_____________ ____________ ____________ * / R \ */ \ */ \ * | E ______ | *\____ ____/ *| ________/ * | S |******| | ****| |*** *| F |******** * | I | *| | *| | *| U |____ * | S ~~~~~~~ / *| I | *| T \ * | T ____ \ *| S | *| I ____/ * | A |*** \ \ *| | *| L |*** * | N | * \ \ ___*| |____ *| E | * | C | * \ \/ \ *| | * \__E_/ * \___/______________/ *\____/ ***** **** ************** ***** RIF BBS (805) 588-9349 P.O. Box 81181 Bakersfield, CA 93308 subscriptions: ktaborn@bak2.lightspeed.net http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/ borgpage/index.htm http://www.marshall.edu/~swann1/cborg2.html ftp://fvkma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif THE OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE GALACTIC BORG CONSCIOUSNESS ISSUE NUMBER 53 ALA 153 B.E. 2 Mar - 20 Mar 1996 ========= CONTENTS ========= FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Letter o' Praise STAR TREK COMPARATIVE COMANDER ANALYSIS: Question 1 STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 2. The Pilot, Part 2 RESISTANCE: A TNG Serial: Chapter 11: Undercover Chapter 12: A Gift from a Borg The Fine Print =============================== FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF =============================== Imagine my shock when I actually received a letter of indefinite praise. I'll share it with you since you are a captive audience: From: Leonard Richardson [leonard.richardson@mustang.com] Subject: Letters to RIF Being a major source of filler for RIF for so many years, months, picoseconds, whatever, well it's been a great honor. Every time I saw one of my parodies published in this hugely successful hack rag I could feel my heart leapt into my throat, which I'm sure is the same thing as happened to many of you, except with your lunch instead of your heart. Anyway, I promised I'd recount many of my wacky RIF memories, so here goes. I can still remember, sort of, hanging out with Oxnardus on Prodigy. This was during the early days of RIF, but I wasn't a reader yet, so why the heck am I bringing this up? But when I did start reading I dove into my file archives (shameless plug: I run Da Warren, an official RIF site) and flipped through every darn issue. Pretty funny stuff, RIF. Um, I forgot what I was going to say after that. Anyway, Oxnardus has come to many (well, two) of our hugely successful Da Warren pizza bashes, and she's always brought some weird folder with her that might or might not have something to RIF, I don't know whether she carries that around everywhere she goes or what but she didn't seem to do anything with it the whole time she was there. Boy, what a circus freak. Like I'm one to talk, me with all my stupid parodies. Now that I'm reading over this letter, it doesn't sound nearly as academic and chummy as I was hoping it would be. So let me just close by saying that I wish RIF the very best as we approach the 21st century. Here's to another 50 issues, and another 50 issues after that, and another 50 issues after that, and so on. Warp speed ahead! Is this praise, OR WHAT!!???!! John P. Pietrzak (author of "It Came from the Black Space Lagoon", which was featured in the last issue of RIF, has a new e-mail address. He would like anyone who has any comments about his parody to send him an e-mail! Go for it. You can reach John at pietrzak@escalante.cs.byu.edu OR his web site at http:// escalante.cs.byu.edu/pietrzak. ---Oxnardus ======================================= STAR TREK COMPARATIVE COMANDER ANALYSIS ======================================= No matter what Star Trek subs and message boards you peruse, we inevitably come upon the question of WHO'S THE BEST CAPTAIN? We here at the Skiold Foundation for Comparative Commander Analysis feel it neccesary to compare each leader in both subjective and objective contexts - namely, how would each face a situation that another triumphed over? Thus, over the next four issues we present four separate questions and incidents, with responses from our four captains, PLUS, at no extra charge, feedback from various other commanders we've had a chance to meet. QUESTION #1 ----------- Your first officer of 20 years and trusted friend seemingly dies to save your vessel. You later discover that he is, in fact, alive, and being regenerated on a distant planet in a forbidden zone. Going after him will wind up costing you your rank, your vessel, and possibly a family member as well. What do you do? CAPTAIN KIRK "I'd go after Spock, no question - who else in Starfleet is willing to put up with me? My ever-loyal bridge crew would be more than willing to help me steal my old ship and sabotage any pursuers, and we'd somehow manage to outwit any opposition we'd encounter, from a single Klingon ship right on up to...hell, right on up to the planet exploding! If Starfleet gets angry, I'd just find a way to save the universe again, and they'd be so grateful they'd pardon me." CAPTAIN PICARD "I'd try all the normal, diplomatic channels, of course. If that failed, I'd send Worf and Data in a shuttlecraft to effect a rescue, while I monitored from the safety of the ENTERPRISE. If worst came to worst, Number One is replaceable - Commander Shelby's much better looking than Will, any day." COMMANDER SISKO "I'd sympathize with Major Kira's plight, and do all I could through the proper diplomatic channels. Failing in that, what more can I do except radio in to Bajor for a replacement? I'm used to women being whisked out of my life, you know, and no way am I going to let Jake-O get killed just to save some Bajoran fanatic who was living on borrowed time anyway." CAPTAIN JANEWAY "The same as Captain Kirk, but I'd take my full crew, d****t! They knew the risks when they signed aboard!" CAPTAIN KURN "If my first officer died with honor, like a true Klingon, than snatching him from the grave would deface him as a warrior. If he died a coward, then he is not worth retrieving, Fek'Lar eat his bones!" COMMANDER TOMALAK "I would be very suspicious of the news of my first officer's revival. This sounds distinctly like a Federation trick to lure my ship across the neutral zone." GUL DUKAT "I would not take my vessel into any zone that Central Command has deemed forbidden - to do so would be treason against the state. If my first officer has somehow gotten himself into one of these `forbidden zone,' I question his motives and loyalty. If he ever showed his face again, I would contact the Obsidian Order immediately." THE GRAND NAGUS: "A planet that resurrects you? What a find! I'd make such a profit, it'd be unbelievable! Hell, my whole family could get blown apart if it meant latinum!" LOCUTUS, OF BORG: "One life is irrelevant. If he has left the collective, he will merely be re-assimilated when we inevitably conquer that sector." HAN SOLO "Hey, Chewie's my friend and all, but you said the FALCON would be destroyed? Then he's one toasted Wookie - sorry, pal." Q "What a ridiculous question. If he died I'd simply bring him back to life and transport him home, simple as that." ---David Nurenberg, SKIOLD@AOL.COM ========================== STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY ========================== Season One. Episode Two. "The Pilot, Part Two" Last week on Star Trek: Door Repair Guy: "Blast that repairman! He's eleven minutes late!" "Now I'll never have kids." "Lead, follow, or get the heck out of the way, that's what we need around here." "So you believe he saw us?" "Jean-Luc . . . I'm your first cousin." "So if you were to, say, become Captain . . . ?" "You'll never find me! Never! N-e-e-e-v-e-e-r! . . ." And now the exciting conclusion to The Pilot, Part 2... "Ensign, lay in a course based on the last known heading of the Battle Section. Full impulse power. Engage." "Aye, sir." "Computer, what is the present location of Lt. Cmdr. Data?" "Lt. Cmdr. Data is not on board the Saucer Section." "Where is Lt. Worf?" "Lt. Worf is in Counsellor Troi's quarters." "Picard to Lt. Worf. Report to the bridge immediately." *Erf. Sorry. Acknowledged!* "Picard to Counsellor Troi. Report to the bridge immediately." *Oof. Get that for me. Acknowledged, Captain!* "Computer, is the Chief Engineer aboard the Saucer Section?" "Cmdr. LaForge is not on board." "Who is the senior member of Engineering Division on board the Saucer Section, and where is that officer?" "Lt. Barclay is in holodeck four." "Picard to Lt. Barclay. Report to the bridge immediately." *Yoiks. Erg. Wet. Pardon me. Ah, Barclay here, Captain. On my way. Computer, end program. Ooh. Who cleans this up?* "Picard to Doctor Crusher. Report to the bridge." *Coming, sweet coz* "Beverly, don't call me your sweet coz." "Captain?" "What is it, Mr . . . Door Repair Guy." "Do you think you'll want to use the conference room?" "Of course, there's an emergency going on. I have to brief all my department heads." "Very good, sir." A loud creaking sound fills the bridge as the repairman uses the jaws of life to open the conference room door. This is followed by a loud pounding as he drives wooden wedges under the door with a ten-pound maul. "Conference room ready, sir." "Crawlspace: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Door Repair Guy. His mission: to install and maintain proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has gone before." [Music] Star Trek: Door Repair Guy Whoosh! Starring Door Repair Guy as Himself Whoosh! Also Starring Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard Whoosh! Jonathan Frakes as Cmdr. William Riker Marina Sirtis as Counsellor Deanna Troi Michael Dorn as Lt. Worf LeVar Burton as Lt. Cmdr. Geordi LaForge Gates McFadden as Doctor Beverly Crusher Buddy Whassisname as Lt. Cmdr. Data and Dwight Schultz as Lt. Barclay Enterprise looms into view, flips off Saucer Section, and warps off in a burst. [Commercial: The Brick. "Do not pay 'til 2262!"] "Why do you think he did it, Jean-Luc?" Picard pushes his hands back over the dome of his head. "I don't know, Beverly." "I've always thought Will had too much humour to fly off the handle like this." "Humour. I wonder if that isn't at the heart of the problem. You never know what's coming next with some people." "Jean-Luc, is that a cow that just flew past the window?" "What? Where? Oh, I see. We've just passed that planet's moon." "Ah." "Blast those officers! They're eleven minutes late!" Lt. Barclay zooms into the conference room. "P-please excuse me, Captain. I was . . . detained." "You're not the only one, Mr Barclay. Take a seat." Barclay takes one of the many empty chairs. "Mr Barclay, you've often seen Cmdr. Riker in action. Would you characterize him as a man particularly prone to stress?" "Well. . . s-s-stress is a broad term, Captain. Perhaps if you . . . if, if *we* could narrow the terms of definition we might able to, quantify our answer." "Please proceed, Mr Barclay." "Well, Captain, we divide the motion to which a ship is subjected into three types: y-y-yaw, pitch, and roll." He has a brainstorm. "Computer. Display visual log, Engineering Section." "What time reference?" "Wh-whatever time Cmdr. Riker last entered Engineering." Counsellor Troi arrives in the middle of this and slips into a chair. Visual display shows a security camera angle shot of Engineering. Riker veers into the shot, and almost immediately begins to argue with Geordi. He looks around and walks out. "Com-computer! Go back! Back! Oh! Stop!! Go forward! A bit more! No! Go back again! No! That was too much! Go . . . Stop! Freeze! Right there! Now that's yaw! Do you see that yaw? Computer: superimpose line figure standing perpendicular to the floor, and display angle of divergence." Counsellor Troi: "My God, seventeen degrees." Lt. Worf enters, adjusting his sash. "Please forgive me, Captain. I was detained." Picard leans back and sums up: "I think Lt. Barclay has provided the definitive answer. Cmdr. Riker is unbalanced." Doctor Crusher turns dramatically to the window and asks, with plenty of rhetoric effect, "And where is he now?" Shot of Battle Section streaking through space. "First Officer's Log. No, make that Captain's Log. We have been travelling at warp 9.6 for five hours, on a heading that should take us out of Federation-charted space before very long. I am locked on the battle bridge without anyone else except the computer, with which I have been in constant contact in my efforts to thwart the override efforts of Geordi and Data. I believe I have several hours before they discover my subspace systems interfaces. I am concerned about the ability of the bridge doors to resist the energies that are no doubt being expended on them as I speak." He has a thought. "Computer, is the Door Repair Guy on board?" "The Door Repair Guy is not on board the Battle Section." "That's a relief. I think." In the corridor outside the battle bridge Data steps back from an open access panel out of which jury-rigged optical wiring hangs in coils. "Lord Tunderin Jaysus! He's bypassed me again!" At a nearby panel Geordi makes a sound of disgust, then throws down his circuit splicer and sits back against the corridor wall. "Data, I don't get it. You work with someone for seven years and you think you know him. If I knew what was running through Cmdr. Riker's mind right now I'd be through that door in a minute. It's like he's a completely different guy." "Yes, by Jeez, he's rowin' cross-handed now." "I wonder where he thinks he's taking us." "Oh, up the Labrador, more'n loikely. He's got some smert, that one. Fit to be toied. He's got some kind o'frounge, there's no doubt about that. Oi spect we're due for some shocking great voyage with your man here, unless we can get these here doors abroad." "Yeah, you're probably right." They get back to work. "Captain, now that we've ascertained the condition of Will's mind, what are we to do?" "Why, we must follow him." "Excuse me, Captain, but when the Enterprise Battle Section was last seen it was running at high warp speed. We have only impulse power." "True, Mr Worf. But we know Cmdr. Riker better than anyone else, and we also know that it's only a matter of time before Data and LaForge regain control and steer back to their previous position." "And besides, my quarters are on Deck 42. They've got all my stuff!" "Thank you for your input, Mr Guy. If there's nothing else, report to your stations." *Captain, a vessel has entered our sector. It's on an intercept course* "Ah, our wait seems to be over. Is it the Battle Section, Ensign?" *No, sir. It's a Borg ship* Rapid pan from face to face. [Dramatic music.] [Commercial: KPLA cha'maH yay'a'meyna'. bopoQpu'. wItemta'. cha'maHlogh. (KPLA's Twenty Great Victories. You demanded them. We denied them. Twenty times!) DaQoy: (You hear:) "jIQuch vIneH" yIreH. Qo'. vImuS. pongwI' cha'. (Play "I Want to Be Happy".) (I refuse. I hate it. Caller two.) 'ej: (And:) "Dung Dung pa' je" yIreH. bong tavetlh vIghorpu'. (Play "Up, Up and Away".) (I have accidentally broken that record.) 'ej wa'vam lIjlaH 'Iv. (And who can forget this one?) "be' jIH" yIreH. qul wIghajpu'. Qaw'lu'. (Play "I am Woman".) (We had a fire. It is destroyed.) DaH yIje'. (Buy it now.)] "Red Alert! Mr Worf, what is our weapons status?" "We have phasers, and a limited number of photon torpedoes." "Ensign, lay in a collision course. On my signal engage at full impulse power." "It's suicide, sir!" "It's better than assimilation, Ensign! I have lived, and I shall die, a Frenchman!" "Captain, they're hailing us!" "Captain, they are within weapons range and they have not raised their shields! What are your orders?" "Captain, I'm sensing a great amount of anxiety from the Borg vessel!" "Captain, I think I've got your office door working again!" Picard looks rapidly from speaker to speaker, and at last turns to Lt. Worf. "Put the Borg on screen." The screen fills with the crowded faces of a dozen Borg. The bridge crew gasp. The Borg are dirty and emaciated and some of them show distinct signs of scurvy. The Borg join together in one angst-filled, wavering syllable: "H-e-l-l-l-p-p-p!!!" [Commercial: Wayne's World Three: The Search for Garth.] [Bob: "Whoa-ho-ho! This new series just gets better and better! Don't click around because it's time to play What's Under Bob's Cushion? And I have a letter here from little Katie DiCola from Ottawa. She writes: `Dear Bob: I greatly enjoy your programme. Why can't you do the news and all the commercials? I am two. What is under your cushion? All the Best, Katie' Very good letter, Katie. Let's just have a look under the cushion. It's a bat'telh! Ooo, and it's a big ugly thing too. You could really disembowel your enemies with this. Well, we'll be mailing that out to you, Katie."] +++++++++++++++++ Shot of the Enterprise Saucer Section and the Borg Cube in close proximity. "Captain's Log, stardate 49572.3. After receiving the Borg distress signal I have decided to suspend our pursuit of the Battle Section and to render assistance to the unfortunate Borg crew. There can be little doubt that they are in genuine peril, the cause of which can ultimately be laid at our doorstep. I am dispatching an away team to the Borg ship. My next decisions will depend heavily on their assessment of the situation." The transporter room. Worf is checking the energy reserves of one of the four phasers he is packing. The transporter room door slides open and the Door Repair Guy enters. "Door Repair Guy reporting as ordered, sir." "Who assigned you to the away team?" "Acting Chief of Engineering Barclay. Captain Picard wants him to work on the propulsion dilemma. Nyah. So there." "We are that short-staffed that a mere door repair technician is assigned to a sensitive away mission?" "chotIch, Sogh. jI'umbej." ("You insult me, Lieutenant. I am definitely qualified.") "tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh'a'." ("You speak Klingon?") "tlhIngan wo'Daq lojmItHuStaHghach vIghojta'." ("I learned doorhanging in the Klingon Empire.") "lIghojmoHta' 'Iv." ("Who taught you?") "mulughmoH Krell." (literally: "Krell causes me to be correct.") "lojmItHuSwI' Dun. batlh Dachavta'a'. ("A great doorhanger. Did you achieve honour?") "patlh wa'maH wa'DIch vIghaj." ("I have the eleventh rank.") "lojmItHuswI'na' SoH. qanoHHa'pu'. pu' yIghaj." ("You are a true doorhanger. I misjudged you. Have a phaser.") Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi enter. Door Repair Guy: "Hey, Doctor, I just thought of a joke. What do you hear when it's suppertime on the Borg ship? Borgorygmi! Ha ha!" "That is the most insensitive thing I've ever heard. Transporter Chief, energize." Four figures energize on a deck of the Borg ship. Almost immediately they grab their noses. "Ugh!" "Woof!" "Pyuu!" "B.O.!" Doctor Crusher begins to take tricorder readings on the prone figure of a nearby Borg. "This Borg has absolutely no Vitamin C in him at all! When did you last see a vegetable?" She takes an orange out of her pocket. "Here, eat this." The Borg devours it in one bite. Worf: "Doctor, what do we know about Borg sanitary habits?" "Very little, I'm afraid." Troi: "How do they bathe without short-circuiting?" Door Repair Guy: "Moist towelettes?" Doctor Crusher: "Yes, of course! Moist towelettes! See if you can find a moist towelette dispenser, and if it's broken, fix it. And then start distributing them!" "Aye, aye!" "Captain." "Come in, Mr Barclay. Oh, you'll have to stand sideways to get through there." "Captain, I've made some progress on the, the propulsion, on the propulsion problem." "What have you got?" "Two plans. The first plan . . . goes like this. We have four shuttlecraft in the Main Shuttlebay, each of which has warp capability. We arrange these in formation around the leading edge of the Saucer Section, two a little above, and two a little below the flight plane. We can use the port and starboard Saucer reaction control quad mooring tractor beam emitters . . ." "Just a moment, Lieutenant." Picard goes over to the replicator. "Star Trek: The Next Generation Technical Manual." Shot of the large paperback coalescing in the replicator. "Page 89, sir." "All right. Proceed." "We can use the emitters to hold the four shuttlecraft in formation. By reconfiguring the Primary Hull lateral sensors, page 114, we should be able to maintain a thin warp envelope around the entire formation, I mean around the Saucer and the, the four shuttlecraft." "Excellent, Mr Barclay! I wonder why I've never promoted you before now! What speed will that give us?" "Warp 1.0000000001, sir." "Oh. What's the other plan?" "The Borg ship has warp drive and tractor beams aplenty. We could park the Saucer section just above and in front of the Cube, say at one of the corners, and establish a stable tractor link. Their warp envelope would include us easily. We could tie our computer system into theirs via subspace and maintain crew transit using the transporters. The combined ship would have a warp capability equal to or better than the Enterprise . . . when it's all together . . . in one piece." Picard ponders unhappily. "Do you have any other plans?" "You could just send a subspace message to the nearest Starbase and wait for a ship to come and tow us home." "What? Have that at the end of my service record? Never! We'll go with the Borg plan." "Aye, aye, sir." Barclay exits. Camera dollies in on the seated Picard. The Captain's face reveals a number of emotions. At last he reaches under his desk and brings a bottle in a paper bag to his mouth and drinks thirstily and sloppily, the cheap red wine running down his chin. [Commercial: "Clean yes, germ no."] Tracking shot of the two vessels, the Borg Cube appearing from behind the Enterprise Saucer section. Scenes of intense activity follow, with voice-over: "Chief Medical Officer's Log, stardate 49573.1. I have completed my survey of the Borg ship. We are now diverting all our energies toward handling the medical emergency there. A tricorder census has revealed 659 Borg on board, all of whom are extremely disoriented, malnourished, and in need of medical attention. Food replicators have been beamed aboard, as well as a growing number of Enterprise personnel, most of whom are engaged in teaching the Borg how to eat. Until we better understand the Borg's regular energy replenishment system this will have to do. As a consequence we are being forced to replicate port-o-johns as fast as we can, and another Enterprise contingent, under the Door Repair Guy, has been delegated the task of instructing the Borg in their use. It is my belief that we will have the emergency under control within 24 hours. What can be done with the Borg beyond that remains a mystery." Shot of the Battle Section streaking through space. "Captain's Log, stardate unknown. My random encryption codes and subspace channel flux protocols have worked far better than I could have imagined. Geordi and Data are still locked out of the battle bridge. And I'm still locked in. We left Federation-charted space hours ago. I really have to go to the bathroom. I have had considerable opportunity to think over my precipitate action. Have I done the right thing? Deanna would be able to tell me. Ah, Deanna. Perhaps a trombone solo will cheer me up." In the corridor Geordi and Data are bent over their work. Panels are pulled off the walls all the way down the corridor, and wires crisscross from one side of the corridor to the other. Engineers pick their way through the tangle. Geordi leans into an open access duct, rearranging a series of isolinear optical chips (page 53), then stops and turns his head from side to side with a puzzled look on his face. He backs out of the duct, looks down the corridor first one way and then the other. At last he creeps toward the battle bridge door, leans toward it, and then presses his ear against it. "What the . . . ?" Data, having observed this, follows suit, and presses his ear against the door. "Lord liftin'!" "You wanted to speak to me, Counsellor?" "Yes, Captain. It's about the Borg. What are we going to do with them?" "I was hoping you would have some ideas for me, Counsellor." "Well, I have, Captain, but you might not like them." "I see. Can I get you something?" He goes over to the replicator. "Whatever you're having, sir." "Two teas, Earl Grey, hot, with a double shot of brandy." He brings them over. Troi takes a sip and sprays half the room. "Strong," she gasps. "You had some ideas." "*cough* *cough* *cough* Yes. Well. *cough* *cough* These are Borg in the throes of individuation. *cough* As far as we can tell they were part of the Borg collective until quite recently, when they somehow became infected with the virus of individuality and were cut away -- denied a subspace link to the other Borg clusters. From that moment on they have suffered a progressive failure of all systems, and a collapse of their social structure. Had they not found us when they did they surely would have died, either by starvation or by some catastrophic failure of their ship's systems. Frankly, they need our help. And, if we are to regain warp power and rejoin the Battle Section, we need theirs." "And the problem you perceive is an ethical one." "Yes, Captain. As we speak, the Enterprise crew are hard at work training the Borg in table manners, common courtesy, Basic English, softball. Crew members are handing out chocolate bars to them by the basket-load and at the same time learning how to interface with them and their ship's systems. The Borg are remarkably quick learners, even in their present condition, and I predict that in a very short time we will have effectively . . ." ". . . assimilated them." "Yes, Captain." "I see the problem. What options do you see?" "Several. We could kill them. We could set them adrift, which would have the same result. We could try to find a way to return them to what they were, and probably be responsible for the deaths of Federation citizens at some future date . . . or we could join them." "Join them? Be assimilated?" "No, Captain. Confederation." "Like nineteenth-century Canada! The model of all subsequent civilized societies!" "We'd even have a drunk for a leader, just like good old Sir John A.!" "Who?!" "You!" "I don't drink." "Look at those empties!" Picard buries his head in his arms and begins to sob. Troi comes around the desk and kneels down beside his chair. "This affair with the Borg has been a great strain on you, hasn't it, Captain." The top of his head nods. "You thought you had seen your last of them." Another nod. "And Riker's defection has ruined all your retirement plans, hasn't it." "Yes." *sniff* "But you've been through worse before, and with the help of your officers you'll see this through." He sits back and heaves a deep breath. "Yes, Counsellor, you're right, of course." "And there'll be no more need for these." She starts loading bottles into the replicator. "You're right. No more of that for me." He laughs. "Do you know, Counsellor, I came this close to appointing Door Repair Guy as Acting Captain." She stiffens visibly, but he does not notice. "I was very impressed by his indefinable something." "Captain, you stay here and rest. I'll send the Doctor up when she has a free minute. Perhaps you could have a nice read." She slides from the room, and leans gasping against the wall. "The horror, the horror." [Commercial: Labatt's Maximum Ice] The Battle Section speeds on. The battle bridge. "All right, computer. For the next half hour we are going to cycle all the command prefixes using a random encryption code based on the dulcet tones of my magical trombone. Whenever a B flat comes up, reset. Our first number, "Will You, Won't You, Be My Babe?" "Data, it's the trombone. It's gotta be. If we can just introduce a sonic pulse containing the right combination of trombone tones into the computer's audio harvester we should be able to disable his encryption renumerator long enough to get our own doorpost command through his fractal redundancy net." "And?" "The door will open! Ensign, find the nearest replicator, replicate a trombone, and bring it to Cmdr. Data. Move!" "Aye, sir! (My only line!)" "Here he comes now! Play, Data, play!" "Moi oh moi, how dey loved dis one, back in dear old Carbonear: Oi calls it `Te Jealous Lover.'" No sooner have a pair of notes wafted into the corridor than the battle bridge doors swoosh open. Geordi and a dozen security guards dash onto the battle bridge. "Cmdr. Riker, I arrest you in the name of Starfleet Command and the United -- Data, stop playing! -- Federation of . . ." On the viewscreen three quarters of a million dollars are suddenly used up. Everyone: "WORMHOLE!" Shot of Enterprise Saucer Section and Borg Cube flying in close formation at warp speed, joined together by a net of tractor beams. "Captain's Log, stardate 49575.8. We have been following the Battle Section's ion trail for two days, and have yet to pick up any reading of the missing ship. I find myself thinking of the missing Engineering Hull as another vessel, quite separate from this new confederated ship. Counsellor Troi, noticing the similarity in numbers between the Borg and the crew of the Saucer Section, has instituted a buddy system, pairing each one of us with a different Borg. I am about to meet my own Borg counterpart. It is with mixed feelings but sober mind that I approach this encounter." Door chime. "Come." Troi enters, pulling a reluctant Borg behind her. "Captain, I'd like you to meet Three to the Fifth, Three to the Fourth, Three to the Second, Two." "Pleased to meet you, sir." "Pleasure is irrelevant. Desk is irrelevant. Window is irrelevant. Ooooo, fishbowl." "I'll leave you two to it." "Counsellor!" Whoosh. "Now it works." Backing-away shot as Picard edges toward the Borg and begins to explain about the care and feeding of mollies. Next on Star Trek:DRG: "It's a wormhole, sir. And they went right down its throat." "That's a mixed metaphor, Lieutenant." "Stars. A single constellation out here in intergalactic space." "It looks like two bunnies!" "Who let that child on the bridge?" "It does look like two bunnies, sir." [Music. Credits.] ---Douglas A. McLeod (ai919@freenet.carleton.ca) ============================== RESISTANCE: Chapters 11 and 12 ============================== Part 6 of 12 A Star Trek: Next Generation Serial Chapter Eleven: Undercover The next thing the Enterprise's sensors detected was a big explosion. The Borg weapon had destroyed most parts of the Romulan ship. The bridge crew looked at the explosion on the main viewer without saying a word. Data's sensors detected remaining life signs aboard the Romulan ship. Picard's communicator interrupted the silence. "LaForge to Picard. We are ready." Picard ordered to activate the cloaking device immediately, and the Enterprise became invisible instantly. "Set a course for the Borg ship, fire as soon as possible. We must distract them to prevent them from destroying the Romulan ship completely. We must save the survivors." Seron laid in the course, and Worf pushed the "FIRE" button. Chapter Twelve: A Gift from a Borg Dr. Crusher was the last person to arrive in the individual Borg's cave. Picard had put her in charge - and so she considered it her duty to look after all the other ones and to be the last one to move into a safer place. She went through the cave to talk to Hugh. "We are defenseless. The collective is more powerful than we are, and they destroyed all our weapons. Apparently this time, resistance is futile." Hugh greeted her. "We must contact Starfleet Command for assistance. You used a subspace communicator to send us a distress call. Where is it?" "The collective damaged it beyond repair. We have abandoned the remaining parts outside." "Could you lead some of our technicians to the parts? Maybe they can repair something." "You can try, though I do not believe it is possible to repair it." Then, he told another Borg to lead the way. Ensign T'Pal normally worked in engineering. Thus, Dr. Crusher assigned her to lead the away team. Ensign Pike followed. Lieutenant Talas accompanied the team to care for their security - the collective Borg could come back, after all. The remaining parts of the subspace communicator looked like a pile of junk to Talas, who was not a good technician. T'Pal started to work on the remaining parts, with Pike's assistance. "Why don't we just take the remaining parts to the cave? We can be detected by the Borg sensors out here!" Talas asked - again showing his lacking knowledge of technical equipment. "We can't send subspace messages from in there, Sir. " t'Pal answered. "The same material that protects us from being detected by Borg sensors prevents us from sending subspace messages. We must assemble the parts here." t'Pal and Pike talked about the wrecked communicator. The results were not looking too good for them. Some essential parts of the device were destroyed beyond repair. With some work, the power source could be replaced by a phaser, and the data processing between the sender and the input console could be replaced with a tricorder, but a part of the sender was damaged, as well. Pike suggested using parts from a communicator to repair it, but t'Pal knew that communicators were designed for short-range communications only, and the circuits would rather burn than work in a subspace communicator. Then, the Borg that had shown them the way interrupted their technical discussion. "We have some senders. The parts that linked us together while we were in the collective are a kind of communicators. We removed them - but we did not destroy them. Maybe you can use them to repair the device." The Borg left for the cave to get the abandoned link devices. TO BE CONTINUED... =============== UPCOMING IN RIF =============== STAR TREK COMPARATIVE COMANDER ANALYSIS: Question 2 STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 3. The Cuniculi Syndrome RESISTANCE: A TNG Serial: Chapter 13 A Risk They Have to Take Chapter 14 An Explosive Predictament ============== THE FINE PRINT ============== TRYING TO LOCATE A COPY OF RIF???? WORLD WIDE WEB/FTP: See the addresses at the top of the newsletter. Request a free subscription: ktaborn@bak2.lightspeed.net LOCAL BBS: There are various BBS distribution centers (when you call, tell them you heard about their BBS from RIF!): RESISTANCE IS FUTILE, Bakersfield, CA (805) 588-9349; micro bbs, Passaic, NJ (201-471-6887); AMITREK BBS: Kissimmee, FL (407) 348-3365; WARPCORE: Long Island, NY (516) 243-1698; U.S.S. 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