_____________ ____________ ____________ * / 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 64 'ILM (Knowledge) 153 B.E. 16 Oct. - 3 Nov. 1996 SPECIAL FAREWELL TO PRODIGY ISSUE ========= CONTENTS ========= FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Fare Thee Well, Prodigy LETTER TO THE EDITOR: State of the Fanzine THE RUMOR MILL: Morn, Keeper of the Gate Part 1 BORG SUPREME COURT FIRE: A Blast from the Past! CUTTING ROOM FLOOR: TNG: Wesley in Love, Part 4 STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 13. DRG Must Die! Part One The Fine Print =============================== FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF =============================== Fare Thee Well, Prodigy ----------------------- November 5th I kiss my Prodigy address goodbye...FOREVER!!! It's the end of an era! Can you sense my feelings of RELIEF??? To be fair, though, I am still grateful to Prodigy for being the birthplace of the Borg Club and Resistance is Futile, the official newsletter of the Borg Club. In memory of those fine years (1992-1993), we are running the series of posts called the BORG SUPREME COURT files. Public Service Announcement --------------------------- Why do some people get confused between the names Lawrence and Leonard? It's not difficult to comprehend. Both names have two syllables. They both start with "L". Although one ends with an "e" and the other with "d", the letters "e" and "d" reside right by each other in the alphabet (Coincidence? I think not!). Both names contain 3 vowels. Although one contains 5 consonances and the other 4, the numbers "3" and "4" reside right by each other when counting (Coincidence again? I think not!). The real question we should be asking ourselves is not why some people confuse the names Lawrence and Leonard, but why don't we do it more often? Xena Bumped! ------------ Due to space constraints, "Xena and Gabrielle Meet Star Trek: DS9" will appear in RIF #65. --Oxnardus ===================== LETTERS TO THE EDITOR ===================== I received an interesting letter recently and it addressed some interesting points about fandom and fanzines. I have excerpted portions of it with my responses. >>> I m told ST fanzines are on the way out! Print >>> fanzines, at least. Overload, burnout, something >>> like that. The person who told me that doesn t go >>> on the internet, she doesn t like the bad things >>> she s heard about it. But I wonder what you know >>> about print fanzines and their popularity? The professionally published variety is extremely plentiful. Especially with Cinefantastique and SCI-FI Universe covering the more intellectual aspects and Star-Log (and numerous incarnations), SCI-Fi Channel, etc. covering the glossy fan press releases. The birth and growth of the fan-published fanzine was mainly in part because the mainstream press was not offering such information to fans. They are now. The only things not being readily offered in great variety to fans is the off-off-main stream like sex (slash, etc.) and parody (like RIF). Those audiences can be reached easily through the internet, so the fanzine is thriving on-line. For example, I have started up the first regular on- line web edition of a fanzine that I do on XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS. It is extremely popular (we got 36,000 hits the first three weeks!). We would have never gotten that type of exposure by printing a magazine. I am not in this for money (and you shouldn't be if you are dealing with fan-publications). There will always be an area for hardprint fanzines, but the audience is now being served by the popular media and the web/internet. Consequently there is more competition and less a piece of the pie. BUT, there will always be fan publications. That's my take. >>> And this is something I perhaps should have asked >>> long ago, but I ve been wondering. You have a >>> legal statement that this fanzine does not intend >>> to infringe etc. Well, what would be different if >>> you did intend to infringe? RIF is unique for another reason. It is a parody newsletter. Parody and satire have specific protection under the copyright laws which have been successfully tested in the courtroom. That's why the book series STAR WRECK can be printed without Paramount's permission. To convert RESISTANCE IS FUTILE to a printed magazine (other than raise tons of capital and spend too much money!) all I'd have to do is change all the Star Trek names to parody names, Lt. Worf would become Lt. Woof, etc. However, let's ignore that. Yes, if I were to purposely want to infringe upon their copyright (that is use their ideas and materials without giving them a cut), it would be different. >>> I m getting RIF for free, I suppose that makes it >>> okay. Not really. The "test" is whether the infringement impacts upon the ability of the copyright holder to protect and profit from their copyright. By not making any profit, the infringer is merely avoiding a potential affirmative profit damages award. Meaning if I make $1,000 profit off the sale of infringed goods, the copyright holder can demand that profit. If there is no profit, then the holder will only have the actual cost of the damage to them (economic damages) and punitives, which, I can assure you, would be much more than a $1,000! >>> But print fanzines are up to $35! (I ve never paid >>> that much, though). Do they infringe if they cost >>> too much? Is money the only criterion? Just >>> wondered. As I said above, no. Costs can go up to $35. There is also a collector's market to watch out for. Then the people who are profiting from the exchange is not the producer of the magazine, but a subsequent owner. Even if it were a Paramount blessed magazine, once it gets to collector status, Paramount won't receive a dime (they put "Special Collector's Edition" on the cover to fool people into buying it directly from them; that's the only way they'll see any money in the "collectors market"). >>> I noticed when the Paramount-owned show >>> Entertainment Tonight had a whole hour on ST >>> fandom, they didn t whisper a word about fanzines. >>> I m told they make Paramount nervous. Yes. They are considered dynamite. They aren't a problem now, but they could blow up in their face. Star Trek is unique among tv and fan situations. Its growth and development as a Paramount property was due in part because of its acceptance into folk mythology. No one really owns a folk myth, but Paramount owns Star Trek. It's a chicken and egg situation. The property is hot because of the unbridled fan activity, but they get their money because it is copyrighted. They are doing a tightrope walk. They do not want to quench the creativity which potentially means a couple extra million in a year or so, but they do not want to lose a couple million because they are allowing more freedom with the copyright. >>> I was also surprised because there are so many >>> BOOKS out there. Professional books people are >>> willing to buy, but not fanzines? But they do buy fanzines. Check out a newstand. Over half the professional fan-market publications highlight Trek in one way or another. There are about 10-15 monthly titles which are going in full force. Somebody's buying them. They are there every month! >>> For various complicated reasons I don t have the >>> time, money or inclination to get my own web site >>> and go on the newsgroups. It s like the Tar Baby, >>> don t throw me in the brier patch! So much would >>> be wonderful; but also, I know there d be a lot of >>> junk I d be wasting my time with. I sympathize with you. Working in fandom even in the internet is a major commitment of time and energy. It has become basically my only hobby. However, it is very rewarding. ============== THE RUMOR MILL ============== I have a question. Why does Oxnardus consistently (well, not consistently, but often) call me Lawrence? Does she know someone named Lawrence Richardson who she is confusing me with? Are there times at which her poor confused synapses misfire, causing her to type "Lawrence" instead of "Leonard"? Or (and I shudder to think of this, after all the years we've known each other) does she really think my name is Lawrence? It's not, you know. There was a lot of debate amongst my parents on what to name me (my father really wanted "Daffodil"), but "Lawrence" was not even on the list. In the spirit of fairness I'm inviting Oxnardus to exercise her prerogative as editor and give a short explanation of what I have termed "The Lawrence Phenomenon", although knowing her she'll probably just write some smart-aleck comment or something. Anyway, I'm just killing time with this column, waiting for First Contact to come out. In order to sneak this self-promotion vehicle past the steely eye of you-know-who [editor's note: the editor of this magazine has TWO eyes, thank you], I'm also using it as a chance to unload whatever parody ideas I think up. Last time I showed you, well, go find a back issue and read it; that was a venting experience for me and I'm still kinda mad. This issue is the first part of a serial that will run for possibly 5 parts, or until I get sick of it and wrap everything up in about 10 lines (hey, it works for the real writers), and in which I hope to incorporate a lot of material from various parodies that I never finished. So if everything seems kind of pasted together, like that one TNG episode with all the stock footage, that's why. Not having watched DS9 on a regular basis for a while now, my picture of how things stand between DS9 and the Spamma Quadrant is probably way off. But bear with me, I've got a story to tell and by gum you're gonna hear it. Leonard Richardson proudly presents "Morn, Keeper of the Gate" Part 1 ----------------------------------- [Ops. Most of the major crew members are there.] Sisko: I like your new earring, Major. [There is a close-up of Kira's ear and we see that her earring is a highly stylized key ring.] Kira: Why thank you Benjamin, with this and my new haircut not only can I look like some sort of alien riot grrl, but I can keep my keys with me at all times! Sisko: Boy, it's a thrill a minute around here, what with the adventure and the cheesy space battles and the satire and all, huh? Dax: Yup, if we're not insulting the Bajoran religion we're trashing Pat Buchannan in the form of the Cardassian government, or sticking it to the fascists by depicting the Hem'erhoid and the changelings as totally incompetent minions of stuffiness! O'Brien: As long as the DS9 writers continue to name the episodes like paintings at an art exhibition, we'll never run out of parody fuel! [A Cardassian beams in, his name is Gul Delocks and he wields a very large disrupter.] Delocks: And of course, there's the time-honored technique of giving all Cardassian officers bad puns for names! All: [gasp] Sisko: Gul Delocks! Delocks: The same! Kira: Let me guess... you're trying to reclaim the station for Cardassia? Delocks: Nope! Dax: You think there's a changeling on the station and you're going to hunt it down? Delocks: Wrong again! Sisko: You've got some sort of blood feud with one of the starring characters? Or maybe a co-star that we can afford to have killed off? Bashir: [cringe] Delocks: Actually, I need someone to repair my gun. O'Brien: Well, the last five minutes of each show is dedicated to machinery repair, so it'll have to wait until then. Delocks: Very well, I'll just leave it with you and-- [Delocks' trigger finger suddenly twitches and the gun goes off, killing Ensign Driftwood.] Delocks: That's strange, it never worked before... O'Brien: Who'd you get the gun from? Delocks: He looked like a big coyote, it was weird! [When suddenly the levity is cut short by an agent of the evil Hem'erhoid beaming in! All others present boo and hiss him as he melodramatically twirls his fake mustache.] Hem'erhoid: The Cro-Magnon will destroy you all! Ah ha ha ha! Sisko: Go away! Hem'erhoid: Good try, but we already fell for that one. Kira: What is it you want? Hem'erhoid: Besides a real name? We want to kill you all! And we will succeed! Sisko: So why don't you? Hem'erhoid: What? Dax: Yeah, why don't you just bring your incredibly huge army out through the wormhole and kill everybody instead of going after us three ships at a time? Hem'erhoid: Well, er, there are limits to the wormhole's capacity during a certain time period... [He looks around, none of them are buying it.] Hem'erhoid: Um... you know, you have Odo on the station, one changeling has never harmed another, that sort of thing. [There is dead silence. The DT9 folk have begun to look very cross, arms folded, hands on hips etc.] Hem'erhoid [suddenly remembering]: We're infiltrating your home planet! Why should we destroy you when we can enslave you? Ah ha ha ha ha! [twirl, twirl] Sisko: Do you really think Starfleet Command is so centered in any one place that you can just take over one planet? And anyway, our main headquarters is on Risa! Hem'erhoid: Argh! [Turns to camera] You know, us villains really have a tough time in parodies, mainly because things like this make more sense here than in the real shows. [As he speaks, O'Brien, Dax, and Sisko are having a whispered conversation.] Hem'erhoid: Stop whispering and listen to me! I have been sent to inform you of our latest evil plot! Kira: Well, it would probably work better if you didn't tell us about it! Hem'erhoid: Shut up, what do you know? Sisko: People, people, surely we can reach some sort of compromise. Tell us about your evil plot. Hem'erhoid: Well, we haven't got all the details worked out yet, I've just been sent to tell you that we're working on one. O'Brien: So you're a flunky messenger boy for the Cro-Magnon? Hem'erhoid: I'm a low-ranking officer, okay? Sisko: Well your plot better not involve us going back to Earth, you know we can't afford any more location shots! [There is a sudden explosion.] Hem'erhoid: Holy cow! What was that? Dax: Ha ha! We blew up your ship while you were blabbing! Hem'erhoid: But I didn't come in a ship! Dax: Oops. [We see flaming bits of yellow metal float by the viewscreen.] Delocks: MY SHIP! [The Hem'erhoid takes the resulting confusion as an opportunity to beam out, and this rather long scene ends.] TO BE CONTINUED... NEWS FLASH!: I have an e-mail address. It's leonardr@ucla.edu. This is the first e-mail address I've ever had that is an e-mail address in the sense that you can send mail to the address and I'll get it. So if you've ever read any of my parodies and you're reading this, drop me a line because I have no idea how big my audience is. ERATTA: Last time, I referred to a rather lame UPN program which holds questionably progressive views as both "Homeboys in Outer Space" and "Homeboys in Space". The correct name of the program is in fact "Homeboys in Outer Space". I apologize for any confusion this may have caused. I still think it's a dumb show, though. ---Leonard Richardson (leonardr@ucla.edu) ======================= BORG SUPREME COURT FIRE ======================= It started as just a glow. Slowly, it grew and grew until the entire pile of Dove Bar wrappers in the trash can caught fire. The flames flew to the bench, engulfing it. Soon, the walls caught and then the ceiling of the Great Courtroom of the Borg Supreme Court. No alarms sounded to warn the figure of Chief Justice Marianus, asleep in her private chambers after trying to make sense of the Tea vs. Bean case. Smoke began to creep under the door. Marianus woke with a start to find herself surrounded by flames. They caught her robe. Throwing off the robe, she ran to the door, only to find that it was bolted from the outside. "SURELY THE COLLECTIVE WILL SENSE MY TROUBLE AND SEND HELP," she thought. No one came. ---Marianus of Borg Until, suddenly, Rialtus bursts into the room, carrying his Super Soaker (tm) full of Grape Juice from the Food Fight. Immediately, Rialtus puts out the fire that has attacked Marianus' robe. "Hold on! We're in for a rough ride." With that, Marianus grabs onto Rialtus and they try to escape. ---yub yub, Rialtus of Borg THE FLAMES LEAP HIGHER AND HIGHER. BRAVE, VALIANT RIALTUS IS NO MATCH FOR THE POWER OF THE FIRE. HIS SUPER SOAKER (TM) IS SOON EMPTIED. HE TRIES TO REFILL IT BUT, STRANGELY, THE WATER SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN TURNED OFF AT ALL THE WATER FOUNTAINS. "I'M AFRAID YOUR BRAVERY WILL BE REWARDED WITH OUR DEATHS," MARIANUS SAYS, HOLDING HIM TIGHTER. ---Marianus of Borg The Borg Locutus II, with his heightened senses, came at 1/4 impulse to the courthouse. After breaking the door open, he carried the unconscious Chief Justice Marianus to safety and began to douse the flames with the WCC2000. ---Locutus II, on a mission FIRE MARSHALL SWANNOX HERE! OK BOYS, START THE PUMPS, WE ARE GOING TO FLOOD THIS PLACE! SWOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ---FIRE MARSHALL SWANNOX OF BORG OUT OF THE WAY RIALTUS, FIRE MARSHALL SWANNOX HERE, WITH THE FIRECUBE, SWOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE BSC IS NOW FLOODED WITH WATER! FIRE MARSHALL SWANNOX, SHOULD HAVE CALLED BORG 911 ---Swannox of Borg Smorgus sat in the law library adjacent to the BSC. "Can't find any stupid Dove bars...mutter, mutter... Bean Countus will not drop our name from his suit ...... where in blue blazes will I find an attorney? .....BLUE BLAZES?!" Looking out the window, she sees smoke billowing from the chambers of Chief Justice Marianus. "Holy smoke!" At once, the door to the judge's chambers BURSTS open. Rialtus, hunkered over, slowly emerges from the dense smoke, pulling the chief justice by "certain implants". "Just when life is getting to be kind of a bore, opportunity knocks!" he giggles. From the corner of her optic implants, Smorgus sees a shadowy figure hurriedly dart around a corner. Could it have been? Was it that sneaky little worm...um....borg that has been trying to get himself appointed court reporter and is trying to drive the chief justice nuts with his repeated attempts? Noting that Rialtus is frantically trying to give mouth to mouth to Marianus, who is shouting "Leave me alone, you doofus, I AM OK.", Smorgus pursues the unkown borg. ---Smorgus of Borg Marianus, Just for the record, I had nothing to do with the fire. Arson is not my forte'. ---Don Locutus II, seeing the unknown Borg also engages in pursuit! ---Locutus II MARIANUS WAKES TO FIND HERSELF ON THE GROUND IN FRONT OF THE COURTHOUSE. SHE CAN'T GET HER BREATH. SEVERAL BORG HAVE SURROUNDED HER AND ARE ALL CLAIMING TO HAVE SAVED HER. THE COURTHOUSE IS STILL ABLAZE DESPITE THE EFFORTS OF SWANNOX, WHO HAS NO IDEA WHICH END IS WHICH TO THE FIREHOSE AND SQUIRTS HIMSELF IN THE FACE. "WHY IS MY BLOUSE OPEN? DID I NEED CPR," MARIANUS ASKS, CHEST HEAVING. ---Marianus of Borg Locutus II takes off after the mystery Borgs at over 400mph. He is nothing but a gold blur to the naked eye! He tackles the first intruder at full speed knocking that Borg into unconsciousness, fracturing 3 ribs, and breaking the Borg's leg. He then leaps at the second Borg, nailing him in the back of the neck with incredible force. As the Borg turns around, Locutus II executes a devastating jumping roundhouse to the chin of the Borg. As Locutus II lands, he drives his elbow into the Borgs stomach, then whips his fist up which slams into the Borgs nose, finally Locutus II brings his elbow up to hit the mystery borg under the chin, knocking him clean out. ---Locutus II Again, Marianus asked "Did I require CPR or were you three trying something unseemly with my units?" Rialtus, Locutus II and Swannox all bowed their heads and shuffled around nervously. Rialtus suddenly beamed, as a thought has come to him. "Dear Honorable and Most Esteemed Chief Justice, we were of course getting ready to perform CPR! But by Borg, you have recovered on your own!" Swannox, still fumbling with the water hose, gurgled, "Ub-glub course-glub, we-cough-cough were just (gag) trying to help!" Marianus hoisted herself into a sitting position. "Will some borg please take that away from him before HE needs CPR?" "Thank you." Meanwhile.........Smorgus rounded the corner of the BSC, still pursuing the suspicious Borg. "Who is that?" she thought. "I wish I could just get a little closer. Hmmmmm, what are these?" Looking down, Smorgus notices that she has been walking on what appears to be THOUSANDS of rectangular packages. Some have broken open and appear to be emitting latex dust. "Now, I've seen these before! Where was it?....OF COURSE...these are the same "packages" seized from Beancountus' cube during the ill-advised raid!" Has someone broken into the BSC and stolen evidence? Is that same Borg responsible for the fire? Smorgus looked up again to see not one, but TWO Borg escaping through the haze. Meanwhile...back at the scene of the fire, Marianus was desperately trying to bring order to the scene. Locutus II is standing in the street and gazing at his reflection in the one remaining window. "Gee, you look good in gold, fella." He murmured. Swannox, finally able to speak without drowning could be heard to say "Mother of Borg, how are we going to repair the Supreme Court Building? The fund is down to peanuts and this is an election year! I said 'no new taxes'....oh, mercy.." and on the curb Rialtus sat in despair thinking "If'n she'd only stayed out of it for 5 more minutes!!! Who knew she was so...so....resilient?" Marianus sighed. --Smorgus of Borg ******BORG SUPREME COURT FIRE****** ARSON SUSPECTED IN LATE NIGHT BLAZE Chief Justice Marianus suffers wiring damage A fire described by Olympius and Wazzuus as "of suspicious origin" seriously damaged the Borg Supreme Court building and charred Chief Justice Marianus external wiring, as well as causing some melting of her implants. The fire was discovered by some Borgers by, and extinguished by BSC bailiffs flying the firefighting ornithopter which had been on display in a locked room on the third floor of the Borg Bistro. Suspects were seen leaving the building and were pursued by several Borg and captured by Locutus II, then secured by Olympius and Wazzuus. Their identifiers are being withheld until Chief Justice Marianus has a chance to recover and set bail. The fire apparently began in a pile of Dove Bar wrappers which had been soaked with a volatile solvent and left to spontaneously combust. Investigators hypothesize that the unusual method of ignition was probably used to allow the arsonist to get well away from the building. When asked how this could be reconciled with the presence of suspects at the site, a reporter was told "Go away, son, you bother me." ---Olympius of Borg OLYMPIUS AND WAZZUUS SUDDENLY APPEAR IN A FIRE-FIGHTING ORNITHOPTER, AND SPRAY HIGH PRESSURE PRECISELY AIMED MICROSTREAMS OF WATER ACROSS THE SCENE, WHILE A RESCUE IMPLANT SNATCHES CHIEF JUSTICE MARIANUS FROM THE FLAMES AND DUNKS HER IN A TANK OF A LIQUID CHLOROFLUROCARBON, EXTINGUISHING HER CHARING IMPLANTS. ---OLYMPIUS, Borg ex Machina better late than never "EXCUSE ME, BUT COULD SOMEONE EITHER FIND THE BUTTONS TO THIS BLOUSE, OR GIVE ME A BLANKET," MARIANUS ASKS, "I SEEM TO BE DRAWING A CROWD." SWANNOX LOOKS OVER AT HER. HE KNOWS THE BORG FIRE DEPARTMENT MUST HAVE A BLANKET, BUT HE SURE CAN'T FOR THE LIFE OF HIM REMEMBER WHERE HE PUT IT. RIALTUS JUST SMILES. "FOR HEAVENS SAKE," MARIANUS SIGHS AS SHE RIPS RIALTUS' COAT OFF OF HIM, "LET ME BORROW THIS FOR A WHILE." ---Marianus of Borg As Rialtus sits in his stupor, vainly trying to think of a way to "rekindle" the moment, Swannox finally finds a blanket. Rushing to drape it tenderly around the shivering Marianus, he trips and both he and the blanket drape themselves upon her person. "ALRIGHT .......I HAVE BEEN HELPED ENOUGH!!!!! GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HELP!" Sheepishly trying to remove himself from her implants, Swannox finds that their implants have become entangled. "Oh dear, I'm dead meat now." Rialtus, experiencing an unusual hot feeling under the collar, obliged by ripping Swannox away from his new object of affection, thereby finishing the task of destroying her blouse. "What luck!" he murmured, however, aloud he declared "Heaven's to Betsy, what have I done?" Marianus, wondering if it would become a chief justice to grease these nimrods, hobbled away. In their well deserved fear, Swannox and Rialtus beat a hasty retreat. Just as they thought they were, perhaps, out of harms way....a golden blur burst through the smoky night! "I say! What the h***. Get off........crunch ....splat.....me......crack.....NOW!" The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the street. Drawing back from the fray, Swannox began laughing hysterically. "It's Loc....Loc....Locutus II! Cool it, would you....it's us! Look.....I said quit it OR WE SHALL COW TIP YOU!" Locutus II recoiled in horror, both at his mistake and that other "unmentionable" torture. In the moment of silence that followed, they could hear the distinct melody of Marianus, down the avenue, laughing and laughing and laughing. ---Smorgus of Borg Olympius streaks up to the covered and dripping chief justice..."BOSS, WE'LL HAVE TO TAKE YOU TO JIFFY CUBE TO REPLACE THOSE LOOSE WIRES, AND LUCKILY THE STORAGE ROOMS IN THE SUBBASEMENT WEREN'T TOUCHED SO WE CAN GET YOU A NEW ROBE- THAT OLD ONE HAD SOME PRETTY... HISTORICAL GREASE STAINS ON IT. LOCUTUS II HAS CAUGHT THE ARSONISTS, AND YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO IT IS! OLYMPIUS, LEAVE'EM GUESSING ---Olympius of Borg ******SUPREME COURT FIRE****** POSSIBLE SUIT FOR FALSE ARREST The mystery mounts in the matter of the monstrous melt down of the Borg Supreme Court Building. The possible perpetrators popped by the powerful Locutus II turned out to be just two more seekers of executive office. As the sun rose over the reeking ashes of the once stately Court, Wiggalus of Borg, Ambassador, Instant Lawyer, and second in command to the Borg collective, revealed herself to be a General Contractor and vowed to restore the court to its former glory when others were snidely suggesting corrugated steel and linoleum. No new information has been uncovered about the probable identity of the arsonist; the evil Kym has been suggested as the possible arsonist, as indeed a suspect in every unsolved mystery including the sinking of the Maine and the disappearance of Judge Crater. Fire Marshall Olympius was not available for comment as she was called away because of difficulties with Vogons on her home planet. ---Olympius of Borg Marianus turned to the borg Petrock and said "It is GHASTLY indeed. You can skip on over to Oly and Wazuus and tell them I said to release Rialtus and Swannox. As for my loose wires, tell Oly I am too cold at the moment and a short circuit might be just what I need." As Petrock approached the melee he could hear Swannox shouting at Oly, "Get these cuffs off me and do something with that Goober with hormones over there! Yes....the guy in the shiny suit." Rialtus, in much pain, groaned "...some borg... should not be allowed to leave their cubes....mutant turtle syndrome....where's a phone....I have to call my lawyer...what a tort.....(cough, cough).....SOMEONE GET ME A CERVICAL COLLAR." Meanwhile, back at the ranch..... Smorgus watched as the two shadowy borg entered what appeared to be an abandoned cube. Creeping silently to the open window she peered inside. "Egads!" From her viewpoint, Smorgus could see one borg seated in a chair. The other, however, was standing just out of view. "It is..... Chatsworthus ....," Smorgus gasped, "the politically and psychologically correct borg. I don't understand." From the darkness in the corner came a stilted voice, "Yore purr form ants was inn ad equate. Wee wheel half two make sum add just mints." At this, Chatsworthus slumped to the floor. ---Smorgus of Borg "Ohhhhhhhhhh" said Marianus, as she crumpled to the pavement. The Golden Blur, having finally come to the realization that further "crud beating" may not be the wisest course of action, knelt over the apparently lifeless body of the chief justice. As he began CPR (really), the charwoman Di(e)anus of Borg rushed to summon an ambulance. "I am not getting any response!" Locutus II said to himself. This is not good. This does not appear to be mere smoke inhalation or shock to me!" Rialtus, finally fitted with a cervical collar, looked on. "She's not....she can't....what's wrong?" Swannox appeared with his crew and quickly and efficiently loaded Marianus onto the gurney and into the waiting van. {There guys....are you happier now? Ed.} That done, the ambulance sped off into the night. The three heroic borg watched as their most admired and beautiful adjudicator vanished from sight. "That was different.", said Locutus II. "Yea...." said Swannox. "Let's go get a cola and some babes!" volunteered Rialtus, and they were off. Across the city, Smorgus maintained her vigil outside of Chatsworthus' "non-smoking" cube......which she had first thought was simply an abandoned building. She now had a clear view of the motionless Borg, Chatsworthus, on the floor. The mysterious and unseen borg-in-the-corner continued his soliloquy. "Eye all most feel bat lee four ewe.....butt ewe all wheeze whir two trust ink. Ewe awl fell sew heart four thee store he aye bout thee Queen Bea....it was heart too keep aye strayed face. Two bat aye bout thee Chief Just ice, wee whir imp pressed buy thee weigh she care reed her imp plants, butt she wood knot listen too are please." ---Smorgus of Borg As Smorg Us walked a weigh from TeaBorg and Being Countess, a video tape dropped from her brief case. She did knot note ice. TeaBorg and Being Countess played thee tape on TeaBorg's port a bull tellie vision. And their it was. Thee reel tape of thee theft of thee chalk a lot beans. Being Countess was shown diligent lee dewing hiss job, win sudden lee, hee was hit over thee head width a Borg imp plant. Thee chalk a lot beans were then scooped up bye thee unknow win Borg and it left width both thee chalk a lot beans and Bean Countess. Thee next seen showed Being Countess tied two a Cher and hooked up two a memory remove vole ma sheen. Thee unknow win Borg, inn a rasp pea fem inn inn voice, then recount Ed her evil plan to destroy thee Spelling Bees and too blame thee BORG. She removed Being Countess' memory and hymn meady ate lee a simulate Ted Being Countess. She then released hymn and sent hymn on hiss whey. And then....she terned a round. And there she was....width that evil smile. It was ...............................Smorg Us, aka Nan See Eye Kin, evil and inn fa mess secret age aunt fore thee Inn Tern Awl Rev A Gnu Sirve Ice. Her last state meant was, "And that's watt happens to races who dew knot pay there taxes and who ignore IRS notices." TeaBorg and Being Countess were inn shock. And then Being Countess' memory re-terned inn a rush. "Yea varily", hee exclaimed, "Eye remember it awl." At that moment, Smorg Us came a round thee core nor. "Sew, ewe half disc covered my lit tall plot. Well, ewe won't live long enough two tell inn knee won. Eye will get rid of ewe joust as efficient lee as eye burned down thee BSC." She slow lee raised her imp plants. TeaBorg and Being Countess were tear if fied. "Good buy old friend," they both said simultaneous lee. Butt Smorg Us had knot raised her imp plants two kill them. Inn stead, shee clutched her chest and fell over. They raced two her side and exam mined her. She was dead. "She was know fun, she fell rite over," said Being Countess. "And now their's won less evil IRS a gent inn this universe," said Teaborg quietly. TeaBorg and Being Countess were last scene board ding Anne air plain two Ha Why Ye. Being Countess' last words were, "At least where wee our going, we'll fine all lee get leied." ---TeaBorg the Spelling Bee "And you honestly believe the good Borg will believe that drivel? Ha!" exclaimed Smorgus indignantly, "You can keep me tied in this infernal chair for eternity ....but some will keep the faith. The only believable portion of that story is the bit about Hawaii...." "That darn Beancountus and his latex," thought Smorgus, "making me sneeze before I could warn the collective....if there is anyone left in the collective to tell. T'Caer in the hospital and pregnant, to boot; Oxnardus still trying to get reunited with her head; Marianus hovering on the brink of life; Chatsworthus .....laying here motionless on the floor; it is just too much to bear." Teaborg and Beancountus sneered at the little scribe. "The borg, dear unit, has known US for a much longer period of time. OUR story will be believed and YOU shall rot in the prison of the new Supreme Court that is being rebuilt at this moment." spit Bean. "Ewe should have capped two righting aye few notes inn thee 'Mew see hem off Art' ant capped aye weigh from thee Cord room. Ewe well pay fur yore air rogue ants. Fur aye fee mail ewe nut, ewe our both bawl sea ant tacked less." Teaborg whispered. "Half aye good thyme weight ink four us two Rhett turn...." Turning to the Bean he said, "Dew eye half too dew every think aye round hear? Eye can knot bee leave ewe left thee sock it set inn yore cube." Wheeling stiffly, he stalked out of the cube, with Beancountus trailing dust in his wake. Back at the jiffy cube, the sirens still wailed. A crowd hovered around the unit Marianus. Through the sea of concerned voices came "I have never seen anything like this. She should have died an hour ago......Will someone please silence those alarms?........We need a SPECIALIST!" "But who shall we find that is that experienced and gifted?" Who could save Marianus? ---Smorgus of Borg ================== 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.] Star Trek: TNG Wesley in Love, part IV ----------------------------------------- [Various episodes TNG] "Achoo! Achoo!" "But Data, you don't need to sneeze," said Wesley. "True, but humans do," said the robot. "I am also studying how to yawn and burp." "Take my word for it, Data, being human has its problems," said Wesley. "Yes, and let us return to your problem, young Wes. You said you were seeking my advice in asking women out. But out where?" "On a date, Data!" "Accessing." Data assumed a twitchy-eyed look as his head jerked minutely from side to side. "Ah, a date. A romantic event. Or, a necessary precursor to marriage. Or, a one night stand. Or, a wrinkled fruit-" "You get the picture," said Wesley. "Oh, why am I even asking you this?" "Because you are desperate. Did you not say that was the reason you came to me?" said Data quizzically. "But I have had a romantic relationship." "Really?" said Wesley, shocked. "You did? With who? How did you do it? What did you say?" "Yes. It was with Lieutenant Yar. I walked into her quarters, and all I said was 'Lieutenant Yar, is that you'?" "Is that all?" "She found me most enticing," said Data shyly. "Data, that was a one night stand!" shrieked Wesley. "Tasha was under the influence of the disease that made everyone slinky. She wasn't really interested in you!" Data looked forlorn. "Well, since then I have asked a woman out on a date." "You, Data?" "Yes, it was the human thing to do, so I tried it once." "And what happened?" Wesley asked eagerly. "After the requisite amount of smalltalk I asked a young ensign to accompany me on a tour of the maintenance section." "What did she say?" Data assumed a weird expression, twisted his face, and spoke in an exact duplicate of the woman's voice. "No way, dork!" Resuming his normal voice, he said softly, "But I am not sure what that meant." "Oh, don't worry Data, I've been called that dozens of times!" Wesley shrieked. "What are you up to now?" "I am studying the art of flirtation with the computerized cigarette dispenser in 10 Forward," Data confided. ---Steve Gordon (editorman@aol.com) ========================== STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY ========================== Season 01. Episode 13. "DRG Must Die! Part One" [Bob: "Here we are at SkyDome! What a crowd! Fifty thousand fans! Look, look at this." Pulls an orange baseball cap off the head of a fan sitting nearby. On the cap are the letters DRG. "They've sold five thousand of these in the last three hours! What did you pay for this?" "What?" "What did you pay for this?" "$24.95!" "$24.95?" "$24.95!" "Wow!" He goes on to say something else but a roar goes up. Bob turns and we see that a view of the planet Petrus has come up on the Jumbotron. Bob goes on talking but we can't hear him for the cheering, and then we switch to the satellite feed:] We are in orbit above the Petran equator. The teal and aubergine curve of the planet occupies the righthand side of the screen. In the distance we can see the Enterprise adrift in space. Small cubical lifeboats float here and there, red emergency beacons blinking. We see several of the boats moving around using manoeuvring thrusters. One coasts past close enough for us to have a good look. Hm, not much space in one of those things. In the distance we notice two lifeboats move together and dock, beginning the process of "gaggle" formation referred to by Captain Picard in the last episode. Now we are inside one of the lifeboats. It's like watching footage from a twentieth-century space shuttle flight. Three people are crowded into a very small space. Each is intent on a separate task, and each acclimatizing with a different degree of success to the effects of zero gravity. The three in question are Worf, Troi and Doctor Crusher. All are concentrating on bringing some kind of order to the scattered flotilla. Worf is wedged into one corner, navigating carefully from instruments. Doctor Crusher floats upside-down making life-sign sensor sweeps with a handheld computer pad tied in to the lifeboat's main computer. Troi wafts horizontally, methodically making voice contact with lifeboat after lifeboat. Between Troi and Doctor Crusher the cabin is almost entirely full of floating hair. Worf brushes Doctor Crusher's red locks out of his eyes. Troi and Beverly trade places and soon Worf is brushing away Troi's dark tresses. The two women move around again and once again Worf finds himself surrounded by red hair. He grits his teeth. "Dah!" Worf suddenly begins to open lockers and drawers. Deanna and Beverly stop working and hang there, bobbing up and down. "Worf, whatever are you looking for?" "Ponytail holders!" [Tremendous roar from crowd.] "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 and Brent Spiner as Lt. Cmdr. Data The Enterprise looms into sight to the sound of French horns and trombones. [The SkyDome crowd roars. The image of the Enterprise is practically life-size on the enormous scoreboard and for the first time most of the fans notice the two crewmembers playing table tennis in the observation lounge.] The ship goes to warp and disappears in a burst of light. [Commercial: "Fork! Spoon!"] The captain's yacht. Picard and La Forge are in the two pilot's chairs. They have gravity, but not enough hair for it to matter. They too are studying the dispersal of the lifeboats, some of which are now nearly halfway around the planet. "Number eighty-one is drifting off quickly. Bring us in behind, Geordi." "Aye, Captain." "Picard to lifeboat eighty-one. Do you read me?" Three voices: *Hell-o-o-o-o-o* Picard and La Forge exchange looks. "Who's there?" *I am!* *I am!* *Me!* "What are your names, please?" *Edwina!* *Clarabelle!* *Alexander!* *Alexander's pulling on my toes! Make him stop!* "Alexander. This is Captain Picard. Stop pulling on her toes." *Yes, Captain. I will* "Children, we are going to catch your lifeboat with a tractor beam, and join it up to the other lifeboats. There will be some bumps, so don't be frightened. Do you understand?" *We're not frightened!* "That's good. Mr La Forge, please engage tractor beam when ready." *Captain Picard?* "Yes? What is it?" *We have to go to the bathroom. How do you go when you're upside-wrong?* "Mr La Forge, smartly on that tractor beam." "Aye sir!" [Commercial: Chunks Ahoy] The darkened bridge. `Abandon ship' signals pulse, giving the scene an infernal glow. Data is at the tactical station, entering commands at android speed. His brother Lore is at the helm, surrounded by a globular forcefield, countermanding Data's orders at an identical rate. Armus, the Skin of Evil, is stage left, stroking a miserable, tar-covered Spot, and complaining. "AAARGH! I HAVE COME ALL THISS DISSTANCCE TO SSEEK MY REVENGE. RRRR!!!!! AND ALL I FIND ARE TWO MACHINESS AND A CAT!" "'Oh, thank you so much, Lore, for bringing me from my planet of exile.' You crude sludgeball, there are four humans at large aboard the ship. You'd know that if you had the brains to figure out a computer display." "RRRRRR!!!!" "Lore, speaking as your brother, may I suggest that you have not been consorting with the right sort of people. Armus is the accumulated evil of an entire civilization, and has already committed murder. You would be well advised to shun his company." "ARRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! IF I DID NOT LIKE YOUR CAT SSO MUCCCH I WOULD TIE IT IN A KNOT RIGHT NOW!!!!!! BUT IT ISS SSO CUTE!!!!" Data and Lore exchange looks. Riker, Ursula, Door Repair Guy and the tactical officer who appears at this late point in the season to be fated never to have a name advance down a deserted corridor. Riker stops suddenly. "Communicators." He removes his and throws it on the floor. The others follow suit. He gathers the badges together with his toe, steps back, draws his phaser, and reduces them to a blob of metal alloy. Riker: "We need computer access of some kind. What's in that room?" Ursula: "The Arboretum." Tactical officer: "Doesn't Botany have those special dirt-resistant gravipolar units?" Riker: "The DRGs! That's right. Try it, DRG." "All right, all right." DRG goes to the door and examines the lock display. "Whoa! There's no air in there. It escaped out the far door to the corridor on the other side." Riker: "Can you close the far door from here?" DRG enters some commands. "Done." "How big is that room?" "I dunno." "What's the largest plant in there?" "Terrelian pea pod, I guess. About ten feet high." "And it touches the ceiling?" "Yeah. Now I remember! Somebody carved their initials in it. WR + DT. What a boob!" "All right, all right. Breathing gear on. We're going in. Brace yourselves. Door Repair Guy, open that door." DRG steps back and phasers the door into oblivion, not without obvious glee. The air in the corridor bursts into the vacuum of the Arboretum, knocking the four stowaways off their feet and filling the corridor with a backwash of topsoil. In a moment the air pressure has equalized and the four creep in, covered with dirt. The Arboretum is a mess: topsoil everywhere, trees and potted plants knocked here and there, everything covered with a layer of dirt -- except the gravipolar computer console. DRG drops a handful of earth on the top of the monitor. The dirt never hits it, but swirls away like water, leaving it spotless. DRG leans over and says through his air mask: "It's so clean. Mm. Lemon smell." "Enough of that!" The tactical officer pulls him aside and begins to access the computer system. "The crew has abandoned ship. There is no one on board except us, Lt Cmdr Data, some stray pets, and two intruders." "Where is Data?" "On the bridge." "Can you get a visual display?" "Here, use this channel." Ursula shoulders the tactical officer aside and accesses a security camera image of the bridge. They see Data, Lore . . . and Armus! "Ooo, poor cat." "What are Data and Lore doing?" "They're trying to lock each other out of the computer system." "But they're practically identical." "Stalemate." "Why doesn't Armus do something to help Lore?" "I don't know. Perhaps he prefers cats." Riker: "Hm. We've got our work cut out for us." He pulls open some drawers and gathers together four computer pads. "Here. Keep these with you at all times. We'll use them to communicate with one another and with the ship's computer. We'll have to avoid the primary systems so as not to attract Lore's attention. Any suggestions?" DRG: "Insect control?" Ursula: "We have an insect control system?" "Sure. Why do you think there are no insects on board?" "I never thought about it." Riker: "Hopefully Lore has never thought about it either. Insect control it is. Now, the plan." Tactical officer: "We should do a Wesley Crusher." Riker: "You mean transport them into space. Good one." Ursula: "Will Lore fall for that one again? He has a force field obviously designed to prevent it." Tactical: "With enough power we can transport him out chair, force field and all." Riker: "Can we do that from here?" Ursula: "I'm trying to access transporter control now. I can't get near it. There must be a hundred levels of lockout protocol around it." Tactical: "That's Data and Lore." Ursula: "Is there another transporter system we can use?" Riker: "There's the shuttlecraft transporters." Ursula: "But the shuttlebays are all open to space. We can't get aboard them." Tactical: "He can." (He points at Door Repair Guy.) Ursula: "Your Borg transporter!" Riker: "Okay. Here's the plan. You transport into one of the shuttles. Use the shuttle transporter to beam Lore and Armus into space. If you have to, power up engines and divert extra power to the transporter. Tear the whole helm console out if you have to." DRG: "Two things." Riker: "Okay?" DRG: "What about the cat?" Everybody shrugs. DRG: "Okay, then, what about me? What do I get out of it?" Riker: "I could hit you so hard!" DRG: "All right! All right! Here I go." Tactical: "Wait! Take this." DRG takes the computer pad and hits his transporter control, disappearing in a Borg transporter effect. [Bob: (Mouth full of hot dog:) "Rr, rre errr gump rorr norr."] [Commercial: "Coming in July: the Klingon Network. Entertainment, news, sports, how-to shows, kids' programming. It's all here on the Klingon Network. Like: `Bowling For Honour'; `Sixty Kellicams'; `The Growling Gourmet'. Subscribe now."] The bridge. Data and Lore are still locked in their systems override stalemate. Lore is not pleased. "Hey! Petroleum Jelly! How about a little assistance?" Armus, who has been scratching Spot under the chin, behind the ear, and in fact all over the body in hopes of eliciting a purr, looks up and growls, "WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN BUSSINESSS?" "Look, Oilslick, could you just go over there and knock my brother off his feet for one little teeny moment? I'm trying to site-transport him off the ship." Armus howls with annoyance and trudges across the bridge. He comes up the side ramp toward Data's position at tactical but at the last moment he changes his mind and walks into the turbolift. "Hey! Just where do you think you're going?" "TO WALK THE CAT." The doors close. "What a loser!" "Despite everything, brother, I am forced to disagree. His obvious regard for Spot demonstrates some tiny particle of humanity, which is more than I can ascribe to you." "Oh really? I just prefer dogs, that's all." "Tell me, Lore, what are your intentions in the event you are able to overcome me and gain control of the ship?" "Wouldn't you like to know! Oh well, I wouldn't be much of a villain if I didn't spill my guts for no good strategic purpose. I figure I'll let Armus torment your friends out there for a while and then, just when their life-support is failing, we'll blow them to bits and go after those good-for-nothing Borg on that mall planet. With them as my galley slaves we'll navigate the wormhole superhighway causing mayhem and misery for no good reason beyond the sheer delicious fun of it all." "Lore, you are not a good man." "I'll take that as a compliment. Ah ha! Got you now, brother!" Data is surrounded by Lore's transporter beam, but at the same moment Lore's force field dissolves and he is caught in Data's transporter beam. They both reappear, Lore in his force field at tactical and Data at the helm. They stop and stare at each other a moment and then return to inputting commands at superhuman speed. Inside the docked lifeboats. We're able to see down the length of about five lifeboats, all joined together like compartments in a submarine. It's like a sardine can. People and equipment float everywhere. A baby cries. Worf, as chief of security, insists on swimming from compartment to compartment, despite the fact that he takes up more room than anyone else. When he climbs through the compartment where the baby is crying he orders it to hush, which only results in a moment's surprise followed by a redoubling of volume. His assertion that a Klingon baby would not behave in such a manner falls on deaf ears and merely serves to foster a general atmosphere of resentment. He returns to his own lifeboat. "I know!" says Doctor Crusher, loud enough to be heard in several adjoining compartments, "Let's sing a song! Does anyone know `Michael, Row the Boat Ashore'?" The interior of a shuttlecraft. The Borg transporter effect. Door Repair Guy appears, stumbles around, then finds the lights. He holds up his computer pad, accesses insect control and gets a schematic of the bridge. "Hey, wait a minute, there's only two. Hm. Well, Lore's the guy in the chair, anyway. Here goes." He activates the shuttle's transporter. On the bridge Data is surrounded by a transporter shimmer. A moment later he has a bird's eye view of the Enterprise. "Oh." Lore: "Yee hee! Attention all hands. Attention all hands. Are you ever in for it now!" In the Arboretum: Riker: "What happened?" Ursula: "He transported Data!" Tactical: "RRRRRRRR!!!!!!" Borg transporter effect. DRG: "Hi, guys. How'd I do?" Tactical: "RRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!" *Attention crew. This is your captain speaking. I know where you are and I know what you're doing* The doors at the far side of the Arboretum open. Everybody hits the deck as the remainder of the atmosphere vents into the vacuum of the far corridor. As the wind subsides Riker grabs Ursula and the tactical officer and makes for the open door. Door Repair Guy, sensing he is not the people's choice at that moment, follows, breathing hard into his air mask. They make it into the corridor, but almost immediately a windstorm hits them. Lore is emptying decksful of atmosphere in an attempt either to asphyxiate them or batter them to death. They pass through door after door, moving across the ship through dark airless rooms and corridors. Riker leads the way, reading a map on his computer pad. They are very quickly freezing cold and pause occasionally to phaser a bulkhead for warmth. At last they enter a short access tunnel. Riker phaser-welds the door shut behind them, signals them to prepare for pressurization, and hits the control for the exit door. Air thunders in, beating them this way and that, but it is air, and it's warm. They pull off their air masks and pant. [Commercial: "Part of our heritage: `Now is the . . . summer . . . of our discontent.' `Bill! Phone! It's that Roddenberry guy.' `Woo-hoo! Goodbye Shakespeare!'] Riker and company stagger out into a warm, lit corridor. The door opposite reads SAUCER PHOTON TORPEDO LAUNCH ROOM. Riker tries the door. Locked. "You! Get this open!" Door Repair Guy takes his spinning head over to the nearby access panel and pulls off the panel's cover. The door has a manual override. A *manual* override. He pulls the handle, and Riker and the other two dash into the torpedo launch room. When he releases the handle the door closes and locks, leaving him in the corridor. "Hm. I'll just transport in." The hits the control. He gets a tingling sensation but nothing else. He types into his computer pad: HEY! I'M STUCK OUTSIDE! The pad reads back: WE SET UP A SECURITY FORCE FIELD. GO TO PANEL 1456B AND DIVERT MORE POWER TO US. He goes off grumbling. Captain's yacht. La Forge: "Lifeboat sixteen, we are manoeuvring you to within one hundred metres of the gaggle. Do you have sufficient fuel to complete docking?" *Affirmative* "Then you are cleared to proceed." View of the yacht releasing its tractor hold on the lifeboat. Slowly the small cube turns and begins to thrust haltingly toward the mosaic of already docked lifeboats. An orb of light is seen rising up from the planet. The camera moves to one side to follow it up, and then moves back toward the gaggle and the approaching lifeboat. The orb curves and lands on the roofs of the docked lifeboats and transforms into a white-clad winged biped. The angel walks over to the edge of the gaggle and points to a particular port. The lifeboat eases toward that port and docks. The being inspects the coupling and is apparently satisfied. It looks up at the astonished Picard and La Forge and makes a gesture signifying, roughly, "Well, come on, get the lead out." "How many more lifeboats, Mr La Forge?" "Twenty-nine, Captain." "Then on to the next with all dispatch. Apparently, heaven can't wait." [Commercial: "Part of our heritage: `Now, Mr Doohan, read it in a Parisian accent.' `Ah do not zink she can take very much more of zees.' `No, that's not it. Do you know any others?' `How about Canadian?' `Huh?' `Oh, jeez, lookit, she can't take much mora this." `No, we already have an alien character. Can you do Scottish?'] "Tactical, how's that force field?" "It'll keep Door Repair Guy out, but I don't know about Lore and Armus." "We'll have to chance it. Braun, what's the status of the torpedo tube?" "Ready for action, Commander." "Torpedoes?" "Standing by." "Then lock and load." "Sir, exactly what is the plan now?" "High stakes poker. Riker to Lore." *Well, hello! You made it through the weather all right?* "Lore, let's cut the bull. You either turn over the ship right now or I'll blow it up." Ursula and the tactical officer: "Gulp." *Hmmmmmmm, I don't think you will* Ursula and the tactical officer: "He will! He will!" "Lore, you've got till ten. I'm counting. One. Two." "Panel 1456B." Door Repair Guy pulls the panel off the wall, exposing a network of power conduits. He searches his utility belt for a laser splicer but, unable to find one, settles for a pair of needle-nose pliers. He inserts them into the power net, closes them, gives them a ninety degree turn, and rebounds off the opposite wall in a shower of pyrotechnic effects. He tumbles jolting and jumping into the middle of the corridor with blue lightning running up and down his limbs. After a few moments a pair of white sandalled feet walk up and stop beside him. The angel leans down, examines him closely, makes some kind of mental note, and then walks on. "Ni-i-i-i-i-ne . . . ten." Riker turns to the tactical officer. "Fire." The camera moves from the tactical officer's face down to his hand and the end of his finger poised over the launch control. [Dramatic violins and horns.] TO BE CONTINUED.... ---Douglas A. McLeod (ai919@freenet.carleton.ca) =============== UPCOMING IN RIF =============== SPECIAL BIRTH OF THE BAB HOLIDAY ISSUE!!! (okay, I know it's late, but cut me a little slack, okay?) CUTTING ROOM FLOOR: TNG: Time's Arrow MORE BORG TAGLINES XENA AND GABRIELLE MEET STAR TREK: DS9 STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 14. DRG Must Die! Part Two ============== THE FINE PRINT ============== TRYING TO LOCATE A COPY OF RIF???? WORLD WIDE WEB/FTP: http://www.startrek.in-trier.de/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. 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; U.S.S. 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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. SOLICITATIONS FOR NEXT NEWSLETTER The next Resistance is Futile (#65) will be released on or about October 20, 1996 (okay, okay, I know I am running behind. Give me a break, okay???). Send submissions to Oxnardus at the addresses notated below for consideration for a future issue. "RIF" is a non-profit fan publication. The editors retain editorial control and reprint privileges over the submitted materials and reserve the right to use the material in whatever way they deem appropriate. Submitted materials will not be returned to the sender. Editor-in-Chief: Oxnardus of Borg Resistance is Futile BBS (805) 588-9349: Oxnardus Internet: ktaborn@lightspeed.net WEB SITES: http://www.startrek.in-trier.de/rif; http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/borgp age/shopslow.htm; ftp site: ftp://fvkma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif US Mail: RIF BBS, P.O. Box 81181, Bakersfield, CA 93308 >>>>> Have you heard? RIF has two sister publications called "Xena: The Media Review" (XMR) and WHOOSH! (The Journal of the International Association of Xena Studies). Come and subscribe to XMR and share in the on-going collection and annotation of references to Xena: Warrior Princess (XWP), Lucy Lawless, and Renee O'Connor found in the major media in electronic form. 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