequency, she couldn't hit a Horta at this dist-- Mike: This is the weirdest and most violent version of Swan Lake I've ever seen! Crow: If I cover my head you can't see me! Tom: Sylvester Stallone *IS* Tara Lipinski in "Rambo IV: Death Lutz"! > The crew was safely on the deck, under the wave of >Marrissa's killing fire, Mike: Which was a welcome change. > even managing to fire at a drone, on >occasion. Crow: And Marrissa mixed with 20th Century ideas save the day! > With all the drones cut down around the bridge, a >wave of fatigue washed over her like a tidal wave on a beach. > Tom: Covering a psychic Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. > Just then a final Borg appeared about two meters in >front of her. About to fire without a second thought, Mike: That's our Marrissa! > Marrissa >noticed it was female, with blond hair streaked with grime and >oil. Mike: Courtney Love, no! > In one arm the Borg was cradling a small blanket that >sent waves of fear through Marrissa, Tom: Her worst dreams had come true. The Borg had assimilated Linus. > the blanket was Sarah's. >Rage swelled up inside her like a over-shaken pop bottle. Mike: I hope that she hasn't had any Pop Rocks. > She >raised the rifle to avenge her child's death, Mike: Anyone feel like a game of chess, all of a sudden? > and in response >the Borg moved itself so she could see the infant was >unharmed. But the Borg indicated that it would not stay that >way if Marrissa fired, by raising her arm and extending the >nanite injectors over the baby's head. The rage evacuated >her, All: EWW-W-W-W-W!!! > leaving only a sea of relief. Crow: What's with all the water references? Mike: Urrr, I shouldn't have had that Big Gulp before we came in the theater... Tom: Once her child was assimilated she could kill her and finally get some sleep at night. > The choice seemed fare to her, Tom: Homophones: Your Guide To Quality Fanfics. > the drones life for her childs, a diplomatic trade off. Mike: 'Course, it doesn't take nine months to make a new drone. > Resigned, Marrissa lowered her rifle, and Jay remained on >the deck in shock. Crow: Pretty much Jay's usual bridge station. > A cry of warning came from Jay's lips as another >Borg appeared behind Marrissa. But it was too late. Crow: Galaxy threatened, Federation in danger, Marrissa lets her personal life interfere. > As Marrissa whipped around, Tom: o/~ Whip it! Whip it good! o/~ > the Borg extended the >injector, and pumped Marrissa full of the microscopic, >assimilating robots. [Suddenly, balloons and confetti fall from the theater ceiling, and Mike and the bots dance around cheering] > This wasn't right, Crow: Sez you! > Marrissa's mind screamed >out. Crow: Her first thought as the Borg, and it's the most sensible thought she's had! > A cheap shot, a low blow, Mike: Poetic justice... > call it what you will, Crow: How about "Eunice?" >but the Borg had pulled it. Tom: Pull the other one, it's got bells on. > The nanoprobes assimilated the >blood cells one by one, and the rest of her body couldn't take >the stress, and shut itself off. Crow: The nanites considered this "slumming" Tom: Mike, is it OK to be enjoying this so much? Shouldn't I feel guilty, or pity, or something? Mike: Nah. She's had this coming for YEARS. > Collapsing to the floor, the bridge crew stared in >shock at the image of their fallen leader. Mike: Then spontaneous cheers erupted throughout the ship! Crow: The Federation declared a galaxy-wide day of celebration! Tom: And cards of condolence poured into the Borg. Mike: [Alexander] Dibs on her bike. > The female Borg lowered Sarah to a now vacant seat, >then assisted the other Borg in lifting Marrissa. Crow: "Lifting Marrissa" - the new sequel to "Raising Arizona" > The three >then beamed back to their cube, followed by the Borg in >engineering. In space, the Borg once again cloaked and moved >away from the fleet. They had what they came for. Mike: Cheez-Whiz. Crates of it. > They had >their new Queen. > Crow: I think the Borg HR department is gonna catch a lot of flack for this. Mike: So now Ru Paul's messed up in this? Tom: Let's go. [They file out of the theater.] [1. . . 2 . . . 3. . . 4 . . . 5. . . 6 . . .]