Mystery Usenet Theater 3000: "Before the Dawn" By Thomas Keeler Misted by Alex Gariepy, Eric Scheppers, Brian Dubick, Juliet Youngren, Douglas Gale and Matt Blackwell [Season 10 Opening] [The Bridge of the Satellite of Love] [Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo are busily playing a board game.] Tom: Okay, my turn. And four. One... two... three... and four! Draw a card. "Discover the true nature of reality. Gain a follower and roll again." Hah! Crow: Yeah, yeah. [to the camera] Hi everyone and welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Crow T. Robot and my cohort here is Tom Servo. Tom: ...and three. "What is life? Is it meaningless, devoid of content, or is there a master plan, unbeknownst to us all? Roll again." Crow: Tom and I are busily playing "Philosopher: the Board Game!" Tom inexplicably has taken a very slight lead. Tom: Pshaw. I'm almost to "Enlighted One", while you're stuck back in "Wrestling Fan". Crow: Hey! Wrestling is just a modern day morality play! It's nothing to be ashamed of! Plus Stone Cold kicks ass! Tom: Right, Crow. [Rolls a die.] Four! [Tom moves his piece.] "Consider 'If'." How profound. Crow: I'll catch up soon, Tom. [softer] Just as soon as my guy stops watching TV on his couch. [Mike enters, grinning devilishly.] Crow: Hi Mike. Tom: Hi. Mike: Guys! Someone set up us the bomb! [The bots turn to Mike, looking concerned.] Tom: Um, pardon? Mike: We get signal! Crow: Are you feeling okay? Mike: All your base are belong to us! [The bots slump and return to their game.] Tom: Oh. That. Mike: All your base are belong to us! Crow: We heard you, Mike. Mike: Come on, guys! All your base are belong to us! Tom: Mike, it's over. Crow: Yeah, that phrase is just so... not now. Mike: What do you mean it's over? I just heard it! Crow: Well, some of us have known about it for months, if not years now. Tom: By the time you've heard it, it's become incredibly unhip to us. We've moved on. Mike: Oh. [Mike exits, head hung low.] Tom: Some people. Crow: Yep. My turn! Two! "You realize Springer's on. Move back five." Blast! [Mike rushes back in.] Mike: All your base are belong to us! Crow: Still not funny, Mike. Mike: I thought it was. Crow: You liked that "Who Let the Dogs Out?" song too. [Mike exits again.] Crow: Will he ever learn? Repeating the same phrase over and over again just isn't funny, right Tom? Tom: Yep. It stinks! [The bots begin to crack up.] Crow: Where wolf? There wolf! Tom: CHIEF! Crow: MC CLOUD! [The pair is laughing loudly now as the commercial sign begins to flash.] Tom: I'M HUGE! Crow: Why don't they look? Tom: Grignir? [The Planet bumper.] [Commercials] [The bots are still laughing as Mike walks back in.] Mike: Okay, I think I've got a new one. "Monkey Sugar." It means... Crow: [restraining his laughter] ...that something is incredibly cool. Like, "Memento was so Monkey Sugar!" Tom: Heard it. Moved on. Crow: Get with the times, Mike. [The lights signaling a call from Castle Forrester begin to flash.] Mike: Great, Faith Popcorn is calling. [Mike hits the button and the scene shifts to...] [Castle Forrester] [In the background, Professor Bobo is busily rooting around in a file cabinet. In the foreground, Observer, wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap and noisily chewing gum, is busily working on a computer. Between the two, Pearl is pacing anxiously.] Pearl: Anything? Bobo: [with his head in a drawer] No luck here. Pearl: Brain Guy? Observer: Still lookin'. [She turns to the camera.] Pearl: Mitch. Robots. We're, uh, having a little problem down here with this week's experiment. Namely we can't find one. [SoL] Tom: Really? What a shame. Crow: Yep. We're heartbroken. Mike: Say, the Brak Show's kinda neat... Crow: It's in reruns already, Mike. Old news. [Castle Forrester] Pearl: Bobo's scouring through the print archives, to no avail. Movie-wise, well, after this last summer we've got too many to choose from. And Brain Guy can't find anything on the net. It's weird. It's almost as if all of the authors have disappeared. [SoL] Mike: Really? That is odd. [A loud thump emanates from off screen.] [Castle Forrester] Pearl: What was that? [SoL] Mike: Oh, I'm sure it was nothing important. I'll go take a look though. [Mike grabs a conveniently placed baseball bat and exits to the right.] Crow: So, I guess this means no experiment for us today then, right? [Castle Forrester] Pearl: [Sighing] It's beginning to look that way. I guess that all good... Observer: Bingo. Pearl: You found something? [She moves over to watch Observer over his shoulder.] Observer: You betcha. I was diving through the old Usenet archives and I found... this! [He dramatically punches a button. Pearl looks at the screen and smiles evilly.] [SoL] [A series of loud thumps can be heard off screen.] Bots: Uh-oh. [Castle Forrester] Pearl: Oh, this is good. Observer: Yep. Somehow we missed this one. Pearl: Well, our loss then is our profit now. [She turns towards the camera, grinning.] Pearl: You're going to love this one. It seems we've discovered a forgotten tale of a certain Starfleet Captain. [SoL] Crow: Oh no. Tom: You don't mean... [Castle Forrester] Pearl: Yep. Marrissa Amber Flores Picard. [SoL] Crow: But, but, how? [Mike enters. He holds the now broken in half bat in his hand.] Mike: Found it. It was the washing machine. Yeah. The washing machine. Tom: But we've read all of Ratliff's stuff! Even those [shudder] adult ones! Unless he's written new ones! [Tom turns towards Mike, who shakes his head.] Mike: No, he's still trapped in the storm cel... er, no, I mean he's probably busy in his post-college career. [Castle Forrester] Pearl: Oh, it's not from Stevie. It's written by one of his fans. [SoL] All: Uh-oh. [Castle Forrester] [In the background, Bobo's upper torso is completely in one of the drawers. His legs are pumping furiously.] Pearl: Yep. Uh-oh. So, get ready for Thomas Keeler's Marrissa piece, "Before the Dawn". Send them the fic, Brainy. Observer: Word. [SoL] [The lights have begun to flash.] Mike: [whispering] Pearl? What's up with Observer? [Castle Forrester] Pearl: Oh, he's just trying to establish some street cred. [SoL] Mike: Oh. Well, I guess WE'VE GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!! [Mike hits the light, and the door sequence begins.] [6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .] [The crew enters and sits.] Crow: So what exactly happened? Mike: Oh, they were using a fork to scratch a story into the bulkhead. [Shudders] A crossover between "Hannibal" and "The Gummy Bears" with a bit of "The Music Man" tossed in. Tom: Lovely. Mike: Oh, and Pete's back in the cooler again. Crow: Figures. >From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:02:59 1998 Tom: Is Keanu Reeves going to be in this? Mike: [deeply] Take the blue pill, Neo, and all will be as it was. Take the red pill and you'll start writing fanfic. >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] 0/1 Mike: Midnight? Crow: It was before the dawn of the third age of mankind, and there wasn't even a Babylon station. >From: Iblis Tom: Garm Bel Iblis? >Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:02:59 GMT > >Foreword: > Mike: Into the breach! Crow: To death. By Dead Kennedys. Tom: Comma Ten. >This is my first foray into internet writing, All: Oh no. Tom: Bad sign... Crow: Mike, I don't know if I can take another first effort... Mike: Just hunker down. We'll make it through it. It was nice of him to warn us though. > and I've >chosen a very tenuous starting point, Tom: Very bad sign... Mike: [Iblis] It started with "THIS STORY IS A SUPER KEWL CROSSOVER BETWEEN TOMB RAIDER AND PERFECT DARK!!!" Crow: AHHHH!!!! Tom: You're not helping, Mike. > right after a story >still in progress. Tom: A very, very bad sign. Mike: [gulps nervously] Keep it together, guys. We've got to be strong. > This takes place in the Ratliff >universe Crow: Eef! Tom: Hey, look! Four horsemen are approaching! Mike: Okay, forget what I said. Commence panicking. > (thank you, Stephen), Tom: [falsetto] o/~ Thank you, thank you Ratliff! o/~ Mike: Tom? Stop bringing that up. Please? Crow: [snicker] Say, Tom? Did we ever take those pictures of Mike singing that down from the website? Tom: We replaced them with a mpeg, remember? [Mike whimpers.] > from the perspectives of the >crew of Deep Space Nine. Crow: Who would no doubt give Marrissa yet another title to add to her list. Tom: Specifically, from Odo's pot's view. Mike: You're never going to get over "Chakotay's Pillow" are you? > This sets the scene for a number >of following works, Crow: You can't threaten me like that! I laugh in the face of your future works! HA! > which I hope you'll like. If you want >to MiST, just ask. Tom: Because using body spray is vital in today's fast paced world. >Vivat Marissa ad aeturnum! > Crow: What's that? "Vivisect Marrissa at the sternum"? Mike: It means "May Marrissa live forever." Crow: I like mine better. > --Thomas D. Keeler >>}:>{|> > Mike: Hey, it's the Devil with a goatee! Tom: I've always suspected but now I have proof. >From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:06:11 1998 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Tom: Maybe now they should change that name. Like, oh, say, alt.startrek.boredom or alt.startrek.cannon-fodder. >Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 1/4 Crow: Just four parts? I was expecting the usual 10 or 15. Mike: Don't pressure him, Crow. >From: Iblis Crow: So, how many groupies does Ratliff have now? Tom: Let's see. There's that Generations 2 girl, but she insists she's not a groupie. Mike: That Marrissa's the Borg Queen guy. Tom: Oh, there's that Marrissa meets John McClaine story. Crow: And Dark Marrissa! Don't forget that one! Tom: Of course, there was that Marrissa gets killed by Han Solo and another Mary Sue character. Crow: The "Marrissa Flores on Basilisk Station" story. Tom: That goofy, unfinished round robin. Crow: And that "Marrissa of Gor" story. Tom: And don't forget that retrocon story where Marrissa was Riker's niece and she was half-elven and caused all of the characters to start boinking each other... Mike: Guys? I don't remember reading half of those. [mumbling] Especially that last one. Tom: Oh. Well, forget we said anything then. >Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:06:11 GMT > Mike: The story is already getting repetitive. >Title: Before the Dawn Crow: [dreamily] Lies obsession. >Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu) >Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1 >Rating: [PG] violence Mike: Something tells me it'll be strawberry related. >Codes: N/A Crow: This fanfic is proudly 100% Morse code-free! >Part: NEW 1/4 >Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation, Tom: After a referendum in which there was a 50% + 1 majority. > and takes Deep >Space Nine with him. Mike: What did he do? Fold it up and stick it in his pocket? > Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After >the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen." > Crow: [shudders] It's a sequel AND a prequel! > >Have faith, folks. It gets better. > Mike: Actually, so far, this is the best Marrissa story ever! > >Star Trek: Ex Post Facto >- -The Marrissa Stories- - >Before the Dawn > Tom: Is the night. >By Thomas D. Keeler (no relation) > Crow: He's not related to Babs Bunny? > > Dedicated to my story consultants, who've put up with >me this far. > Mike: So somebody else had to read this. Crow: [snickers] What a bunch of saps! Tom: Uh, Crow... > > The war was over. Crow: There was a war? > Finally, ultimately, Mike: Definitely, totally.... > the Romulans >were beaten. The once mighty Romulan armada was now reduced >to a handful of patrol vessels, restricted quite >specifically to the remains of their Empire. Tom: Sort of the interstellar equivalent of the Russian navy. >The first Romulan ships had abandoned Vulcan millennia ago, Mike: In one of the biggest divorce cases since Nicole Kidman left Tom Cruise. >their race having achieved space travel long before Humans >set out across Earth's oceans. Mike: Yeah, but look who's laughing now! In your face, pointy ears! > A race and their ships, Tom: The America's Cup? >humbled now, at last. Crow: A boy and his dog, a writer and his pen, a muffin man and his muffins... Mike: We get it, Crow. > It was a victory, so far as the >Federation and its "new generation" Mike: Doesn't he mean the "Next Generation"? Crow: It's a callback, Mike. Just grin and nod. > of officers were >concerned, but perhaps, Sisko believed, the galaxy's loss. Crow: After all, now Berman would have to come up with a new bunch of humans in funny costumes to torment the Trek cast. > Admiral Benjamin Sisko sat back heavily. Crow: Putting on a little weight, are we? Tom: Joe Don Baker is SISKO! > For whatever >reason, his office on Deep Space Nine felt strangely alien. Tom: [Sisko] Hmm. When did I put all of this secreted resin around my office? >He had sat there, in that chair, countless times over the >last decade and a half, Crow: [Sisko] Oh, now I know why I feel odd! This chair hasn't been Febrezed. > dealing with every conceivable >threat to the Federation, Mike: Right now, Sisko was figuring out how to protect us from killer space-going aardvarks. > from Dukat to the Dominion, from >Q to Klingons. Tom: Well, there goes the alliteration. Crow: From time anomalies to temporal rifts! From Rick Berman to Michael Dorn! He dealt with them all! > For every decision he made, Tom: Millions died and whole civilizations were destroyed. Crow: [Sisko] Do I supersize this order and risk the destruction of Betazed? > his office had >been a kind of retreat -- Mike: Only without the chips and dip and the recliners and... > unchanging, homey. Mike: Word! > Now, however, >every Federation insignia, every Starfleet chevron, Crow: So Chevron's still around in the future? Tom: [on phone] Murray? Tom Servo. Sell all my stock in Texaco. Now. > felt >oppressive; Crow: [Sisko] You oppressive Starfleet badge! Take that you oppressive piece of oppressive oppression! > like visitors to his personal space who had >long overstayed their welcome. Mike: Mother-in-law: The Next Generation! > Part of it, he knew, was >the haunting guilt over what he had done, over what he had >been ordered to do. Crow: He still awakes in the middle of the night screaming, "Not the clown suit! Not the clown suit!" > He leaned forward, massaging his temples. Starfleet >hadn't seemed right for him, Mike: So he'd broken off the engagement and returned the ring. > until he came here, to Bajor. Tom: [Announcer] And now YOU too can experience Starfleet at its best! >Even before Jennifer -- his first wife -- died at Wolf 359 >all those years ago, the uniform hadn't quite fit. Crow: That's because Jennifer was a lousy seamstress. > He >closed his eyes. Tom: [Sisko] Fear is the mind killer, fear is the little death that brings total oblivion... > When they opened again, he was standing on the >recreation deck of the Livingston, one of his earliest >assignments. Crow: Paula!!!! Mike: Where did *that* come from? Crow: I'm not really sure... > He was in full dress uniform, Tom: I oughta talk to the Starfleet fashion designer about that. > and Jennifer . >. . Jennifer! Tom: [Sisko] JENNIFERRRRR! Mike: Not that way, Tom. Tom: Oh. > She was in her wedding dress, as beautiful >as he had ever seen her. And Curzon was there -- the Old >Man himself, grinning happily. Captain Wallace was saying >something. Mike: Has anyone seen Grommit? Tom: And this is 60 Minutes. Crow: Freeeeeedom! > "Do you, Benjamin Lafayette Sisko . . ." Crow: [Wallace] Wear boxers or briefs? > "I do," Sisko said, not waiting for the question, just >like he had thirty years before. Tom: Yeah, he's impatient like that. Crow: [Wallace] I see... well, I'll put you in for both. > "Are you Benjamin Sisko?" Crow: Great. Sisko's getting a subpoena in the middle of his wedding. How tacky. Mike: [Columbo] I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir. But I just need to ask you a few questions... > That wasn't right. "I beg your pardon?" He looked at >Wallace. > "You are the Sisko." Jennifer said, stepping in. Crow: [Sisko] Oh no, not another vision. Look, can't you go bug Barclay or something? He loves his little fantasy life! > Of course. Tom: Wha? > It had seemed a little too real for a >daydream. Tom: Oh, he's stoned again. > The Bajoran Prophets Crow: A really intense death-metal group! > -- aliens who lived in a >wormhole outside the spacetime continuum Mike: That sounds kind of cramped. > -- were trying to >reach him. Tom: Just to recap for those who have been in a coma for over seven years. > While sometimes helpful and occasionally >pleasant, Sisko had always found the Prophets' visions of >his most emotionally intense moments . . . invasive. Crow: And we all know how pleasant that can be. Mike: Tonight's DS9 episode "Sisko gets an anal probe" will be right back. > "What do you want?" Crow: [Prophet] We want the Sisko to stop dying his hair silver and singing about thongs. > He sighed, attempting to be >diplomatic, once more disregarding modern Starfleet policy. Mike: [dramatically] To hell with policy! He's going to be... diplomatic! > "What do you want?" Curzon demanded back of him. Mike: [Sisko] For you to go away and let me sulk for once! >"You lack direction. Mike: [Curzon] Find the one known as Berman. > For you, the game is over." Crow: [Sisko] Knew I should have bought Boardwalk.... > Faces >began changing shape all around him: Mike: Hey, looks like Ben did a bit too much LDS during the 60s too! > Jennifer became >Kasidy, Curzon became Jadzia, then Ezri. Tom: Then, for some reason, Mexico President Vincente Fox. Mike: That little alien symbiont sure likes people with z's in their name. Crow: The thing I like about fan-fiction is that there are no behind-the-scene problems with the cast. Tom: You're just saying that because you got to see Jadzia. Crow: Nuh-uh! > Kira, Jake, Quark >-- a lifetime of familiar people drifted across his >mindscape. Mike: Hey! There's Spencer! Crow: And Edward Norton! Tom: And there's Trumpy, Joel... and look! Dr. Erhardt's playing chess with Gamera in the corner! Mike: He meant Sisko's lifetime, Tom. > "The Sisko must choose." Crow: [Sisko] Alright, if you say so. Eeny meeny miny mo... > "Choose? Choose what?" Mike: [surly] Cash or annuity. Geez Hawk, just buy the damn lotto ticket and move along! > He held his head, trying to >keep from being overwhelmed. Tom: Ah. "Kid at Disneyland" syndrome. > As soon as he asked, he >realized his mistake: Crow: Never throw sodium in water during a gas leak. > never ask the Prophets a direct >question. Tom: Yeah, ask them indirect questions like 'If the sum of pi and x equal the square root of y, what am I supposed to choose?' > "Life or Salvation. Truth or Loyalty. Mike: Regular or diet. Tom: Chess or checkers. Crow: Visa or Mastercard. > The Sisko >decides the outcome of the game." All: Choose to win! Choose to win! > He grunted, Mike: And turned to ask his neighbor, K'Wilson for advice. > trying to understand. As a rule, their >meanings were harder to grasp than a Caldonian eel. Mike: Are Caldonian eels the fat slow ones with the dry rubbery skin? Crow: No, I think they're the little slippery ones that swim real fast. Mike: Of course. Thus, making them hard to grasp. Let's move on. > He had >long since stopped asking what the metaphors meant. Mike: We've learned that lesson too. Tom: What the heck is a Caldonian eel? Mike: Well, some of us have. > Sooner >or later, the meaning would present itself. Crow: Well, it's either that or a plot contrivance. > Unfortunately, >the case was almost always 'later.' Tom: It wouldn't be a prophecy by making it too obvious, now, would it? > The office silence echoed as he sat up from his desk. Mike: Silence echoed? >It was as uncomfortable as ever. Tom: [Sisko] Maybe I should turn off that Hanson recording? Nah... > A call light blinked at >him from his terminal. Mike: Movie sign! > General Kira was in an unusually good mood; Crow: Well, she has been shacking up with a shape-shifter. > at the >very least, she wasn't scowling. All she said was, >"They're here." Mike: And then the cast of "Stomp" marched into Ops. Oh, what fun was had by all that day! Tom: Ah, characterization. Crow: Well, from the first couple seasons anyway.... > Sisko nodded, and deactivated the link. Tom: The link was just giving 404 errors anyway. > He picked up >his baseball, rolling it around his fingertips, considering >his options. > Tom: Then chucked it at the back of Kira's head. Crow: So does Sisko always play with his balls when he's thinking? > Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep >Space Nine, two-time recipient Mike: ...of the coveted Silver Sow Award? > of the Carrington Lifetime >Achievement Award, Mike: Neurotic poster boy for genetic enhancement... > should have been elated. Crow: But he wasn't, so he increased the dosage by 50 ml. > The war was >over! Tom: So this is Christmas? > No more needless deaths on either side . . . Mike: Except for the occasional crime and mass murders, but that's another story. > "Well," he began dryly, so softly that his friend >could barely hear. Bashir was hunched over the table, >slowly drawing his finger around the rim of his glass, >making it squeak. He faced O'Brien. Tom: [Bashir] Annoyed yet? > "We . . . won." He sighed so disgustedly that the >engineer could barely tell it was him. Crow: [O'Brien] What the? Who the heck are you? > His heart wasn't really in it, but the Irishman >couldn't help but try to cheer him up. "You're not unhappy >that we won?" Crow: Ah, the pitfalls of a double negative. Mike: [Bashir] I prefer the occasional rout every now and then. > He asked, gently clinking his glass with the >doctor's. "Unless you were rooting for the Romulans. Tom: That would explain all the Romulan merchandise Bashir has in his quarters. > Did >you and Quark have a bet?" His own attempts sounded >hollow, even to himself. He already knew what was wrong. Mike: [O'Brien] Warranty run out on those genetic enhancements, huh? > Bashir confirmed it. "Thirty-two billion Romulans, >Chief. Crow: Wow! That's one heck of a bet! > Thirty-two *billion*. Mike: Thirty-two billion Romulans can't be wrong! > Between Starfleet >aggressions Crow: [heavy accent] The evil imperialist fascist Starfleet aggressors! > and the Klingons' typically overzealous >bloodlust; it's horrific." He took a drink, wishing the >alcohol was stronger. Tom: Well, you did order a Shirley Temple... > "The second costliest war in >history. Crow: Right behind Coke vs. Pepsi. > More than half their empire -- some of the most >beautiful planets in the known galaxy -- destroyed, >occupied, and assimilated for *us*. Tom: It's a twist of colonialism and the Borg! > I don't even want to >think about what the Klingons did. Mike: [Bashir] Broadcasting "Teletubbies" to that poor, defenseless world non-stop... > Our 'allies.' Bah!" Tom: [Bashir] And a 'Scoff'! And a dismissive giggle too! > He >gave O'Brien a look, a mixture of depression, fury, and >sorrow. Mike: Er, what would that look like? Crow: You've seen Keanu Reeves movies, right? Mike: Yeah. Crow: It's his "Expression #3". Mike: Ah. > "What the hell happened to us? When did we damn >the Federation to this? We're supposed to be the good >guys!" Mike: [Bashir] We bought white hats and everything! Crow: So, they should have lost then? > "Look on the bright side!" Quark said cheerily, Tom: [Quark] I've be around a lot more now since my character got offed on "Buffy!" >depositing fresh drinks on the table. Mike: I hope those were in glasses. > "The war is over! >Peace is good for business! Crow: [Quark] Unless you build tanks and guns and planes, but that's beside the point. > And only nineteen billion >Federation lives were lost!" Tom: Heck, the Federation lost more people than that from tribble attacks last year! > "*ONLY*!" Bashir leapt to his feet, roughly knocking >the Ferengi bartender to the floor. Crow: Go Bashir! Tom: Thwow him to the gwound, vewy woughly! > "*Only* nineteen >billion! Mike: [Bashir] It should have been 20 you bastard! 20! > Business! The 'bright side'! You monstrous, >greedy, self-absorbed little troll! Mike: Rob C.? Is that you? > Every life has value, >purpose! Crow: [Bashir] Except Celene Dion's, of course. > Federation, Romulan, even you! Mike: Me? Tom: Well, not you specifically. > Don't tell *me* >the cost was low!" Mike: I wonder if he ever heard of the notion that in war, people die. Crow: Intergalactic wars? High cost in lives? Hmm, never thought of that. Tom: I guess he expected a nice clean little game of "Steel Panthers". > He swivelled, addressing the crowded >barroom. "Nineteen billion lives for thirty-two billion! >Act now, sell your soul! The price of liberty has never >been lower!" Crow: Yeah! Can I sell my soul too, Mike? Can I? Mike: You already did, Crow. Remember? You sold it for a copy of "Logan's Run". Crow: Oh. > O'Brien grabbed his friend's arm and set him back into >the chair. "For god's sakes, Julian, most of those people >are just happy to see the war over. Tom: [O'Brien] Quit depressing everybody. They can do it on their own. > Believe me, they'll >mourn the dead in their own way. Mike: [O'Brien] Like through sex, for example. > In their own time." > Bashir squinted. Crow: He's Bashir the Sailor Doc! Toot-toot! > "And how many tears will be shed for >the Romulans?" Mike: Um, not many? Tom: And who the heck is mourning for Adonis? > "Probably more than the Federation casualties," a new >voice said, matter-of-factly. Crow: Um, okay. So the more casualties, the more tears? > A man in his early thirties, >wearing a Starfleet science uniform, leaned against a >pillar nearby. Crow: Oh look, it's Ensign "Smooth"! Mike: Early thirties, science officer... that narrows it down. Tom: Well, it rules out Doctor McCoy. > "Hello Chief, Julian." He looked past them to Quark, >who was stooping to collect his dropped latinum slips. Tom: [Quark] Oops! My newfound fortune always falls out of my pockets. Maybe I should put it under my mattress. >"Quark, you still owe me over twenty strips of latinum from >tongo." Crow: Is that what you kids call it nowadays? > All three were very confused for a moment, Tom: [O'Brien] Hey! The extras aren't supposed to be talking to us! > until >Bashir noticed the intricate pattern of spots rimming the >stranger's head, a characteristic of Trill. Mike: Or of a measles infection. > "*Dax*?" > The newcomer broke into a wide grin. "Syral Dax." All: Syral? Tom: Heck, why not? We haven't had a new recurring cast member on DS9 for almost two or three episodes now. > He >slid into the empty seat, clasping each man's hand. "It's >good to see you." Mike: The same can't be said likewise. Crow: Pierce Bronsan *IS* Syral Dax! > Quark regarded him cooly. Tom: [Quark] Yo, dude. WHAZZUUUUUP? > "I'm afraid all debts >become property of the establishment after a host change or >total bodily regeneration. Mike: That's what they call the "Time Lord Rule." > Sorry, but I don't make the >rules." Crow: [Quark] I just conveniently bring them up. > O'Brien jerked his head to face the Ferengi. "You're >the owner and proprietor!" Tom: [Quark] Well, the Nagus' just added new social programs as part of his new reforms, and I'm taxed silly for them, so there! > Quark shrugged. "Business is business. Profits make >the rules, not me." > "How've you been, Dax?" Bashir asked, ignoring the >confrontation. Tom: What confrontation? Mike: Morn finally saw his bar tab and took everyone in the bar hostage. > "Not so bad actually. You heard about the Gorkon?" Crow: Yeah! Hundreds of skinny fanboys in leather miniskirts! > Bashir nodded. "I'm sorry. We were glad to hear your >crew escaped." > Syral patted his stomach softly. "Most of us." Mike: [Syral] I ate the rest of 'em. > He >paused, and his friend offered him the moment of silent >eulogy for his former host. Mike: Which was...? Crow: Ezri? Tom: I don't think it was old "Big Head." Stephen never mentioned her. It might have been Jadzia. Crow: Heck, it might have even been Curzon. I don't think that he mentioned Jadzia either. [Silence.] Mike: Dear lord. We remember what's canon in the Ratliff-verse and what's not. We've read waaaay too many of these. > Finally, he sighed. "We were >lucky. Before you go eulogizing the Romulans, Julian, we >lost some good people. Remember Captain Kinsmore?" Mike: Um, yeah. He was the guy who sold fish sticks, right? > "The USS Georgia. Who could forget? Tom: Remember when all the lights went out? > I'm just glad >*I* didn't make the discovery." Mike: Who knew he was really Rosie O'Donnell in drag? > Dax rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably. "A >modern Mary Celeste. Every man, woman, and child . . . Tom: Disappeared after it was bought by Benjamin Briggs? >that was the worst part. The pilot was just a little >girl." Crow: Briggs was a little girl? > The doctor agreed. "Makes me wish we never had Kids' >Crews. Mike: That's it! We have entry into the Ratliffverse! Crow: May God have mercy on our souls. Tom: And only now he's objecting... hey buddy, we've been wishing that since "Enterprized". > Children should be kept safe on the core worlds, >not ships or colonies where they can be slaughtered!" Crow: Keep them in safe places like Sarajevo, or Beirut, or Detroit. > "I can't object to the new ranking system, though," Mike: [O'Brien] They know where I live. >O'Brien said, rejoining the conversation. "Now that >officers don't all have to be Academy trained . . ." Tom: Yeah! Why bother with professional training and teaching them ethics? Let's have an underaged paramilitary! > he >tapped the Lt. Commander insignia on his collar. "Still, I >don't want Yoshi or Molly out there." Crow: Yoshi? That dinosaur can defend itself. > The Trill pursed his lips. "I don't think this has to >do with Kids' Crews," Mike: [Syral] Though if you want to argue about the Kids' Crews, I won't mind. > he said skeptically. "Personally, I >think the intelligence report was faked." Crow: 'Cause we all know there's no *intelligence* in the military! [pause] Well, someone had to say it. > Quark, Bashir, and O'Brien leaned in closer. Why fake >an intelligence report *after* the war was over? Tom: Because Starfleet was so lazy that they put it off until the last minute? Mike: To keep K'n St'rr off of President Jaresh-Inyo's trail? Crow: Just cuz it's fun? > "Well, as I see it, there are three possibilities," >Dax asserted. "One, it begins a relief effort to Romulus, >placing Starfleet operatives at the heart of the Empire. >Two, it conceals the Federation's own weakened state after >the last two wars -- especially considering our current >relations with the Breen, and even the Klingons." Crow: [Syral] And three, it makes Marrissa look good! > "For a warrior race, they certainly did take their >sweet time to jump in," Quark noted. Mike: The Klingon High Council's mother had told them to wait half a year after eating before jumping into the war. Tom: Besides, the Romulans had those nasty attack tribbles. > "And," Bashir added, "Starfleet voiced an official >protest for their decimation of four star systems. Crow: Hey, maybe Mike's a Klingon. Tom: Yeah "Starkiller", maybe you've got some Klingon blood in you. Mike: I do not! And those were all accidents, I swear. > Not >that we'd *act* on it, of course." Mike: [Bashir] Personally, I'd have told them to eat a tribble but that wouldn't have been diplomatic. > "It's legally Klingon territory now. The Federation >has no jurisdiction in the matter." Crow: Unless they decide otherwise. > Dax said, shrugging. >"Worf said Kurn was a little angry about the massacre, >himself." Tom: [Syral] But Worf? He absolutely LOVES it! He said he killed fifty! > "You said three possibilities," O'Brien prompted. Tom: [Syral] Did I say that? Oops. > Dax nodded. "It's the third reason that has me most >concerned." He glanced around, as though Section 31 was >hiding nearby. He whispered conspiratorially, "Something >we haven't even thought of yet." > Mike: [Syral] Like self-replicating lava lamps! > The starship USS Defiant nestled into the outer >docking ring, home from a retrieval mission in the Gamma >Quadrant. Crow: They were delivering pizzas to the Vorta. Mike: The USS Defiant, under the command of Hiro Protagonist. > The station latches took hold with a 'clunk' >that resounded through the hull as metal hit metal. Tom: Sorry! First day at the docking controls. > It was >a sound the Defiant's captain never got tired of hearing, Crow: A sound that he recorded and played endlessly over the bridge speakers. > a >sound that meant he was home. Mike: I love the sound of clunking metal in the morning. It sounds like victory. > He could relax. Tom: Now he can loosen _his_ belt. > He had >turned a profit. Crow: Ohhh, so this 'retrieval mission' was actually a scavenger hunt? > None of the other bridge officers could >hear the sound; their just didn't have the lobes for it. Mike: Oh my God, they converted the Defiant into a retirement ship! Tom: [elderly tone] What? Pass me that ear trumpet, I can hardly hear ya! > Nog rose from the captain's chair. Mike: [Nog] Sorry, sir. I was just keeping it warm for you. > "All hands, >dismissed!" The younger crewmembers scrambled for the >doors, Tom: [child #1] Race you to the holosuite! Mike: [child #2] Last one there's a Denebian Slime Devil! > while their older counterparts took it more >casually. The Ferengi tucked a Starfleet- issue sampling >case under his arm, Crow: He never goes anywhere without a supply of nutmeg. > a special present for Admiral >Sisko. Mike: A catalog with Metal Pages? > Something he had picked up on a former Dominion >world he thought the admiral might want. Crow: One of those bobbing-head baseball players? > Entering the outer docking ring, he the first thing he >noticed were the security guards, Mike: [Nog] Saaay, she's cute. And wow! Look at the caboose on *that* guy! > or rather, the lack of >them. Tom: Well, you see, there was this giant white rabbit... > For the first time since he had been issued command >of the Defiant, there weren't armed security personnel >checking every incoming ship. > This has to be good, Nog thought. The war must be >over. Mike: Yep. No need to worry about incoming ships. No need to worry about pirates and criminals sneaking in... > Either that, or we lost and nobody told me. Crow: So, Nog just spent some time on a deserted Pacific Island then? Tom: Uh... but then the war would still be over, wouldn't it? > He >followed the corridor toward the promenade. At just over >thirty, Mike: Oh! He's getting old! Quick! Replace him with a six year-old! > he wasn't all that young for a modern Starfleet >captain; Mike: But he was the right age for an ancient Starfleet captain. > but really, he knew, he wasn't ready to >command. Tom: [Nog] Odd, I thought playing "Star Trek: Armada" was good enough... > His sojourn into the Gamma Quadrant had been >gleefully accepted, knowing that former Dominion territory >wasn't about to challenge Starfleet; Crow: Yeah, they hadn't even heard about the war yet. > he spent a month with >the research team before Sisko finally sent the Defiant to >retrieve him. > But that was the old him, Mike: Yep, the him of a month ago was just so childish. > before he had been shown >this. He felt more confident and stronger now than he ever >had before. Tom: Sure, anything's possible with RADAR! > Yes, he decided, the Admiral would very much >like this. > Crow: [Sisko] Now why would I want a chocolate bar named after Ken Griffey Jr.? > Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, Mike: Oh look. She's arrived in the story. Tom: Our descent into Hell begins again. Crow: Hey, at least she isn't boinking anyone this time. > princess and >heir to the throne of Essex, Tom: Oh, for Pete's--! You mean Victoria hasn't procreated YET? > Commander of the starship >Enterprise, and newly-appointed Military Governor of the >planet Romulus, Crow: Wow, yet another title to put after her name! Thank you fanfic, thank you! > was having one of the worst days of her >life. Mike: After she lost the position of "Head of all Kid's Crews in Starfleet", life just seemed meaningless to her. > Not only had Starfleet found it necessary to ship >her off to this hellhole, Mike: They also ORDERED her there! Tom: We feel your pain, Marrissa. It's not everyday people like you HAVE to take orders! > but they couldn't even >appoint her a decent secretary! Crow: Starfleet must be getting their secretaries from the same place that Murphy Brown uses. > She sighed angrily, trying >to stare down the stacks of paper around her. Tom: [Marrissa] Take that, papers! Feel the wrath of my heat vision! > A phaser set >on ten would probably do the trick . . . Crow: [Marrissa] I might even kill an innocent Romulan while I'm at it! > She shook her head. It had to be done, Mike: Yes, she really *had* to shake her head! > authorized, >and sent off as soon as possible -- a term Starfleet >defined as "yesterday." Why couldn't it all be on PADDs? >She wondered. She already knew the answer. Tom: It was 12. Crow: [Marrissa] Those idiots sent me here to do useless work so I can't go off on another genocidal war! > The planetary >computer network had crashed during the final siege on >Romulus, and millions of records were destroyed Mike: The Stardate 2k problem strikes! > -- this was >just what had been recovered today. Tom: [Marrissa] They mustn't know my weakness for Quake... > At least she didn't have to worry about coordinating >Kids' Crews anymore. Crow: Those new taupe uniforms would go with anything! > Her sister Jackie had been good >enough to take the reins, Tom: She had the total lack of compassion down, but she could have been more sadistic. > letting Marrissa get back to this >oh-so-important desk. Mike: You mean... [dramatic] THE DESK? > Stretching, her stomach muscles >tightened; they were almost back to normal, Crow: [Marrissa] That Jenny Craig fellow can stuff it, I can workout by myself! > but >she still had to treat them tenderly after the pregnancy. > Sara had finally gotten to sleep around four AM, >planetary time. Tom: 4:30 in Newfoundland. > If Marrissa hadn't still been on >Enterprise time, she certainly wouldn't be awake, much less >in a black mood. Tom: [Marrissa] Daddy, do your little daughter a favor and get rid of time zones altogether so I can nap! > A reflection of sunlight caught her eye. Crow: [Marrissa] You're next sun.... >At least she had a window. Tom: Unfortunately, it looked out onto a parking lot. > Picard swiveled her chair, and >found that someone still hadn't cleaned the glass. Tom: [Marrissa] Damn it, Jay. Get your butt over there! > A >small streak of green blood, hardly noticeable at first, >seemed to scream at her after the last few days. Mike: The souls of the damned have finally caught up to her. > It was >the only reminder that someone had occupied the office >before her. Crow: Well, that and the dead bodies stacked up like cordwood. > Mud clots dotted the pane on the outside, and >the acid rain had made it streak, badly. Mike: Can't you Romulans streak right for once? > Not that there >was anything left to see, really. The courtyard had been >trampled, the tree was downed, and someone had graffitied >something in Romulan script on the wall. Tom: [Marrissa] What's that? "I was beaten by a bunch of" - how's that for irony? > Marrissa groaned. Crow: [Marrissa] Foolish peasants... > It wasn't enough that the Romulans >killed her parents, or started a war, or destroyed the >Enterprise-E; Mike: It wasn't enough they had the worst fashion sense... > now they had to go and make it personal. Crow: So killing her parents doesn't make it personal? >Unsigned death threats had a way of appearing outside, Mike: [chipper] Here's some more death threats for ya, Ms. Picard! Tom: [Marrissa, grumbling] Just throw 'em on the pile. >although fortunately no-one had yet had the sense to send a >bomb by the same covert means. Crow: Hey! I did too! [Tom and Mike turn to stare at Crow.] Crow: Whoops. Hey! Breasts! Mike: Crow!!!! Crow: [Mumbles] Works every time. > Yet. Every time she walked >through the street, eyes burned into her accusingly Crow: [Marrissa] Romulans have stronger heat vision than I do! Curses! > -- not >that she walked the streets often, or even very far. These >people hated her as much as she did them. Tom: Well, she did destroy their empire after all. Crow: But not as much as *we* do! > The late >praetor, Provik, said their ghosts would haunt her; Tom: In fact, she expected the first this Christmas Eve... > they >seemed to be doing well. Mike: Thankfully, Marrissa had an unlicensed proton pack and a beach kit, so she was ready for them. > Thank goodness this was only a >temporary assignment, she thought. Crow: [Marrissa] Otherwise, if and when I become the supreme leader, I'll send those idiots here! > Things were looking up when she noticed a memo from >her father, Jean-Luc Picard. Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, daddy's still alive? I didn't know that! Good for him! > As Chief Admiral of >Starfleet, Tom: [Marrissa] No wait, that's a bad thing, isn't it? > he could communicate with her as often as he >deemed necessary. Crow: Which for his sake, wasn't often. > Now that she was in the heart of the >former Romulan Empire, he deemed so just about daily. Crow: In fact, Jean-Luc just replaced John Stewart the 7th as the host of the Daily Show. >This particular communique, however, was an approval of her >request for additional security. Mike: So they issued her a fuzzy blue blanket. Tom: Are they there for security or for target practice? > Two hundred armed >security personnel were going to be arriving in a few days; >they would be spread out across the planet, Crow: Yep, just thin, greasy smears on the landscape. Tom: Starfleet said they'd "drop them off at Romulus," and they weren't kidding! > but it at least >make her feel better. Tom: [Marrissa] More people to order around! Yay! > What didn't help was yesterday's arrival. Mike: It turns out Hanson just makes them surly. > Four >temporal investigations officers had arrived, to make >certain no sling-shots, time-portals, or temporal devices >were used either in conquering the planet, Mike: If the planet's already been conquered, aren't they a little late for that? Crow: Of course not. They're the time squad! > or would be used >by Romulans for re-taking it. Tom: Whoops. They're forgetting about the time-traveling VW bugs. > Worse, six of the elite >Section 31 forces supposedly landed at the same time. An >admiral in her own right, Mike: Her right, their wrong. > and the daughter of Starfleet's >Commander-in-Chief, Marrissa knew of Section 31, but had >never encountered them personally -- Tom: [Marrissa] They seem like nice people. I wish I could invite them over for some poker. > so far as she was >aware. Mike: [dramatic sting] > Whatever their clandestine mission, Picard was sure >she wouldn't like it. Tom: Unless it involved lots of puppies! > Still feeling dark, she slumped in her chair, once >again trying to burn the paper with her gaze. Crow: [Marrissa] Alright, papers. This planet ain't big enough for the both of us... > > Odo was having a fantastic day. Tom: [Odo] The things you can do with plastics! > In three hours, he >had managed to capture four mercenaries wanted for >smuggling narcotic crystals, Crow: o/~ Three rednecks, o/~ > two petty crooks, Crow: o/~ And a nudist running around free! o/~ > and insult >Quark half a dozen times. Mike: Now he was ticketing Vedeks on the promenade for proselytizing without a license. Crow: Later, he was going to set up a speed trap out by the wormhole, just in case someone violated the Warp 5 Speed limit. > All he had to do now was monitor >the station, top to bottom, running security drills and >systems checks. That was the boring part. Tom: [Odo] If Jerry Doyle and Jeff Conaway can do this with a smug face, why can't I? > At least it had >been interesting. Mike: Wha...? The boring part had been interesting? > While the Federation security guards had >been swarming, no-one had tried the smallest infraction. Crow: Well, sure. Those security guards can sting! >Silly, Odo thought, the Starfleet guards were watching for >spies and saboteurs, Tom: The new role-playing game from Flying Buffalo! > not smugglers and thieves! Crow: Ok, this isn't Odo. > He grunted, Crow: This is a very grunty story. Does everyone have constipation or something? Mike: Maybe he's shifted into Babe's form. > crossing his arms, and leaning back >slightly in his chair. The diagnostic could run on its >own, and Commander O'Brien could fix any system problems in >a matter of hours. He'd probably be delighted. Tom: [O'Brien] Oh fun! Work! Thanks Odo! > After his >tour on the Enterprise, he should be itching for some >friendly patchwork, with parts that didn't fit. Crow: Umm... so this guy is looking for action with rag dolls? > Odo >himself was going to take a walk over to cargo bay 1, to >check Quark's latest shipment of "Bolian tea." Tom: I'll bet that wily mastermind Evan Lorentz is behind that tea! > With any >luck, the constable thought, I can lock Quark up on >smuggling charges, too. Mike: But it's just tea! [Pause] Oh. > That would make the day complete. > Stepping onto the promenade, he nearly bumped into >Nog, Tom: What would bumping into Odo be like? Bumping into Jell-O? Crow: Only if he's in his goop form. > just entering from the outer ring. The small Ferengi >scrambled to keep the case he carried from falling. Mike: [Sports announcer] Oh, and what a save by the Ferengi, keeping his eye on the case at all times! [The 'bots cheer.] > "Constable!" Nog said, cheerily. > "Captain," Crow: Captain Egg Nog reporting for drinking, sir! Oops, I mean... shoot! > Odo nodded, " I trust you had a pleasant >vacation." Unlike his uncle, Nog had more or less redeemed >himself in the Changeling's eyes -- such as they were -- by >joining Starfleet, and doing his best to become >respectable. Mike: Little does Odo know that Quark's 'merchandise' is in that case he's holding right now. Tom: And he's giving it to Sisko? Mike: Obvious ruse. > "Very much so! While we were surveying one planet, I >met one of your people. Crow: [Odo] And you literally 'had your people contact my people'? Don't you get it? > He gave me this, for Admiral >Sisko." Nog patted the box. Tom: [Odo] A suitcase bomb? They shouldn't have... > "One of . . . a Changeling gave you a present for >Sisko?" Mike: [Odo] Was it Betty? She's always doing stuff like that. > Odo asked, startled. "Are you sure it's benign?" Crow: [Nog] No, actually it's kind of petulant. >He started to reach for it, but the captain pulled it away. Tom: [Nog] Hands off, goopy! It's mine! > "Very sure. I opened it myself. Mike: Cue the dramatic music! All: BUM-BUM-BUMMMM!!!!! > Don't worry, >Constable, I know the Admiral will want to be given it >personally. I'm on my way there right now . . ." Mike: [Nog] Did I mention it wasn't a trick? > Odo nodded again. "Maybe I'll come with you. I'd >like to see this Changeling artifact for myself." Crow: It better not be what was in Marcellus Wallace's briefcase... > Nog shook his bulbous head emphatically. "This is for >Admiral Sisko. If he wants to show it to you, that's his >choice." The Ferengi moved off quickly, toward the >turbolift. Tom: [Odo] See you later too! Crow: [Nog, hesitantly] I'm not planning something! Mike: Well, that didn't raise any suspicion. Tom: None what-so-ever. > Odd, the security chief Crow: No, his name's Odo. Two O's. > thought. He would have >pursued the matter, but Nog was a Starfleet Captain now, Tom: And station security has no business in suspicious characters who are above-rank? >and not really subject to Odo's suspicions. What could a >Changeling want to give Sisko, the man who had started the >war that nearly destroyed the Dominion? Tom: A good level 10 phaser shot on the head? Mike: A CD Single of Britany Spears singing "Satisfaction"? > Certainly not >anything pleasant, but Nog said it was fine. Crow: Then again, Nog did like those Adam Sandler movies... > But who? Tom: Yowch! I never thought a character's internal dialog could give me whiplash. >Maybe a renegade shape-shifter? Someone who appreciated >the forced independence of the Founders? Mike: Someone who evaded Odo for over seven years? > Uneasy, he >returned to his office, to watch the systems diagnostic >more carefully. > Mike: Was he afraid it would try to escape? Tom: [Odo] Back to watching that progress bar... > Sisko called an impromptu meeting of his former crew >that night. Mike: So, Sisko used to row? Crow: He's probably a Yaley. Tom: You learn more about these characters everyday. > Kira was the only one who had actually stayed >with the station the longest; Crow: She stayed up late at night just to give it its milk. > the Starfleet crew had all >eventually been reassigned during the war. Admiral Sisko >had been commanding the Defiant more often than Nog, Mike: Even if Admirals aren't commanders of small ships and they sit behind desks most of the time. Tom: Not in Starfleet! > and >Doctor Bashir had run more relief operations than he would >care to remember. Crow: [Bashir] Take that, United Nations! > Dax, of course, had just barely escaped >the destruction of the USS Gorkon, Tom: Oh my God! You blew up a Star Trek fan club! You bastards! > and Lt. Commander >O'Brien had temporarily become the chief engineer on the >Enterprise. Tom: Just in time for Star Trek 2002: The Next Movie. > Conspicuously absent was Odo. Crow: He's still waiting for his hard drive to get defragged. Tom: Or trying to get that 'Bolian tea' Quark was so eager to get. Mike: Then again, can you ever be sure he's not there? > "My friends," Sisko began with a smile, Tom: Uh oh, he's smiling. Not a good sign. > "it's been a >long time. Crow: A long, lonely, lonely time. > A long war." Mike: [Sisko] A long show. A long contract. A long check... > He suddenly looked very serious. >Given the circumstances, they couldn't help but notice his >abrupt change. Crow: [Bashir] Wow, he changed his facial expressions SO fast! I wanna do that! > "Too long. Tom: Just a few fanfics? Please. The Hundred-Years war was MUCH longer. > Too many good people are dead. Mike: [Sisko] As well as too many bad people, but that's beside the point. Tom: Too dead. >And it's something I cannot in good conscience defend." Mike: [Sisko] So I'll arrange a transporter accident and let the evil version of me defend it. > They all regarded him quizzically. Bashir was the >first to speak, Crow: [Bashir] Can I go to the bathroom? Tom: [Sisko] There IS no bathroom! Crow: [Bashir] Uh oh. > "Admiral? What are you saying?" Mike: [Sisko] I'm saying, 'Julian, will you marry me?' > "I'm saying, Doctor, that I can't keep this up. Crow: [Sisko] So could you prescribe some Viagra for me? >Starfleet isn't the same job I signed up for. Tom: [Sisko] I'm not even going where no one has gone before anymore! > I'm sure >you've all noticed the changes . . ." Mike: [Sisko] Such as that busty ex-Borg hanging around the station. > He took a deep >breath, and began from another tack. "Doctor, you've made >captain. Tom: [Bashir] Not that I have any ambition, like everybody else in this series. > You'll be given a ship, asked to command until >you're old enough to retire. Crow: [Bashir] Great, now people will make bald jokes about me in a few years time. > The Chief has already been >asked; by this time next week, he'll be on a shuttle back >to Earth." > "Oh, and I'm *not* looking forward to it!" O'Brien >interrupted, only half-jokingly. Tom: Half-seriously? Crow: All human. > "After being on the >Enterprise, the thought of spending time trying to patch >this old Cardassian voletrap together doesn't have me >leaping over barrels!" Mike: It's about the equivalent of having him hiding in a bomb shelter. > He chuckled. "Actually, I >think I'll miss it. The challenge, I mean." Tom: The challenge for O'Brien, if he's up to it, is to repair three replicators - each on a corner of the station - in less than 60 seconds! Go! > Sisko nodded. "General Kira is being recalled to >Bajor in three weeks, Mike: [Sisko] Once there, she'll lead a revolt in the nation of Mesa Verde against the rule of the evil Senor Diego. Good luck, Generalissimo! > to teach at the Militia Academy, Crow: Ah yes, teaching them the old guerrilla tactics. Washing the enemy's laundry to get information, throwing Molotov cocktails at their leader's motorcade. Just like old times! > and >I'm supposed to become chief admiral in charge of fleet >deployments in this sector. Crow: [Sisko] I get to pick which ships go and die. It's fun! > Dax, if you were going to be >reassigned here, I'm afraid you'd be all alone." Mike: [Syral] But how will I share all of my many past life experiences? > The Trill shook his head. "I was transferred to the >USS Nereus yesterday. This is my shore leave." Tom: This station is one heck of a tourist spot! > "The Nereus? Crow: [Bashir] What does Mr. Sea god want? > The new science vessel? I almost took >that post!" Bashir lamented. "If you told me, I could've >asked for Miles to be our chief engineer." Mike: And then make him cook and "morale officer" when he outlives his usefulness. > Sisko interjected his hand, cutting the conversation >short. Tom: [Sisko] Hi-keeba! > "The point I'm trying to make, is that we're at the >end. Mike: Okay! Cue the montage! Darren, start singing! Tom: Wow! It's over! Crow: This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be! Mike: You guys *know* it's not that easy, don't you? Tom: [bursts into tears] I know .... > Our careers are winding down, Crow: [taking one deep breath] Retirement's coming! Who wants to play Bingo? > our families are moving >on. Old friends are becoming few, and light-years >between." Mike: Star Trek DS9: The Golden Years. > "It's enough to make you wish for the Dominion War >again, isn't it, Benjamin?" Syral asked, gently mocking. Crow: [Sisko] Yes! My lust for blood must be sated! BWHA-HA-HA-HA!!! >"When we were at our prime, Tom: [Syral] Speaking of which, could you pass me the Palmolive? > united as a team, working >together to save liberty and the Federation way?" He >nodded. "I've been in the prime of life eight times. Tom: [Syral] Or nine. Maybe ten. Oh hell, someone toss me a Star Trek Encyclopedia over here so I can look it up. >Things change, people move on Mike: Interest rates fluctuate. > -- everything in its own >time." Tom: [Syral] For every season, turn turn turn. > "It's *not* our time!" Sisko thundered. [The trio rear back in their seats.] All: Gah! Mike: Boy, even in fanfic, the man has presence. > "I'm not in >my grave yet! Crow: Avery Brooks *is* Blacula 2000! > We all still have decades to go, more than >half our lives to lead! Each and every one of us can still >_make_a_difference_!" Crow: What is this, a recruitment speech for the Federation Peace Corps? > Syral swallowed uncomfortably. Tom: [Syral] God, why did I have to swallow that tooth? > "I don't mean to snap at you, Old Man, but I don't >plan on being written off, just yet." Mike: For a guy who's not very selfish, he sure is out of character. Crow: [Sisko] I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Berman. > "Admiral," Bashir said, thoughtfully, "what exactly do >you have in mind?" Crow: [Sisko] All I can say is, it involves pudding! [Mike and Tom murmur and nod approvingly.] > Sisko grinned. At last. Cut to the chase. He >outlined the entire plan to them. > Mike: [Sisko] First, all of you need to buy e-business software... > Odo stopped. That shouldn't be there. Crow: [Odo] Note to self: Never form a nose *there* again. > He scanned >back again, looking at the sensor data. Tom: He's giving it the elevator look! Crow: [Odo] Woooooo-wee! Those are some good scans! > Whatever else the >war had done, at least it had gotten Starfleet to upgrade >the internal sensors. Mike: [Odo] Now if only they started scanning the station instead of checking out the blood flow in Quark's aorta. > What the constable was seeing made >him thankful for it. Crow: [Odo] Now my strangle-hold over this pathetic space station is insured! > Someone had been trafficking in >subspace, recently; a lot. Mike: Route 401's still accident-prone, is it? Tom: Increasing space traffic... for the future! > Nearly a dozen messages had >been sent to Bajor within the last few hours. All: Bum-bum-bum! Tom: Gosh, it sure is suspicious that a *Bajoran* station is trying to contact *Bajor*. > Another smuggler! The constable thought delightedly. Mike: Now he could complete the set! >When they come out, they come out in force! Crow: Whoa, are you guys getting that "World's Wildest Police Videos" thing too? Tom: [John Bunnell] No matter what they do, no matter how they try, they cannot escape the law! > He immediately >began to trace the encoded signal. Tom: Using onion-skin paper and a Number 2 pencil. > Someone had gone to a >great deal of trouble to hide their identity . . . Mike: They'll probably be hitting some porn sites later. > A signal lit up on his console, indicating that >someone in Ops was trying to reach him. Crow: Thanks. For a moment, I thought it was lunch time. > Quietly. He >touched the button, and unscrambled the frequency. Kira >appeared on the other end. Crow: Is this Odo's wake-up call? [All shudder.] > "Nerys! Tom: [Odo] Honey! > What can I do for you?" He rarely ever >cooed, Mike: Except when he shapeshifted into a pigeon, of course. > but this particular woman always had that effect on >him. Crow: [Kira] Are you cooing at me? > His edge melted away whenever they were alone, and >his brusque, businesslike facade dropped away. Mike: And his gooey, Jell-O side came into being. > "Odo, stop your trace immediately. Crow: You peeping Tom! Tom: Hey! Crow: Not you. Tom: Oh. > Don't investigate >those transmissions. Mike: [Odo] What? Have you been calling someone? Are you seeing another changeling? > Delete everything your records show >about them, by the admiral's order." Crow: Kira must have learned some things from Chelsea when she was on the station. > The Changeling paused. There was something not quite >right about her voice, Mike: [Odo] She sounds like HAL 2000? > regardless of her manner. When it >came down to a tense situation, the general always picked >up in her efficiency. "Kira, are you feeling alright? You >sound . . . different." Mike: [Odo] Did they recast you? Tom: How can she sound different in text format? Crow: Just nod and accept it, Tom. > She swallowed. "It's nothing, Constable. Just a frog >in . . . Crow: Her throat? No wonder she swallowed. Tom: [Kira] My lunch was horrid, you? > just a cold. I probably picked it up from the >Iberian freighter captain I yelled at yesterday." Mike: With your yelling and spitting? I think it's the captain that caught the cold from you. > Odo nodded, slowly. "Do you want me to arrest him on >criminal charges -- transporting dangerous lifeforms >without a permit?" Tom: [Odo] Carrying biological weapons? Disrupting the peace? Just name your charge. > He asked, completely monotone. If Kira >heard the humor in his voice, she didn't answer it. Mike: Or she just didn't think it was funny. > "No, that's alright. Just -- yes, sir --" she glanced >offscreen, Crow: [Kira] Sponge bath it is, sir! > "-- just forget about the messages. Kira out." > Odo started. Tom: Started what? Crow: [childish] He started it! > That was very peculiar. She sounded >less and less like herself as the events replayed >themselves in his mind. Crow: And more and more like Alanis Morisette! > Whatever was in the communiques, >someone didn't want known. Mike: Don't they have privacy laws? Tom: Not a chance. > He began to delete >the record, when he stopped to consider; they hadn't >forbade him to duplicate the data, first. Tom: But they told him not to investigate! Mike: Well, I guess it's OK for him to copy the files as long as he doesn't investigate them. Tom: Is that what they call "ethics," Mike? > Within minutes, all indications of a secret >conversation with Bajor was completely eradicated from the >computer. Crow: It's Odo for Cleansweep! > Odo tucked his PADD away into a safe alcove of >his office. Maybe he could come back to it later. > Crow: [Odo] I wonder if it was a transmission to buy a gift for me. How thoughtful... well, back to work! > "Sara, honey, please! Tom: [Marrissa] You've shopped enough for one day! > Mommy needs to sleep . . ." >Marrissa Picard groaned as she pulled herself out of bed >for the fifth time. Crow: Ever. She rarely sleeps at all. It's what makes her... unique. > One change, one lullaby, and two >feedings in the last six hours. Mike: And those were all for Marrissa! Tom: [Marrissa] I've crushed peasant uprisings and smashed Romulan scum, but these babies must be stopped! > She hoped the baby wasn't >looking to nurse again -- she didn't know what she had left >in her. Crow: Guts, and a black, black heart. > Maybe, she thought, I *should* get a nanny -- All: NOOOOOO!!!! Mike: In the name of all that is holy, do *NOT* bring Marrissa and Fran Drescher together! PLEASE! > I >can't keep this up. Crow: See guys, she *is* human. Mike: I dunno...let's see her try to do her taxes. > She padded into the nursery; this room, at least, was >carpeted. Tom: [Marrissa] Thank you Alexanian Carpets! > It had either been a secretary's office or a >holding cell, but no-one had been around to tell her. Mike: They had orders to stay 50 feet away from her while she's doing paperwork. > Sara >was kicking around in her crib, wailing at the top of her >tiny little lungs. Tom: I know exactly how she feels. Crow: [Sara] I gotta get outa here! You'll never break me, punk! I'll get out of this pee-pee-soaked heckhole! Just you wait! > The admiral groaned as she heaved the small girl up, Mike: [Marrissa] You've been sneaking donuts behind my back haven't you? >trying to cradle her while she herself fought the urge to >topple. She began to sing a gentle song, Mike: Dear Slim, I wrote you, but you still ain't callin' I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom... > words she had >known all her life, from when her parents sang to her. It >was old and melodious, from an old book her father -- her >real father -- had given her, half a lifetime ago. Tom: So, she was, what, six then? Crow: It better not be a Dick Francis book. He talks more about horses than Ratliff does. > It >wasn't Sara's favorite. Crow: [Marrissa] But who cares? She'll hear what *I* want to sing, and she'll like it! > Jay's rendition of something >called "achy breaky" nearly always did the trick, Mike: Nice to know that music didn't change much after the 1990s. Tom: It could be worse. Jay could do a medley of Backstreet Boys songs. > but he >was millions of miles away. Crow: He was on tour with the Plimsouls. > Nevertheless, the baby slowly >softened her crying, clutching tightly at her mother's >bathrobe, Tom: [Sara] Hey, I wanna know the tailor for this robe. Silky. > finally putting two fingers in her mouth to suck >on. Crow: [Sara] Mmmmm, finger food. > Picard swayed, partly to the song, partly from >fatigue, as her daughter quieted. The diaper was still >clean, All: Thankfully. > and Marrissa hoped the little vacuum wasn't still >hungry. All: NOOOOOOO!!!! Crow: We don't need a repeat of *that* scene either! > The tiny girl made a gentle contented noise, [The 'bots imitate a Tribble sound.] > and >the tension fell off her mother's shoulders. Tom: And the baby started crying again after the noise it made. > The >peaceful sensation that replaced it was incredible, Picard >thought, as she lowered Sara back into her crib. Mike: But it was just the Ritalin kicking in. > Stretching, she ran her fingers through her hair, Mike: Then she gave that sly, come hither stare. >letting the already disheveled follicles tangle by their >own accord. Tom: Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. > She slipped back down the hall to her bedroom, >thankful for the hundredth time that her husband Jay was >still on the ship. He had the most annoying tendency to >hog the covers. Crow: And he kept hitting on her girlfriends too. Damn that Jay. > Lying back, the admiral closed her eyes. Starry >patterns swirled and danced in her vision, Tom: Marrissa's screen saver's kicked in. > but . . . oh, >no, she moaned. She couldn't sleep, now. Adjusting her >internal clock to Romulus was hard enough without being a >mother at the same time. Mike: The moral? Jet lag and mothering don't mix. > If she had to choose between >the two, the whole planet could go to hell. Crow: Yeah, forget the planet, Marrissa needs some shuteye. > She slid back out of bed, feeling terribly awake. She >moved into the hall again, this time headed for her office. Tom: [Marrissa] Ho hum, can't sleep. I think I'll go draft some legislation. >The heavy doors loomed before her, imposing in the dark. >They gave way at barely a touch Crow: [Marrissa] Whoops, don't know my own strength! Do I have to pay for repairs? > -- just like these people, >Marrissa thought ironically -- tough and dignified from >outward appearances, but caving at the least provocation. Tom: [Marrissa] Although the war was pretty long and we lost a lot of people, but these Romulans are wussies! > The bare marble was cold on her feet, and she huddled >into her robe. Crow: Great. Now I'm picturing Marrissa as Hef at the Playboy Mansion. > If Romulus was nippy in the day, nighttime >was downright arctic. Tom: Wait a second, wouldn't that be too cold for Romulans, seeing how they're related to Vulcans and all? Mike: Let it go, little buddy. > At that thought, she bit her lip. There were no >holodecks anywhere on the planet; Crow: They all had Playstations instead. > if there had been, she >could have taken the Ellorim program, Sara, and just let >the Essex polar circle calm them both. She sighed. Tom: I guess the primitive furnace isn't available on Romulus either. Mike: They probably get their power from California, Tom. > Sitting at the enormous desk, paperwork still >littering it, she opened the drawer. Crow: [Marrissa] Yeah, this oughta be a good place to stuff all these papers into. > A triangular green >crystal lay inside Mike: The Triangle of Zinthar? > -- the Romulan equivalent to a >holophoto. Crow: Makes you wonder what their equivalent to a Polaroid is. > Shifting around the sides presented a different >picture, one of her father, Jean-Luc, one of Jay, Tom: Hawkins? Crow: I don't hear screaming. > one with >her friends when they were all together on shore leave, Mike: [Marrissa] Although for some reason they were all dog tired in the end. Maybe I didn't order them around enough. >and a beautiful portrait of the Enterprise; *her* ship. Crow: Wow, awfully possessive there, eh Marrissa? >Calming, Marrissa felt ready to sleep again. Tom: [Marrissa] Yes, reminders of my own power always soothe me... > She rose from her chair, just in time to hear another >cry from her daughter's bedroom. Mike: [Marrissa] The little brat must be facing off against another assassin. You get him, honey! Crow: Gee, is it me or is Marrissa becoming more and more of a slave to Sara? Mike: You just don't understand mothering, Crow. Tom: And you do? Mike: Shut up. > Exhaustion washed over >her once more. > "Oh-h-h Sar-a-a!" > Tom: AAAAH! She's trying to sing Bob Dylan! [All scream in horror.] > Two days later, the word came. Crow: Oddly, the word was "shoes". > All Starfleet >personnel were to abandon the station. Tom: It's becoming as dangerous as the Olympic Stadium in Montreal. > Two-hundred some >engineers, security, scientists, and officers were caught >completely by surprise. Admiral Sisko addressed the crowd >gathered on the Promenade. Mike: [Sisko] Good news, everyone! Berman's written us into "Enterprise"! We've all got jobs again! Bots: [Cheer] > "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, >please." The confused throng quieted below him. Tom: o/~ That throng, throng, throng, throng, throng. o/~ > "As you >are all aware, Starfleet has been ordered to depart Deep >Space Nine within the next twenty-six hours. Crow: [Sisko] But, since we're flying United, we'll probably have a good 30-40 hours to wait for the flight. > The Defiant, >Rhine, Rhone, and Rio Grande Tom: o/~ One of these things is not like the others... o/~ > are prepped and ready. I wish >you a good voyage." Crow: [Sisko] And yes, our in-flight movie is "Freddy Got Fingered", and I don't want any complaints! > That statement confused them even more. Was a >militant group trying to seize the station again? What was >he saying? What was one of the most respected admirals in >the fleet doing? Crow: And why was he wearing a kilt? > Sisko continued, "Let me explain. The First Minister >and the Kai have granted me special dispensation. Mike: Now you can call him Dr. Feelgood. > As the >Bajoran Emissary to the Prophets, they have requested that >I stay. Tom: [Sisko] After the most intensive persuasion latinum and a few phaser shots can buy! > Any and all staff members requesting asylum may >remain as well. However, let me remind you that such >action would be considered desertion. Before you all line >up to defect . . ." Crow: [random person #1] You wish! I'm going to meet my wife and children back home! Tom: [random person #2] Alright, vacation! Mike: [random person #3] Join up with what? Some tinpot state? [All talk randomly.] > he said, waiting for the crowd to >silence again, [All shut up, except Crow.] Crow: What a glorious day! Mike & Tom: [whispering] Crow! Crow: Oops, sorry. > "be clear: you may not be able to go home >again." Mike: So I've heard. Crow: And you never cross the same river twice. > The Starfleet crew began to jabber loudly. All: Rhubarb, rhubarb, Starfleet rhubarb. > Sisko >stepped back from the railing, where his friends were >waiting. O'Brien began the objection. Tom: [O'Brien] Badgering the crowd! Mike: Overruled. > "Sir, even if the >plan works, we *won't* be able to go home. Molly's >studying botany on Vulcan, Mike: The desert-like Vulcan? Crow: She's specializing in cacti. > and Keiko and Yoshi are on >Miriadis II, charting the seasonal change. Mike: If Molly leaves Vulcan at 0600 hours, traveling at a speed of Warp 5, will she reach Miriadis II in time for the equinox? > How --" Crow: Utterly boring! Tom: I'd rather watch the grass grow. No wait, that's what they're doing already. > "Not a problem, Chief," Sisko said, cutting him off. >"You retire next week. When you're a fully unlicenced >civilian, you can bring them all back with you. Syral, >Julian, this isn't necessarily a one-way street. Mike: [Sisko] It's a cul-de-sac. > When this >is all over, you should be able to go home with total >impunity." Crow: Sisko got Hugh Rodhman to arrange some pardons for them. > "And enjoy our own funerals," Bashir remarked wryly. Mike: [cheerily] Well, sure! What's a funeral without the guest of honor? > "I've done that before. It actually really helps the >family," Syral noted with complete sincerity. "They like >to know that part of us lives on." Tom: [Bashir] That's easy for you to say, you parasitic worm. Oh, what did I ever see in you anyway? > "Then why'd you risk telling me the plan, if I'm not >going through with it?" O'Brien balked. Mike: And the runner advances to second. Crow: Cool! Keep that DS9 baseball motif rolling! > "I've been in >Starfleet long enough to know what theft and desertion >are!" Tom: And I bet he knows what gross and net points are too! Mike: You have to be a Starfleet veteran to know what those things are? > Sisko patted his shoulder. "And loyalty. And honor. Crow: Since when did Sisko turn Klingon? >We need you to pull this off, not just for Syral and >Julian, but for them --" he waved his free hand back to the >personnel below, all individually debating whether or not >to stay. "-- and for the entire Alpha Quadrant. Mike: Gee, tone down the hyperbole, Ben. Crow: Yeah! Saving the Alpha Quadrant was the Next Gen Crew's responsibility! > For your >children's future." Tom: Great. We're in a campaign ad now. > The engineer glumly nodded. When he looked up, he had >a twinkle in his eye. Mike: And rosy red cheeks. Tom: Santa? > "I wouldn't want my son becoming a >captain before his old man!" Crow: [Sisko] Too late, T'Gwen Washington promoted him while his planet was under attack by a couple of Ferengis. > "You've got it -- Captain." > O'Brien gave him a look. "You can't do that, sir. >Promote me, I mean." Tom: [O'Brien] I was already promoted last week! You know how easy it is to get into the brass these days. > "I'm still a Starfleet admiral. Why the hell not?" >Sisko grinned widely. "Now, get to work, Captain. I have >the feeling that Starfleet won't just let this station go. >They've got a lot invested in it, especially with the >wormhole outside. This is when things become . . . >interesting." > Crow: Soon enough, DS9 stocks begin to fluctuate sending the war horde of Allen Greenspan into motion! > Odo heard the entire conversation, but didn't have the >slightest idea what they were talking about. Mike: Join the club, pal. > Theft was his >department, but desertion was a Federation issue. Tom: So it wasn't his business? > What was >the greatest danger to the Alpha Quadrant, now that the >Romulans, Cardassians, and Dominion were silenced? Crow: Agents? > He >waited until they left before altering his shape from >that of a chair. Pulling himself from a liquid state into >his typical humanoid form, he crossed his arms in thought. Tom: [Odo] Hmmpf! Leave me out of a conspiracy! We'll just see about that! > How long has this been in the works? He wondered. >And why is the admiral staying behind? Mike: Because he and Kirk Cameron have to fight the anti-christ. Duh. > If there was >something going on here, the senior staff clearly wanted >him left out. Crow: Maybe it was the "No Odos allowed" sign on the Ops door had something to do with it. > He thought of Bashir's old spy program, and, glancing >around to make sure he wasn't seen, briefly altered his >clothes to resemble a tuxedo. Time for the undercover >work. > Tom: What? Walking around in a tux is generally considered to be a bit suspicious! Mike: Ahem. Vic Fontaine... Tom: Never mind. > Marrissa Picard thought she would scream if her life >became any more "interesting." If she was going to be >military governor of this whole stupid planet, then she >should *stay* on the stupid planet! Crow: Good idea! Romulus has really good schools and the taxes are low! Mike: It's a covenant controlled planet though. Crow: Ooh. Never mind then. > But no, Starfleet in >its infinite wisdom, wanted her to attend a meeting at >Corvaldis IV, near the Cardassian border. Tom: So first she wants to get off the planet, now she wants to stay? > Her father could be so annoying! Crow: [Marrissa] He never lets me barrow his car, credit cards, lets me go shopping or stay up 'til midnight, or lets me stay on the phone... > Maybe he thought it >would be a good break, after her last week of hell, but all >it would do, she knew, would be to reaccustom her with the >Enterprise's daily schedule! Mike: What's her problem? At least she'll have poker night. > She closed her eyes. Jay had been hoping to spend >more time with Sara anyway, and Marrissa was so tired . . . >she supposed these things wouldn't aggravate her so much if >it weren't *that* time of the month. Tom: That time...? Mike: The cable bill's due. Tom: Ooooh. The Enterprise must have one hell of a big bill. > Taking a deep breath, >she lifted herself from the chair, part of her still >feeling pregnant. Crow: Her tongue still felt pregnant. > Her back, for one. Mike: Eww... there's an unorthodox way of giving birth. > Taking a step, she >winced. Her ankles, she noted, for another. Tom: Pregnant ankles? I'm trying to picture what the offspring would look like here. Mike: I'd be more concerned with what kind of parent lets both of their ankles get pregnant. > Sara was the admiral's first pregnancy, and she hadn't >been an easy one. Even now, two months later, the painful >reminders of her condition were still evident. Crow: Yeah, like that baby that seemed to hanging around the house. > Part of it >she blamed on the Romulans Mike: Whoa! Does Jay know about this? > for the war; Mike: Ah. Never mind. > throughout her >term, she had been in near-constant action. She hadn't >slept regularly, but that was hardly a new thing for her. Tom: Sleep was something Marrissa just recently heard of. Crow: Is the author saying Marrissa's a tramp? Mike: Um... it does kind of look that way... >She considered that she might just be a little out-of- >shape, but dismissed the idea, Mike: For she was the all-powerful Marrissa, and such things did not happen to her! > thinking of how often she'd >had to run up to the bridge, for some routine emergency. Tom: [basso] Oh yeah, well I ran to and from school every day. An hour run each day! Am I in shape? Heck no. > She supported herself on the desk, thankful for the >weight-training she had done since the Klingon >negotiations. Crow: Yeah, our hero, ladies and gentlemen... > She moved, at a snail's pace, hand-by-hand, >to the edge where her bags were waiting. Resting for >barely a minute, she pushed herself into a standing >position before tapping her communicator and calling for >beam-up. > The world around her sparkled; Tom: For once it didn't revolve. > then the dark green and >wood tones gave way to the more familiar beige and greys, >black panels and a variety of colors in the lights. Crow: That's not a beam-up, that's an LSD trip! >Easing, she almost sighed. Instead, she took a step >forward, and nearly crashed. Mike: [Marrissa] Oh, hi everybody! I'm taking control of this - woah, nap time! Tom: And she had the munchies something fierce! > Patterson Supra, the transporter chief, and one of >Marrissa's longest-time friends, rushed up to help her. Crow: [Supra, Igor-esque] Master! Wait for Supra! >How long had he been stuck down here? Tom: [Marrissa] Oh, I forgot to unchain him... > She wondered >dizzily. The thought vanished, fleetingly, as her vision >clouded. Mike: Well, you can't say Marrissa's ambitions were a little cloudy. > She felt the transporter dias beneath her again, >and the room blurred. > Mike: Whoo-hoo! Crow: [Marrissa, southern accent] I LOOOOOOOVE this place! Tom: Let's fade out of here too. [Mike lifts Tom up and the trio exits the theater.] [1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . ] [The Bridge] [The Bridge seems to be empty, although the surface of the console is covered with office supplies. After a few moments, Mike pops out from behind from behind the council and pounces on a stapler sitting on the console.] Mike: AH-HA! [After a moment, Mike stands upright.] Mike: Shoot. [He looks around for a moment, then begins sneaking up on the lights to Castle Forrester. He then grabs them, shouting. The bots enter as he does this.] Mike: GOTCHA! [beat] No, I guess that wasn't him either. Crow: Having fun, Mike? Mike: No, not really. Tom: What exactly *are* you doing? Mike: [sighing] I think Odo's loose on the Bridge and I'm trying to track him down. Crow: And you think he's here because...? Mike: It was all that he was doing in that last chapter. Tom: Makes sense to me. Crow: Me too. How can we help? Mike: Just start grabbing items until one of them turns into Odo. [Mike pounces on a pen.] AH-HA! [beat] Blast. Crow: I don't know. That seems like we'd be terrorizing helpless little staplers and pencil sharpeners. Tom: How did they find those guys on the show? Mike: Blood tests, I think. Crow: You sadist! You're not sticking anything into my little friends here. [cooing] It's okay, Mr. Liquid Paper. That meanie's not going to hurt you... Tom: Anything else? Mike: They used some sort of weird light too. Tom: I've got a black light on me. Mike: Really? Why? Tom: I was thinking about going to a rave later. Mike: Oh. Well, let's give it a go. Tom: Will do. [The lights go out and the bridge is light by the black light, causing everything to look all freaky and psychedelic. After a moment the lighting returns to normal.] Tom: Looks like that didn't work either. Mike: Where exactly is that black light? Tom: I had it installed in my dome. I've got a strobe in there too. Wanna see it? Mike: Maybe later. Well, I guess I was wrong. And I was sure that... Crow: Did the scary light scare you, little paper clip dispenser? That's okay. The mean man won't hurt you anymore... [Tom and Mike look at each other for a moment, nod, then lunge and tackle Crow, dragging him behind the console. Sounds of a scuffle can be heard as the dialogue continues.] Crow: [O.S.] Ow! Cut it out! Tom: [O.S.] Not until you stop playing Dr. Dolittle with the office supplies! Crow: [O.S.] Never! Owwwww!!!! Mike: [O.S.] Are you gonna stop? Crow: [O.S.] No! Owww!!! Stop! Owww!!!! Okay, okay! I give! I give! [The trio resurfaces, Crow seemingly in a great deal of pain. As they reappear, the Marrissa sign begins to flash.] Crow: How were you even able to get me in a wedgie? Mike: Lots of practice. I'll tell you more later though, 'cause right now WE'VE GOT MARRISSA SIGN!!!! [Mike hits the button and the lights begin to flash. As the crew rushes around, Cambot focuses in on a coffee mug on the counter.] Mug: Ha! The buffoon thought he could detect me, the greatest shapeshifter in all of law enforcement! [Cambot pans toward the doors.] Mug: And I, hey! Wait! Where are you going? I command to focus on me! Come back here! [The door sequence begins, despite the coffee mug's pleas.] [6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .] [Mike and the bots enter and sit.] Mike: Say, did you guys hear something as we left? Crow: No. Tom: Me neither. Mike: Must be my imagination. Third Chair from the Left: Yep. You're imagining things. Crow: See? > >END Section 1: Before the Dawn > Tom: START Section 2: During the Dawn. >From captain@work.matrix Sun Nov 01 19:12:49 1998 >Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative >Subject: NEW TNG Before the Dawn [PG] Part 2/4 >From: Iblis >Date: Mon, 02 Nov 1998 02:12:49 GMT > Mike: Good Morning Tehran? >Title: Before the Dawn >Author: Thomas D. Keeler (ANTISPAMtdkeel@maila.wm.edu) >Series: The Marrissa Stories, Ex Post Facto #1 >Rating: [PG] violence >Codes: N/A >Part: NEW 2/4 >Summary: Sisko secedes from the Federation, and takes Deep >Space Nine with him. Sequel to Stephen Ratliff's "After >the Storm" and prequel to Rob Tounts' "Hail to the Queen." > > > > At 2100 hours, Tom: 2000 Central. Crow: 2230 in Newfoundland. > three runabouts and the Defiant-class >prototype moved away from the station. Each runabout was >loaded to maximum capacity, and the Defiant carried >everyone else. Crow: Sounds like an average Delta flight. Mike: Folks are standing around on DS9 complaining about overbooking... > Of the station's Starfleet compliment, less >than half had expressed their desire to stay. Crow: Looks like public opinion is NOT on Sisko's side. > When they >were nevertheless herded into the Defiant and Rio Grande, >they were understandably angry. O'Brien piloted the USS >Rhone, and the station's Kid's Crew commander, Kennison, >had the Rhine. Tom: While Hitler had the Sudetenland, and Stalin had the Ukraine. > Nog and Dax had command of the Defiant, and >Bashir took the Rio Grande. They proceeded in formation >away from Deep Space Nine. Mike: As opposed to INTO Deep Space Nine. > Sisko offered his farewell to >his crew and his friends, saying, "May the Prophets guide >you." Tom: [Sisko] They'll be driving cabs on Risa, if you need to get directions. > Well, he decided, if I'm going to be the Emissary, I'd >better be the Emissary. > The remaining crew in Ops waited. Sisko, Kira, and a >handful of Bajoran officers stood respectfully as the >Starfleet ships moved off. Tom: [Kira] I'm betting on the Rhine, you? Crow: [Bajoran Officer] Defiant, it's always a fast ship. Mike: [Sisko] This is not a horse race, you two. > Their escort, the starship >Nevada, entered sensor range. Crow: Instantly, casinos popped up all over the Bajor system. > Sisko pursed his lips. If >they had waited another hour, the Nevada would have been >able to unload all the personnel at once. That would have >ruined everything. Tom: Yeah! Um, what are talking about again? > One at a time, the departing ships jumped to warp. >O'Brien led the charge, followed by Kennison. Mike: Sam Kennison? Crow: I hate my ex-wife! Oh, oh, OH! > Then it >happened. As the Defiant accelerated, something went >clearly wrong. Tom: Someone must have put sugar in the intermix ratio chamber. Crow: Or someone put a banana up the Defiant's tailpipe. > An explosion ripped out the starboard >nacelle, and the ship disappeared in the engulfing >blast. Following closely behind, the Rio Grande tried to >tear away, but vanished into the fiery squall. > The crew stood, shocked. Tom: Oh, the humanity! Mike: That's what happens when you make a hydrogen-filled warp core. > Both Rhine and Rhone dropped >out of warp, coming about to scan for survivors. > Neither found any. Mike: Then they decided to scan where the ships blew up, and they found scads of survivors! > When the Nevada arrived, their sensors detected >scattered debris, organic compounds, and plasma waste. Crow: What you would get in scanning any Iraqi military complex. >They downloaded the station's exact recording of the >accident, with the permission of a paled and furious Sisko. > "No more! I've lost too many friends! Tom: [Sisko] I'll have the Starfleet safety inspector's throat for this! > Captain, take >this back to Starfleet Command! I QUIT! That's my whole >resignation, right there!" Sisko bellowed. Crow: [Nevada Captain] I'm sorry. I dropped my pencil. Could you repeat that again? > "Get those >people out of here, now. If this was a bomb, *I'll* be the >one who finds the killer!" Tom: Start with Dennis Hopper! Mike: Or Tommy Lee Jones! Crow: Or TV's Frank! > Taking aboard the Rhine and Rhone, the Nevada >acknowledged, and moved off. Crow: [Nevada captain] Hell, we won't even conduct an investigation as per Starfleet protocol! Let the resigned old fart do it himself! > Kira, already in the office, stepped closer to the >desk. "Is it over?" > Sisko, smiling, shook his head at the blank >viewscreen. "It's never over," he said, softly. > Tom: It's not over until Marrissa sings the achy breaky song! > Odo, sitting quietly on the shelf, disguised as a >starship model, listened to everything. Mike: See? I was right. Odo just sits around and impersonate things all day. > It was strange, he >thought, that Sisko would change his mood so abruptly, Crow: Maybe he's pregnant! >after losing his friends and co-conspirators like that. >Odder still that he would immediately assume a bomb was >involved Tom: I don't recall hearing 'there MUST be a bomb' anywhere in that dialogue. > -- unless he suspected a Romulan spy? If it had >happened on the Enterprise last month, it could easily >happen here. Mike: Commie spies might be all over the station by now! > But why would he resign over something like >this? Starfleet had been everything to Sisko, ever since >he and the constable first met. Even if he were being >promoted away, he should have enough authority to postpone >the transfer until things were cleared up! Tom: Unless this would turn out to be as long as the OJ Simpson trial. > He watched as Kira and Sisko left the room, without a >word. He stayed still, running through the scraps of >information he had gathered since things started to change. Crow: [Odo] Sisko got bald, the Dominion arrived, Jadzia died, some really big war, some bigger war, some girl with strawberry juice... >Every computer terminal on the station was keyed to Ops; Tom: They're having a LAN party. Mike: Yeah. Sisko's really good at Starcraft. >not even Quark would be able to access the main system >without someone reading the entire transmission. The >only override was here, in the admiral's office. Computer >security hadn't even been this tight during the war. Tom: The Legion of Doom must be hacking into DS9's database. > Then there was this mass emigration. Mike: That was because of the potato famine. > For some reason, >Bajor wanted Starfleet as far away as possible. Tom: *That* was because of the short supply of deodorant. > Ever since >the Dominion War, Bajor had been building up its own >planetary defense fleet, so that in the event that the >Cardassian Republic became hostile, they would have the >proper protection. Crow: But for some reason, Starfleet didn't take them seriously when they asked for a huge quantity of Huggies. > But it was premature to send all of >Starfleet away! Tom: Smooth transitions? Nuts to that! Bajor claims DS9 with or without the peace deal! > Lastly, the former senior staff was behaving very >oddly. Crow: Last night, he caught some of them watching *Lifetime*! > Sisko had become a recluse, tending to his office >more than his quarters; Mike: He was collecting his toenail clippings and filling bottles with his urine too... > Kira was personally supervising >every function; Bashir had spent every waking minute >downloading the entire Federation medical database to >the station computer core; Tom: Actually, he's setting up the new music download site, Bashirster. > and neither Dax nor O'Brien were >to be found on the station. Crow: Funny. Odo seems to be suspicious of people who are long gone. > On the plus side, everyone had been too busy to notice >that Odo himself was consistently playing hide-and-seek. >If the Defiant hadn't been secured to a point of paranoia, Mike: [Security officer] Sorry we can't let you in, Odo. THEY might come in and get us! >the constable was sure, he would have been able to find out >what was going on in there. And, if the Defiant was locked >down so tightly, how *did* a saboteur manage to gain >access? Tom: Well, the Defiant always left an extra key under the mat. Everyone knew that. > Liquefying himself, he oozed onto the floor, Crow: Nice going Odo. Now Sisko's office floor may have a stain. > and >regained his humanoid stature. Moving to the computer >terminal, he used the encoded ID Quark had been good enough >to sell him. Crow: Quark's one of them 3l173 hack3r d00dz. > The isolinear rod alone had access at Sisko's >level, but without the free terminal, it was useless. The >bypass routine was simple, and Odo had total access within >moments. Tom: [Odo] I can't believe Sisko's password is "peekaboo". I mean, what kind of idiot would come up with a password like that? Mike: Stop taunting the other show's fans, Tom. > The first thing he did was to trace the data stream he >recorded the day the crew arrived. Breaking the encryption >sequence was child's play, Tom: [Odo] Although why the password spelled out 'woohooboogie' is beyond me. > and from that point, tracing the >message back brought him . . . Crow: An offer of 57 million email addresses for only $149! > "Sisko!" Odo said aloud, startled. "Why --" Of >course! That was obviously connected, somehow, with the >recall of Federation personnel. Mike: Or it could be just a call to see how the weather is down at Bajor. > He made a mental note to >decode the message content later. Tom: Odo IS Linda Tripp! > First, the admiral's >logs. Crow: Then, the Lincoln Logs! > Not the official station logs, of course -- those >wouldn't mention anything incriminating -- but personal >logs, Sisko's diary. He drew up the entry. Mike: Dear diary, today the dreamiest Andorian asked me out to the spring dance! I was thinking of wearing that blue, strapless number... > "Access restricted to Benjamin Lafayette Sisko," the >computer stated. "Please activate retinal scan for >identification access." Tom: [Computer] Or show your driver's license. > Damn, Odo thought. Crow: [Odo] How *dare* he restrict his diary to his own access? > He was an excellent shape-shifter, Mike: Can he do Martha Raye? >but individual retinae were too complex to mimic, even if >he knew the correct pattern. He canceled his request. Crow: And a pop up ad appeared. > All >of the former senior officers had done likewise, Tom: Uh--they'd all cancelled requests? >restricting personal logs to retinal identification. Not >even O'Brien, with the lowest security cipher, could be >overridden. Crow: [O'Brien] It hurts the eyes and all, and I may not be able to read for an hour or so after, but I don't want people peeking into my diary! > "Bah!" Tom: AIIEEEE!!! The Teletubbies are on the station! > He said in frustration. Something caught his >attention. Mike: A Pontiac Grand-Am? Here? On the Promenade? > An oblong, black box sat inside a Starfleet >sampling case at the desk's edge. Mike: [Odo] Ooh, After Eights! > It was the same case Nog >had been carrying for Sisko -- the "Changeling artifact." >Curious, he opened it. > "Constable!" Tom: Them cattle rustlers are headin' into town! > Odo snapped the lid closed. Somehow, Sisko and a >security detail had appeared without his notice. Crow: [Odo] Do you always greet your visitors with a security detail? >"Admiral!" Odo said, rising from the chair. "I want some >answers, now!" Tom: 1812! Gettysburg! Robert Heinlein! 4! > Sisko lowered his phaser, slightly. "I'm not an >admiral, anymore. Mike: [Sisko] I'm Supreme Fleet Admiral now. They just promoted me a few minutes ago. > And I can't give you what you want, Crow: But if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need. >because you would then have a duty, as the chief of >security for this station. Try to restrain yourself for >the next few days, until this is all cleared up, and I >promise, you'll have everything figured out." > Odo shook his head. "If you're keeping me from >fulfilling my duty, I can't accept that explanation. Tom: I don't think he's in the position to threaten right now. > Not >even the station commander is above the law!" Mike: [Sisko] Iamabovethelaw! > Sisko nodded. "I know how you feel. If I were in the >same situation, I'd probably react in exactly the same way. Tom: Except Odo'd be more gooey about it. >But if I tell you what I know, you'll find yourself honor- >bound to contact Starfleet." > "Only if it's in the name of justice!" Odo spouted. Mike: So he's shifted into a whale now? >"You know me, Sisko. You were there -- I decided long ago >that justice comes before the law." Crow: Odo is Steven Segal in Out for Justice II: The Shapeshifter who Shagged Me! > "I know," Sisko said, lowly. "And it's a matter of >law, and justice. But I'm afraid you wouldn't see our -- >my -- side of things." Tom: [Sisko] Whoops! Just spilled out a plot point! > "Justice is justice!" Mike: And we must zig for great justice! Tom: That hasn't gotten any funnier, Mike. > The constable defended. "Sides >are irrelevant! Mike: [Odo] Amnesty is futile! > As the chief of security, I demand to know >what's going on!" Tom: [Sisko] Very well. We're rigging next year's Oscars. [murmur] That'll teach them to snub "American History X." > The former admiral sighed. "This is the beginning of >the end, Mike: So where are the giant grasshoppers? > to launch the new beginning," he said, as >cryptically as the Prophets. At least, Odo assumed it was >cryptic like that. He had never been able to experience an >Orb vision, or talk with the wormhole aliens; they were >somehow incompatible with his fluidic mental patterns. Crow: Yeah, why try to make a pile of goo understand? >Seeing Odo's blank reaction, he continued. "Two things, >Constable: Tom: [Sisko] One, we've come to the conclusion that we need more gorillas in our life. Two: does this dress make me look fat? > number one, trust me. Number two," he raised >his phaser sharply, "I'm sorry." The beam lashed out, >catching Odo in the chest. > Crow: [Odo] Sir, you have it on "flashlight" setting. > Waking, Picard realized that she was lying on a bio- >bed in Sickbay. Crow: Ack! The other plot! Tom: Warn us when you do that! > Doctor Johnson was sitting in his office, >going over something on the computer. Mike: [Johnson] If I kill 8 more goblins, I'll make 5th level! Crow: Even in the 24th century, there's still no cure for Evercrack addiction. > Marrissa yawned, >feeling almost normal for the first time in weeks. Mike: There's the word. Almost. >"Doctor?" > Johnson looked up. "Admiral! Lie down. Crow: [Johnson] Now roll over! Sit up! Beg! > You need at >least another few hours' rest!" > "Another?" She resisted the urge to stay comfortable. Tom: [Marrissa] No! Must conquer galaxy! Don't want nap time! >"How long have I been on board?" > The doctor rose, striding over to the bed. He waved a >tricorder across her head. Tom: [Johnson] Nope, no signs of intelligent life here... > "Five more hours, at least. >Then we can talk . . ." > "_How_long_?" Tom: [Johnson] Five more hours. Geez, don't you ever listen? > He sighed. "Seventeen hours, twenty-two minutes. Mike: And thirty-three seconds. >From the look of things, you haven't had a regular night's >sleep in months." Crow: [Marrissa] And this has changed from my previous self in what manner? > He held up a hypospary. Tom: Ah. An injectible candy. Mike: That's hypospree, Tom. > "When Supra >beamed you here, I had to give you one of these to help you >rest." > "Naturally. I don't sleep for more than seven hours; >it's too inefficient." Mike: [Marrissa] Sleep is a sign of mortality! I will not have that! > Johnson chuckled. "So is burnout. Let me give you >another --" Tom: Burnout? Is he putting her on a treadmill? > "No," Marrissa refused, "no more drugs. Mike: [Marrissa] Well, perhaps some more crank... > I should >report for duty." > The doctor hit a console next to him. Immediately, >Picard's arms and legs were completely immobilized. Tom: What's this? Our megalomaniacal heroine, trapped on a bio-bed, forced to hear Johnson sing a few lullabies? Crow: Could be worse, Johnson might sing "achy breaky". [The 'bots snicker.] > The >doctor raised his eyebrows. "Computer, begin recording. Mike: Doctor! Now is not the time to make a party CD! >As CMO, I hereby find Admiral Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, >Princess, et al. to be medically unfit for duty." [All cheer.] Tom: Hey, there may be hope for this after all! > "Doctor, don't . . ." Crow: [Marrissa] I'll crush your head! Look! I'm doing it now! > "And it is my medical opinion, as well as my >professional mandate, that she be restricted to any one of >three places until at least 0900 hours: Mike: [Johnson] Out the airlock, through the photon chambers, or the nearest sun. > sickbay, her >quarters, or the holodeck. Barring any violent or >Kobayashi Maru scenarios, of course. End recording." > Picard slumped. Crow: And Tobias Bonds raced ahead of her in the HR category. > Johnson couldn't tell if it were in >resignation or relief. Neither could the admiral. She >clicked her tongue. "All right, Doctor, if that's how we >have to do it . . ." > > The USS Nevada cleared sensor range. Sisko and Kira >watched apprehensively for another ship to move in, and >waited. And waited. Mike: And waited. And waited. Crow: Do you think he'll come? Tom: Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful. Mike: Stop it. > Switching to wide-band, they had a view of the next >several parsecs. Crow: Wide-band! Who needs cable when you can peek into Hollywood or New York? > Nothing was in any great detail, but they >could watch the progress of nearly a dozen Starfleet warp- >signatures. It was enough to let them see that something >was up. Mike: Like that a lot of ships were warping? > Seven ships were off their routine patrols, and >two more were distinctly out-of-place. The group was >massing in the Corvaldis system. Tom: They're preparing to strike at the hated Spanish Armada. > "Conference?" The general supplied, hopefully. Mike: Worse, a Backstreet Boys concert. > "Not likely. I hadn't heard anything about it; and >this is my sector!" Sisko replied, sourly. Tom: [Sisko] They never let me in on their cool conferences! > "This is >exactly what we expected." > Kira looked at him. "What *you* expected. Crow: [Sisko, hesitant] That's what I said! Heh heh... I'm not under alien influence! > I couldn't >have planned things as far as the Defiant's destruction. I >don't know what the Prophets showed you, but you had to >work out the details, yourself." She looked back at the >star chart. "What happens next?" Crow: [Sisko] We panic like idiots. > Sisko set his jaw. "We fight. Tom: [Sisko] It starts when you speak slightingly of my intellect. Then I retaliate by criticizing your fashion sense. > Hopeless causes or >not." > "Sir! Signal coming in from Bajor -- it's the First >Minister." Crow: [Kira] Yes, Prime Minister? Mike: BBC Bajor is on the air. > Kelo, one of the Bajoran officers called. Tom: Remember that name, people. It may be the most important name in this story! > Kira looked to Sisko, whose expression relaxed, >slightly. "That's your promotion, Nerys. Now, all the >pieces are set." Crow: Any minute now, Death will be along to play some chess. > > "Admiral." Tom: Dickweed. Oh, sorry, I thought we were playing word association. > The call was so unexpected, Marrissa jolted. Mike: Why was she, a Starfleet Captain, getting requests? And for that "Lady Marmalade" song? > Reclined >in a soft tangle of bushes, she stretched. The sunset- >light off the horizon cast the hills a gentle bronze; the >air was sweet and caressing, with a gentle, warm breeze >catching her hair. Mike: This sounds like a shampoo ad. > In the Ellorim Mountains, time was >completely still, unless one watched the moons. Tom: The moons had big clock on them, you see. Crow: Say, is anyone else wondering what happened to Sara? Mike: That's right! Marrissa thought about giving her to Jay, but it never said she did ... Tom: The poor kid's probably still back on Romulus. Crow: Poor kid, nothing. She's probably organized a Kids' Crew government by now. > Picard had been dozing for what seemed like only a few >moments. Tom: It turned out to be a few centuries, but by then, nobody cared. > When the signal came in, she felt much better -- >too much better, for the effects of a five-minute nap. Crow: [Marrissa] Oops. I fell asleep in the poppy field again. Tee-hee. > "Admiral Picard, to the bridge." Mike: [Computer] Doctor Johnson, to the Brig. > She yawned, widely. It felt good. "Acknowledged." >She said, standing. She indulged herself one last bask in >the sun before ending the program. Tom: [Marrissa] Take that, UV rays! Pa-ha! > Entering the bridge, having stopped briefly to put on >her uniform, Tom: [Marrissa] Don't mind me, folks. Just putting on some clothes. Crow: Was she wearing anything earli - never mind. > she found out exactly how long she had been >asleep. Mike: [Marrissa] Ha! I beat my old time! > Corvaldis IV loomed on the main viewer. It >surprised her, to say the least Tom: Normally the planet wouldn't be so close that the saucer was hitting the atmosphere. > -- Romulus was a good >couple days' flight at high warp. Either she had been out >longer than she thought, or the Enterprise had been >recalibrating her own warp scale. Mike: Or the writer just decided to cut to the chase. > She strode down the >ramp, happy to find her ankles complying with each step. Tom: [Marrissa] Finally, the ankles are submissive once again! Mwahahahaha! >She slid into the center seat, turning to her husband, Jay >Gordon, who had been the acting captain for the last few >weeks. Crow: [Jay] I practiced real hard! Do you think this will go well on my resume? > "Report." > Gordon gave her a thin smile. Mike: [Marrissa] I asked for a report, not a thin smile! Can't you get *anything* right? [makes sound of a whip cracking] > "Welcome back, >Marrissa. We've been in orbit for ten minutes . . ." Crow: [Jay] And no one's started shooting at us! It's the most peaceful shore leave ever! > Picard stood again. "I should beam down, immediately. Tom: Good idea! Someone's sure to start shooting then! >Obviously this is an important function, if they're pulling >me off Romulus." > "It *is* important." Gordon said, catching her arm. >"But you're not going anywhere." Mike: You're under arrest for the murder of Adolphus Throwaway! > She yanked her arm away. Crow: [Marrissa] You *touched* me? Off with his head! > "What are you talking about? >I didn't just fly a hundred light-years at warp 9.whatever Tom: No, that was the drugs. >just to --" > "Actually," came another voice, "You *did*." > Picard swivelled, coming face to face with -- All: Q! > Picard. Tom: Damn! Mike: We'll be right about that someday. >Her father, Jean-Luc Picard, the commanding admiral of >Starfleet, stood next to her Ready Room door. He gestured >for her to follow him inside. > When the doors closed behind her, Marrissa found >herself in a position she hadn't been in quite some time, All: NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Crow: I don't want to know anything about this, Keeler! Tom: Miiike! Make it stop! Mike: I don't know how guys! I don't know how!!! >on the other side of the desk. The elder Picard sat in her >chair, behind her desk. Tom: Drinking HER tea! Wearing HER lacy under garments! > Taking the opposite seat, she >asked what was going on. > Picard explained. There was no actual conference; Crow: [Marrissa] What? What am I supposed to do with my coffee and donuts, then? >that was a ruse to draw a number of ships here without >worrying the surrounding systems. Tom: Not that a huge military presence anywhere would worry *anyone*... > "*What* surrounding systems? The closest thing to us >is Bajor!" Crow: Look out! They're throwing planets at Marrissa now! Tom: Mike! You could protect her by blowing them up! Mike: Shut your pie holes, guys. > Picard nodded, grimly. "As of stardate 61841.2, all >Starfleet personnel have been recalled from Bajoran space, >by order of the First Minister. Mike: [Jean-Luc] I believed he added a note saying 'nanny nanny boo boo'. > It seems Admiral Sisko, >former Admiral Sisko, may have had a hand in it, too. He >chose to resign his commission rather than leave Deep Space >Nine." Crow: [Jean-Luc] He was so excited when he heard of Starfleet's new pension plan, he just COULDN'T wait a few more decades. > He explained the situation, including the >destruction of the Defiant and Rio Grande. Tom: [Jean-Luc] There she was, just dancing through that dusty land then *BOOM* she blew up! > "I want to talk with the survivors. What members of >the main staff escaped?" Marrissa asked, thinking quickly. Mike: Well, Chuck Bronson did. McQueen's back in the Box though. > "After the beginning of the Romulan War, Sisko's staff >was reassigned and replaced with Bajoran and Kids' Crew >personnel. Crow: [Marrissa] That's nice, daddy, but I wanna talk to the survivors, not listen to your recap of last week's episode. > Of his bridge officers, only Lieutenant >Kennison and his Kids' Crew were evacuated. The only other >key figure who survived is Lt. Commander O'Brien. Mike: I guess he was the only actor available for this one. > I >understand he was your chief engineer for a time?" Crow: [Marrissa] Actually, he played piano in the ship's bar. > Marrissa nodded. "Clara's replacement for the last >few weeks of her pregnancy. He's supposed to retire in a >few days. Tom: [Marrissa] Ah. So, is he moving to Florida or Arizona? > They were the runabout commanders?" > Picard nodded his affirmative. > "I'll interview them at fourteen-hundred hours, sir." > Mike: After that, Hunter S. Thompson's scheduled to interview them for "Fear and Loathing on Bajor." > As soon as he regained consciousness, Odo demanded to >be released. Crow: [Odo] I need to call Matlock. He'll know what to do! > The containment cells had been modified over >a decade ago, especially for accommodating shape-shifters. Mike: It even comes with no air grates. Keeps shape shifters from spilling out, you know. >His own security precautions were working against him, far >too well. Not even the computer acknowledged his command >codes. Crow: The computer doesn't love him anymore. Tom: [Odo] But honey! I need to break out! Honey! > The deputy on duty obstinately refused to let him out, >saying his orders came directly from Admiral Kira. Tom: Admiral? What, was she promoted sideways into a different branch of the service? > Admiral! Odo thought; how long have I been out? Crow: Brendon Fraser is Odo in Blast from the Past II: Electric Boogaloo! > Within minutes, Sisko arrived. The constable gave him >a weary, suspicious glare. "You're not Admiral Sisko." Mike: No. I'm Ed Koch. How am I doin'? > The bald man shrugged. "You're absolutely right. I'm >not Admiral Sisko. As of 2500 hours two days ago, I no >longer hold any official, or unofficial, position in >Starfleet." Crow: [Sisko] I've been downsized. [crying] Oh, Odo! I feel so betrayed! Hold me! > Odo grunted, disgustedly. That wasn't what he meant. > Sisko knew it. "I am Benjamin Sisko, and Doctor >Bashir can prove it. Mike: [Sisko] I'm gonna have the dead man prove it. > I'm not a Changeling, if that's what >you're worried about." > The shape-shifter gave him a long, sideways look. Tom: [Odo] You're really winging this, aren't you? >"Didn't Dr. Bashir leave the station with the rest of the >Starfleet population?" Crow: [Sisko] Oh, right. Stupid me. Sorry. Guess I can't prove myself now. Ah well, die anyways. > "Technically, yes. Officially, yes." > "On the Defiant?" > "Yes." > "The same Defiant we watched explode?" > "Yes." > "And he's still here?" > "Yes." Crow: Deep Space Nine is becoming almost Voyager-ish in its plot inconsistencies. > Odo knew a long story when he heard one. "Can I be >released, now?" Mike: Being held against his will listening to a long story... does this sound familiar, guys? Tom: Nope. Crow: Not a bit. > Sisko shook his head. "There are a few . . . >assurances we have to have, first." Tom: [Sisko] Remember that time someone smuggled those 50 barrels of butterscotch on board and poured it all over your quarters without you knowing? Well, guess who? I must say that it was the slowest prank I ever made. > He began explaining >what most of the conspiracy around the station had been, >for the last few days. Leaving out a handful of details, >he gave the constable enough of the story to ease his >suspicions. Mike: Well, Sisko's become a James Bond villain. Tom: He'll be stroking a white Persian cat soon. > "I see," Odo finally said. "If you had told me this >before the Defiant left, you thought I would sabotage the >plan, or contact Starfleet myself." Crow: [Sisko] Well, you're just a tattletale, but that explanation will do just nicely. > The former admiral nodded. > "Good thought. Tom: [Odo] But I'm still squealing, though. > Grand theft of a starship -- a warship >-- especially one with a cloaking device, would catch >Starfleet's attention. What do you need them for?" Mike: [Sisko] I'm going to head back in time to destroy Starfleet. And I'm going to wear a Spock tie while I do it. > Sisko paused. "I don't know, actually. Tom: Geez. At least Son of Sam had a talking dog to justify his actions. > But I have to >have the Defiant. Crow: [Sisko] It's mine! It's got my diary in there and everything! > The Rio Grande was incidental -- for old >times' sake. She's been with us from the start. Mike: [Sisko] Plus, she's paid for! > At this >point, it doesn't matter. Once the holographic fireball >took over, the cloak engaged; the Rio Grande and Defiant >were safely cloaked, and effectively derelict spacecraft, >open for salvage rights. Crow: Good grief. Mike: Who's giving Sisko legal advice? Blackbeard? > My crew salvaged, not stole, >them." Tom: I'm sure a grave robber can say the same thing about dead corpses. > Odo rolled his eyes. "And, because that kind of fraud >is *very* illegal, you knew you couldn't tell me." > "Justice or not, your duty was clear." > "Please. How was justice a factor?" Crow: This from someone who earlier made a big deal about justice. > Sisko explained that the crew who opposed Starfleet >policy needed protection, Tom: Well sure, since they're criminals now! > that Starfleet was losing sight >of itself, Crow: It was getting so fat that it couldn't see its own feet! > and that sometimes, even the good guys can be >wrong. > The constable nodded. "You were right about me. I >would have followed protocol. Justice and justifiable are >not the same thing. *Now* can I come out?" Mike: Ick. I just pictured Odo's belly button beginning to sing. > "Alright. But under two conditions. One, you will >not have communications access outside of the station, for >now. Two, Tom: [Sisko] You morph into a bunny. I just love that trick! > until the Bajoran Council of Ministers reaches >its verdict, you will not be chief of security." Crow: [Aussie] Three: No poofters! > If Odo were human, he would have swallowed. Mike: Instead, he just flooped and hopped around, shaking his wadoozle. >Reluctantly, he agreed to the terms. > Tom: But he added in a rider that he'd get a half mil if they made the playoffs. > "You kept pretty close tabs on them, then, Chief?" >Marrissa asked, feeling agitated. Crow: [Odo] Well, they were out of Pepsi One. > O'Brien nodded. "The flight recorder has t