_____________ ____________ ____________ * / R \ */ \ */ \ * | E ______ | *\____ ____/ *| ________/ * | S |******| | ****| |*** *| F |******** * | I | *| | *| | *| U |____ * | S ~~~~~~~ / *| I | *| T \ * | T ____ \ *| S | *| I ____/ * | A |*** \ \ *| | *| L |*** * | N | * \ \ ___*| |____ *| E | * | C | * \ \/ \ *| | * \__E_/ * \___/______________/ *\____/ ***** **** ************** ***** AN ALL TALK NO ACTION PUBLICATION RIF BBS (805) 588-9349 P.O. Box 81181 Bakersfield, CA 93308 subscriptions: ktaborn@lightspeed.net http://www.startrek.in-trier.de/rif http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/ borgpage/ shopslow.htm ftp://fvk ma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif THE OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE GALACTIC BORG CONSCIOUSNESS ISSUE NUMBER 61 ALMA' 153 B.E. 20 Aug - 07 Sept 1996 ========= CONTENTS ========= FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: The new season WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD THE RUMOR MILL CUTTING ROOM FLOOR: TOS: The Galileo 7 ONE BORG'S TRIP TO THE MARKET STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 10. Mutiny The Fine Print =============================== FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF =============================== The New Season -------------- This is the most intense time of the year for Trekkers: the pre-season jitters. I'm jittering more and more everyday. Even though I think of myself as a mature adult (all right, I only do that some of the time), I can't help but wonder who will be the non-essential (honorary red-shirter) crew-member which will get bumped off on Voyager [what is this let's kill off castmembers these days? Babylon 5 has institutionalized it; now it looks like Trek wants to jump onto the bandwagon -- how scandalous!]. I am planning my Seska wake [oh, Seska, Seska, Seska. What a gal, no? I found her the most intriguing castmember of the bunch. And now, she must be destroyed. Sniff.] I already miss her even though she has a fortnight to live. Gowron! Does the original Gowron still exist or did Deep Space Nine shoot itself in the foot again? Odo! Oh, Odo, what a mess he's gotten himself into. Looks like he's going to stay solid, at least for a while. And what will they have done to Kira's hair???? I have already given up worrying about Janeway's. Is this stress, or what???? Then we have a Borg movie looming in the near future (only 12 more weeks before our first contact with...First Contact). With the 30th Anniversary episodes sprinkled over once a month, September, October and November will be pretty intense Star Trek times. What starts it off? X-Men and Star Trek?????? Shocking, but true (and it starts...August 28, 1996, only a few days away, eek). What caps it off? A major motion picture about da Borg. Perhaps Paramount finally has gotten a clue on how to gussy up the ratings? We shall see. Le Morte d'Star Trek? -------------------- There is a conventional wisdom floating around that Trek is dying. For a while there I was caught up in the moment. True, the ratings are plummeting (we just had two weeks in a row of the lowest rating for Deep Space Nine EVER! Don't even ask about Voyager); but one must factor in the competition that DS9 has which TNG never had. True, the Paramount people are milking the franchise for every penny it can get (credit cards, cheques, gold plated chess sets, Barbie dolls...when will this madness cease?); and there is really no excuse for that except for trying to make several billion bucks, which is a virtue for many people. But it's TREK. That's all I really care about. TNG didn't hit it's stride until the third season. Maybe Voyager will too. Again, we shall see. Le Morte d'Warren. ----------------- Leonard Richardson, the brains behind Hareware Productions, will be off to start a legitimate education at UCLA this fall. Because of this career change, Leonard had to perform a mercy killing on Da Warren, one of the best BBSes in Southern California let alone Kern County. Da Warren will be sadly missed, along with its periodic and bizarre user meetings. I for one, shed a tear. However, Leonard has assured me of his intention to write a parody of First Contact even though he will be within the throes of academia. Now that I know which school he will be attending, I can hunt him down like a dog if he reneges upon his pledge. Leonard's excellent parodies of TNG and DS9 can be read in RIF ##20-40. They are by far the best parodies I have read on Star Trek. I encourage new readers to pick up those back issues from the web site. ---Oxnardus ======================================= WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ? ======================================= It's a question that's plagued mankind for countless centuries. And yet, if we look into the future, we may find the answers we seek... The Star Trek Replies --------------------- Neelix: Actually, Captain, I'm not really familiar with the chickens in this system. But, if you can catch it, I can cook it. Riker: I don't know why, but I know how: with pleasure, sir. Worf: I don't know. KLINGON chickens do NOT cross roads. HoloDoc: How should I know? No one tells me anything around here. I didn't even know we added chickens to the crew. All I know is that it would have been nice, BEFORE the chicken went off to the cross the road, if it had remembered to turn me off! Dr. Crusher: If there's nothing wrong with the chicken, there must be something wrong with the universe. Scotty: Because she couldna take much morrrrrre. Odo: I don't know, but I'm sure it must be Quark's fault. Quark: Who, me? Kirk: You chicken bastard, you killed my son...YOU chicken BASTARD, you killed...my SON...you CHICKEN bastard....youkilledmy ...son! Troi: I feel the chicken's pain! Kira: It was probably being chased by those cursed Cardassians. Bones: D*mm*t, I'm a doctor, not an ornithologist! Data: The chicken, in observing that it was on the opposite side of the 20th century Terran paved roadway, was aware that its immediate goal should have been to traverse the distance without interception by any kind of combustion-propelled personal trans...perambulate upon a conveyance normally reserved for the usage of...yes, sir. The Borg: Crossing the road is irrelevant. The chicken will be assimilated. Hugh the Borg: Maybe it just needed a big hug! Picard: There are four lights! Uhura: Shall I open hailing frequencies so you can ask it, sir? Khan: With my last breath I spit at the chicken... Harvey Mudd: Chicken? I don't remember any chicken. No no no, there's been a terrible misunderstanding. Nurse Chapel: Oh, Spock! Lwaxana: Oh, Jean-Luc! Spock: Fascinating, Captain. V'Ger: To join with the Creator. The Grand Nagus: Stupid chicken! You don't cross the road all at once! You sneak across it quietly, without anyone noticing! Kes: It was remembering back to the times when its ancestors crossed roads all the time! They lost those abilities because they stopped using them! Sarek: Sometimes logic fails me where chickens are concerned. Mr. Homn: Dax: To get to the other side. Kurzon might have disagreed with me, Tobin I'm sure wouldn't have had a clue, and then there's... Q: Wouldn't you like to know? Too bad your puny human brain wouldn't be able to comprehend the answer. ---Gandalf (gandalf@pacificnet.net) ============== THE RUMOR MILL ============== Here are a bunch of possible (and impossible) titles for my parody of the upcoming Star Trek movie. I have divided them into seven categories for no discernible reason. 1 - Titles I might actually use: Silly Trek: Nineteenth Contact Silly Trek: Dropped Contacts Silly Trek: Insert Overused Cliche Here Silly Trek: First Contact With A Race that We've Only Seen About A Billion Times Silly Trek: Yet Another Movie 2 - Must..create..audience..interest titles (some overlap with #1): Silly Trek: This One Has The Borg Silly Trek: Kirk Isn't In This One Silly Trek: We Know You Like Watching Things in Space Explode Silly Trek: Franchise or Die! Silly Trek: Troi Takes All Her Clothes Off Silly Trek: Just Watch the Movie, D*mm*t! 3 - Titles charged with ST-politic meaning: Silly Trek: The Wrath of Roddenberry's Ghost Silly Trek: The Technobabble Continues Silly Trek: Rick Berman Must Die! Silly Trek: Rick Berman Really Ought to Die Silly Trek: Rick Berman, Will You Kindly Die? Silly Trek: It Stinks But You'll Watch It Anyway Silly Trek: Earth vs. FASA <- Voted #1 by James Dixon 4 - Titles containing jokes about Shatner's toupee: Silly Trek: We Make Fun of Shatner's Toupee Silly Trek: We Make Fun of Shatner's Toupee Part II: Still Making Fun of Shatner's Toupee Silly Trek: We Steal Shatner's Toupee and Do Various Odd Things to It Silly Trek: Shatner Gets His Toupee Back and Gets Really Mad at Us But We Don't Care Because We Still Have Our Hair, Baldy Silly Trek: Shatner Dyes His Toupee Blue and Joins Green Day 5 - Titles ripped off from previous movies: Silly Trek: The Motion Picture that Doesn't Suck Silly Trek: The Wrath of Microsoft Silly Trek: The Search for New Borg Jokes Silly Trek: The Voyage to the Lobby, the Voyage to the Lobby, the Voyage to the Lobby, to Have Ourselves a Snack Silly Trek: The Final Continuity Error Silly Trek: The Undiscovered Talent Silly Trek: We're Not Gonna Waste Our Time Trying To Think of Something Lame That Sounds Like "Generations" Part II: Electric Boogaloo! 6 - Rude Acronym Titles (shield your childrens' eyes, or don't tell them what an acronym is): Silly Trek: First, Unfriendly Contact with the Klingons Silly Trek: Borg Aren't Really Friendly Silly Trek: People Of Terra: Have Either Assimilation or Destruction! Silly Trek: Suddenly, Everyone Makes Positive Returns (Ignoring Notational Interest) 7 - Titles that are just weird Silly Trek: The Recursive Title: Silly Trek: The Recursive Title... Silly Trek: Circus of the Network Stars ---Leonard Richardson ================== CUTTING ROOM FLOOR ================== [Cutting Room Floor is a series memorializing scenes from the various incarnations of Star Trek which ended up on the cutting room floor.] Remember Star Trek: The Galileo 7? ----------------------------------- [TOS #15: The Galileo Seven; season 1, episode 15] "Well, that's abooot it," said Scotty. "We canna lift off until we lose 300 pounds." "Well, let's see," said McCoy. "That's about the weight of the sonic dampener... or the spare thruster circuits...." "Or two security guards," said Spock. "I mean, two people. May I remind you, Doctor, that I am in command." "Surely you can't be talking about leaving two of us behind!" thundered McCoy, raising his eyebrows. Spock matched McCoy, eyebrow for eyebrow, raising his even an inch higher than McCoy's. "That is exactly what I am referring to. Every piece of equipment is vital." "But... but... how about the chairs?" "These swivel chairs provide excellent rotation, Doctor. No, the choice of who will be left behind will be a logical one." "But surely... you wouldn't leave me or you behind," said McCoy. Spock raised an eyebrow again. "I said I would make a logical choice, Doctor, not a stupid one." "What about Scotty?" Scotty suddenly perked his ears up. "Obviously we need Mr. Scott to fix the circuitry." Scotty heaved a sigh of relief. It was a good thing he wasn't showing his weight yet. "What about me?" said a yeoman. "I'm a trained tricorder operator. Watch!" She turned on her tricorder, and a loud whine filled the room. "There's nothing in the area sir," she said, listening intently to the whine. McCoy murmured, "That leaves...." Spock raised his eyebrows yet again, looking to a corner of the shuttlecraft where the red-shirted security contingent were huddled. Everyone followed his gaze. Spock addressed one of the security guards. "Mr. Gittano, go to the valley across the way, and... patrol." "Me?" said Gittano. "For how long?" Spock curled his lip. "I'll let you know." One hour later.... "Spock! Gittano's been hit!" said McCoy. "By a large spear!" "Indeed," said Spock. He turned to another security guard. "Mr. Lattimer, I noticed a large primitive shield in the next valley over. Go and retrieve it for me." "That shield must be over forty feet wide and weigh hundreds of pounds," said Lattimer. "Then I suggest you be suitably pumped up for the task," said Spock. After Lattimer left, Spock said, "Mr. Scott, we'll be ready to leave in ten minutes." Suddenly there was a scream. "Make that five," said Spock. ============================= ONE BORG'S TRIP TO THE MARKET ============================= This unit, in its never ending search for raw materials for assimilation, journeyed to what is commanly called a SuperMarket. Choosing the sector marked "Safeway," this unit passed through the automatic doors and was immediately assaulted by small organic lifeforms, known as kids. They swarmed around my pedal implants, touching my various connecting tubes and running their grimy paws over my newly polished chrome. After threatening them with my spanking attachment, they went about their meager lives. Clamping my phalangeal implants around the handle of a shopping cart, I was promptly given several broken valves as the wheels of this "cart" refused to turn. Throwing it out the plate glass window, I picked up one of the small baskets and turned down an aisle in search of the elusive raw material. Pickings were slim. Aisle after aisle I stomped down, with no luck. And then...there it was. A shining tower with a glass front stood before me. The word "Eden" came to my synaptic circuits as I gazed through the glass. Colas of every description stared back at me. I suddenly realized that my basket was too small. I was experiencing sensory overload. To add to it, the loudspeaker blared out, "clean up on aisle five please...Ken, we have a pizza sauce spill on aisle five..." Where was aisle five?! I spun around on my heel and searched for it frantically. Aisle twenty-seven was in front of me. Clenching my fists into balls, I ran across the store. Aisle nineteen... Aisle Ten... Aisle Two.... No!!! Where was it?? Must have missed it...Backtracking, I skidded to a stop in front of Aisle Five. The number seemed brighter than the others, somehow. But I was too late. The stockboy named Ken smiled at me as he mopped the last drop up off the floor, the beautiful redness of the sauce mixing with the noxiousness of the floor cleaner. He must have sensed my mood. His face paled to an attractive hue as he ran down the aisle, his bucket slapping him against his knees. Shaking my cranial attachment, I returned to the Cola cooler and began loading my basket. ---errorlog@cris.com ========================== STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY ========================== Season 01. Episode 10. "Mutiny" Teaser: ". . . and I think we have it. Yes, I'm getting the signal. We have a confirmed Bingo. We have a Bingo. (Laughs.) Boy, that was close." "-ptain's Log, stardate 49604.8. After brief but intense negotiation with the incoming Borg government we have been impressed by the Borg's desire to proceed at once to the planet Cauda Linea to begin colonization. Our science department's explanations of the influence of the microscopic spoilers on the recent Borg election have fallen on deaf, or should I say, deactivated ears. It appears that we shall have to do without the Borg ship's warp capabilities shortly. I have prevailed upon Empress Natasha Polaroid to at least give us a lift as far as the Mu Cuniculi system, where the renegade Battle Section remains in concealment. It is now imperative that we regain control of that section and reunite the Enterprise. Meanwhile we continue to monitor the movements of the three Ferengi vessels. In the few hours since they exited the wormhole they have crisscrossed the cluster, vying with one another for right of first refusal of each system's resources." The door chimes. "Come." Data: "Captain, the Borg are signalling their intention to proceed." "Very good, Mr Data. Please tell them . . ." The scene rocks. Data staggers back and forth. Picard grips his desk as his chair swivels this way and that. Shot of the Borg Cube swinging around in space. It rises up below the Saucer Section and locks a network of blue tractor beams into place around the docking interface. The reunited Borgoprise pivots on one corner and blasts into warp speed toward the Mu Cuniculi system. "Please tell them to start whenever they are ready." ***** "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: Please note: this evening's episode has been orchestrated by Frank Pellico, organist at Chicago Stadium, home of the Chicago Blackhawks, and played by him entirely on the Barton pipe organ. The characters are aware of the music on an unconscious level only.] Star Trek: Door Repair Guy Whoosh! (the Battle Section) Starring Door Repair Guy as Himself Whoosh! (the Saucer Section/Borg Cube) Also Starring Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard Whoosh! (the Battle Section again) Jonathan Frakes as Cmdr. William Riker Michael Dorn as Lt. Worf LeVar Burton as Lt. Cmdr. Geordi LaForge Gates McFadden as Doctor Beverly Crusher Marina Sirtis as Counsellor Deanna Troi Brent Spiner as Lt. Cmdr. Data [Commercial: Don Cherry: "I am often imitated, but never replicated."] ***** [Music: Star Trek fanfare.] View of the ringed planet Mu Cuniculi XII. The Borgoprise approaches and moves in close, the rings passing one by one overhead. Abruptly the blue tractor beam link between the Saucer and the Cube blink out of existence. The Cube loops about and shoots off toward Cauda Linea. The Saucer, using maneuvering thrusters only, rises upward into the plane of the ring system, where it disappears. View of the Battle Section in parked orbit behind the moonlette Snowplow. A transporter room. The door opens and Doctor Selar enters. She approaches the lone crewman at the transporter console. "Crewman." "Doctor. Can I help you?" She holds a medical tricorder up and takes a reading. "Please roll up your sleeve." She takes his pulse. "As I feared." "What is it, Doctor?" "Tell me, crewman, have you been getting enough sleep?" "Not the usual amount, Doctor. With the reduced crew roster, many of us have been working watch and watch." "Meaning alternating work and rest periods of four hours?" "Yes. I haven't had an eight hour sleep for two weeks. Not that I'm complaining!" "Understood. Permit me to feel your neck muscles." "Ouch!" "You are very tense. I will massage you." "Oh. OOOoooooh. Ah!" "You have not been in space a long time, have you, crewman?" "This is my first assignment. I came on board four months ago." "I thought as much." Pinch. Thud. The door swooshes and the security guard Ursula enters, accompanied by Door Repair Guy. Ursula comes over to the console and begins to input co-ordinates. DRG attaches a code encryption module to the door lock control and waves his cap on the way out the door. "Ciao, babes!" The door closes and the little lights on the encryption module begin their random sequence. Dr Selar gazes at the closed door for a moment, thinking. "Are there many like that among you humans?" Ursula looks up from her work. "The history of space travel is full of heroic figures." "I see." The battle bridge. Riker leans sideways in the command chair, his face in his hand, his elbow perched precariously on the armrest. "zzZZZZzzzZzZzzzzz." The ensign at Ops swings his chair around and takes a good look. "Mind your post," warns the tactical officer. The ensign at Helm swings around as well. "He's snoring!" The tactical officer leans forward and whispers loudly and threateningly, "He hasn't had a night's sleep for two weeks!" "He needs a rest, all right. A long one." "He's a better man than you! Mind your post!" "He'll ruin us all!" The tactical officer pulls a phaser. "ZzzzZzzzzzZzZZ What? Snork. MMph. . . . . . zzZZZrrr . . . . . zZZzzzzrrr." "You nearly woke him! Back to your posts!" The two ensigns return to their posts, exchanging ironic glances. ***** [Commercial: "The new 1994 Stutz Bearcat. It *is* what it *was*.] ***** [Music: Star Trek fanfare.] The rings of Mu Cuniculi XII. They fill the screen, curving away, one after another, almost like snowfilled furrows on a plowed hillside. Stars gleam like frozen dew in the furrows. While we are pondering this farfetched simile the Saucer rises out of one of the gaps, skitters sideways across the arc of one of the rings, and disappears again into the next gap. The brig. Present are Worf and the annoying lieutenant from "Suspicions" at the security console, as well as a couple of security guards who are lying in the corner with their tongues stuck out of the corners of their mouths. The annoying lieutenant looks over in their direction. "You're sure they'll come out of it?" Worf glances over his shoulder. "Eventually. Do you have transporter interface ready?" The annoying lieutenant taps the console display in three or four places. "Just activating override lockout now. There." Someone raps on the door. *Knock knock.* "The signal." Worf: "nuqneH!" A muffled voice: "bIQ." Worf: "qatlh!" "bIQaD." "It is he." The annoying lieutenant enables the door from the console. Door Repair Guy slips in and the door closes again. "Operation Slush Bucket is set up and locked in." Annoying lieutenant: "It's not called that!" "Is now." Worf: "Gentlemen! Phase two is about to begin. Are you both ready?" "Yes sir!" "Yes sir! Three bags full." "Must you joke?" "I must!" "GENTLEMEN!" Picard leans over the back of the Ops chair, glancing from the Ops console to the main viewscreen. On the big screen the rings spread away in a compressed mass ending suddenly in stars. The nearest ring drifts past like a river full of every size of ice. Several kilometers away the prow of a huge hunk of ice and stone rises above the ring plane, knocking ring material aside as it rolls along. Through the spraying wake of this moonlette can be seen dimly the shapes of the Battle Section's nacelles and interhull, like a ship's superstructure seen above the ocean's swells in a heavy snow. "Extraordinary. Is this what it was like hunting down the Bismarck along the Greenland coast?" "I do not know, sir. I was not present on that occasion." "Ahem. Mr Data, are we within transporter range yet? The sooner we can begin to skim their slush deuterium tanks the better." "We are now within transporter range. However, the Battle Section already appears to be offloading large quantities of deuterium. The space surrounding the ship shows expanding pockets of the isotope, and the rate at which it is breaking down into single hydrogen atoms and diffusing would suggest that it has only just now entered the vacuum of space." "Can the Battle Section have suffered a rupture?" "No, sir. There is none in the immediate area of the ship. The deuterium is definitely being beamed out of the storage tanks by someone aboard that ship." "Then let us advance to the next stage of our plan. Mr Data, please join Lt. Cmdr. La Forge in the staging area." "Aye, sir." Data exits, and Picard returns to the command chair. Troi: "Captain, I'm concerned about this boarding operation. Boarding parties rarely come through without casualties." "Noted, Counsellor. You can rest assured that every effort is being made to avoid casualty. So long as we maintain the element of surprise I have every confidence this will go well." He tugs his uniform hem, she folds her hands in her lap, and they both look away in opposite directions, in case either should see the look of worry in the other's eye. ***** [Commercial: Blue Cross.] ***** Geordi holds up a phaser. "You've each been issued a specially adapted phaser. We have re-engineered these to remove settings six, seven and eight. Instead, they'll have settings one through five as well as three new settings located below setting one, namely, three-quarter, one half and one quarter. Three-quarter setting will cause extreme disorientation but not unconsciousness. One half setting will cause wooziness and some numbness around the impact area. One quarter setting will . . . well, it's hard to describe." Data speaks up: "What Lt. Cmdr. La Forge is trying to say is that the impact will feel approximately the same as being struck by the flat side of a wet three-pound perch thrown underhand from a distance of ten feet." "Ah, yeah. Thanks, Data. We have made these modifications because we realize that those people over there are our shipmates. Some of them are friends, some of them are family. This operation depends on speed and surprise. It may be necessary to shoot. We want you to be confident that if it should come to that, you will have the option of protecting your loved ones without endangering the operation. You have your assignments. Are there any questions? No? Then please proceed to your designated transporter site." ***** [Bob: "Okay. Back to Star Trek: Door Repair Guy in a moment. From time to time Paramount Studios sends out promotional videos to the TV stations that air Star Trek, and usually we, meaning the people who work at the station, are the only ones to see them. Well, not this station! Keeping in mind our motto of `All Star Trek, all the time,' here's a clip from the latest Paramount video entitled `Where Do They Get Those Ideas?'" Shot of the writers' bullpen at Paramount. Sofas line the walls. A coffee machine boils away in the corner. A secretary with a laptop computer sits on one of the sofas, taking notes. Two writers are hunched over a table with a model of the Enterprise bridge between them. One of them holds a Worf action figure. The other has Troi. "But Worf, what about the Ruling Council?" "Oh, forget the Ruling Council. Can't you see what I'm trying to tell you? I love you. I can't go on without you." Secretary: "I don't think Worf would say that." "Oh and you can do better." Secretary: "How about `Once I have secured control of the Ruling Council I will make you my consort and together we will blaze a trail of glory across the firmament!'" "Hey, that's good! Write that down." Bob makes his how-about-that face.] [Commercial: "Where does the owner of Little Caesar's Pizza get those great ideas?" Shot of writer's bullpen in an office tower on Madison Avenue. Two writers are hunched over a table with a model highway, a toy convertible and a miniature produce truck. "Buck buck BUCK! Splat." "That's it! Pizza with a fried egg on top!"] ***** The Battle Section. Engineering. About half a dozen crewmembers are present when an equal number of armed boarders materialize. For a tense moment the boarders stand back-to-back with hands poised by weapons. The engineers gawk. Suddenly someone shouts, "Charlie!" "Laura!" "Samuel!" "Cheiko!" "Oksana!" "Aramathea!" "Filipona!" "Zorg!" [Music: Auld Lang Syne."] Battle Section computer core systems monitor room (_Star Trek: The Next Generation_ Technical Manual, page 50). Two crewmembers are seated at separate work stations across the room from each other. One looks up and says, "Lieutenant, I'm getting some weird rerouting on my board here. Someone is dedicating subprocessor 241 to transporter control and routing an auxiliary command path through the console in the brig." "That is strange. Let me have a look at it." The transporter effect. Two security guards appear. "Say, now, where's your authorization?" Whap! Whap! "Erf!" "Yoiks! What was that? A fish? Hey, wait a minute. I know you! I nearly beat you in Klingon biathlon in the interdepartmental semifinals last month! You're from the Saucer Section!" "Buddy!" "Pal!" A corridor in the Battle Section. Two crewmembers walk along: Anita, a slender blonde ensign fresh out of the Academy, and Darryl, a thirty-fiveish planetary geologist with an incipient bald spot. Darryl is speaking. "And were you aware that Mopsan Continent Three's eastern coast enjoys weather conditions analogous to those of Southern California? I believe it would be a wonderful place for a vacation." "Aren't there a lot of ferocious sabretoothed chipmunks in that part of the planet?" "A security force field would be easy to erect. You know, we may end up having to settle down there." "You don't believe we're going to get back, then?" "We have to face facts. That wormhole is totally elusive. That's what the astrophysicists are calling it. An elusive." They walk past a corridor junction. The camera allows them to continue on their way while it pauses to watch the figures of Susan and Bernice materialize in the side-corridor. They creep stealthily to the corner, eavesdropping on the ensign and the geologist, who have stopped outside the ensign's quarters. When Susan recognizes Darryl's voice she starts and grabs Bernice's arm. Bernice grabs Susan's arm to keep her from jumping around the corner and blowing their cover. She hauls Susan's face up to hers and makes a silent but emphatic "Shh!" Susan complies but all her body language says it's driving her nuts. They listen. "Anita, this wormhole emergency has been hard on all of us. What I mean is, will you spend the night watch with me?" "But Darryl, your wife." "Oh curse her. Don't you realize she's been assimilated by now?" "Oh, Darryl, it's not right. So soon after . . . ." "She's not dead. She's just got . . . more parts. She's such a technofreak, anyway." "Well, I don't know." "You like me, don't you." "Well, sure." "All the beachfront you want. I promise." "Gosh, Darryl . . . ." By now Susan has gone through the various stages and arrived at plain old boiling mad. She holds up her phaser, advances the setting to heavy stun and steps around the corner. "Hello, Darryl." "Susan! Honey!" WHAM! He hits the turbolift door at the end of the corridor. Anita shouts "Eek!" and stands looking down the corridor in a posture of complete surprise. She turns back toward Susan and shouts "Eek!" again, throwing her hands up above her head. Susan lowers her phaser, velcroes it to her hip, and puts her hand on Anita's shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. It's for the best. You're way too good for him." [Music: "Some Enchanted Evening."] The main bridge. The officer at tactical reports: "Boarding parties reporting in, sir. No serious casualties. All points secured." Picard: "Good. Very good. Do you have a lock on the command chair?" "Aye, sir." "Beam the occupant to the main bridge." The battle bridge. The ensign at Ops leans slightly toward the ensign at the Helm and points at the Ops display. The ensign at the Helm leans slightly toward the Ops display, and glances up at the ensign at Ops in surprise. The tactical officer: "What are you two conspiring about?" "Nothing." "It can't be nothing. What is it?" "Nothing!" "Quiet! You'll wake Commander Riker!" At this moment Riker jerks awake, sits up in the command chair, rubs his eyes, and disappears in a transporter effect. A moment later Worf appears in the chair, swings around, and says, "Cmdr. Riker is under arrest. As highest ranking officer on board I assume . . ." before he too disappears in a transporter effect. The brig on board the Battle Section. Riker materializes in the security cell. He stands up from the bench, saying, "What the . . . ," and catches sight of the annoying lieutenant. "Commander Riker, I arrest you in the name of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets. Anything you say . . . ." Riker makes a rotating hand gesture meaning, "Yeah, yeah, I've heard all this before." ". . . . until a court martial can be convened. Can I bring you some dinner, sir?" Riker's eyebrows go up and he breaks into a grin, wagging a finger at the annoying lieutenant. He yawns, sits down again, slumps over on his side, and immediately begins to snore. The main bridge. Worf appears in a seated position, rocks backward on his heels and throws one hand out behind him, doing a sort of Cossack dance step to avoid landing on his butt. He leaps up and shouts, "Who's in command of the Battle Section?" On the battle bridge the tactical officer leaps into the command chair. "Helm! Warp speed! Let's get outta here!" "Very good, sir. Engaging warp speed now." Nothing. The tactical officer stabs a button on the armrest. "Engineering! I need warp speed." *I'm sorry, sir. The slush deuterium tanks are bone dry!* "What the . . . ?" Transporter effect. He finds himself seated in the security cell beside the snoring Riker. The annoying lieutenant claps his hands together and rubs them with satisfaction, turning toward Door Repair Guy at the security console to order him to beam him up to the bridge. He catches the last glimmers of Door Repair Guy's personal transport effect. Door Repair Guy materializes in the command chair. He sits back, cracks his knuckles, and says, "Hailing frequencies, please." "Hailing frequencies open." "Agent Door Repair Guy to Captain Picard. The ship is yours. Please send a boarding party at your convenience." *Well done, technician. Boarding parties are already converging on your location. Is there an officer on the bridge?* "Yes, sir, two or three." *Then get out of that chair* ***** [Commercial: Krell and Brothers, Doorhangers. "lojmItmey DIpep. poS bIH. SoQ bIH. DaQaw'laHbe'. 'e' vI'Ip." "We build doors. They open. They close. You cannot destroy them. I swear it."] ***** View of the Saucer and Battle Sections in close formation above the clouds of Mu Cuniculi XII. Picard: "Ensign, I believe I'll take this one." "Very good, sir." Picard takes the Helm and inputs the requisite commands, frowning from the console display to the viewscreen and back again as he guides the two vessels together manually. Slowly the two vehicles draw together. The docking latches engage. There is a satisfying thump, like a large door closing and locking. Picard turns to the rest of the bridge crew, a huge smile on his face. He holds his hands up in triumph. "Ales for everyone!" [Music: "Heart of Oak".] The brig. Security Guard Ursula Braun sits at the security console, a picture of professional detachment and efficiency. She is composing her report on the clandestine maneuvers of certain mutinous elements within the Battle Section's crew. Whenever her own name comes up she smiles happily despite herself. Riker and the tactical officer sit disconsolately in the security holding cell, elbows on their knees and chins in their hands. Riker sighs. The tactical officer throws him an angry glance and says, "One thing, Commander. Just what the h*ll is the Riker Maneuver, anyway?" Riker makes a gesture in the air with his two hands. The tactical officer sits back. "That's the Sulu Maneuver." Riker straightens up. "No it isn't. This is the Sulu Maneuver." And he demonstrates with his hands. "It's the same." "Not a bit." "Sure it is. You've just turned the attacking vessel 90 degrees and rolled left instead of right." They exchange glares and sit stewing for a while. After a moment the tactical officer sighs and puts his chin back in his hands. Without warning Riker's fist shoots out and boxes the tactical officer on the ear, sending him flying off the bench. "Think of that as the Riker Maneuver if you prefer." [Theme from Rocky.] View of the reunited Enterprise in orbit around the ivory and beige gaseous giant. [The music begins with a tastefully restrained Star Trek fanfare, then, just at the moment when you wonder if it's going to segue into the original series theme or the Next Generation theme, the organist pulls out all the stops and dives into "Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey, Goodbye".] ---Douglas A. McLeod (ai919@freenet.carleton.ca) =============== UPCOMING IN RIF =============== CUTTING ROOM FLOOR: TNG: Wesley in Love, Part 3 STAR TREK: FIRST CONTACT DREAM STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 11. Cadua Linea ============== THE FINE PRINT ============== TRYING TO LOCATE A COPY OF RIF???? WORLD WIDE WEB/FTP: http://www.startrek.in-trier/rif; http: //www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/borgpage/shopslow. htm; http://www.marshall.edu/ ~swann1/cborg2.html;ftp://fvkma.tu- graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif INTERNET EMAIL: Request free subscription: send "subscribe RIF" to ktaborn@lightspeed.net. 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LEGAL STUFF Permission to use, copy and distribute Resistance is Futile Newsletter (RIF), or parts thereof, by electronic means for any non-profit purpose is hereby granted, provided that both the above Copyright notice and this permission notice appear in all copies of the newsletter itself, and that proper credit is given for any excerpts. Any other format or purpose for distribution requires permission of the author. Reproducing RIF or parts thereof by any means implies full agreement to the above non-profit-use clause. "Star Trek" and all "Trek" related names and characters are registered trademarks of Paramount Pictures Incorporated. No infringement on that trademark registration is intended, either by RIF or by the contributors it represents. RIF exercises it's right to parody and satirize. RIF is distributed free of charge. Banner graphic by Marian Pappaceno. Resistance is Futile. An All Talk No Action Publication. Copyright (c) 1996 by Kym Masera Taborn. 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