Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 4-1

STAR YECCH! DEEP SHIT 69 CHAPTER IV - A "HOLE" LOTTA LOVIN'... or, THE SHRILL OF A ROMANCE

Special Guest Stars:
Bob Foreapples as Gul Droppings
Joey Buttawipo as Gul Lattrek
Charlie Horse as Colonel Moppett-DeFleur
Kenny Bunkporte as Captain Oedipus Recks
Norman Conquest as Commandant Sam Buca-Romana

SHIP'S STATION LOG, STARDATE 9411.09: Major Keepyer Handsof, Acting Commander, reporting. After numerous mystery clues and with the blessing of her Holiness, the Kai, Commander Krisko has entered the gasshole. This act has swept through the Majoran religious community with a mixture of profanity and reverence. But I do not have time to debate the implications of Krisko's bold move, for the station is being approached by a flight group of Hardassian Marauder-class fighters.

As the Hardassian group approached the station, O'Brother and Lieutenant Broad held double-duty, monitoring the runabout containing Commander Krisko and keeping position with the Hardassians.

KPR: Justa, have you notified Starfleet?
JST: Aye, Major,..but with our remote position, it'll take a few minutes to get a response. What about the Majoran militia?
KPR: What craft they have is only border cruisers and they're no match for that fleet. Damn! What about shields?
MOB: My crews were still installing Federation-level shielding to this place when this happened. What little we have won't survive more than a glancing assault.
JST: Keepyer, how mobile is this station?
KPR: Mobile? You mean beyond gravity gyros?
JST: Yes.
KPR: Well,...we have thrusters to move the station about for repositioning the solar arrays, but they aren't capable of much speed.
MOB: I can reroute some of the station's power to the thrusters to give us more maneuvering room.

Before Major Keepyer could reply, she was hailed from the Hardassian fleet. The glaring vision of a high-ranking Hardassian filled the front viewscreen.

DRP: Station Number 69, this is Gul Droppings of the Fourth Order. I would speak with your commander.
KPR: Gul Droppings, this is Major Keepyer Handsof, acting Commander of this station. Do you realize you're violating our non-aggression treaty??
DRP: What violation, Major? We just came here to witness a new opportunity to expand the Hardassian Empire.
KPR: What,...what opportunity?
DRP: Major, I'm not playing dumb with you,...I mean, don't play dumb with me!! I know where your Commander Krisko went! He entered what your scientists had declared to be the first stable gasshole in space!
KPR: How,...how did you know?
DRP: I have my methods, major.
MOB: (muttering) That bastard, Garbaj!
DRP: Garbaj?? I must be serious,...I mean, are you kidding? We drummed Garbaj out of the fleet years ago.
KPR: And left him here on a Majoran space station. How convenient!
DRP: "Coincidence," Major. Now, if you have no further objections, we shall take up positions to greet Commander Krisko when he returns.

Before Major Keepyer could protest further, the Hardassian cut the commlink. Keepyer pounded her fist to the console in frustration. Odor entered the command center, visibly flustered himself.

ODO: Keepyer, what gives?? What are those Hardassians doing out there?
KPR: Oh, Odor! They're laying claim to the gasshole!
ODO: How did they find out about it?
KPR: Probably your pal, Garbaj, although they deny it!
ODO: Bastards! I'll have my men bring that fool in for questioning!
KPR: I'd look into the little Ferengi weasel, Quirk, too. He'd sell out anything to the highest bidder.
ODO: I'm on it, Major.

As the station became a hotbed of chaos, Krisko was enjoying a more tranquil scene. Upon entering the gasshole, his field of vision was filled with bright lights and changing shapes. Voice, both familiar and strange, filled his head. As though guided by some unknown force, he piloted the runabout to a planetoid that suddenly appeared before him. Despite the runabout's failure to indicate any real planets, he landed and exited the Genghis Khan to find himself again in that Iowa cornfield. Immediately, he looked about for his wife, Marla. After minutes of frustrated searching, he had all but given up hope for finding her; but then, he heard her familiar voice calling him again. He followed the voice through the cornfield until an opening appeared before him. It was a baseball field, just like the ones Krisko had played on as a child! And standing on the pitcher's mound was his wife, Marla.

MLA: You entered the hole, now I will come!
KRS: Marla, is that really you?
MLA: Ooooh, yes! Yes!! YES!!

As Krisko enjoyed this spectacle, the standoff at the station continued. Major Keepyer paced the floor of the Ops as she awaited a response from Starfleet.

KPR: Any word yet, Justa?
JST: No more that in the last five times you've asked me, Keepyer.
KPR: Sorry. What about Krisko's runabout?
JST: My sensors indicate that he's at a standstill somewhere deep in the hole, but the gasshole's electromagnetic fields are disrupting my scans.
KPR: Is the hole maintaining its stability?
JST: For the time being, yes, but Benjamin needs to get out of there in the next twenty minutes, before it collapses and traps him,...gods only know where.
MOB: Major, that communique' you were waiting for is coming through.
KPR: Praise the Prophets, O'Brother! Put it through!

The viewscreen came to life with the unexpected logo of the Starfleet Marine Corps. The Major glanced nervously towards her Starfleet cohorts and back to the viewscreen in time to face the Corps' representative. He was a squat-looking, stern man who glared at the viewscreen and seemed to look right through Keepyer. A caption line below his visage identified him as Commandant Buca-Romana. He spoke to the Major without preamble.

SBM: Major, I'm Commandant Samuel Buca-Romana. I got your communique' through Starfleet Command. Seems your Commander has set off a real hand grenade out there.
KPR: Why,...yes, Commandant. And you also know that we're under siege by the Hardassians?
SBM: Yes, I do. However, there lies the biggest problem. Your treaty with the Federation and the Hardassian Empire never stipulated this,..."gasshole." In turn, the rights to whatever is on the other side is a game of "finder's keepers."
KPR: Surely, you're joking, Commandant??
SBM: Marines never joke, Major. And don't call me "Shirley!" If you want to go on a first-name basis, call me "Sam."
KPR: Aye, sir.
SBM: And don't call me "Sir;" I work for a living,...on second thought, call me "sir." This is the most exciting thing I've dealt with in ages!
KPR: Commandant! What about the Hardassians? Is Starfleet going to let them waltz right through the gasshole and claim it?
SBM: No, Major. If I read the treaty right, Commander Krisko holds the rights to the hole, for now. If he makes First Contact with any life forms on the other side and gets back to us first, we then have the first rights for a treaty. If not, then the Hardassians can lay a similar claim.
KPR: But he's up against a squadron of Marauders, sir! And we're practically defenseless out here!
SBM: I know the situation, Major. I'm sending a contingent of Starfleet Marines as we speak. They'll secure a safe flight path for Commander Krisko. But I want to warn you, Major: the Federation is in no position to start another war with the Hardassians! If need be, we'll withdraw the rights to the gasshole to ensure peace in the quadrant.
KPR: But, Commandant...!
SBM: Orders from the Big Team, Major.
KPR: The Majoran envoy will protest this, you know.
SBM: It's out of my hands, now. Good luck.

The screen returned to a view of the expansive Hardassian fleet. Major Keepyer screamed obscenities in Majoran, while Lieutenant Broad sat passively, waiting for her to calm down.