Star Yecch!

WARNING!

2006-12-31T19:31:00.000-08:00

Ok,...before I start posting my Star Trek parodies, just a few words of warning:

These are parodies. You MUST have a sense of humor to read them
None of my stories have any relevance to the entire Star Trek Canon
It was, is, and always will be my intention to upset, annoy, skewer and insult as many ethnic and racial stereotypes out there. Thin-skinned humanoids need not go any further
On the advice of my lawyer, I can only post original rough drafts, since all of these stories are copyrighted and I am still trying to get them published.

That said,...beam yourself up and enjoy!

Spaced,..the final frontier!

2006-12-31T19:10:00.000-08:00

Yes,...this is the first of many posts.

Having discovered the power of blogging, I will soon start posting some of older Star Trek parodies.

Once that's done, I'll begin with the new one I'm working on "Star Yecch!: Boobyprize."

Beam me up, Scotty!

Star Yecch! Boobyprize Chapter 1

2006-07-03T15:02:00.000-07:00

Captain's Log: April 3, 2155:

I have been urgently summoned to the offices of the Earthfleet Admiralty. From the sound of her voice, Admiral April-Lynn Parris was clearly upset by something, probably caused by the Vulcans yet again.

I hope this isn't another attempt by those pointy-eared bastards to stall our inter-galatic exploration program again!

Captain Archway entered Admiral Parris' office to find her sitting at her desk, flanked by several sour-looking Vulcans. Her expression was a mix of irritation and worry, something Archway had never seen before. He saluted and was motioned to take a seat across from the Admiral.

APL: Jonathan, allow me to make the introductions.....

One of Vulcans stepped forward and spoke without preamble.

STD: I am S'Toned.
ARC: As always, I see, Ambassador.
APL: Jonathan!
STD: This is Commander S'Mack of the Vulcan Science Academy and Sub-Commander T'Art of the Vulcan Defense Fleet.
ARC: A pleasure, as always, Ambassador. So,..what do they say we did wrong this time, Admiral?
APL: I'm afraid recent events have forced us to move up the timetable on the Trans-Galactic Initiative.
ARC: How so?

The Admiral directed Archway to a viewscreen on the wall. A picture appeared of a large, swarthy male with a bony forehead. Data scrolled under the picture and several thumbnails showed the same person on a stasis bed, under heavy guard, in Starfleet's Medical Center. Admiral Parris continued.

APL: The Vulcans tell me this is called a "Klingot." He crashed last week in Iowa. The Press Corps is spinning the story for the time being.
STD: Forgive me, Admiral, but he's called a "Klingon."
APL: I stand corrected, Ambassador.
STD: As always, Admiral.
ARC: (chuckling) I always thought Klingons were only found around Uranus!
TRT: The Klingon Empire has not yet made a presence in this solar system, Captain.
STD: The captain is trying to use humor to defuse this situation, Sub-Commander.
TRT: Yes,..humor,..it is a common emotion among humans. It is difficult to understand. Its lack of logic contains many idiots.
STD: Idioms, T'Art.
TRT: Yes, those as well.
APL: Can we get back to the matter at hand?
STD: Surely, Admiral.
APL: And don't call me "Shirley," S'Toned.
ARC: What significance does this "Klingon" have to the Extragalatic Expedition, Admiral?
APL: I'll let Commander S'mack answer that one, Jonathan.

S'Mack walked over to the viewscreen and loaded his presentation.

SMK:With the help of local Earth forces, we retrieved what remained of the Klingon's ship. From the debris, it appears to be a single-person transporter, suggesting he is a courier. We have also examined his belongings: his uniform also bore the insignia of an Imperial courier and he was carrying a data crystal using a standard Klingon Imperial Stellar Forces encryption. From this data, we have concluded that the Klingon was transferring data vital to the Empire.
ARC: OK,..to what end? As the Sub-Commander stated, these Klingons have no business with Earth.
TRT: That is incorrect, Captain. I stated the Klingons have not yet made a presence in this solar system.
ARC: Details,..
APL: We believe the Klingons are spying on us and this courier was sending back surveillance information to their Empire.
ARC: Spying? To what end?
SMK: The most logical reason would be to further expand their empire. They are a race of warriors. Logically, with Earth dabbling in warp-field technology, their curiosity has been aroused.
APL: "Dabbling....?"
ARC: "Dabbling??" My father worked himself to death putting the Trans-Galactic Initiative on track! How dare you insult his memory like this!

A quick cacophony of arguments ensued. Parris, annoyed enough by the Vulcans' presence, slammed her fist down on the table to bring everyone back to her attention.

APL: ENOUGH!! Bickering isn't going to solve this problem. S'Mack,..what plans do you have?
SMK: With the help of the medical team, we plan to interrogate the Klingon.
APL: Will that work?
TRT: Klingons are known for their stubborn nature. Any interrogation will require some degree of,..
SMK: T'Art! We are not to speak of that in front of outworlders!
TRT: Understood.

Admiral Parris and Captain Archway exchanged quizzical asides.

TRT: Admiral, it was my understanding that your medical team has cleared the prisoner for interrogation?
APL: Well,..Dr. Flummox says he's stable, but beyond that, I don't know about his ability to stand,..
TRT: Then I will begin the interrogation shortly.

With that, the Vulcan contingent exited without comment. Archway, able to read the Admiral's expression, followed them through the halls of Starfleet Headquarters to the Medical Unit. There, Archway spotted the "Klingon" lying supine on a medical table. A strange-looking, spotted humanoid attended to him. Archway recognized him as a member of the Medical Xeno-Biologic Fellowship, a group formed by the Terran and Vulcan Medical Association to prepare Starfleet physicians for the non-humans they would eventually encounter in space.

ARC: Are you Doctor Flummox?
FMX: Yes. May I ask who you are?
ARC: I'm Captain Jonathan Archway and this is,...
FMX: ...Sub-Commander T'Art. Yes, I've received communiques from her about the Klingon for several days, now.
TRT: And for several days, you have obstructed our investigation into this incident, Doctor.
FMX: Because, Sub-Commander, it is impossible to interrogate an unconscious person!
TRT: Vulcans have ways of overcoming that obstacle.
ARC: Really? I thought S'Mack instructed you not to speak of that in front of us "outworlders."
TRT: I have not. I merely stated that fact that Vulcans possess the capability to overcome this obstacle.
FMX: Dear Captain, you'll have a better debate with a brick wall than a Vulcanian.
ARC: I see, Doctor.
TRT: Shall we commence the debriefing?

Flummox simply shook his head and went back to the Klingon. He quickly injected the Klingon with a stimulant and stood back. After several tense moments, the Klingon awoke and began to growl and struggle against his restraints.

KLG: nuqneH?
TRT: Pong soH?
KLG: tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh'a'!
TRT: Viyaj.
KLG: Maavik jIH. Cozaar quv, Aventis vaS!

T'Art turned to Archway and translated.

TRT: He says he is Maavik, the son of Cozaar, of the House of Aventis.
KLG: Maavik jIH!
TRT: 'urwI' qar'a'?
KLG: Grrrr,...SuvwI'yIH!
TRT: He says he is not a spy, but a warrior. This is a typical response for a Klingon.
KLG: Maavik jIH! SuvwI'yIH! Maavik jIH! SuvwI'yIH! Maavik jIH! SuvwI'yIH! Sto-Vo-Kor ghoS yIH!

Suddenly, the Klingon went into a seizure and collapsed. Flummox and a medical team worked feverishly on him for several minutes while Archway sweated and T'Art stood still and composed.

FMX: I'm,...sorry, Captain. He's dead!
ARC: Was that a "typical Klingon response, too?"
TRT: The Klingon philosophy is to die honorably rather than submit to what they consider "inferiors." Sto-Vo-Kor is analogous to your "heaven."
ARC: "Inferiors," meaning us? Humans?
TRT: All non-Klingons.

Archway walked over to a comm panel on the wall.

ARC: Archway to Admiral Parris: we have a problem.
APL: A problem? What is it?
ARC: An unforeseen impediment to our progress, Admiral, but that's not important right now.

As Archway was berated by the Admiral for his latest bon mot, T'Art withdrew a communicator from her cloak and contacted her superiors.

TRT: O'S'Mack,...Kh'Lingoon, y'motal.
SMK: Tevakh? Ripabukh-yehat.
TRT: Ri'Taldor gisam, ne'angum annem-torem.
SMK: Ha, vun'etek dvun-tor sahrisau luf'T'Kh'Lingoon.
TRT: Ha. E'Var-tor'allo dan-neruk'komihn duhsut.
SMK: Te'Kahrtau'lleush ovsot'nam.

T'Art returned the communicator to her cloak. Without further comment, she returned to the Admiral's office, with a quizzical Archway in tow. Moments later, she entered the Admiral's office, barely acknowledging Archway's presence.

ARC: Sub-Commander, what was that all about?
TRT: Admiral, we must move up the Trans-Galactic Initiative. Your use of warp technology must not return to Qonos.
APL: Jonathon, how soon can you be ready?
ARC: Well,...Quint's already on-board, testing the warp drive,...most of the support staff has been installing fixtures for weeks. I need some expendable extras,....I'll have to call up some of the others. And my communications officer is still in Brazil, ma'am! I'll need to send her a wire. Can I use your dictaphone?
APL: No, you may not! You'll use your fingers like everyone else,....and, your suggestion is actually anatomically impossible.
ARC: (muttering) Not from I've heard,...
APL: Archway!!

A chirp from T'Art's communicator saved Archway from a probable demotion. T'Art again conversed in Vulcan, then turned back to the Admiral.

TRT: Admiral, our sensors are picking up a stellar object at the edge of your solar system. Logic suggests this may be the Klingon's home ship or contact vessel.
APL: Jonathan, get your ass in gear, now!
ARC: Aye, sir,..ma'am,..sir!

And meanwhile, at the edge of the Sol system, a larger ship dropped out of warp.

Star Yecch! Boobyprize

2006-05-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

Cerebral BlackHole Productions
with the complete lack of cooperation of
Blogger.com

prevents:

Star Yecch! Boobyprize
The Story of How We Think the Legacy Began!
"Not Based on a True Story"

Cast of Caricatures:
Scott Dracula as Captain Jonathon Archway
Jolene Liplock as Commander T'Art
Bobby Pinn as Lt. Commander "Quint" Tucker
Otto Mattick as Lt. Commander Talcum Powter
Monte Lukast as Ensign Merryjane
Mu Cao Pai as Ensign Sushi Tojo
Stu Beef as Doctor Phlummox

and,...

Jacques Tootite as Captain Jean-Luc Dildeaux
Jonathan Flakes as Commander Updike
Max Headroom as Lt. Commander Input
Ginger Snapps as Dr. Beverly Chestcrusher
Michael Dornobb as Lieutenant Barf
Peg Filgrastim as Ensign Yo Babe
Whoopi Cushion as Giaboni
Al Aska as Lieutenant Georgi LaFart

PROLOGUE
(equal time will be given to the anti-logue people later)

It is the year 2154. Earth, having survived the Eugenics War, the dissolution of the Untied Nations, and the elimination of the UPN network, is finally at peace. Having finally gotten over the horror that was Star Wars Episodes 4 through 6, mankind is now ready to explore space.

Under the watchful eye of the Vulcan Science Academy, Earth scientists have finally engineered a practical way to utilize the warp theory technology developed by Alpha-Centauran-turned-human Zephrem Cochrane. The first warp-capable ship, the U.S.S. Boobyprize, is undergoing final preparations for its first deep-space mission.

Commanded by Captain Jonathan Archway, a tough cookie in the mold of Lt. Commander Francis Queeg, the Boobyprize will be charged with the duty to make contact with extraterrestrial species and to,.....Boldy Go Where No One Wants To Go!

Star Yecch! Boobyprize is sponsored by:

Sore Throat? Rough Night out at 13th and Spruce Sts?

Fey-go-lah!

Feygolah Cough Drops - for the Alternative Lifestyle

"They're Salty,...Yet, Creamy!"

"They're Slimy,..Yet, Satisfying!"

Fey-go-lah!! (baa-aa-aah!)

Feygolah Cough Drops are the Official Sponsor of the new Ang Ree movie "Poked-in-the-Back Mountain," hopefully never coming to a theatre near you!

Star Yecch! Boobyprize Promo

2006-05-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

Coming soon from Cerebral BlackHole Productions:

"Hitler on the Roof!"

Features such show-stopping (and heart-stopping) tunes as

"If I Were a Reich Man"

and

"Sedition!"

And coming soon to Spiked! TV - The manly channel for manly men:

Cerebral BlackHole Productions prevents

"Take Aim for the Queer Guy"

Star Yecch! Wars Part 17

2006-04-10T16:40:00.000-07:00

All eyes quickly turned to the doorway of Vader's chamber, drawn by the booming voice. A small, cloaked figure slowly entered the room. Vader, as well as Han and Chewie, lowered his weapon. Liyar turned towards the commotion and nearly fainted at the sight. Updike, not knowing any better, continued to train his weapon on Vader, who dropped to one knee.

VDR: Your Holiness! When did you arrive?
HAN: By the Gods, I never thought I'd live to see the day that I would come face-to-face with that prick!
CHW: Aaoors! Rittle runt!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie, he does look kinda small!

The Emperor continued to walk towards the awe-struck group, his face obscured by the black hood of his cloak. Troopers dropped to the ground in prostrate praise as he passed. Not watching where he was going, the Emperor tripped over the hand of one of the prostrate troopers, stumbling forward. Vader jumped up to catch him, but came up only with his cloak.

VDR: My liege,...what,..what is this??
LYR: Oh,..my,..GAWD! Look at that!
LUK: I don't believe it!
UPD: You're kidding me, right??

A dumbstruck Vader looked down to the floor in confusion. In the place of his beloved Emperor stood two small lab mice.

VDR: What manner of joke is this???
PNK: Uh-oh, Brain! They've spotted us!
BRN: Brilliant deduction, Pinky!
PNK: Poit! Narf!
VDR: Who are you? Where is His Holiness?
BRN: I'm afraid, masked stranger, that all of you have been the victims of an elaborate hoax.
HAN: What do you mean "hoax?"
BRN: This was all another of my attempts to take over the world! I couldn't succeed over at the WB, so I tried another of my well thought-out schemes over at Paramount. Since they are targeting the African-American demographic market, I thought it would be a cinch! All was going as planned until Pinky tripped over that guard!
PNK: Sorry, Brain! Now what do we do?
BRN: The same thing we do every night, Pinky: try to take over the world!

With that, the two mice scampered off the set, leaving the assembly standing around with their mouths agape. Barf, having grown tired of waiting, beamed into the room.

BRF: Sir?
UPD: Barf! Stop the assault! This was all a big mistake!
HAN: I don't believe what I just saw!
LUK: You mean we've been fighting a made-up villain all along?
LYR: I'm afraid so, Luke.
VDR: Haaah! I have been swearing my allegiance to a pair of mice???
CHW: Rroofaa!
BRF: There is no honor in fighting an enemy of the mind!
LYR: Oh, well,...so much for my Libertarian utopia!
HAN: That may be so, Your Ersatz Majesty, but what do we do now?
LUK: How about we tell the Resistance that we vanquished the Emperor and everybody's free?
LYR: They'll never buy it, Luke.
BRF: We could try to pass it off as a bad dream.
UPD: It'll never work, Barf. The last time someone tried that, they incurred the wrath of the Comedic Integrity Division of the Intergalactic Revenue Service.
BRF: Yes, Commander. (shuddering) Klingons fear very little, but an audit by the I.R.S. sends chills through even the most battle-hardened veteran.
HAN: But all of this still doesn't answer my original question!
UPD: Well,...you know, Han, when we get back to our marketing venture, I know some hack Hollywood producers, George Lucas and Steven,...somebody. They're always looking for a good story. I'll refer them back to all of you. You could do lunch.
HAN: Sounds like a good deal to me.
CHW: Rooh-gurt!
HAN: Right, Chewie. We'll get Yogurt to broker the deal.
UPD: Great. I'll have my people call your people.

With that, the two groups picked up their respective belongings and parted company. Updike and Barf beamed back to the Anthrax. Once on board, they swiftly made for the Boobyprize. In the shuttle bay, Dildeaux waited to greet them.

DLD: Congratulations, Number Two! As well to you, Barf! Come, let's go over to 10-Backwards and you can fill me in!

The Boobyprize soon departed the Imperial space territory at warped,...er, warp speed. Over pints of synth-ale, Updike related his adventures to Dildeaux. Initially smiling over Updike's seeming success, Dildeaux's brow continued to furrow with every passing minute of his first officer's story.

DLD: So you managed to expose their Emperor as a fraud from the WB?
UPD: Yes, sir.
DLD: And you managed to broker a deal for the rights to their story?
UPD: With a few points for yourself included, sir.
DLD: Very good, Number Two. However, when did you plan on asking them how we could get back home, Number Two??
UPD: I,..uh,...
DLD: Updike, you fool!! Now what are we going to do??
UPD: Well, sir,...we can always live off the sequels.
DLD: Sequels?
UPD: Bad attempts to keep a good story line going, sir. But that's not important right now. Anyway, sir, picture it: Input can write the scripts; I'll direct the first one; Georgi will program the holodecks; Barf can do the casting,...

And so the misadventures of the U.S.S. Boobyprize continue.

When the sun has finally darkened,
And the stars have all blended.
You might eventually forgive me,
Foe how this story ended!

THE END

OK,....you can start laughing now,.....

Star Yecch! Wars Part 16

2006-03-30T18:11:00.000-08:00

Back on the Dark Helmet, Vader continued to gloat.

VDR: Haaah! Luke, I ssee through your little plan!
LUK: What,...what plan?
VDR: Those Federation types are approaching the ship. Do they not know that a rescue attempt is futile?
LYR: We,...we don't know a thing about any rescue attempt. That bastard Han sold us out and now you're going to kill us.
VDR: I have seen through that little ploy assss well, my dearrr Princesss. They are being dealt with as we speak.

Vader made a motion with his hand and several troops exited the room. Another wave signaled Tarq, and he entered a series of commands into the control center.

VDR: The ship is now shielded. Han and his friend cannot escape. Your friends cannot beam you away. You will now meet your destiny.
LUK: Over my dead body, helmet head!

With that, Luke reproduced Ben's old light cutlass and struck and attack posture. Immediately, alarms began to sound throughout the Dark Helmet.

VDR: Haaah! I ssee you have Ben's old light cutlass! But without the guidance, it is but a useless toy in your hands.
LUK: I don't think so, Vader!
BEN: (Luke! Behind you!)

Tarq stealthily approached Luke with a sharp knife in his hand. Upon hearing Ben's warning, Luke wheeled around and quickly dispatched Vader's unsuspecting lackey. Recovering, Luke rapidly turned back to Vader.

VDR: Arrrgh! No wonder you walk with such difficulty. Your balls must be made of brass!
LUK: Would you like to find out??
VDR: Alas, brass balls do not a Deddov Knight make!
LUK: Come and get me, Vader!

The pair approached one another and quickly began to parry and thrust. Sparks flew across the chamber as they squared off. Liyar relieved one of Vader's guards of his laser pistol and began some fireworks of her own. She quickly dispatched a trio of troopers as they approached her.

Meanwhile, in an antechamber, Han and Chewie sprung into action as the alarms sounded. With their own laser pistols, they eliminated the troopers sent in by Vader. Picking up their belongings, they entered the chamber to find Luke and Vader engaged in mortal combat.

LYR: Uh,...excuse me,...

(Don't even think about it! That's Mortal Kombat, with a "K!")

LYR: Touchy, touchy!

Anyway,...

HAN: Is that Luke?
LYR: You bet! Just look at him!
HAN: Look, nothing! Let's just get out of here! This room'll be swarming with Storm Troopers in a moment and Updike's gotta launch his torpedo at us!
LYR: His torpedo, hmmm?
HAN: Not that one, Princess! Luke, quick! Get out of here!

But Luke was too busy fending off Vader's attacks to hear Han. Using his smaller size to his advantage, Luke ducked away from Vader and rolled across the floor. Vader followed and moved to pounce on Luke. Sensing Vader's move, Luke raised his boot in the air at the exact moment. Vader howled and doubled over in pain.

HAN: Damn!! That's gotta hurt!
LUK: Well, Vader, we know yours aren't made of brass!

Luke stood and raised his light cutlass to deliver the final blow when Vader tossed aside his light cutlass.

LUK: What,...what do you think you're doing?
VDR: I know the code of the Get-High Knights, Luke! You'd never kill an unarmed man.

Luke, startled by Vader's action, continued his posture above Vader, not knowing what to do next.

BEN: (Luke, you have beaten him for the day! Take your leave and return to fight another time!)
LUK: I,...I don't want to return! I want this ended,...NOW! He killed my family!
VDR: Luu-uuke! Before you dispatch me, there is ssomething I musssst tell you!
LUK: WHAT??
VDR: I am your father, Luke.
LUK: Wha,..what? My,..father?
VDR: Yesss.
LUK: I,...I don't believe you!
BEN: (He is right, Young Luke!)
LUK: But,..but,...

In a moment of weakness, Luke lowered his cutlass. Vader seized the moment and rose from the ground, retrieving his own cutlass.

VDR: Ha-ha-ha! You weak-minded little fools! Everybody falls for that gag!
LUK: But I heard Master Ben's voice!
VDR: I am not only a Master of the Knights, I am a master of ventriloquism, as well! I made you hear what you wanted!
LUK: BASTARD!!

Again, Luke and Vader enjoined each other.

Back on the Anthrax, Updike began to fret.

UPD: Barf, any sign of the Centennial Sparrow?
BRF: No, sir.
UPD: We've received the homing signal. Why haven't they escaped?
BRF: Perhaps Vader's troops have proved a more formidable foe than we anticipated!
UPD: Perhaps. Barf,...delay launching the photon torpedo! I'm beaming over to assist them!
BRF: But, sir, you cannot!
UPD: Don't try to talk me out of this, Barf! I'm going to finally earn some brownie points with the Captain!
BRF: But, sir,...!

As Updike left the command chair, Barf moved to stop him. Grabbing him by the arm, Barf stopped Updike at the bay doors.

UPD: Barf! Unhand me! This is subordination!
BRF: Sir, you cannot beam aboard the Dark Helmet!
UPD: Why not, Barf? So you can go and grab all the Klingon glory??
BRF: No, sir. The Dark Helmet has raised her shields! Beaming is impossible!
UPD: Oh. Why didn't you tell me?
BRF: Grrrr! Qipbej qul qoH!! (Flaming idiot!)
UPD: Helmsman, target the ship's shield array!!
HLM: Aye, sir.

Moments later, several phaser strikes destroyed the Dark Helmet's shielding. Updike responded to the helmsman's report with smug satisfaction.

UPD: That's better. Now I'm going to beam over and assist them!
BRF: May you die well, Commander!
UPD: I'm not sure how to take that, Barf.
BRF: (muttering) Just take it and shove it!

Updike beamed onto the Dark helmet and straight into the spectacular fray.

HAN: Updike, what are you doing here?
UPD: Never mind me. Why haven't you people escaped?
HAN: Luke's been busy dealing with some old, unresolved childhood traumas.
UPD: Shit! Now's not the time for this! Barf will only hold his trigger for so long!
HAN: Yeah,..and then he'll need glasses!

As Updike continued to panic, Strom Troopers poured into the room. A fierce battle ensued, and chaos reigned over the crippled ship.

UPD: What? No 'chaos' jokes?
HAN: We don't have time for you to berate the writer, Updike! Quick, behind you!

Updike wheeled and fired on a group of marauding troopers. They dropped from the wide-dispersal stun. Updike, realizing his error, quickly switched the phaser from stun to kill.

With bodies dropping left and right, Han and Updike made their way towards the battling Luke and Vader. The pair was still deeply engaged in combat. Luke, fueled only by his rage, was quickly losing ground to the more-experienced Vader. Luke dropped while deflecting yet another of Vader's strikes, leaving himself open to attack. Vader stood over Luke, cutlass geld high, ready to strike the final blow.

HAN: Not so fast, Vader! Let him go!

Vader turned to see himself surrounded by Han, Chewie and Updike: their weapons drawn on the hulking fiend. Liyar was quickly mopping up the Storm Troopers who had not yet retreated.

VDR: Haaah! You think you have me? My life means little. If I slay you here, I'll still have accomplished His Holiness's goal.
EMP: VADER! STOP!!

Star Yecch! Wars Part 15

2006-03-14T16:28:00.000-08:00

As Han severed the communications, he turned to the awe-struck pair with a smile. Liyar rose from her chair and nearly slapped Han's head off his shoulders.

HAN: OO-OU-CCH!!! What the hell was that for?
LYR: You no-good slimeball!! You've just sold our death warrants and you're asking me why I slapped you?? Just be glad I didn't grab Luke's light cutlass to cut your head off!!
HAN: Re-e-lax, lady. This is all part of the plan! I couldn't let you two in on Updike's secondary assignment because Vader would get suspicious if you didn't look genuinely surprised!
LUK: I think you're still bullshitting us!
HAN: Look, Luke, those Federation people can't get close enough to Vader's ship to take out the Genocide Star head-to-head. When we get on board, Vader will want to gloat. You and Liyar can get in close enough to the working center of that thing. When you get the chance, you need to slip this little homing beacon onto the control computer. Then you both have to stir up a commotion. That will let Chewie and I sneak back on board the Centennial Sparrow and escape before the Boobyprize launches a photon torpedo at the homing beacon.
LYR: And if we don't succeed?
HAN: Then we'll die as heroes to the Resistance.
CHW: Aoorr! Rucking Ringons!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie. That would make that steroid-pumped psycho, Barf, happy. I think he was calling it "A good day to die!"

Another lurch jolted the ship as Vader reeled in his victims. As the Centennial Sparrow settled into a berth on board the Dark Helmet, a squadron of Imperial Storm Troopers surrounded the pirate cruiser. One by one, the crew was escorted off the ship and marched into Vader's chambers. Once there, Vader greeted them. He wore an evil smirk on his face as he turned to address them.

VDR: Haaah! How could I have an ee-evil smirk on my face if I'm wearing a hel-l-met?

(Details, details!)

Okay, so Vader was wearing a new and improved "emotionally-enhanced" helmet, thus giving his prey the appearance of wearing a smirk.

VDR: Be-e-ttterrr. Now, I musst thank you, Mr. Goooverr. Your service to Hiss Holiness shall not go unrewaarrded.
HAN: Thank you, Lord Vader.
CHW: Roo-ergh!
VDR: Now, go with these guards. They shall tend to your ship while I deall with thesse two upsstartss.

Vader waited until Han and Chewie had left the room before addressing Luke and Liyar.

VDR: Sooo, Princesss, wee meet again.
LYR: If I could, I'd wipe that emotionally-enhanced smirk right off your face!
LUK: Trust me, sir: she'll do it!
VDR: Still possessed of that feisty Resistance attitude, eh? Weelll, it shall avail you nothing. Soo-oo-onn, I shaaall turn the Genocide Star on every Resistance-allied planet in the Galaxy,...unless they capitulate to Hiss Holinessss.
LYR: Do you expect us to help?
VDR: No, my dear. I expect the two of you to die. Your deaths sha-aall be an example of the Empire's might.
LUK: How,...how do you plan on doing it, Vader?
VDR: Haaah. Come with me and I shall show you.
LYR: (whispering) This is too easy!
VDR: Hmmm? Did you say something?
LYR: Uh,....I said, "That emotions mask looks kinda cheesy!"
VDR: Yesss. Blame the writer. It was a last-minute construct to get out of the narrative corner he painted himself into.

Vader and several guards escorted the pair into a large chamber. The Genocide Star loomed ahead of them. Luke, feigning curiosity, broke free of his guard and approached it. Quickly, the guards hustled him back to Vader's side. Liyar looked anxiously over at him, but a quick wink allayed her fears.

Meanwhile, on the Boobyprize, Input reported the news to Captain Dildeaux.

IPT: Sir, the homing device has been activated.
DLD: Very good, Mr. Input. Aleert Commander Updike of the beacon's coordinates and tell him to begin executing plan Updike Epsilon 4.
IPT: Aye, sir.

On the shuttlecraft Anthrax, Barf relayed Captain Dildeaux's command.

UPD: Barf, did you say "Epsilon 4?"
BRF: Actually, sir, no, I did not. It was assumed in the narration.
UPD: Oh.
BRF: We are approaching the Dark Helmet, Commander.
UPD: Have we been scanned, Barf?
BRF: I do not believe so, sir. I am approaching from an obtuse vector. I shall need only to get a lock onto the homing beacon to launch the photon torpedo.
UPD: Very good, Barf,...Barf, did you just say "obtuse?"
BRF: Yes, sir. I am trying to improve my vocabulary. Ensign Yo seemed to suggest that my speaking skills were an impediment to effective mating.
UPD: Ye-eah,...

Star Yecch! Wars Part 14

2006-03-05T08:57:00.000-08:00

DLD: Barf, where's the rest of Commander Updike's team?
BRF: They are assisting Georgi and Input down in the shuttle bay. They are retrofitting the phaser cannon and photon launchers onto a shuttlecraft.
DLD: Very good, Barf.
BRF: Sir, the Centennial Sparrow is hailing us with the ready signal.
DLD: Affirmative. Begin beaming over the team and alert Updike.
BRF: Aye, sir.

Turning to Luke and Liyar, Dildeaux offered some words of comfort.

DLD: Luke, take courage. Ben was not the only one who saw great potential in you.
LUK: Thank you, Captain, but do you really think this will all work out for the better?
DLD: Of course, Luke. No great science fiction franchise ever failed to let an underdog hero vanquish a stronger opponent. Besides, somebody has to keep old Yogurt's merchandising business in operation!
LUK: Thanks, sir.
DLD: And Your Highness, may you return to your throne.
LYR: Thank you, Captain, but I have no homeworld to re-settle. After we overthrow the Emperor, I shall work with the Resistance to implement a republic based on the law of the people, not the will of one despot. This adventure has shown me the violence inherent in the monarchic system. A constitutional law by the people and for the people shall be our blueprint! Personal liberty and fiscal frugality shall be our motto! Ours shall not be a welfare state! A government that thinks it is above the law will ultimately fall to the will of its well-armed citizenry!
DLD: Yes,...I see you are the NRA.

Before the Princess could continue with her Buchanan-esque rant, Dildeaux hustled her and Luke onto the transport pad. When the all clear was given, they were transported back to the Centennial Sparrow.

DLD: God help us all if she succeeds.
BRF: Bah! A Klingon woman would not speak her mind so much! To a Klingon, power is taken from the powerful and kept for oneself!
DLD: Oh,...don't you star, Barf!
BRF: Sorry, sir.
DLD: What's the status of Updike's shuttlecraft?
BRF: One moment, sir. Georgi is reporting the ship is ready.
DLD: Tell him to launch at his mark. I'll be on the bridge.
BRF: Aye, sir.

On the Centennial Sparrow, Luke and Liyar took their places on the command deck. After getting the high sign from the Boobyprize, Han launched towards Vader's destroyer.

CHW: Arroor! Arr! Grrraww!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie, I don't like this set up, either! With Ben gone, I'll probably never collect for this.
LYR: Money? Is that all you can think of, Han?
HAN: Hey, Lady, I'm staying out of your messy little war. I've got bills to pay and mouths to feed, and getting shot at by Lord Vader isn't helping my profit margin!
LYR: If Vader succeeds, you'll be nothing but a slave to ever-increasing Imperial taxes! Your much-beloved "profit margin" will shrink until you'll be living hand-to-mouth!
HAN: Oh, spare me the neo-Libertarian bullshit! You're getting a kick out of this, admit it! You'd rather spend time dodging Imperial checkpoints with me than running this "republic" of yours.
LYR: I beg your pardon?? I'd rather kiss a Wookie's ass!
CHW: Ruuhhh??
LYR: No offense, Chewie.
CHW: Ro-o-okay!

Before Han could continue his witty banter with the Princess, the Centennial Sparrow's alarms began to sound.

CHW: Rooag! Rooarr!
HAN: I see it, Chewie! It's the Dark Helmet, Vader's ship, dead ahead!
LUK: Aren't you going to take evasive maneuvers?
HAN: Uh,...not quite this minute, kid. We've got time.

Han hemmed and hawed, fidgeting with several buttons when the ship was jolted with a sudden lurch.

LYR: Oh, Lord,...not again,...

(Don't sweat it, ma'am. I've gotten it right this time.)

Anyway, the ship was jolted with a sudden lurch. Luke and Liyar looked quizzically at one another. Over the P.A. system came the blood-curdling voice of Deaf Vader.

VDR: Haaaah! I've fin-aally caught you!
HAN: "Caught us?" Are you kidding? I'm here to claim my bounty on these two!
LUK: Han! You asshole!
LYR: I knew you were only in it for the money!
VDR: Verrry goood, Mr. Goooover. I ssee you are a loooyaaal citizen of the Empire.
HAN: Just doing right by His Holiness, sir.
VDR: Verrry welll. Prepare for a tractor beam to bring you on board.
HAN: I'll be waiting, Your Lordship.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 13

2006-02-19T07:50:00.000-08:00

Luke quickly exited the cave and made for the Centennial Sparrow. Much to his surprise, a squadron of Federation expendable extras had joined into the fray and was making headway against Vader's men. As Vader sounded the retreat, Luke scrambled into Han's ship, stumbling into Princess Liyar. Moments later, Han, Barf, and Chewie followed suit.

HAN: Quick, Chewie, fire up the ion drive!
CHW: Aarroogh!
BRF: I have contacted the Boobyprize, Han. They say they are battling Vader's flagship and suggest we should escape into orbit around this planet's moon until the battle ends.
HAN: Bullshit! Now, this thing's gotten personal! I want a piece of that asshole as much as the next guy!

As the Centennial Sparrow rushed from the surface of the planet, the Boobyprize engaged Vader's ship in a tremendous dogfight.

UPD: Aroof! Bark! Bark! Arf!
DLD: Oh, now stop doing that, Number Two! It's just plain silly!
UPD: But the narrative said,...
YO: Sir, Vader's shuttle is trying to make it back to the main ship!
DLD: Target phasers on that ship!
IPT: I, I do not believe that is necessary, sir. The Centennial Sparrow is pursuing Vader's ship.
DLD: Dammit! I gave Barf strict orders to retire from this battle! The Princess is on board. Yo, hail them!
YO: Aye, sir.
UPD: Sir, the shuttle has made it back! Vader's ship is withdrawing!
DLD: Affirmative, Number Two. Yo, belay that order and instruct the Sparrow to rendezvous with us. Input, plot a pursuit course.
YO/IPT: Aye, sir.

As Han came amidships, the Boobyprize beamed Liyar, Luke and Barf back on board. Dildeaux made for Sickbay to greet them. Dr. Chestercrusher greeted the anxious Captain as he entered the room.

CSH: Relax, Jean-Luc! They're all fine. Just some minor bruises and such.
DLD: Great news, Beverly. And what of Barf?
CSH: Klingon stubbornness to the nth degree. Refuses to let me touch him.
DLD: Fine. As you were, Beverly.

Dildeaux made his way to Barf's gurney while Beverly slipped back into her Venusian Secrets lingerie. Seeing his commander, Barf rose from the table.

DLD: Mr. Barf, what happened?
BRF: Mr. Gover chose to pursue Vader, like a true Klingon!
DLD: Hmmm. I'll take that up with him later. For now, I need a quick debriefing from you before we catch up with Vader's ship.
BRF: Aye, sir.

Barf quickly relayed the events in Yogurt's cave.

DLD: (sighing) I regret the loss of Mr. Cannoli, Barf, but his sacrifice did buy time for the rest of you.
BRF: Grrr. Ben Cannoli may have been a drug smuggler, but his spirit was much like a true Klingon. If I may speak freely, sir, I may,...enjoy,...this sector of space.
DLD: Well, Mr. Barf, don't get too comfortable! We'll get back to federation space, yet!

Barf and Dildeaux continued to walk to the Captain's Ready Room, where Luke and the Princess were waiting for their arrival. Princess Liyar sat quietly in a chair, while Luke, standing by a porthole, gazed out at the stars. Both rose and gathered with the Captain at his briefing table.

DLD: Luke, did you get the schematics?
LUK: Uh,...yeah, Captain. Yogurt handed them to me when he gave me Ben's light cutlass.
DLD: Oh, yes. I'm very sorry for your loss, Luke.
LUK: When I get the chance, Captain, I'm going to kill that bastard!!
LYR: Luke,! Please!! We all miss him, but we need to think about the Resistance first!
BEN: (She's right, Young Luke. Vengeance is not always the way of a Knight.)
LUK: What did you say, Captain?
BEN: (My body is gone, Luke, but my spirit will guide you. It is as Yogurt said. It is the way of the Knights.)
LUK: There! I heard it again!
DLD: Luke, nobody has spoken in the past few moments but you. Are you feeling well?
LYR: Maybe in all the excitement, Luke, you banged your head.
LUK: No, Your Highness! I'm hearing voices in my head!
DLD: You, too?? I've heard them for quite some time.
LUK: Yeah? Do they sound like someone you know?
DLD: Sometimes,....and at other times they sound like little elves chattering in a meadow, and,...
BRF: A-hemmm!
DLD: Oh, sorry, Luke. I didn't mean to go on like that.
BRF: Captain, would you like me to page the doctor? I believe it is time for your lithium injection, sir.
DLD: Dammit, Barf, not you, too! Everybody talks to himself or herself from time to time! After all, the strain of command, the constant backstabbing,...
LYR: I,...er,...think we should get back to the matter at hand, gentlemen. The Captain's mental health concerns can wait until we stop Vader's war effort. And please, Captain, could you stop rolling those ball bearings around in your hand?? They're giving me a headache!

Updike happened into the Ready Room as Dildeaux was dissolving into his Queeg-like persona.

UPD: Losing it again, sir?
DLD: No, Number Two,..and wipe that feces-eating grin off your face! I have everything under control! I'm in charge here!
UPD: Yes, Captain. Barf, add "Al Haig Syndrome" to the list for Dr. Chestcrusher.
BRF: Aye, sir.
DLD: Number Two! Did you come in here just to annoy me, or are you going to contribute to this plan?
UPD: Well, sir,..since you put it that way...
DLD: Oh, never mind! Just sit down and go over these schematics.

Over the next hour, the group pored over the Genocide Star's plans. Ideas were proffered and withdrawn over again. Finally, a consensus was reached.

DLD: Very well, gentlemen,...and lady. That settles it. Barf, signal Mr. Gover of our plan.
BRF: Aye, sir.
DLD: Number Two, assemble an Away Team and beam back to the Centennial Sparrow as soon as possible.
UPD: Aye, sir.
LUK: Captain, permission to accompany Commander Updike?
DLD: Well,...
UPD: Sir, it is quite possible that we may return to our own timeline after this. Having Luke and the Princess on board could complicate matters.
DLD: Very good, Number Two. Point well taken.
UPD: Thank you, sir! You know, sir, I have a few other suggestions that I...
DLD: Don't let an errant cerebral fart go to your head, Number Two!
UPD: Yes, sir.

Several minutes later, the Captain greeted the Away Team in the transporter room. In the uneasy tension growing before the mission, he expected to speak with the team.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 12

2006-02-04T10:42:00.000-08:00

For what seemed like hours, the group trudged through the steamy swamp. Finally, at the point of exhaustion, they reached an unassuming cavern.

BRF: The tricorder's sensors indicate the life force is coming from within that cavern.
BEN: Let me enter first. He was a master assassin in his prime and may not look kindly upon our presence.
CHW: Rooagh!
HAN: What, Chewie?

The group turned to see a small, gnome-like figure exit the cave. Leaning heavily on an ornate walking cane, he approached the group. Ben moved to speak as the elderly man smiled.

BEN: Master Yogurt! It's Ben, your old student.
YGT: Ben? (musing) Oh, Yes! Ben Cannoli! My old friend, how are you?
BEN: The years have treated me well, but I have come in dire need of your assistance.
YGT: What's wrong, old friend?
BEN: (sighing) The story is a long one, Master. May we enter your home and I shall explain it?
YGT: Yes, yes! Certainly! Come in! Come in!

As the gang settled in, Ben made the proper introductions. Jaws dropped in awe in recognition of his name.

HAN: "Yogurt, the Wise!"
LYR: "Yogurt, the Brave!"
LUK: "Yogurt, the Great!"

The old gnome demurred before such praise.

YGT: Please, please, my young plagiarizers! To all of you, I'm just plain Yogurt!
BEN: Master Yogurt, I see you've done well by yourself. How did you do it?
YGT: Merchandising! I own the rights to everything Spielberg and Lucas couldn't nail down! Look over here!

Yogurt led them to a large display case full of trinkets and apparel.

YGT: Let's see,...I've got "Star Yecch Wars" - the action figures; "Star Yecch Wars" - the breakfast cereal; I even have "Star Yecch Wars" - the child-molester-proof baby booties! Red seems to be my best seller!
HAN: What? No "Yogurt-the Wise" dolls?
YGT: A doll? Fah! Why would I stoop to such a crass item like that? It'll never sell!
BEN: Very well, Master. But we do have to get down to the business at hand.

As Ben related the story thus far, Yogurt nodded in empathy and recognition. When Ben was finished, Yogurt stood and paced the room.

YGT: I always knew that little prick Vader would end up doing no good!
LUK: Then you'll help us, Master Yogurt?
YGT: It would be my pleasure, Young Luke!
BEN: Master, we need the schematics of a new Imperial weapon: the Genocide Star. Can you help us obtain them?
YGT: I believe I have a copy in my possession. I traded some "Star Yecch Voyeur" merchandise for them. That show'll never amount to much until they bring in some hot-blooded, anatomically abundant female character on board!
BRF: Forgive me for saying this, Yogurt, but they have.
YGT: Oy! My profit margin!! And who are you, my son?
BRF: I am Lieutenant Barf, of the Federation ship, "Boobyprize."
YGT: Barf, hmmm? That wouldn't be short for "Barf-tholemew?"
BRF: No. I am Barf, son of Up'Chuqq.
YGT: Oh, never mind. Must've been another parody I was thinking of.
BEN: Forgive me, Master, but the plans?
YGT: Oh, yes! The plans! Surely, I'll give them to you! Boy, I'd sure like to meet that bastard face-to-face again!
VDR: Haaah! You shall haaave your wish, ooold maann!

The group let out a collective gasp as Vader strode into the cave, flanked by a platoon of Imperial Storm Troopers.

YGT: Vader, my son,...what are you doing here?
BEN: Vader, old friend, how did you find us?
VDR: To coinn aann old saying, "A little bird told me."

As Vader said this, he faced Princess Liyar. Liyar looked down at her cloak and spotted a small bird-shaped pin on her left breast.

LYR: Vader, you miserable bastard!
VDR: Flattery, my dear princess, does not suit you.
BEN: Now that you have us, Vader, what do you intend to do?
VDR: Haaah! You represent the leadership of the Resistance. When I eliminate all of you, the Resistance shall crumble and I shall own all of the marketing rights for this story!!
CHW: Aoorr! Roeur!
HAN: What about Luke?

A cry from the rear of the cave attracted everyone's attention. Ben turned to find Vader's goons dragging Luke away. Luke struggled in vain as the Storm Troopers surrounded him.

BEN: Vader, what need have you of that boy?
VDR: I sense great things in him, Ben. He shall be of great use to the Emperor.
BEN: Vader, the Deddov Knights have no need for him. Let him go!
YGT: Vader, you impetuous upstart! What of your teaching?? Let the boy go!
VDR: Yogurt,...you cultured old fool! Once, you were the Master. Now, I am the Master of the Force!
BEN: More like a Master of Evil, Vader! You'll take Luke over my dead body! Have at you!
VDR: It shall by my pleasssuuuure! To arms!

With that, Vader drew out his light cutlass. Ben responded in kind and the two began a macabre dance of death. Barf reached for his phaser but Han blocked him.

BRF: What do you think you're doing?
HAN: You boneheaded fool! We can use this distraction to escape and call for help! Aim for the Troopers and rescue Luke. If we get out of this cave, you can signal for your ship.
BRF: Grrr. For a humanoid, you think like a Klingon!

As Ben and Vader continued to parry, Barf, Han and Chewie began firing on the Imperial Troopers. In the ensuing chaos, Chewie rushed into the pile of wounded troopers and scooped up Luke. Quickly, Han and Princess Liyar also made their escape. Sensing this, Ben turned towards them. When all had made their exit, he returned to Vader, deactivating his light cutlass. Vader took advantage of this and dispatched Ben with a swift thrust.

Luke, however, would have no part of it. He broke from Chewie's grasp and ran back into the cave. Vader and the remaining troops had begun withdrawing from Yogurt's cave amid sporadic shots from Barf and Han. Luke scurried about, finding Yogurt bent over the steaming pile of Ben's cloaks, holding his light cutlass. With a pained expression, Yogurt handed Luke the weapon.

YGT: Ben told me that he sensed great power in you, Luke. Here, take his light cutlass and avenge his death!
LUK: If it takes the rest of my life, Master Yogurt, I will!
YGT: You don't know the merchandising value I'm giving up on this, Luke! Quickly, go back to your friends! Hurry! Hurry!
LUK: But,...Master Yogurt,...!
YGT: I'll be fine, Luke! Vader knows better that to screw with me!! And remember, Luke: follow what guides you best!

Star Yecch! Wars Part 11

2006-01-22T13:41:00.000-08:00

After organizing the logistics, Luke, Barf, Ben and Liyar returned to Han's ship and made for the far-off planet.

Time passed slowly on the Centennial Sparrow and Luke quickly became restless. Ben, sensing this, approached the boy.

BEN: Young Luke. I believe now would be an opportune time for you to get in some practice with my light cutlass.
LUK: Gosh, Ben! Really??
BEN: Yes, Young Luke. I sense in you the makings of a Knight.
LUK: But,...Ben, I don't think I'm cut out for the drug trade.
BEN: Relax, master Luke. There are plenty of other opportunities with the Knighthood: creative bookkeeping,...off-world investment,...perhaps even security. But first,..the light cutlass!

Ben tossed the laser's scabbard at Luke without warning. Much to Ben's surprise, Luke caught it. After getting used to the feel in his hand, Luke tried some basic movements with the cutlass. When Ben was satisfied with Luke's competence, he activated a practice device. The small globe hovered in the air in front of Luke.

LUK: Now what do I do?
BEN: The globe will randomly fire at you. You must use the laser's shaft to deflect the shots.
LUK: I don't know, Ben,...
BEN: Hesitancy does not become you, Master Luke!

Before Luke could respond, Ben activated the firing sequence. Luke quickly charged the light cutlass and deflected several close shots. Ben smiled through the greenish glow of the cutlass' laser. After the globe finished its program, Luke leaned against a bulkhead, drained but jubilant.

LUK: Gee, Ben, that was easy!!
BEN: Then try it with your eyes closed.
LUK: What?? But,..I won't be able to see what's coming.
BEN: Let your instincts guide you, Luke.
HAN: Ben, that kid better have some damn good instincts. If he starts shooting holes in my ship, you'll be "owing me one!"
BEN: Relax, Master Han. He has the guidance of the Knights.
HAN: You mean "The Schwartz?"
BEN: No, master Han. We Knights have been accused of many things, but never copyright infringement. Now, Luke, close your eyes.

Luke obeyed Ben's bidding. Striking out blindly, Luke took several swings before Ben could activate the globe. Han chuckled quietly as he returned to the ship's controls. Suddenly, behind him came yelps of pain from several of the crew. He turned to find Luke swinging wildly into the bulkheads, partially deflecting the globe's lasers into everyone. Ben quickly rushed to deactivate the globe. Han glared at him with his own light cutlass-like eyes.

HAN: Ben....!
BEN: Perhaps, Luke should get in some more practice with his eyes open.
LUK: I,...I'm sorry everyone!
LYR: Sorry, my royal ass! Dammit, Luke, you've fried one of my hair buns off!
CHW: Arroogh!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie, but your hair'll grow back, too.
BRF: Perhaps a less strenuous diversion will amuse the child.
LUK: I am not a child, Bonehead!
BRF: Grrr! If your presence was not required by the writer, I would kill you were you stand!
BEN: Gentlemen, please! Barf, please go ahead with your plan.

Reluctantly, Barf brought Luke and Ben back to the ship's cargo hold. He produced from his pocket a deck of cards and began to shuffle, explaining himself as he went along.

BRF: This game is a time-honored tradition among the Klingons. It is called "Fizz-Bin." The late Admiral Kim Jerk taught it to one of our Emperors.

After Ben cut the cards, Barf removed several and placed them aside.

BEN: You do not play with a full deck?
BRF: No. It helps when you are assigned to duty aboard the Boobyprize.
BEN: I see.

Meanwhile, across the vastness of Imperial space, word of Ben's exploits was arriving on Vader's destroyer.

VDR: Haaah! I wassss wondering when you would get back to meeee!
(Hey, I write this stuff, not you!)
VDR: It would not be wissse to cross me, huuumaaan!
(Drop dead, you 'aurally-deficient' creation of my warped psyche! "I" AM THE FORCE!)
VDR: Oh.

Anyway, a yeoman entered Vader's quarters, bearing the latest news.

YEO: Lord Vader, I have a communique for you, sir.
VDR: Yesssss. That fool Cannoli and hisss allies are heading for Oki-Fennoki.
YEO: Yes, sir. But,...but,...how did you know that, sir? Did you read it in that narrative?
VDR: Noooo. I would never stoop to such aannn obvious plot gag. I had Bran Muffin Tarq place a location transponder on Princess Liyar before he jettisoned her.
YEO: Oh. Yes, My Lord. Very good, sir.
VDR: Ha-a-ah! Stop brown-nosing me-e-e and tell Tarq to make for Oki-Fennoki. I shall let Cannoli make contact with that old trader, then use the Genocide Star on them. With their deaths, the Resistance shall crumble!! Ah-hh! Ha-ha-ha!!
YEO: Yes, Lord Vader. I see it's also time for your nightly sedative, My Lord.

The yeoman backed away, prostrating as he went along. Back on the Centennial Sparrow, Han made preparations for landing on Oki-Fennoki.

HAN: Chewie, port standard orbit. Descent at 6 per cent rotation.
CHW: Aiirr!
HAN: Ben, when we get closer, where am I going to plant this thing?
BEN: He is rumoured to dwell in a cave near a small stream, leading to a lake.
HAN: Wow! That sure narrows it down, Ben!
BEN: Forgive me, Han. It has been some time since I made contact with the Master.
CHW: Aroo! Ri-rorder!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie! I didn't think of that!
CHW: Rucking ridiot!
HAN: Don't push your luck, Chewie!
BRF: What did he say?
HAN: You brought one of those "tricorders' along, didn't you?
BRF: Of course! It is standard equipment for an Away Team, as are expendable extras.
HAN: Then where are those 'expendable extras,' Barf?
BRF: PaQ!! I knew I forgot something! My honor is soiled!
LUK: So are my shorts!
LYR: Eeeww!!
HAN: Knock it off! That being the case, can you get a fix on this guy before I end up ditching in a sandpit?
BRF: Perhaps. Give me a moment to calibrate the sensors.

Tense moments passed before Barf could locate any life forms. He passed this information along to Han.

BRF: I have located a life form in the southern hemisphere. Grid 666 Bravo.
HAN: Alright, then: everybody hang on. I'm going to have a devil of a time making this landing.

The Centennial Sparrow shuddered and shook before coming to a rough, thumping landing. As everyone rose from their seats, Han and Chewie made the final shutdown procedures. Barf took up his tricorder and began to comb the swamp. When this proved to slow and tedious, he replaced the comb into his back pocket and began to study the readings from the tricorder.

BRF: The reading is coming from the southwest, approximately 100 metres from here.
BEN: Yes, I sense his presence even now.
LYR: How is that, Ben?
BEN: He was a tutor to several of us Knights in my youth. He also taught Vader.
LYR: Ugh! Gives me the creeps.
LUK: Me, too! Hey, maybe I'm not cut out for this Knight thing.
BEN: We shall let the Master decide.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 10

2006-01-14T09:46:00.000-08:00

As the Away Team, accompanied by Ben, Luke and the Princess, re-materialized, Dildeaux and an honor guard greeted them. After the monetary transporter discomfort faded, Liyar stepped forward from the transporter pad. Dildeaux bowed and greeted her.

DLD: I am Captain Jean-Luc Dildeaux. On behalf of the Untied Federation of Planets and the crew of the Boobyprize, I offer my greeting, Princess Liyar.
LYR: We thank you, Captain.
DLD: Also, in light of recent events, I also offer my condolences on your loss.
LYR: I see the art of brown-nosing is not confined to the Empire; however, we accept your offer.

Taken aback by the thought of dealing with yet another Shrewish Princess, Dildeaux turned and greeted Luke and Ben with decidedly less formality. After the exchange of greetings, the group made for 10-Backwards for an informal debriefing over cocktails.

Once ensconced (hey, fancy terms for fancy people, OK?) in 10-Backwards, the Captain received a hail from Georgi down in Engineering.

LFT: Captain, I've got good news: the droids have been reassembled. Input and I think we can use their engineering techniques to help defuse this Genocide device.
DLD: Very good, Georgi! Send up the Princess' droid. I'm sure she's anxious to greet him.
LFT: Aye, sir. We'll be up shortly.
DLD: We'll be waiting, Georgi,...and don't call me "shortly."

Moments later, Georgi, Input, and both droids entered the lounge. Liyar was taken by surprise by the droid's appearance. It was now a small, human-like figure with a round chronometer for a head.

LYR: OU812, what happened to you??
TWK: Bidi-bidi! Gosh, I don't know any OU812! My name's Twiki.
DLD: Georgi,....!
LFT: I,..I,...
TWK: Bidi-bidi! Where's Buck? And Commander Deering? Is this a Draconian ship? It sure doesn't look like home!
DLD: Input, what about the other droid?
IPT: I, I, believe it has been properly repaired, sir.
IMR: Warning, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!! Dr. Smith is coming for you again and he's wearing a strap-on this time!
DLD: Georgi!! What the hell happened to them??
LFT: Well, sir,...we've been experiencing franchise crossover difficulties with the replicators, sir. This was the best we could re-assemble on such short notice, sir.

Giaboni, hearing this, made her way over from the bar to the crowd.

GIB: I did warn you, Captain. Now that copyrights have been infringed, this will only continue to escalate until you set things right.
DLD: SO you did, Giaboni. Georgi, I suggest you and Input belay that report and properly reconstruct these two right away!
LFT/IPT: Aye, sir.

The group moved on to a briefing with the remainder of the Boobyprize's senior staff. After Liyar relayed her experiences on Vader's ship, Dildeaux opened the group to suggestions.

IPT: If, perhaps, we had more detailed schematics of this "Genocide Star," we could, could formulate a method to enable the Resistance to disable it.
LYR: I'm sorry, Mr. Input, but all I have now are some sketchy memories of the operations board. I sent the orginal schematics along with OU812!
IPT: They were...lost in his reassembly.
DLD: Pity. Its a shame Trixxi transferred off during our first mission.
UPD: Yeah, I haven't gotten any since she left me.
DLD: Dammit, Number Two! Just for a change, could you think with your other semi-functioning organ?? If we had a telepath on board, perhaps he could read the Princess's mind.
UPD: Oh-h-h,...
BEN: Gentlemen,...perhaps we can yet accomplish this task.
UPD: Why? Does someone in the Orion slave-girl trade "owe-you-one?"
DLD: Dammit, Number Two!! Knock it off!
BEN: Alas, Commander Updike, no. That problem is beyond my purview. I mean that I know of a trader why may have access to smuggled Imperial technology.
DLD: Is he also in the Resistance?
BEN: No, Captain. he is a former Knight Master who lives in seclusion on a small swamp planet and does most of his dealings through contacts. He most likely does not know of the latest uprising.
UPD: Are you certain he can help me,...I mean, "us?"
BEN: I have not spoken with him in some years, but if anybody can get us these plans, he can. He is a superb merchandiser.
DLD: Very Well. Ben, if you can give me his location, I'll form another Away team to contact him.

Luke, who had been sitting back and quietly observing the goings-on, spoke up.

LUK: Uh,...Captain Dildo,...I'd like to go on that mission!
BEN: Luke, I don't think you should. This trip could be quite perilous.
LUK: But Ben,...this is what I've dreramed of for years! I want to make my mark in the Resistance!
DLD: Personally, Ben, I think this would be an excellent chance for Luke to get in some chops.
BEN: Hmmm. Perhaps you are right, Captain. I do sense in Luke a strange,...aura.
LYR: You mean "The Schwartz?"
BEN: No, Your Majesty. That would be a copyright violation. Perhaps, I believe, my friend will recognize this strength and hone his abilities.
DLD: (muttering) And maybe he'll get his ass shot off for mispronouncing my name!

After organizing the logistics, Luke, Barf, Ben and Liyar returned to Han's ship and made for the far-off planet.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 9

2005-11-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

HAN: Shit! The Imperial Guards are coming! Everybody: get on board! Quick!!

The crew scrambled aboard and took positions throughout the cabin. Han and Chewie worked together like one being, readying the craft for takeoff. Outside his window, Luke spied several Imperial Guards entering the hangar. With a cold feeling in his guts, Luke recognized their insignia.

LUK: Holy crap! Those are the same guards that attacked me in the valley!
BEN: Hmmm. Not the same guards, but from the same unit. It appears Lord Vader has no intentions of stopping his pursuit. It would be beneficial, Mr. Gover, if you expedited our escape.
BRF: Yes,..and a quick launch will help, as well.
BEN: Mr. Updike,...
UPD: So we sacrificed intellect for brute strength! Sue me!

Chewie signaled (all right, growled) to Han that the engines had sufficiently warmed up. With laser fire glancing off the ship's hull, the Centennial Sparrow launched through the hangar.

CHW: Awrgh! Hrooaw!
HAN: Yeah, I know, Chewie! Another 6,000 I.C. down the drain! Prepare for light speed!
BEN: You shall be properly compensated when this adventure is over.
HAN: How? Sell more Cocainamine?
BEN: No, Mr. Gover. The Knights have moved on to a newer funding venture.
HAN: Like what,...drug rehab?
BEN: No. We follow the advice of a great, ancient Get-High master. We have begun "merchandising."
CHW: Rut-roh!
HAN: Oh, shit! I've got Imperial fighters on my ass! Hang tight, I'll try to out-maneuver them!
UPD: Let me try hailing my ship. We could use the firepower! Barf?
BRF: I have activated the distress beacon, sir. We should receive confirmation, shortly.
CHW: Agoroo! Ruuaw!
HAN: An escape pod?? Chewie, I don't have the time to investigate it!
CHW: Baroo! Chee! Chee!
HAN: You're detecting a life form?
LUK: Maybe its the princess!
HAN: What??
LUK: I can't explain it, but I'm getting a weird feeling about that pod!
BEN: Hmmm. Perhaps the boy is right. Master Gover, you must retrieve that pod!
HAN: But I'm approaching ludicrous speed! If I stop now, the Imperial fighters'll blast us to space dust!

With the balance of the crew browbeating him and Updike and Barf trying to understand the concept of "ludicrous" speed, Han quickly made a mental debate.

HAN: Dammit! Alright! Chewie, make a V-pass maneuver, then drop out of light speed.
CHW: Rawww,...ruts!

As the Wookie made the crafty move, the Imperial fighters blasted past them. Han smiled and turned back to Ben.

HAN: It'll take them about twenty minutes to drop out and turn around! That should buy us time. Chewie, you and the Klingon head for the cargo bay. I'll use the magnetic grappler and guide that thing in here.
BRF: Aye, sir.
LUK: Is there anything I can do, Mr. Gover?
HAN: Yeah,..sit down and stay out of trouble! If this turns into a wild ptarmigan hunt, you'll be Chewie's next meal!

As Luke melted into the background, Han, with Updike's assistance, carefully dragged the pod into the cargo bay. Barf hailed them.

BRF: The pod is secure, Commander.
UPD: Anything inside?
BRF: Standby. The walking rug is extricating the contents, now.
CHW: Ao-oor! Narf!

Back at the command cabin, Updike winced at both his subordinate's remark and Han's reaction. Before anybody could react, the sounds of a scuffle broke over the intercom, followed by a woman screaming.

UPD: Barf, what's happening?
BRF: Chewie is "assisting" a young woman from inside the pod.

Luke beamed with smug satisfaction. Ben appeared to be relieved.

LUK: Ben, you look relieved.
BEN: Do not push your luck, Young Luke,. I know that you read this in the previous narration. Han, I must speak with her.
HAN: Go ahead, be my guest.
BEN: Young lady, are you the Princess Liyar?
LYR: I sure am! And what took you so long?? Do you know how cramped those escape pods are? Oy!! My hair!! And wait until the Resistance hears about this!!

Ben turned away from the communications console and shook his head. Updike took note of his expression.

BEN: (sighing) It is exactly as I feared!
UPD: What? What??
HAN: We've rescued a Shrewish Princess!

Hearing the conversation, Barf commented:

BRF: Odd,...she does not bear the appearance of a shrew!
UPD: Barf, please bring "Her Majesty" to the conn.
BRF: Aye, sir.

As Liyar was "escorted" to the command cabin, she shouldn't help but feel like this was deja vu all over again. The relief she felt over being reunited with her old family friend tempered her indignation over her confinement. When she met Ben, the two embraced for several long moments. After finally parting, the Princess broke down.

BEN: Liyar, are you all right?
LYR: No, Ben, actually, I'm half left,...but that's important right now!
BEN: Ah-hemmm! Then you are uninjured?
LYR: I'm fine, but,...oh, Ben! Vader used the Imperial Genocide Star on my world! Everyone's dead!
BEN: (sighing) Oh, my. It is just as I feared.
UPD: What is this "Genocide Star?"
BEN: It is a multi-phase disrupter designed to bring the Resistance-allied planets to their knees. The Resistance has know of this for quite some time, but I did not think Vader's lackeys had advanced the technology quite so fast.
UPD: By the Gods!
BEN : You know of this device?
BRF: My people, the Klingons, were working on a similar project when Praxis exploded. Given the circumstances, the project was abandoned. Commander, the Boobyprize must be advised of this.
UPD: Yes, Barf, when we get back. Ben, just who is this "Lord Vader?"

Ben turned away from them for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He turned back with a grim look.

BEN: Once, Vader was among the noblest of the Get-High Knights. For him, the drug trade wasn't enough. He began using his products and soon he was seduced by the Dark Side. He was banned from the Order and joined up with our rivals, the Deddov Knights. Their evil knows no bounds. As the Emperor consolidated his power, he recruited Vader as his enforcer. Vader lost most of his hearing during a clandestine attack on a Resistance stronghold, hence the appellation "Deaf Vader."
UPD: Ugh! That's enough to make even a Romulan shudder.
HAN: A Romulan shutter? Is that anything like a Venetian blind?
UPD: Oh,..very funny.
BEN: Gentlemen, please! This is not the time for levity!
LYR: Ben, what became of my droid?
UPD: We have possession of him, Your Highness. As well as a second droid, IM1-RU2.
LYR: Is it functioning, Commander...?
UPD: Commander Uptight,..I, I mean, Updike, ma'am. I'm afraid the droid was damaged in transit, but I believe our Engineering Department was rebuilding it.

The twosome locked gazes, briefly. A beep from the communications board interrupted their reverie.

BRF: Commander, the Boobyprize is hailing us, sir.
UPD: Uh,..very good, Barf. Give them our transporter coordinates and update the Captain.
BRF: Aye, sir.
UPD: Han, you'll come amidships?
HAN: If I want to collect on this, sure.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 8

2005-10-10T21:30:00.000-07:00

After nearly an hour of trekking through the harsh desert, the group made their way into the Baab Aganouj bar. As Ben predicted, it was teeming with all sorts of low-lifes, freaks, and transients.

BEN: Say nothing and follow my lead.

As the group followed into the dank bar, Luke drank in all of the sights. A large brass band played a discordant tune that reminded Updike of Barf's Klingon operas. Several multi-limbed females danced on the floor in front of the band and Luke thought he caught a couple in the throes of passion in one of the corners. Ben caught him staring and pulled him away before trouble started.

UPD: What does this trader look like?
BEN: He is known to disguise himself, but he is always in the company of a Wookie.
UPD: A,...Wookie? Why not a seasoned vetewan, wike myself?
BEN: (Groaning) Such levity could get a man killed here, Mr. Updike!
UPD: Sowwy.

Before Ben could further reprimand Updike, he spotted his quarry. As was planned, Updike and Barf took positions near the trader's booth as Ben and Luke sat down, uninvited. The trader was slumped over, apparently in an alcohol-induced haze. His companion roared in disapproval.

CHW: Ro-o-oar! How-o-ar!
HAN: What,...what is it, Chewie?
BEN: Han Gover, I presume?
HAN: Ben,...Ben Cannoli? What are you doing here??
BEN: I am in need of assistance, my friend.
HAN: Oh-h-h no! That last run I did for the Knights got my ship confiscated for a month. I spent 4,000 I.C. getting a friend to buy it back at auction!
BEN: I apologize for the inconvenience, Han, but this time it is of a more,...perosnal venture.
CHW: Ah-roooar! Arrgghh!
HAN: Yeah, Chewie, I smell a trap, too! And who's the kid?
BEN: He is my protege, Luke.
CHW: Arff! Rooargh!
HAN: And what about the bodyguards?
BEN: (sighing) I see nothing gets past you, Chewen-Tobacca. They, too, are friends.
HAN: Nothing personal, Ben, but your past choice of "friends" left a lot to be deired.
BEN: Pity. I did not want to resort to this, but I fear I must call in that marker I hold on you. You do "owe me one."
HAN: What,...what marker? You mean the time I....
BEN: SHe was a most difficult person to silence, Han. Many resources went into that project.
CHW: Arroogah! Roo-ar!
HAN: Yeah, I know, Chewie. He's got me by the balls again. All right, Ben, what's the scam?

Ben filled Han in on the story thus far. Han apologized for falling asleep during the reading of the first seven chapters. Ben took no offense, for it was a common occurrance for this writer's audience. After giving it some consideration, Han reluctantly agreed. Ben gave Updike and Barf the high sign and they slowly made their way out of the bar, careful no to raise the suspicions of any Imperial agents.

HAN: My ship's over in spacedock, getting some routine maintenance done on it.
BRF: Is your ship fast?
HAN: Fast?? Buddy, ain't nothing faster than the Centennial Sparrow! UPD: The what...?
HAN: Hey, don't look at me! I bought it used and its a bad omen to rename a ship!
CHW: Arr-oor! Haagh!

Han looked over at what had caught Chewie's attention. Standing by the entrance portal of the Centennial Sparrow were several heavily-armed thuigs and a Rubenesque woman.

HAN: Awww,...shit!! I though I gave her the slip back on Berumba!
UPD: Who is she?
HAN: That's Peaches! "Peaches the Slut!!"
BEN: And what matter of transgression have you wrought upon her?
HAN: I owe her for,..."services" rendered.
LUK: Like,...what kind of services, Mr. Gover?
HAN: Kid, if you have to ask...
BEN: We do not have the time for that now, Young Luke. I shall explain later.
HAN: You do that, old man. Let me go over and talk to her. Maybe I can sweet-talk her out of this.
UPD: Barf and I will take up positions overhead. If the shit hits the fan, we'll take out the goon squad.
CHW: Yowoor!
HAN: Yeah, I know, Chewie! But maybe she'll forgive and forget!

Reluctantly, Han made his way towards the craft. Peaches turned towards him. Her guards made at the ready.

HAN: Peaches, baby! What's with the heavy guns?
PCH: Han-no, kompatindo knabo! Vi suldas min monego!
HAN: Yeah, but I owe a lot of people money! The Imperial Trade Commission is squeezing me at every turn, Peaches! I can't make enough to pay everybody at once.
PCH: Estas al mi indiferente! Mi prizorgis vin, vi prizorgu min!
HAN: I would take care of you if I could, but...
PCH: Vi pagu min, a vi mortu!!
HAN: But,...but, peaches, if you kill me, how will you collect on my debt?
PCH: La sipo estos mia! Mi vendos gi!
HAN: Sell my ship? I don't think so!!

With that, Han gave Barf and Updike the signal to open fire. Phaser blasts blended with laser fire from opposing retail franchises. Ben grabbed his light cutlass from Luke and jumped into the fray. With casualities mounting, Peaches sounded the retreat.

PCH: Roon avay! Roon avay! Han-no, mi havos mia vengo!!
HAN: Revenge this, bitch!

Han fired his laser pistol and struck Peaches in a near point-blank hit. One of her lackeys quickly scurried to drag her away. As the smoke cleared, the gang quickly reqrouped. A klaxon sounded off in the distance.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 7

2005-09-20T09:07:00.000-07:00

As the Away Team assembled in the captain's ready room, Dildeaux addressed Input. Again, Input recalled his travails to the captain.

DLD: Mr. Input, what the hell did you get yourself into?
IPT: I, I am puzzled by the tone of your question, sir.
DLD: Your contact with those people violated the Prime Directive regarding First Contact!
IPT: I am, as humans proclaim, a victim of circumstances.
UPD: He's right, sir. Input was kidnapped. He didn't initiate First Contact of his own volition, sir.
DLD: So it appears, Number Two. (Sighing) Now that the problem is upon us, gentlemen, the question appears to be: how do we extract ourselves from it?
UPD: Well, sir, Georgi has those 'droids' down in Engineering. Maybe he can shed some light.

Dildeaux, fresh from the Away team briefing, entered the Engineering lab. He found Georgi LaFart and several others methodically deconstructing the smaller droid.

DLD: Found anything yet, Georgi?
LFT: Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain. Basically, a standard-functioning robot. Nothing positronic, or duotronic, in the circuitry.
DLD: Hmmm. Just below par with our technology. This allays some of my doubts regarding First Contact rules. How about the larger robot?
LFT: We're just getting ready to decontruct it, sir. Care to stick around?
DLD: Gladly.

A group of Georgi's assistants brought the larger droid forward from its holding container. After a quick scan with a tricorder, it was hooked into Georgi's diagnostic computer.

LFT: Now, captain, this should read out its programming protocols.

Moments after Georgi fed in the command, the droid gasped and opened its eyes. The two security personnel assigned under Yellow Alert protocol drew out their phasers and targeted the droid.

IMR: How,...how,..where,..
DLD: It speaks?
LFT: (muttering) No shit!
DLD: Pardon me?
LFT: I,...um,..said, "who would have thought of it,...sir."
DLD: I thought so. Identify yourself, robot.
IMR: I am IM1-RU2, a Type III protocol droid. Where is OU812?
DLD: Who?
LFT: OU812 was the designation for the smaller droid, dir.
IMR: Where is he? He has information vital to the Resistance!
LFT: Well, currently he's that small pile of parts over there.
IMR: MURDERERS!!! What have you done?? Oh, this is most dreadful! Mater Ben will be quite upset by this turn of events!
DLD: I think you better explain yourself. What is this "Resistance?"

With that, the droid was escorted to Dildeaux's Ready Room. As the droid briefed Dildeaux, Updike and Barf regarding the Resistance, Yo chimed into the room.

YO: Sir, we've just received an urgent message from Input's friend, Ben.
DLD: An urgent message? What is it?
YO: Would you prefer a snappy retort defining what an urgent message is first, sir?
DLD: later, Yo. This is critical and I've no time for levity.
YO: (muttering) Uh-oh. Etterbay etgay the Ozacpray!
DLD: I eardhay atthay, O-yay! Just deliver the essagemay!
YO: Yes, sir. Ben says those Imperial fighters strafed he and Luke and they've destroyed Luke's home and family. Ben is now requesting assistance from us.
DLD: Affirmative. Get a fix on his position and instruct him to standby.
YO: Aye, sir.

Dildeaux turned his back to his senior officers and stared out the porthole, collecting his thoughts. After a few moments, he returned to the conference table.

DLD: Gentlemen, again I am of two minds regarding our predicament.
UPD: Jeez, didn't Dr. Chestcrusher adjust your lithium levels yet, sir?
DLD: Number Two!!! I am, however, of a single mind regarding your next promotion,...you oaf!
UPD: (gulp) Yes, sir.
DLD: While I know we a re fairly safe in regards to the Prime Directive, I do not wish to expose these locals to any of our technology. Therefore, Number Two, take Barf with you and render as much assistance as possible to the "Ben."
UPD: Aye, sir.
BRF: Hmmm. A chance to render aid to a downtrodden victim. This would be well within my,..my,..
UPD: "Idiom," Barf?
BRF: Grrr! I would take great care to whom I called an "idiot," Commander!!
UPD: I,...uh,...
DLD: Nevermind, Number Two! Just get down there! Report back every half-hour.
UPD/BRF: Aye, sir.

Back down on the planet, Ben and Luke greeted the Away Team. After updating each other, Ben informed them of his plan.

BEN: Gentlemen, the princess needs to be rescued and I have a plan.
LUK: A plan? What is it?
BEN: A plan is a series of coherent and sequential actions to achieve a goal.
LUK: Oh-h-h-h. I've never encountered one reading this series.
BEN: It shall not be held against you Young Luke.
UPD: Uh,...Ben, your plan?
BEN: The message from OU812 indicates that Lord Vader is probably holding the princess on his flagship. That ship, and the new weapons system, is heavily guarded. Going in with a ship like your Boobyprize will get everyone killed: therefore, I shall seek the assistance of a local transport ship to slip past Vader's guard.
BRF: I do not like this plan. Sneaking and stealth are not honorable. I would prefer to die in the rescue of this princess, and my spirit shall gain entrance to Sto-Vo-Kor!
BEN: Forgive me, Commander Updike, but is your compatriot always this,...frisky?
UPD: It's his new diet. But just how do you intend to get someone to volunteer for what sounds like a suicide mission?
BEN: There is a bar in town favored by the local traders. I know of a certain trader who has helped me in the past. He, too, "owes me one."
UPD: Then let's get this show on the road.
BEN: I appreciate your enthusiasm, Commander, but first we must outfit you two in a more local fashion. Your uniforms will certainly arouse suspicion among these people. We shall first travel to my place for clothing.
BRF: You seem very assured of yourself, Ben.
BEN: I follow a,...guidance that permits me a degree of self-assurance.
LUK: You mean "The Schwartz?"
BEN: No,...that would be copyright infringement. But it is something like that.

At Ben's home, the group refreshed themselves as they picked from Ben's extensive wardrobe. Luke, ever inquisitive, pored over several of Ben's personal effects. Luke's eye caught sight of a small, cylindrical device. Picking it up, he recognized the markings of the mythical "Knights," and was awe-struck.

BEN: Luke, you appear awe-struck.
LUK: How,...how did you know?
BEN: It is written by "The Force."
LUK: What s this thing anyway?
BEN: That is my light cutlass. At a time, it served its purpose.
LUK: A light cutlass?? Wow! I've heard stories about the Knights and how they struck down the Imperial Forces with these things!
BEN: Yes, Young Luke; but that "thing" is not a toy. It is a deadly tool, one that must be mastered by years of training.
LUK: Gee, I'd sure like to learn how to use it!
BEN: Your enthusiasm knows no bounds, Young Luke! You may hold that for now, Luke, but first we must make our way. Time is of the essence.
UPD: Where, exactly, are we going, Ben?
BEN: There is a bar near the space port, the "Baab Aganouj." I have heard that an old friend was in layover there.
UPD: Why this particular,..."friend?"
BEN: If you are inquiring about his moral character, then "yes," he has been a drug runner for the Get-High Knights. His expertise in getting past the Imperial Star Forces knows no equal. He shall be a boon to our expedition.
BRF: That is all well and good, but I wish him to be of some aid to us.
BEN: I believe I just said that,...
UPD: Don't ask, Ben.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 6

2005-08-22T19:21:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile, back at the cavern, the cloaked figure approached Luke and Input. Pulling back his cowl, he revealed himself to Luke and smiled.

LUK: Who,...who,..
BEN: My word, you've become an owl!
IPT: Please identify yourself, sir. Are you one of Luke's "raiders?"
LUK: Yeah,...and speaking of them,...what happened to the rest of your gang?
BEN: I no longer have much of a "gang." The "Get-High" Knights' ranks grow thinner everyday.
LUK: Get-High Knights? That would make you,..Ben Cannoli! Input, he's no raider, he's a legend!
BEN: I'm afraid they weren't raiders, young Luke Spaceskipper.
LUK: You know my name?
BEN: I know may things, Luke. But I do not know what you possess that has brought the wrath of Vader's First Legion.
LUK: Vad,..Vader? Lord Deaf Vader's after me? Why? What did I do?
IPT: Perhaps a more pressing question is what happened to those troops?
BEN : I,..eliminated their threat.
LUK: Gosh, you saved our lives! What can I repay you with?
BEN: It's OK, Luke. You "Owe me one."

Before Luke and company had time to sort things out, Barf and the security detail stormed into the cave, phasers, drawn. Input moved quickly to head them off.

IPT: Barf, please st-stand down. These people are, are not a threat.
BRF: Input, are you well?
IPT: I am functioning within established parameters, Barf. Is the ship safe?
BRF: Yes, why do you ask?

Input relayed his story to Barf. After making the perfunctory greetings with Luke and Ben, the group began to head back to Updike's site. Luke and one of the security guards began to lift the smaller droid when they slipped, dropping the droid back to the floor of the cave. The droid whirred to life and began to project the Princess' visual playback on the wall of the cave. The video and audio were scratchy and appeared to be in auto-rewind mode. Ben cleared his throat.

BEN: Oh, my, this is troubling.
LUK: What is it? Do you know her?
BEN: I,...know her father. He is,..or was, an old friend. I have been sensing a disturbance in the air.
BRF: Forgive me, Ben. It is the quadrotriticale in my diet.
BEN: Not that disturbance, Mr. Barf.
LUK: Nevermind, Barf. What,..what's this all about, Ben?
BEN: Luke, there is something you should know about me. Like myself, the King was a member of the Knighthood,...and an active participant in the Resistance. This "message" means that he is dead and the Emperor has moved ahead with his plans.
LUK: The Knighthood? The Resistance? Right here on Ratt-a-Tattoouine?
IPT: What is this "Knighthood?"
LUK: I thought it was only a legend....
BEN: No, Young Luke, not a legend. We have moved about in secrecy since the Emperor disposed of the Libertarian Senate when the Senate attempted to disband the Imperial Revenue Service.
LUK: But,...but my Uncle Tom says you're nothing but a low-life drug runner.
BEN: (sighing) Yes, Luke, we Get-High Knights did profit from the drug trade. However, those profits have been used to purchase aid for the Resistance for years.

Luke walked off, collecting his thoughts. Barf moved towards the cave's entrance, then quickly returned.

BRF: We must move on. The Boobyprize's sensors are detecting a large fleet of ships moving this way. Commander Updike, in a typical move to save his own ass, has already returned.
IPT: Affirmative. We should beam these droids up as well. With Georgi's help, their memory chips should yield any additional information.

As the troops made preparations for the return, Ben informed Input that he and Luke would remain behind and return to Luke's family.

IPT: We shall return as soon as safety permits, Ben.
BEN: Very well, Mr. Input. May the,..Guidance be with you.

With that, the groups parted company. Ben and Luke reclaimed what they could from Luke's skimmer and transferred it to Ben's older land carriage and slowly made their way out of the valley. "How am I going to explain this to Uncle Tom?" was the foremost problem occupying Luke's thoughts as they made the trek over the featureless desert. His mood lightened when his home came into view on the horizon.

Suddenly, a force of dark Imperial X-File fighters swooped over them and past the dune horizon. In their wake, a flaming mushroom cloud arose.

LUK: Holy shit, Ben! X-File fighters! What did they hit?
BEN: I do not know, Luke. But let's move one; the truth is out there.

And indeed, the truth was revealed as they crested the next dune. Luke's heart sank as he saw what was left of his Uncle Tom's cabin. Before Ben could bring the land carriage to a stop, Luke leapt out, running towards the ruins.

LUK: Uncle Tom!! Aunt Eetah!! Anybody??

Ben rushed forward, tackling Luke into the sandy brush.

BEN: Luke! Be quiet, you fool!
LUK: What?? Why,...why them??
BEN: I do not know, Luke, but something tells me that message has far more dire consequences than I already presumed. We must get you out of harm's way.
LUK: How?
BEN: We'll contact your space friends and get you aboard their ship.
LUK: But what if Vader's troops already go to them?

Back on the Boobyprize, Dildeaux greeted the Away Team as they entered the bridge. The bridge crew was in high gear, making several evasive maneuvers to shake the pursuing Imperial fighters. After several stomach-wrenching minutes, Input gave the all clear.

IPT: Captain, the fighters have broken off their pursuit.
DLD: Very good. Number Two, all clear from red Alert. Continue Yellow Alert status, then get the Away Team back in my ready room. We need to have a serious discussion about our situation.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 5

2005-08-11T20:29:00.000-07:00

After Luke loaded the three droids into his cramped skimmer, he set off into the northern valleys. He hoped a shortcut would get him home by supper.

As he cruised through the tight twists and turns of the valleys, he fantasized about his friends in the Resistance. He'd gone through this valley hundreds of times, imagining the Imperial Star Force behind each crevice and turn. "Someday," he thought, "I'll be up there with them, duking it out with the best the Emperor has to offer!"

Input stirred from his spot behind Luke, breaking the youth's reverie and causing him to momentarily lose control of the skimmer.

LUK: Hey, what the,...?
IPT: I am sorry, Luke. I could not afford to make my presence known until now. And your fantasizing is putting my robotic ass on the line!
LUK: You,..you can speak? All by yourself!
IPT: Yes. My duotronic interface system allows for spontaneous conversation.
LUK: But, but....
IPT: I shall endeavor to explain myself of you can avoid colliding with the valley wall ahead.
LUK: The what....??

As Luke turned back to his controls, he saw that indeed the skimmer was about to collide with an outcropping jutting from the side of the valley. With little margin for error, he pulled hard on the control stick. Just as Luke thought he's cleared the rocks, he clipped his wing against the opposite wall. The skimmer veered wildly as Luke attempted to correct his course.

IPT: Excuse me, Luke, but perhaps landing the craft would be the wisest action.
LUK: I can't, buddy! This area's swarming with raiders! They'll kill us before we get out!
IPT: Calculating our odds, I believe our survivability is best served by landing than by fighting with your craft.

Unfortunately, Luke did not have the time to consider his options. His engines failed and the skimmer slid into the valley floor, spinning around several times before coming to a grinding halt. Luke and Input leapt from the flaming cruiser, grabbing the other droids before seeking shelter, Moments later, the skimmer erupted into a shower of flaming fuel and debris.

LUK: Shit! We might as well send up a homing beacon to the marauders.
IPT: I, I believe we might seek shelter in one of these crevices until any danger passes.
LUK: Fine! Anything you say, buddy.

Dragging the droids with them the duo made their way into a small, poorly-lit cavern.

LUK: Aw, gees! I left my flares in the ship. I can't hardly see my hand before my face!
IPT: That is not a problem, Luke. I believe I may be, be of assistance.

With that, Input rose, pulled out a small phaser and fired into a group of rocks. The glow from the ignited rocks provided a small amount of light into the room.

LUK: Gee, thanks! But, for a droid, you sure have a lot of explaining to do!
IPT: I, I am sorry, but I fail to understand your classification of me as a "droid."
LUK: Well,...you're not a human, so what are you?
IPT: I am an artificial intelligence of the highest order, created to prove the functionality of duotronic computer matrices.
LUK: Er,...in English?
IPT: I thought that was in English. Perhaps if I try again in T'lingnan or Vulcan,...
LUK: Till,...Vulcan?? What part of the Empire do you come from?
IPT: I do not come from any "Empire." I am Input, Lieutenant Commander. I am the Science Officer aboard the U.S.S. Boobyprize, of the United Federation of Planets.
LUK: I'm lost.

Before Input could further explain his predicament, the cave was bombarded with phaser blasts.

LUK: Raiders! Get down!
IPT: But,...I, I don't understand. Perhaps I can hail my ship.
LUK: You have a ship? Up there?? Jeez, the Imperial Force'll blast them to plasma!

As suddenly as the attack started, it stopped, freezing the duo in mid-sentence. As Luke rose from his hiding spot, a cloaked figure entered the cave. Luke scrambled about for a weapon.

Back on the Boobyprize, a welcoming beep rose from Barf's console. Ensign Yo confirmed the good news.

YO: Captain, we've located Input, sir.
DLD: Terrific! Is he still alive?
BRF: I am receiving an energy signal similar to Input's, but the strength is fading. Judging from the interference, he must be inside a cave, or perhaps underground.
DLD: Good enough. Number Two, assemble an Away Team. Take plenty of expendable extras; you might encounter stiff resistance down there.
UPD: Aye, sir.

As Updike tagged Barf for duty, he paged Georgi from his Black Gang and a squadron of security extras.

Minutes later, the Away Team materialized in a narrow valley.

UPD: Barf, sensor readings?
BRF: They are the figures given by my tricorder. My Starfleet training allows me to interpret them.
UPD: Dammit, Barf, it me: Updike! You can knock off that wise-ass stuff now that the Captain's not around!
BRF: Grrr! A Klingon is never a "wise-ass." However, I am picking up readings of debris, approximately 250 meters due south of here.

UPD: Very good. Take a security detail and investigate.
LFT: Commander, I'm getting pretty strong readings from Input's matrix in that same direction!
BRF: I am reading life forms in addition to Commander Input's, sir. Several are,...expired, sir.

With an icy feeling in his stomach, Updike rushed the Away Team to the rescue.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 4

2005-08-02T09:55:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile, on a desert planet, a young man tended to mending the sonar fences of his ranch when a large, aging ship flew overhead. Knowing what the ship signified, he dropped what he was doing and hopped into his sand skimmer. Moments later, he arrived at the main house. Bounding into the house, he bumped into an elderly man. Out of breath, he spoke:

LUK: Unc-uncle! Did you see? The, the droid ship is here!!
UNC: Yes, Luke, I did. Calm down, son. We have plenty of time to get there. They still have to clear customs.
LUK: Sorry, Uncle Tom. I'm,..I'm just eager to go to my first auction.
UNC: Ah-hmmm. SO eager, you didn't finish the fence, did you?
LUK: Sorry, Uncle Tom. I'll go back out and,...
ANT: And,...you'll do no such thing! Breakfast's ready, young man! There's little you can get done on an empty stomach.
LUK: Yeah,...sorry, Aunt Eetah.

Luke and his uncle made their way to the dinner table. After his aunt finished serving them, they settled into some small talk.

UNC: Did you hear about the Draggin's kid?
ANT: Long-Dong? What happened? is he hurt?
UNC: Naw,...nothing like that! Damned fool kid, up and ran off to join the Resistance!
LUK: Coo-oo-ol!
UNC: "Cool," my ass! Gonna get his keester shot off!
LUK: Gee, I'd like to help fight off the Emperor! Flying around, shootin' the bad guys! ROO-OARR! RAT-A-TAT-TAT!!
ANT: Luke!
UNC: Luke you idiot! Get them damn fool ideas out o' your head! I need you more tending to farm than the Resistance needs you fightin' a fool's errand!
LUK: But,...
UNC: But nothing! Dammit, Luke, it was thinkin' like that that got your parents killed.
LUK: Then,..maybe I'll go join the Knights!
UNC: The Knights??? They're extinct, you fool!
LUK: But what about "Old Ben?"
UNC: That drug-runnin' old coot? I think he's dipped into his own stock one time too many. (snorting) Thinks he's a Knight!
ANT: Enough of this foolish talk! Finish up and get to the auction! We'll be needin' good harvester drones for the season.
UNC: Yes'm, dear.

Meanwhile, in the Captain's ready room, Updike burst in from the bridge, interrupting Dildeaux's reverie.

UPD: Captain, good news!
DLD: What is it, Updike?
UPD: Well, sir, it's the opposite of bad news, sir.
DLD: Updi-i-ike! You're interrupting my Earl Grey-induced reverie.
UPD: Sorry, sir. We've located Input's ship, sir. It's on the planet we've been scanning.
DLD: (sighing) Very well, Number Two. Assume a high orbit and await further orders.
UPD: Aye, sir. Sir, is something bothering you? I'd thought you'd be happy about finding Input.
DLD: I am, Number Two. But this is,...a difficult set of circumstances. I am of two minds about how we should proceed.
UPD: Two minds? Uh-oh! Bridge to Sickbay: Doctor, you better get up here! The Captain's lithium is wearing off again!
CSH: On my way, Updike.
DLD: Dammit, Beverly! Belay that request! That, Number Two, was a figure of speech! I mean I wish to rescue Input, but following Starfleet protocol may, in this instance, violate the Prime Directive,..and how did you know I was on lithium?
UPD: I, er,...I...I better get back out on the bridge and get us into orbit, sir.
DLD: Updike!!

As Updike squirreled off to the bridge, Luke Spaceskipper and his uncle jetted out to the center of town and made their way to the massive droid vendor's ship.

Luke's uncle approached the chief vendor, a gnome-like man wearing heavy robes. Behind the vendor lay a large display of droids of various sizes. One peculiarly human-looking one caught his eye.

UNC: So, Dink-Dink, what are you going to shaft me with today?
DNK: Oh, Tom-human! Great and many are my wares this day! A droid you look for?
UNC: Several, actually. I need good harvesters. I've had a great planting season this year.
DNK: Oh, good! Good! Take look, you. Many to please, yes?

Uncle Tom made his way through the selection. Luke followed closely, studying his uncle's bartering skills, Eventually, Tom and Luke made their way to the droid that earlier caught Tom's eye. With skilled shrewdness, Tom began the dance.

UNC: This isn't your usual fare, Dink-Dink,...something new?
DNK: Yes, yes! Just, er,...'picked up' from other side of Imperium. Only one available, yes. Very rare, very expensive.

Tom and Luke both studied the droid carefully. Input, ever-careful not to breach the Prime Directive, remained impassive during their scrutiny. Seemingly satisfied, Tom turned to the vendor.

UNC: Name a price, Dink-Dink.
DNK: 20,000 I.C.
UNC: My hearing must be fading with age, Dink-Dink. I know I didn't hear you say 20,000 Imperial Credits!
DNK: You hearing fine! I say 20,000!
UNC: 20,000 will blow my entire budget. Surely, you can accept something less.
DNK: No, no. 20,000, firm. And not call me "Shirley."

Tome pondered for a moment before turning to Luke with a quick wink.

UNC: For 20,000 I.C., how about this droid and,...a couple of throwaways?
DNK: Fah! I not have 'throwaways!' All my stock good!
UNC: Right! And the Emperor was born yesterday.

The little droid vendor grumbled and pensive gestures before relenting.

DNK: OK. You win! Pick up after I sell "good" stuff.
UNC: Deal.

Tom and Luke watched the haggling go on for hours, until Dink-Dink was left with nothing more than a small, bettered servo-droid and a tall, officious-looking droid Tom recognized as a protocol Type II. The vendor finished his business, then brought all three droids over to Tom.

DNK: Here, here. All I got left. You take, as we deal, yes?
UNC: Hmmm. Not much of a "bargain' in this motley pack.
DNK: Oy! My reproductive organs! You are breaking them, yes?

Tom moved about, inspecting his purchases, letting the little loser sweat for a moment.

UNC: Alright, Dink-Dink. A deal's a deal. Let us draw out the papers over some ale.
DNK: Oh-h-h, yes! Ale,...good, good!
UNC: Fine. Luke, load these droids up and take them home. Tell your aunt I'm still doing business. I'll be back by sunfall.
LUK: OK, Uncle Tom.

Star Yecch! Wars Part 3

2005-07-24T10:39:00.000-07:00

On the Imperial cruiser, Princess Liyar was roughly dragged into a conference room. Set free of the guards, she approached the high-ranking officer who had his back turned to her. She addressed him without preamble.

LYR: As nobility of the Empire, I demand an explanation for this treatment!!

The officer turned to face the princess.

TRQ: Considering, my dear, that your father has not sworn his support for the Emperor, your "royal' status us suspect at best and will afford you no grace on this ship.
LYR: Bran Muffin Tarq! I should have recognized your foul stench when I was dragged onto this ship! My father and my people will never capitulate to the Emperor!
TRQ: (sighing) Very well, my dear. My patience has worn thin dealing with "your people.' I'm afraid I'll have to turn this matter over to my superiors.

With a brief wave of Tarq's hand, the wall behind him folded away, revealing the command center of the ship. At its helm stood the black-cloaked figure of Deaf Vader. Liyar gazed at him for a moment, then took notice of the viewscreen behind him. She nearly fainted at the site before her. Vader turned and approached the princess.

VDR: Soooo, Princesss Liiyarr. We meet at laaasst.
LYR: Vader! You,...you,..monster! I see the Emperor has been forced to send his hearing-impaired lackey to do his dirty work again!
VDR: I preferrr "aurally deficient," but insults are beneath you. Do you recognize that structure on the viewscreen?
LYR: No,...not at all.
VDR: Coo-ome now, my dearrr. Do-oo not insult my intelligence.

The princess stood her ground, remaining silent.

VDR: Verr-ry well. The Empire has ways of dealing with insolence. This Genocide Star is His Holiness' latest method of ensuring allegiance. Do you recognize the planet to its left?
LYR: My left, or your left?
VDR: Huu-umor-rr,...it does you no justice. It is your home planet, Disinformatia. I will give you one last chance to persuade your father to decommission the Rebellion and get with the pogrom,...I mean, program.
LYR: Never!
VDR: Very well.

With a wave of his hand, several officers sprang into action. On the viewscreen, the Genocide Star was bathed with a greenish light. The light intensified, then finally burst forth in a stream of power towards the princess's planet. The planet glowed with the bombardment of the green light, then expanded, changing to an angry shade of red. Finally, the planet erupted, sending showers of hot sparks streaking across the cosmos.

LYR: NO-O-O-O-O!!! VADER, YOU BEAST!! The princess broke down, falling to the floor, sobbing. When she finally composed herself, she rose and faced the black beast.

LYR: What sort of man are you, Vader?? What possessed you to annihilate my people??
VDR: I aa-am driven by,...a powwwer greater than my own will.
LYR: The Schwartz?
VDR: No-oo-o. That would infringe upon another copyright. It is-ss,...something else. But never minds that no-o-ow. My need for you is over, Princess Liyar. Guards, throw her into an escape pod and release her. With luck, someone will find you,...NOT!

As the guards dragged the princess away, Tarq approached the commander.

TRQ: Lord Vader, what about the droid?
VDR: Hmmm?
TRQ: I said "WHAT ABOUT THE DROID?"
VDR: I was questioning your vague remark, not asking you to repeat it, Tarq!
TRQ: Sorry, my Lord. We found an old Type VII droid with the princess, sir. What should we do with it?
VDR: It is of no value to me,...dispose of it as you see fit.
TRQ: Yes, my Lord.

Mean while, on board the Boobyprize, the crew had settled into a routine of testing theory upon theory. As boredom crept upon the crew, Input suddenly broke in with startling news.

IPT: Captain, I-I'm picking up a sensor reading, bearing 070 Mark 20.
DLD: Can you identify it, Input?
IPT: Negative, sir. The ship is on the very edge of our forward scanners, sir.
DLD: Affirmative, Input. Ensign Yo, plot a course for that position, one-third IMpulse power.
YO: Aye, sir.
DLD: Barf, keep a constant scan on that reading. Keep me updated.
BRF: Aye, sir.

Several tense moments passed before Barf made an announcement.

BRF: Sir, it is a ship! Moving in our direction!
DLD: Very good, mister. Input, anything that matches the files?
IPT: Neg-negative, sir.
DLD: All right,...Ensign Yo: all stop. Barf, anything else?
BRF: Moderately sized,...weak life signs,..ion-drive powered.
IPT: Captain, the energy signature looks familiar.
DLD: In what way, Input?
IPT: Bio-mechanical energy signatures, sir. Several so far.
DLD: Androids?
UPD: Ion drive and artificial life-forms, sir? With those kinds of advancements, I don't think we'll have to worry about the Prime Directive.
DLD: Point taken, Number Two.
DLD: Input, forward screen.

The ship appeared as an unimpressive, rust-colored cockroach. Numerous burn marks scorched its hull.

BRF: Sir, weapons are powering up!
DLD: Shields up! red Alert!
IPT: We are being scanned, sir. High-intensity theta-band, sir.
UPD: Captain, the theta-band emissions will disrupt the warp core!
DLD: Understood, Number Two. Yo, full reverse, course 180!
YO: Aye, sir,......sir, the helm isn't responding!
DLD: Bridge to Engineering: Georgi, what's happening??
LFT: Those scans are dampening the warp drive, sir. I can't get any power through the converters!
DLD: Divert power from non-essential systems, LaFart!
LFT: Aye, sir.

Before the crew could react to the incursion, a beam of light appeared on the bridge. It circled the room, contacting several people before stopping at Input's station. The light grew brighter, blinding the crew. When the light faded, Input was missing.

YO: Captain, Input's gone!
BRF: Captain, the other ship is powering up its ion-drive!
UPD: We'll never catch them if they warp! We need to disable those engines before they get going!
BRF: Captain, I'm detecting Input's signature on board the ship.
DLD: Barf, quick burst phasers to their aft emissions exhaust.
BRF: Aye, sir.

Before Barf could enable the phasers, the alien ship warped away from them. Dejected, the Captain sank into his command chair. Sensing his dismay. Yo worked quickly at her station.

YO: Captain! I think we can still track them!
DLD: How, Ensign?
YO: Gas!
DLD: So, you're having trouble with Giaboni's cooking, too?
YO: No, sir. The ship's emissions are nothing more than charged gas! Their ion coils are,...failing, or misaligned, sir. My sensors are lighting up like a Roman candle, sir.
DLD: Affirmative, Ensign. Barf, plot a course following them
BRF: Aye, sir.
DLD: Updike, are there any inhabited planets along that course?
UPD: Checking, sir. Yes, one planet, 5.6 light-years from here. Mostly desert, sparsely populated, Class M. Tech level II.
DLD: Hmmm. A "backwater" planet. Very good, Number Two. Continue pursuing the ship. I'll be in my ready room, Number Two. You have the conn.
UPD: Aye, sir.

R.I.P. James Doohan

2005-07-21T15:19:00.000-07:00

This post represents a moment of silence for "Scotty"

Star Yecch! Wars Part 2

2005-07-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile, in that place far, far away, a massive ship cruised through space, pursuing a smaller craft. On the bridge of the larger ship, a darkly-cloaked man strode forth from an antechamber. Upon hearing his approach, a yeoman alerted the bridge crew.

YEO: All make way for Lord Deaf Vader! And remember to shout very loudly in his presence!

The figure entered the bridge. Crewmen stood and saluted. A nervous energy crackled through the bridge as Vader came to face the officer of the day.

VDR: Haaaah,.....repooorrt, Commaaander?
CMD: THE PRINCESS' SHIP IS WITHIN OUR SENSOR RANGE, LORD VADER!!!
VDR: Theeeere's nooo need to shout, Commaaandeeer! I'm wearing my aural enhancement hel-l-lmet.
CMD: Yes,...yes,sir...Lord Vader. My apologies, sir.
VDR: And eliminate that yeomaaan. He is a smart asssss and displeases me.
CMD: Yes, my Lord.
YEO: No! Wait! I'm not really a smart-ass, my Lord! I'm just written that way!

As the smart-ass yeoman was dragged away, Vader turned his attentions back to the commander.

VDR: Haaaah! Activate the retracting beammm.
CMD: Yes, my Lord.

Meanwhile, on the smaller ship, a petite woman made her way past hurrying crewmen. She slipped into a storage room and nearly stumbled over a small canister vacuum. Actually, upon inspection, she found that it was, in fact, one of the ship's maintenance droids, OU812. Sensing her presence, the droid activated.

LYR: OU812! Where have you been?? I need you to get a message to one of my friends, quickly!!

The little droid beeped and whirred in confirmation. When is was ready, a flashing light confirmed to the woman that the droid was recording. A blue light bathed her.

LYR: This message is intended for Sir Ben Cannoli: I am Princess Liyar, daughter of your friend, King Pinocchio the Obfuscator. We need your help and the help of the rest of the Knights! The Resistance is crumbling! I am encoding details of the Empire's latest weapon in this droid's mainframe. The Knights need to get this to the Resistance and liquidate it immediately!

Again, the droid whirred and squeaked to confirm the recorded message. As the Princess stood up, she was jolted by a sudden lurch on the ship. She pressed a communicator on her wrist, summoning her assistant. As she exited the room, she bumped into an extremely tall, pallid man in a tuxedo.

LCH: Yo-oo-ou ran-nn-ng??
LYR: No, no! Wrong "sudden Lurch!" Dammit, if you're going to write this story, get your sub-references right!

(sorry)

LYR: Now, let's get back to the story at hand!

As the Princess turned down the corridor, she was met by several burly guards in Imperial battle garb. After a brief struggle, she was detained and dragged roughly down the hall.

Meanwhile, back on the Boobyprize, the Captain and his senior officers conferred on their next move. It was somewhat disquieting that even Giaboni was in attendance.

DLD: All right ladies and gentlemen, what do we have so far?
CSH: No significant casualties reported to Sickbay, other than the usual time-warp disruptions that occur with the newer personnel.
IPT: Stellar cartography is working on our position, sir, but,...
LFT: The engines were strained so badly, they pulled power away from the ship's log sub-routine. Some of the diaries have lost memory.
UPD: Whew! I hope that includes my Riisian fantasy with Ensign Yo!
YO: Commander??!!
DLD: Updike,...
BRF: Grrr! That explains the loss of my favorite opera, the "VulqanganHom yIH!!"
YO: (snorting) "The Little Vulcan Tribble??"
BRF: It is,...a 'comedy," as I understand the context.
YO: Yeah,...OK.
BRF: Ghewmey Dangej!
YO: "Cooties!!" Is that the best comeback line you can...
DLD: Yo! Barf!! Bijathlh 'e' yImev!!! Klingon comedies and Majoran "cooties" be damned! This won't get us back to Federation territory! Now, everybody, think up some decent solution to this!!

As the captain continued his rant, Giaboni quietly rose from her seat and approached the apoplectic commander.

GIB: Captain, all of our equipment, our technology,...they are useless in this case.
DLD: Why?
GIB: We have not only crossed out of our own time frame, we have jumped into a completely different marketing venture. Copyrights have been infringed, merchandising has been corrupted. There is now only one solution.
DLD: And that is...?
GIB: Litigation.

A hushed gasp passed through the room.

UPD: Litigation? But I thought all lawyers were eliminated in "The Great Awakening?"
IPT: It, it is a long-held belief that all lawyers were killed in the Social Upheaval of 2017. In fact, very few lawyers survived. Most of the Libertarian-led citizens' anger was directed at Revenue Collection Enforcement Agents; dead lawyers were, actually, a fortunate level of collateral damage.
DLD: Hmmm. "First thing we do, we kill all the lawyers."
GIB: I think, Captain, our first priority is to get legal advice.
DLD: Yes,..."make it so."
GIB: And by the way, Captain, you better get a trade patent on that phrase before George Lucas gets hold of it!

Star Yecch! Wars Part 1

2005-07-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE 9703.21. I have placed the ship on liberty, having successfully concluded Boobyprize's first diplomatic mission. We are leaving the orbit of planet Alta, home to the Altoids, a curiously strong people and difficult to negotiate with.

The Captain left his ready room and returned to the bridge. It was with satisfaction and relief to see that things were proceeding smoothly. He took his seat at the conn and addressed his XO, Commander Updike.

DLD: Report, Updike.
UPD: Things are proceeding smoothly, sir.
DLD: Yes, I read that in the narrative. I'm relieved to hear this.
UPD: Yes, sir. I read that in the narrative, sir.
DLD: Don't try to one-up me, Number Two.
UPD: Yes, sir.

As the officers continued to engage in their briefing, Input turned and addressed them.

IPT: Oh, C-Captain,...my-my captain, sir.
DLD: Yes, Input?
IPT: I'm picking up a strange disturbance on the long-range scan-scanners, sir.
DLD: Can you identify it, mister?
IPT: One, one moment, sir. I'm calibrating the sensors, sir. Bearing 148, Mark 42. It appears to be a cloud of Wat'sa matter, sir!
UPD: Wat'sa matter??
IPT: Nothing, sir! Wat'sa matter with you? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DLD: Input!!!
IPT: Sorry, sir-ir. I am having a problem again with my emotions chip, sir.
DLD: Mr. Input! I've had about enough of this out of you! Consider yourself relieved of duty! Return to your quarters and I'll have Mr. LaFart look you over!
IPT: Aye-aye,...sir.

Dejected, Input exited the bridge. Barf moved swiftly to replace him.

UPD: Captain, that was a bit harsh, sir. Input was only making a joke! And we are on liberty, sir.
DLD: Liberty or not, jokes like that will get us killed, Number Two!
UPD: I,..uh, know it's not my place to say this, sir,...but, until your recent success with the Altoids, sir,...well,...you weren't the most popular commander in Starfleet. And Input is a very prominent figure back home, sir.
DLD: Surely, you don't expect me to apologize, Number Two?
UPD: No, I don't, sir. And don't call me Shirley, sir.
DLD: One more upstage like that and you'll be commanding a Silurian freighter! You know about Silurians, Updike,..all male crews,..long transports,...
UPD: (Swallowing) Sorry, sir. It won't happen again.
DLD: See to it, Number Two. However, I will go speak with Input. You have the conn.
UPD: Aye, sir.

Dildeaux debated with himself as he made his way down the hall towards Input's quarters. Arriving at Input's door, he hesitated momentarily before ringing. In all his years of command, he'd never been called upon to reverse such a decision; but Input's special status required special handling.

Input did not meet the Captain at the door when it opened. Ordinarily, Dildeaux would have considered this a serious breach of etiquette, but let the occasion pass. He felt a familiar sensation against his legs and looked down to identify it. Much to his chagrin, it was Input's pet cat, a Rigellian striped Manx that Input had quirkily named "Spot." The cat continued to rub against the Captain's legs as he approached the seated Input.

DLD: (muttering) Out, damned Spot! Input, can you not do something about this creature?
IPT: Sor-sorry, Captain. In my research, I have observed that most felines have a remarkable streak of independence to them. Take the Omegan lion-cat for example...
DLD: Not now, Input. I'm here to discuss your behaviour today on the bridge.
IPT: I, I apologize for that, sir. As you suggested, I spoke with Georgi after being relieved.
DLD: What did Lieutenant LaFart suggest?
IPT: He gave me these books to read, sir.

Input handed the books to the Captain. Dildeaux was somewhat surprised to find a member of his crew in possession of such hardbound paper antiques. A quick glance at the titles piqued his interest.

DLD: "Emotions for Dummies?"..."The Idiots Guide to Self-Expression?" I believe your friend is having a bit of fun with you, Mr. Input.
IPT: On the contrary, sir, these books have helped me sort out some of the pathway problems I have been experiencing with the emotions chip, sir.
DLD: Well, Input,...I only stopped by to,...

Before Dildeaux could finish groveling, a hail from the bridge interrupted him.

DLD: Yes, Number Two?
UPD: Sensors indicate we have encounters a Chronos ribbon, sir. The gravitic pull is beginning top strain the engines!
DLD: Affirmative Number Two: Yellow Alert! Input, consider your self reactivated. Come with me!
IPT: Aye, sir.

As the two men (OK, one man and an android!) exited the turbolift, Updike briefed them over the whine of the engines as the ship struggled to break free of the string.

UPD: Georgi says the warp drive will overload soon if we don't break away from this thing.
BRF: Captain, why not launch a photon torpedo as the string's source?
DLD: Barf, this is not the time for Klingon-style brute force! Let's think this through, first!
BRF: (grumbling) P'Takh!
DLD: Excuse me, Mr. Barf?
BRF: Just sneezing, sir!
IPT: The Captain is correct, Barf. Exploding a Chronos string will destroy any potential time lines emanating from this point.
DLD Are you saying we ay be able to alter our present destiny and escape from our current fate at the hands of this insane Kurt Vonnegut-wannabe?
IPT: precisely, sir; but that's not important right now.
LFT: Engineering to bridge: Captain, the magnetic couplers are beginning to buckle. I anticipate a warp-core breach in approximately 5 minutes!
IPT: 4 minutes, 17 seconds to be exact, Captain.
DLD: Gentlemen, we're killing ourselves running away from this, right?
UPD/IPT/BRF: Yes, sir.
DLD: Then why not try running right at it? Ride the time distortion waves?

All eyes turned to Input, who looked dumbfounded.

UPD: Mr. Input, why didn't you think of that??
IPT: I, I, I'm dumbfounded, sir.
UPD: Yes, I read that in the narrative.
DLD: Excuse me, but I thought of it, so give credit where credit's due!
IPT: The plan is logical. However, according to the writings of such experts in time distortion as Scheissekopf and Tete du Merde, if we slip out into one of the wave's eddies, we may be lost in another parallel time line.

Dildeaux took his seat in the captain's chair and pondered for a moment before uttering his trademark phrase:

DLD: Input,....make it so.
IPT: Aye, sir.
DLD: Barf, sound red alert.
BRF: Aye, sir.
DLD: Updike, make me a cup of tea,...Earl Grey,...hot.
UPD: Aye, sir. (muttering) With a drop of curare to boot.
DLD: Did you say something, Number Two?
UPD: Uh,...a problem with the,..uh,..shields, sir. The replicators won't boot up, sir,..the power is being diverted.
DLD: Damn! My personality depends on Earl Grey tea! Have Giaboni send some up later.

Amid the klaxon and dimmed red lights, the crew swung into action like a well-oiled machine. Albeit, it was a machine desperately in need of an oil change. Ensign Yo's fingers moved across her control board with lightning speed, straining to keep the ship together.

YO: Captain, I'm having difficulty maintaining the ship's attitude, sir!
DLD: Barf, get up there and give Yo some help adjusting her attitude.
BRF: An attitude adjustment? With pleasure, sir!
DLD: Not her attitude, Mr. Barf, the ship's attitude!!
BRF: Oh,...sorry, sir.

Dildeaux turned to Updike and Barf and the Majoran ensign set about their task.

DLD: Number Two,...is it me, or does Barf seem a bit,..friskier since Dr. Chestcrusher put him on a high-fibre diet?
UPD: It's the quadrotriticale, sir.
DLD: Hmmm. A Klingon Tribble? What a paradox!
UPD: Not unlike good writing and this series, eh, sir?

Suddenly, the ship lurched and appeared to be shaking itself apart. The bridge was filled with chaos.

DLD: Dammit, Number Two! I thought we eliminated all of the chaos-yielding material after the last retrofit!!
UPD: I'll take it up with the chief mechanic at the Rube Goldberg yards if we make it, sir!

Just as suddenly as the lurching started, the ship stabilized. Damage reports flooded the bridge. An alert crewman pulled the drain plug from under the forward console, thus allowing the flood to drain away. Input turned to make a startling report to the Captain.

IPT: Sir-ir,..I cannot obtain a stellar landmark.
DLD: Try cross-referencing our position with the Altoids' database on forward star systems.
IPT: Aye, sir. Just a moment, sir.
YO: Captain, you're not going to believe this!
DLD: Ensign Yo, part of space exploration is believing the unbelievable.
YO: OK, sir, but,..the ship's chronometer is off the scale, sir.
DLD: I don't believe it!
IPT: Captain, I believe I have successfully plotted our location, sir.
DLD: Very good, Input. Where are we?
IPT: We appear to be in a place far, far away,.....in a time long, long ago.

Star Yecch! Wars

2005-07-07T19:31:00.000-07:00

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE TO
GO WATCH A SCI-FI MOVIE THIS SUMMER...

CEREBRAL BLACKHOLE PRODUCTIONS
PREVENTS...

STAR (YECCH!) WARS!!

Hey, if Spielberg and Lucas can whore themselves for $100 million, why can't I get in on this?

STAR YECCH! WARS

The Cast of Caricatures

Jacques Tootite as Captain Jean-Luc Dildeaux
Jonathan Flakes as Commander Updike
Max Headroom as Lt. Commander Input
Ginger Snapps as Dr. Beverly Chestcrusher
Michael Dornobb as Lieutenant Barf
Virginia Hamm as Ensign Yo Babe
Whoopi Cushion as Giaboni
Dick Sammich as Lieutenant Georgie LaFart
Louis D. Seizieme as Luke Spaceskipper
Norman Conquest as Han Gover
Patty de Foie-Gras as Princess Liyar
Paul Bearer as Deaf Vader
Tom A. Hawke as Omi-One "Ben" Cannoli
Gene Poole as Chewen-Tobacca

Star Yecch! Deep S**t 69,..Opening Credits

2005-07-06T23:01:00.000-07:00

Star Yecch! Deep S**t 69 The Complete Works

An Elliptically Episodic Melodrama of Piquant Prose

(Not to Mention Alliteration of Great Alacrity!)

"To Read,..Perchance to Dream"

This Series is Brought to You By:

NO-DOZ

"If You're Going to Read This Straight Through, You'll Need Deez, Lest You Doze"

And By:

Haldol

"Haldol, take me away!"

(You See, this is supposed to be a take-off on the old "Calgon" commercials and,...oh, never f**king mind!)

In space,...no one can hear you laugh!
CAST OF CARICATURES:
Avery Blackman as Commander Benjamin Krisko
Notta Visitor as Major Keepyer Handsoff
Rene Sauce-Bearnaise as Security Chief Odor
Ima Meaney as Operations Chief Miles O'Brother
Chuck Waggon as Doctor Julius Bashful
Sal Lammi as Quirk
Kareem Awheat as Jerk Krisko, the Commander's Son
Terri Cloth as Science Officer, Lt. Justa Broad

Prologue

2005-07-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

After a long war between the Hardassians and the Federation, Starfleet at long last succeeded in repelling the marauding Hardassian forces. Resulting from the victory, it came to light that the Hardassians had colonized the Labia Majora system. This system is home to the Majorans, an ancient and deeply spiritual people whose artistic and scientific abilities reached their zenith while humans were first inventing the wheel. The Hardassians, seeking every resource available to drive their war machine, plundered the Majoran homeworld, leaving Majoran society in ruins.

As a result of the Hardassian peace treaty, the Hardassians were forced to turn over their claim to the Majoran system and allow Majorans self-rule. The Federation, in turn, promised the Majorans that they would oversee the transformation of the provisional government and provide protection to the Majorans until such time as they could return back to the once-proud people of their past.

In relinquishing their claim on Majoran space, the Hardassians were also forced to turn over control of their military-owned, but neutral, space port, "Deep Ship's Station Number 69;" more commonly known to the freighter and pirates in the region as,..."Deep Shit 69."

However, when the Hardassian militia evacuated Deep Shit 69, they stripped away the majority of their advanced hardware, leaving DS69 as nothing more than a junked hull, populated by several not-so-friendly and basically annoyed civilians to fend for themselves.

Thus begins our story,...

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 1-1

2005-06-25T17:38:00.000-07:00

STARDATE 9308.10 - Log of the Starship Boobyprize, Captain Jean-Luc Dildeaux commanding. Having somewhat successfully completed my first assignment aboard the Boobyprize, I have now been ordered to transport vital Starfleet personnel to the starbase, DS69. Upon arrival, I am to oversee the insertion of these key officers into their respective posts. Having reviewed their records, I can see that Starfleet is placing a priority on getting this station up and running. I am also left wondering if I can twist some arms in the Admiralty and change some of the postings, so that I can rid myself of my "ship of fools." Damn! I really could use these officers; my own ship is replete with social misfits, buffoons, and assorted ass-kissing cretins! Alas, I am merely the captain aboard the flagship of the Federation, which I presume doesn't count for much these days. But I can dream. Before we arrive at DS69, I need to brief the base's future commanding officer, one Benjamin Krisko. I understand he holds some reservations about this posting, having recently lost his wife in a battle with the Hardassians.

As Captain Dildeaux finished his log, the door to Boobyprize's ready room chimed. Dildeaux grudgingly bid the intruder to enter, A human of African origin entered. Dildeaux recognized him as Commander Benjamin Krisko, a rather greasy sort of fellow. Krisko saluted the captain, and Dildeaux gestured for him to sit down.

DLD: Commander Krisko, would you like a cup of tea? It's Earl Grey, my own blend.
KRS: Frankly, Captain Dildo, I'd like you just cut to the chase,...and Earl Grey is a faggot's drink, sir.
DLD: It's Dildeaux, Commander.
KRS: Whatever.
DLD: I understand you served as First Officer on the U.S.S. Spenser.
KRS: Aye, Captain. But Starfleet decommissioned her, sir. I think she's now available for hire.
DLD: Then you served under Captain Urich?
KRS: Yes, sir. He was a great leader. I learned a great deal from him before he passed away.
DLD: Alas,...poor Urich! I knew him well.
KRS: Aye, sir.
DLD: Your dossier states that you have some reservations about this posting. Does the death of your wife play into this?
KRS: Damn straight, homeboy! She dies when the Hardassians hit the Spenser! I haven't had time to properly grieve her loss and yet, I'm ordered to baby-sit some useless space station until the Majorans get their act together?? AND,..I have to play the part of "diplomat to the Hardassians on top of that!
DLD: I understand your point, Commander, but,...
KRS: You don't know shit,..sir! The Hardassians will sit back, wait until things calm down, and reclaim that undermanned, outgunned spinning garbage pile for their own! It's as obvious as the nose on a Majoran's face!
DLD: You seem quite adamant about this, Commander. Would you prefer something quieter, like Outpost 101? That would look just splendid on your record, Krisko.
KRS: Say what, honkie?
DLD: I don't like your tone, Mister. I could easily get you assigned to a Veloran border guard ship. I hear Velorans hate Negroes.
KRS: Ofay honkie!
DLD: Or even a Rigellian garbage scow!
KRS: Dead honkie!

The two men glared at each other. Krisko, being several inches taller than Dildeaux, towered over the Captain. Dildeaux broke into a sweat and swallowed hard. He hardly needed to answer to the Galactic Association for the Advancement of Colored Humanoids at this point in his career,..what with a select, but influential, minority group of the admiralty being black!

DLD: Or,...I could keep you right here if that pleases you.
KRS: All personal feelings aside, Captain,..I am a Starfleet officer. I have a duty to perform and I intend to do my best. Now, sir, if you'll excuse me, I have to check in with the Majoran liaison.
DLD: Dismissed.

Krisko made his way to the transporter room. Miles O'Brother, Boobyprize's former transporter chief, greeted him. O'Brother was scheduled to join Krisko on DS 69 as the new Chief of Operations.

MOB: Ah, Commander Krisko. I was just about to have you paged, sir.
KRS: Nevermind the ass-kissing, O'Brother. Let's just get this over with.
MOB: Aye, sir. Awaiting the signal from DS69.

Krisko stepped onto the transporter pad. He fumed as he waited for the signal from DS69.

MOB: OK, sir. I've gotten the signal. Prepare to beam down.
KRS: Aren't you coming, Mr. O'Brother?
MOB: I'll be down momentarily, sir. Just some last-minute things to clear up. You know, sir, the wife and,..uh,...I'm sorry, sir,..I didn't mean,...

The whine and glisten of the transporter beam thankfully engulfed Krisko.

KRS: I'll give you five min....
MOB: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The transporter beam reformed Krisko in the Operational Center. After the usual momentary imbalance, he came to his senses. The Ops was bustling with activity, as the Majorans steadily went about their business, trying to refit the stripped equipment. Orders were being given in Majoran, a language Krisko barely had time to learn and was having difficulty understanding even now. From what he assumed was the control center, his new office, he heard a loud female voice yelling vehemently at somebody in Majoran.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 1-2

2005-06-18T18:39:00.000-07:00

The whine of a transporter beam interrupted Krisko's thoughts. He looked to his right to find O'Brother standing next to him.

KRS: O'Brother, you've been down here already, haven't you?
MOB: Aye, sir. What's on your mind, sir?
KRS: What is that woman in my office yelling about? And what is she doing in there?
MOB: Oh, that would be Major Keepyer Handsoff, sir. She's your Majoran liaison, sir. I can't make out exactly what she's saying, but I know she's had a bug up her ass all week about the transfer of command, sir.
KRS: Oh,is that so? I guess I'll have to do something about that.
MOB: Uh,...sir, one word of caution. Have you ever dealt with a Majoran woman before>
KRS: No, O'Brother, I haven't. Is there something I should know?
MOB: Have you ever wrestled with a Vulcan sehlat, sir?
KRS: What is this, O'Brother, twenty questions?
MOB: Well,...wrestling with a sehlat is easier, sir.

Krisko paused at the chief's last statement. Building himself up to muster all his courage, he walked into the command room. The Major was still berating someone on the other end of the commlink when he entered. It was several moments until she looked up and noticed him. She placed the commlink on hold and addressed Krisko.

KPR: And what the hell do you want, Fed?
KRS: I'm,...uh, Commander Krisko. Just thought I'd,..ah,..introduce myself and say "Hello."

The Majoran looked flustered for a brief moment, but recovered and gave Krisko a sarcastic look.

KPR: "Hello." I'll be with you in a second. (To commlink) I'll deal with you assholes later. Keepyer, out.
KRS: Thank you, Major Handsoff.
KPR: It's "Keepyer," dammit! Typical human,..can't be bothered to learn Majoran patrynomes! Nevermind, I suppose you're here to assume command?
KRS: Yes, Major,...Keepyer. As of now, 1117 hours, I assume command of DS69. Computer: make the appropriate log notifications, command code Krisko Alpha 1-1-1.
KPR: Good. Take it. And may the Prophets help you!
KRS: Major, I think we need to sit down and discuss your attitude about this whole situation.
KPR: What's to discuss?? You Feds are just replacing the Hardassians as our new masters!
KRS: I take exception to that remark, Major. I lost my wife to the Hardassians and I don't exactly relish this command, either. I'll be more than happy to leave when the Majoran government gives the word.

The two officers glared at each other. They were interrupted by a signal from the commlink. Krisko acknowledged the signal.

MOB: O'Brother here, sir. Sorry to interrupt the fighting,..I mean your briefing, but the rest of the Federation officers have arrived, sir. They're awaiting your orders, sir.
KRS: Have them report to my office, Chief.
MOB: Aye, sir.
KRS: Any word on my son, O'Brother?
MOB: Aye, sir. Jerk beamed down with the rest of the officers, sir. I believe he went straight to your quarters, sir.
KRS: Very good, O'Brother. Krisko, out. Now, Major, if you'll excuse me,...
KPR: Aye, sir. I'll go help O'Brother get his act together.
KRS: Why don't you do that, Major.

With that, the two parted company. Krisko sat wearily into the command chair. While he was trying to sort out the array of his console, which was only in Hardassian and Majoran script, someone knocked on his office door. Krisko sighed and ordered the officer to enter, almost immediately regretting the order. The young man tripped as he came in, dropping his duffel bag at Krisko's feet. When the arrival stood up, Krisko recognized the man as the new Medical Officer, Dr. Bashful. He wore the rank insignia of a lieutenant, junior grade. That marked him as fresh from the Academy. Krisko made a mental note of this. When the doctor composed himself, Krisko addressed him.

KRS: Can I help you, son?
BSH: I,...uh,..gosh,..Commander,..sir. I didn't mean to make quite an entrance, sir. I'm Dr. Julius Bashful, sir,..uh, Lieutenant, junior grade, sir.
KRS: Very well, Doctor. Have you checked in with Medical, yet?
BSH: Oh, gosh, no, sir. I,...thought I ought to come here first and introduce myself, sir. Starfleet regulations state protocol...
KRS: Yes, yes. Well, I'm glad to meet you, Doctor, But may I ask you a personal question?
BSH: Why,..of course, sir.
KRS: How does a "fresh-from-the Academy" med graduate get posted this far into space?
BSH: Well,...my, um, specialty was xenophysiology, sir. I always dreamed of practicing medicine out in the frontier, relying on brains, and sweat, and luck as much as advanced medical technique, sir!
KRS: A 'frontier' doc, eh? (Chuckling) Very well, Doctor,..dismissed.
BSH: Aye, sir.

As Dr. Bashful backed out of the Commander's officer, he attempted a proper Academy-standard salute during his exit. As he did so, he lost his balance and fell backwards. Bashful let out a cry, but before he hit the ground, someone caught him from behind. When he composed himself, he looked up to thank his savior,...and promptly fell in love. As Bashful stood up, he saw the most beautiful women he'd ever met: she was tall, well-endowed, had long brown hair, and slightly greenish skin. Leopard-like spots just below the hairline completed her beauty. She smiled slightly at him and extended her hand to greet him.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 1-3

2005-06-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

JST: Are you OK, Doctor?
BSH: I,...I'm just fine. Have we met before, um, ma'am?
JST: No, we haven't. I'm Lieutenant Justa Broad, the new Science Officer. You're Dr. Bashful, aren't you?
BSH: I...how did you know my name, Lieutenant?
JST: I checked the roster before I came to see the Commander. And you can skip the Academy protocol and call me Justa.
BSH: OK. If you'll excuse me,..Justa, I, uh, need to check into the medical center. I guess I'll catch you at the briefing?
JST: Sure thing, Julius.

She smiled as she watched the young officer walk away from her, seemingly on Cloud Nine. She turned and entered the command office. Krisko smiled as she entered, having watched the previous encounter with some amusement.

KRS: I take it you've met our new doctor, Broad?
JST: It's "Justa" now, Benjamin.
KRS: Decided on a change of scenery, hmm?
JST: Nah. Notta finally wore out, so I had to make a switch. This body was the next available one.
KRS: I wonder if the good doctor knows you're a Shrill?
JST: He'll find out in good time. Now, do you want to go over this place and make a plan of action?
KRS: I don't even know where to start. The Hardassians left this place as little more than a bare hull! It'll take Starfleet weeks to shuttle in the needed parts!
JST: What about the Majorans? Can they get anything here quicker?
KRS: O'Brother says they've been trying their damnedest, but they lack the resources, too.
JST (Sighing) Well, anytime you're ready, Benjamin.

The pair exited the command room and walked back into the chaos that was the Operations Center. After conferring with Major Keepyer, a decision was made to check out the Boardwalk, first. As they made their way past all sorts of Majorans, both civilian and military, they were confronted by an elderly Majoran cleric. He made the traditional Majoran greeting to Krisko and Justa before he spoke.

CLR: The Prophets greet you, Emissary.
KRS: Hello to you, too, sir.
CLR: Soon, your time will come. The Prophets have foreseen this.
KRS: I'm afraid I don't understand. My time will come?
CLR: You will go to the Hall of the Prophets. It will be soon.
KRS: I'm still confused.
CLR: (muttering) Prophets-be-damned stupid nigger! If you seek wisdom, seek out her Holiness, Kai Impala.

With that, the cleric walked away from the confused duo. Krisko stared at his Science Officer, who simply shrugged.

KRS: What was that all about?
JST: The Kai, Impala, is the spiritual leader of the Majorans. Their religion is based on the words of "the Prophets." As the story goes, these Prophets have been sending out crystal icons to the Majorans for millennia. They just "appear" out of nothingness. Those who make contact with these crystals experience some kind of ecstasy, filling them will all kinds of spiritual stuff. The Kai eventually became the only one permitted to contact these crystals and interpret the messages.
KRS: Uh,...yeah. Any truth to all this?
JST: Starfleet investigated some of the stories. The interesting part is this thing about "sudden appearances." Scientists think this may possibly be a spatial asshole manifesting itself.
KRS: You mean "wormhole," don't you?
JST: No. Actually, Starfleet categorizes this as an asshole because nothing but shit keeps coming out of it.

Krisko let the joke pass without comment. After a perfunctory inspection of the Boardwalk and a brief run-in with Quirk, the Ferengi who ran the local saloon, Krisko found himself still puzzled and disturbed by the Majoran clerics comments. Lieutenant Broad suggested he get this off his chest and follow the cleric's advice and visit the Kai. After making the appropriate arrangements, including returning command over to Major Keepyer, Krisko and Justa boarded a shuttlecraft and made for the Majoran homeworld,

What will Krisko find on Majora? Will he uncover the secrets of the galactic asshole? Tune in to Part II of this stirring saga for the answers.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 2-1

2005-06-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

STAR YECCH! DEEP SHIT 69

CHAPTER II - INTO THE HOLE

...or, Bring Lots of KY Jelly

Special Guest Star:
Faye Dunaway-Withe as Kai Impala

When we left our heroes,...not much happened because the writer was too goddamned busy setting up this stuff. However, Commander Krisko met a Majoran cleric who prophesied the Commander's future. Puzzled by the cleric's statements, Krisko and Lieutenant Justa Broad, his science officer, decided to visit the planet Majora and speak with the spiritual leader of the Majorans, Kai Impala.

STATION LOG 9309.16 - Commander Benjamin Krisko commanding. I have arrived at DS69, the Boobyprize has since warped away to their next assignment and I am already beginning to regret this assignment. These people are out of their frigging minds! Already, I find myself tasked with the duty of unraveling the words of a Majoran cleric. I must go to Majora and put an end to this mystery and perhaps gain insight into these strange people.

Aboard the runabout USS Adolph Hitler, Krisko and Broad approached Labia Majora.

KRS: Just, were you able to research anything more about this "Kai?"
JST: Her name is "Impala." She's of the Chevrolet sect - a very stringent branch of the Majoran religious sect. She's said to be quite understanding, but very zealous about her faith and about outsiders.
KRS: Great! A right-wing fanatic holds the key to this mystery!
JST: Right...wing?
KRS: An old Earth expression. Ever since Khan Noonian Singh destroyed Hollywood, the name became meaningless. Used to refer to defenders of truth, justice and familial bonds. Socialists from Hollywood smeared their efforts for years.
JST: Ohhh. I remember the old divides. Well,..by that definition, Benjamin, the Chevrolet sect is nothing compared to the Edsels. They broke away from the Phords but never gained public support. They...

Krisko was saved from another long-winded discussion by the proximity alert from Majora. In her previous incarnation, Notta Broad was a highly-educated man who was Krisko's mentor and helped shape him into what he was today. But even then, the Shrill's polemic ramblings bored the hell out of Krisko.

JST: Benjamin, the Majorans have given us clearance to land, but we have to wait until they bless the ground.
KRS: Some sort of religious act, I suppose? Make us ready to meet the Kai?
JST: Not really, sir. They state they are honored with a visit from the Emissary.
KRS: Me?
JST: You.

The runabout touched down in a lush meadow outside the Kai's abbey. The abbey itself was replete with trees, bushes, clear running streams and gardens of all sorts of designs. Krisko stared at the beauty of it all and of the stark contrast of this with the scenes of deprivation and squalor he had seen in the Majoran metropolises of Parvo and Anthrax. The twosome were led into a great hall decorated with icons and tapestries of great beauty. After being seated, they waited for what seemed an eternity for their host. When the wait seemed almost unbearable, the silence of the room was broken by the approach of a small gnome-like woman dressed in simple cardinal and purple robes. Without fanfare, she introduced herself.

IMP: I am the Kai, Impala. You honor us with your presence, Emissary.
KRS: I am equally honored, Kai. However, I am deeply puzzled as well. I came to seek answers from my meeting with your cleric.
IMP: Ahhhh,..that would be Veddek Nova. He is our dourick.
KRS: Yes, I could tell he was a dork.
IMP: (gasping) Amazing!!! What is it that puzzles he who knows all secrets??
KRS: That's just it, Kai: I don't know all!! And what gives with this "Emissary" nonsense?
JST: Benjamin!!
IMP: No need to apologize. The Prophets have not yet made his mission clear to him and this troubles his soul. I can tell that you both are great warriors and our beliefs preach peace. Therein lies the conflict.

The Kai appeared to go into a trance. When she reopened her eyes, she stared intently at Lieutenant Broad.

IMP: In you, my dear, I see archery. You come from a great line of spear makers. And in you, Emissary, I see slavery and that you come froma family of spear chuckers. Now, if you will excuse us, I must sit with the Emissary alone.

Justa was shown to an anteroom by several clerics-in-training and given refreshments. When she left, the Kai sat next to Krisko.

IMP: Before we begin, I must know your paah.
KRS: My Pa? I never knew him. He died more than a year before I was born.
IMP: Not your father, your paah. Your..."soul."

With that, she grabbed his right ear. Krisko let out a yelp of pain.

KRS: OUCH!! What was that, some sort of religious act??
IMP: No, dammit. You're sitting too far away from me. I was trying to get a closer look so I could see your face. I am near-sighted and I cannot afford a pair of glasses!

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 2-2

2005-05-31T08:56:00.000-07:00

Krisko tried to move away from the high priestess, but again she approached the commander.

IMP: I think I can help you better if I read your mind.
KRS: I wasn't aware that Majorans were telepathic.
IMP: Not all Majorans. Only the clerics. It comes from years of having my brains fried by touching the Tears of the Prophets.
KRS: Fine. Just leave my goddamned ears out of it.

The Kai placed her gnarled fingers on Krisko's temples and began to hum.

IMP: Ahhhh. I'm beginning to get a picture. Words are beginning to form in your mind, but they are blurred. Concentrate! I sense,...I sense that you are,...afraid. Yes! "Afraid" - that is the word you are concentrating on!
KRS: Afraid?? I was thinking that you're A FRAUD!
IMP: Why does the Emissary insult his obedient student?
KRS: Because you're beginning to insult my intelligence! No wonder the Hardassians gave up on you people! They were probably glad to give you up.
IMP: Ah, again the Emissary sees our ways clearly! Our inherent insanity helped win the war against the Hardassians.

Krisko rose to leave, disgusted with the apparent failure of his mission. But before he left, the Kai counseled him to seek help from within and loaned him one of the Tears of the Prophets from her sacred vault. It was indeed tear-shaped and mounted on a pedestal by the Majorans. He rejoined Justa and together they returned to the station.

Upon arriving back at DS69, Krisko instructed his science officer to study the crystal and report back to him with the results. After a slightly-less combative episode with Major Keepyer, Krisko headed to his quarters. The incident with the Kai had left him shaken and he wanted to check in on his son.

KRS: Jerk? Are you here?
JER: Right here, Dad. I was just putting my things away.
KRS: Jerk,..oh, how I've missed you, son!

Krisko moved to hug his son, but Jerk backed away, puzzled. Krisko also moved away, a hurt expression on his face.

JER: What gives, Dad? You're acting like a child molester or something.
KRS: I just,...I just wanted to make sure you got here alright. I wasn't here to greet you, and,...well, I know I haven't been a great father to you, Jerk, but know there's only the two of us...
JER: And you want to do the male-bondage thing, huh?
KRS: It's "bonding", but yeah, I guess that's what I mean.
JER: That's cool, Dad. I even think I might like it here.
KRS: Really?? But you were so adamant about staying back at home with grandpa! Why the sudden change of heart?
JER: I dunno. Maybe all of the cool people here. And there's that Ferengi guy, Quirk.
KRS: (icily) What about Quirk?
JER: I was walking along the Boardwalk and stopped in his place. He showed me some neat holograms of Orion slave girls and said he really liked me and asked me to stop in his quarters some day to take some pictures.
KRS: WHAT??? Listen, Jerk, you stay away from him.
JER: But, Dad,...
KRS: Nevermind! I'll have a talk with him later about this!

Jerk was about to reply when Krisko's intercom beeped. It was Justa Broad, requesting his immediate presence in the science lab

Several minutes later, Krisko entered the Science Center to find Lieutenant Broad lying on the floor, dazed. Krisko checked her over quickly and summoned for Dr. Bashful. The Security chief, Odor, also rushed to the lab, having overheard the distress call for help.

Dr. Bashful and several med-technicians rushed the Shrill to Sickbay. After a thorough check-up, Bashful pronounced her to be OK.

KRS: How is she, Doc?
BSH: Well,..gosh, she appears to be fine. I've never dealt with a Shrill before, but the physical systems for both the Shrill and her host seem within parameters, sir.
KRS: Can I see her?
BSH: Golly, sure, Commander. She's already up and talking with the medical crews.

With that, Odor entered the room and strode up to the Doctor.

ODO: Do you think this was some sort of attack?
BSH: Attack from what, Odor?
ODO: That,..that crystal thing she brought back from Majora
BSH: Gee,..I think you better ask Justa about that, Sheriff.
ODO: Don't call me "sheriff," dammit! I'm the Security Chief of this station.
KRS: What makes you think this was some sort of attack? And from the Kai, herself?
ODO: The Majorans don't like you, Commander. I wouldn't put anything past them You think otherwise?
KRS: I think you're a paranoid pile of space Jell-o, myself, but we aren't getting anywhere talking about this without Justa's input.

With that, the trio approached Justa's medical bunk. She sat up and smiled at the threesome.

KRS: Well, "old man," I see you survived again to see another day.
JST: Sure shook up my insides. But Dr. Bashful says I'll be fine.
KRS: I'm glad, but...
ODO: Lieutenant Broad, when did you know you were being attacked?
JST: I don't know about...
KRS: Odor!
JST: It's OK, Benjamin. I can understand his point. First, I';m studying a foreign object and next thing I'm in here.
KRS: But what exactly did happen down there?
JST: Well, first I put it through the usual tests: chemical composition, metallurgy,..nothing. Then I tried frequency harmonics. Still zilched. I was ready to give up for the day when I picked it up,...and,...I was Notta Broad again. I was back at the Academy, teaching "Sexual Technique with Non-humanoids" to some first-year students. Next thing I know, Dr. Bashful is hovering over me with a med-scanner.
ODO: Did it try to place any subliminal thoughts in your mind? Like assassinating your crew?
KRS: Odor! Why don't you go sit in a bucket or something!
ODO: Commander, the security of this station is my responsibility. Lieutenant Broad was attacked by some Majoran booby-trap. I must get to the bottom of this!
KRS: You need to get to Quirk's and get to the bottom of a stiff glass of Romulan ale!
ODO: I remind you, sir, that my form is an approximation of a humanoid. My mouth does not lead to a stomach. I have no need for solid, or liquid, nutrition.
KRS: Well, then,..absorb it! Either way, get lost!
ODO: Aye, sir. I'll be in the lab, continuing my investigation.

Krisko watched as Odor goose-stepped out of Sickbay. He turned back to face Justa. She sat on the table, shaking her head and gave Krisko a disapproving look.

KRS: What?? He's just as crazy as the Majorans!
JST: He's lived among them for years, Benjamin. I would give him a little credit towards his expertise regarding Majoran ways.
KRS: Alright. Anything else you remember about this incident?
JST: Just a vague vision of,...I don't know,..a star exploding? A blossom blooming?
KRS: The gasshole?
JST:It's a thought. These crystals are said to originate from the gasshole, Maybe they're a message from a life form on the other side of the hole.
KRS: How stable is the hole?
JST: That's unknown. It goes through long periods of activity, then total silence.
KRS: What about sending a probe through it?
JST: That's a good idea, Benjamin.
KRS: I'll have O'Brother rig one up. Meet me back in Ops when Bashful clears you.

What lurks in the deep recesses of the gasshole? Intelligent life? A Hardassian trap? Who knows? Who cares? If you do, don't hold your breath waiting for the next spine-tingling episode.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 3-1

2005-04-19T22:03:00.000-07:00

STAR YECCH!! DEEP SHIT 69
CHAPTER III - TEARS OF A CLOWN

Special Guest Stars:
Roland Butter as Garbaj
Faye Dunaway-Withe as Kai Impala

STATION'S LOG STARDATE 9707.11 - I have met with the Kai and come away from my meeting with more questions than answers. The Kai has loaned me one of her "Tears of the Prophets" to study and my science team is readying a probe to launch into the gasshole. We approach this object carefully, as it has already "attacked" one of my crew with a psychic message.

Krisko returned from the medical labs with the Tear and entered his quarters. He was checking in on Jerk before returning to the Operations Center. He found him sitting glumly by a computer terminal, doing his homework.

KRS: Hi, Jerk! How was your first day at school?
JER: Aw, Dad, school sucks! These Majorans are light-years behind us in academics. I'm studying fourth-grade astronomics all over again!
KRS: I thought Mrs. O'Brien was teaching your classes?
JER: The Majorans haven't approved her credentials yet. One of the Reverend Mothers is teaching us until then.
KRS: Really,...? What's her name?
JER: Mother Mayii.
KRS: Well,..did you learn anything today?
JER: Yeah. We studied planetary masses today. Did you know that if you built a bathtub large enough to hold it, Saturn would float?
KRS: No,.I didn't. Bet that would leave a hell of a ring, though. (chuckle)
JER: Gee,..thanks Dad.
KRS: Cheer up, Jerk. Things will get better with time.
JER: Yeah, I suppose so. I miss Mom.
KRS: So do I, Jerk. So do I.

Letting the moment pass, Krisko went into his room to freshen up. He placed the Prophet's Tear on a desk and walked away. When he returned to the room, the Tear was glowing slightly and Krisko was filled with a sudden desire to touch it.

In a blinding flash, Krisko found himself in a what appeared to be Iowa, on a cornfield back on Earth. He heard soft music. A female voice whispered to him. He concentrated on the voice. It grew stronger as he listened more intently.

MLA: If you enter the hole, I will come.

It sounded remarkably like the voice of his recently-deceased wife, Marla. He listened again for it.

MLA: If you enter the hole, I will come.
KRS: Marla,...is that you? Where are you??
MLA: If you enter the hole, I will come.
KRS: Marla!!! Speak to me! She me your face!

As Krisko wildly searched his surroundings, the ground began to violently shake. Soon he heard the voice of his son, Jerk.

JER: Dad? Dad! Snap out of it, Dad! You're having a nightmare!

Krisko shook himself from his reverie and found Jerk trying to pry his hands away from the Prophet's Tear. He looked quizzically at his son.

KRS: Jerk, what happened to me?
JER: You came in here to clean up, then I heard you calling for Mom. When I got here, you were hugging that,..that "thing" for dear life.

Krisko found himself at a loss for words. As he collected himself, Odor, Justa and Dr. Bashful came running into the room. Dr. Bashful immediately scanned the commander for injuries.

ODO: Another attack from this,...this thing? I warned you, Commander, that this was a trap!
KRS: Odor, don't give me that "booby-trap" nonsense! It sent me a message.
JST: What did it say, Benjamin?
KRS: I heard my wife calling me into the gasshole.
ODO: A psychogenic trap. How typically Hardassian.
JST: Wait, Odor. The Commander experienced a vision involving a familiar figure, just as I did. But it appears he carried his farther along that I was able.
KRS: You think these "Tears" are a message from the other side of the gasshole?
JST: It makes sense. The Kai and her clerics make contact with the and interpret the visions as religious epiphanies.
KRS: Interesting, old man. Has the probe gone out yet?
JST: O'Brother was launching it when Jerk sounded the alert. Major Keepyer in monitoring the situation.
KRS: Good. I'll meet up with all of you as soon as the good doctor clears me.
BSH: Well, gosh, Commander. You don't have to call me "good" yet, sir.
KRS: A figure of speech, Doc. How am I?
BSH: Other than the usual signs of a good fright, golly, you're ready to go, sir.
KRS: Very good.

With a nod, the threesome left Krisko's quarters. The commander motioned to his son.

KRS: Thanks, Jerk. You saved my life.
JER: But, Dad,...what about Mom? Is she alive on the other side of the gasshole?
KRS: No, Jerk. She's not. That thing just used a vision of her to send me a message.
JER: I'm all confused, Dad! Mom...I,..I don't know!
KRS: After I get the report back from the probe, I'll try to explain it all, son. Until then, Jerk, read that book Mrs. O'Brother lent you.
JER: You mean "The Bell Curve?"
KRS: Yes, Jerk. It will explain why you don't understand much of what's happening.
JER: OK, Dad.

With things quieting down, Dr. Bashful decided to have lunch at Quirk's Place. As he sat down to a meal of Majoran stew and synthale, he sensed a presence standing behind him. He turned o find a Hardassian in civilian clothes standing next to him with a tray of food.

GBJ: Do you mind if I sit with you, Doctor? I've so wanted to meet our new neighbors for some time now.

Before Bashful could protest, the stranger sat across from him.

BSH: Gosh, sir, you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know who I am, but I am at a loss to recall you from the station's records.
GBJ: I'm Garbaj. I run the tailor shop just down from here on the Boardwalk.
BSH: Garbaj? No rank or title? Are you a Gul or Legate?
GBJ: No. I'm just plain, simple Garbaj. And that stew would taste better with a little yarmulke sauce on it.
BSH: Thanks. Is that schlemiel stew?
GBJ: Ahhhh, yes! Quirk makes the best schlemiel stew outside of the Empire. It's one of the reasons I stayed behind after the withdrawal.
BSH: Yes,...getting back to that: how is it you are the last Hardassian on a base full of Majorans?
GBJ: I,..I had a business to run. The costs involved in relocating alone would have bankrupted me!
BSH: I,...see. Well, I hate to eat and run Mr. Garbaj, but I'm due at the Ops in fifteen minutes.
GBJ: Fine, Doctor. We must do this again.

Bashful left the bar full of excitement. He had made contact with a Hardassian spy! This could mean a promotion! He hurriedly returned to the Ops Center and approached Major Keepyer and Commander Krisko.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 3-2

2005-03-20T21:06:00.000-08:00

Krisko arrived at the Ops Center just moments after the probe had been launched into the gasshole.

KRS: O'Brother! What the hell do you think you're doing??
MOB: I,...Major Keepyer ordered the launch, sir.
KRS: Major, you have an explanation for this?
KPR: Yes, Commander, as a matter of fact, I do! The gasshole was expanding when you gave the order and was on the verge of re-collapsing before you got here. We couldn't wait for the "Emissary's" blessing, so I had to get it launched before it was too late. If we waited for you, the Prophets only know when it would reappear!
KRS: Sorry, Major, I was...delayed tending to my son.
KPR: I told Starfleet about leaving children on this station while it's in such a sorry condition. Decisions have to be made and, if you're not here to make them, the agreement gives me command authority.
KRS: Agreed, Major. In the future, I'll try to keep better contact with you. And can that "Emissary" nonsense! Your crazy Kai dubbed me that and I haven't the faintest reason why!

Keepyer glared at Krisko after that insult. O'Brother broke the tension with a report from ther probe.

MOB: Commander, information coming back from the probe, sir.
KRS: Good. Justa, what do you make of it?
JST: Standard read-out for spatial anomalies like the gasshole. The one irregular thing about their harmonics is the,...regularity.
KRS: Try that again?
JST: Most gassholes just form and collapse according to other galactic forces. This one is sending back readings of extreme regularity. I think I can postulate when it will re-form, according to this data.
KPR: Nobody can tell when the hole will open again! Not even the Kai herself.
KRS: Hmmmm. Maybe the Kai has something with this "Emissary" title.
JST: Benjamin,...(pausing) wait a second...the information stream just cut off.
KRS: What?
JST: I'm getting nothing. O'Brother?
MOB: I'm trying to reboot the link, sir. Nothing's out there, sir. It's like it just,..died.
KRS: Well,...something shut it of.
KPR: Maybe the Prophets?
KRS: Get serious, Major.
KPR: Well,..how would you feel about getting the galactic equivalent of a colonoscopy?
JST: She has a point, Benjamin. This may be a large piece of the puzzle between the Kai and the Tears.
KPR: I'll notify Majoran Central Command. I'm sure this will be of great interest to them.

As the command crew further debated the implications, Dr. Bashful burst into the room, full of excited energy. After making for the head to relieve himself of some of his excited energy, he approached Krisko.

BSH: Commander! Commander! I must speak with you immediately!
KRS: Doctor, can't it wait? We've possibly stumbled across a great Majoran discovery.
BSH: So have I, sir! It's a matter of Majoran security, sir.

This revelation caught the attention of both Odor and Major Keepyer. The Major was still communicating with the Central Command authorities.

KPR: Care to elaborate, Doctor?
BSH: There's a Hardassian spy on the station! He made contact with me over at Quirk's.
(Speaking secretively) I think he wants me to be his contact.
ODO: Did this "spy" happen to identify himself, Doctor?
BSH: Why, gosh, yes, Sheriff. He says his name is "Garbaj."

Odor and Major Keepyer exchanged knowing glances at each other. Krisko caught their looks and understood their meaning. He addressed Dr. Bashful.

KRS: Ah,..very good, Doctor. Why don't you,...uh, follow up on this lead. Play along with him for now. Report back to me at regular intervals.
BSH: Golly, sure, sir. Gee, I never thought this would happen to me!

As the good medic walked away from Ops on Cloud Nine, Krisko followed up with Odor and the Major.

KRS: OK, you two: what was that all about?
ODO: Garbaj is nothing more than a civilian Hardassian tailor. He never made it big in the Hardassian military, so he likes to play up his role here on the station. Speaks often of the Obstinate Order.
KRS: And you don't suspect him of anything?
ODO: I suspect him of everything! It's my job, Commander. But he'd never be stupid enough to come out in the open like this.
KRS: I'll take your advice on the matter, then.

Major Keepyer finished her communique' with the High Command and approached Krisko with a wry expression.

KPR: Commander, the Kai wishes to address you, sir.
KRS: Me? Again?
KPR: apparently she wishes to advise the "Emissary" before he fulfills his mission.
KRS: I wish to God that somebody would clue me in on this "mission."
KPR: She'll be making contact with you in about ten minutes.
KRS: Fine. Just so long as she leaves my ears alone this time!

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 3-3

2005-02-27T20:43:00.000-08:00

After what seemed an eternity, the vision of the Kai appeared on the viewscreen. She bowed deeply and addressed Krisko.

IMP: Great Emissary! My child, Handsof, tells me great news! You have communicated with the Prophets?
KRS: Well, Impala, not quite. We sent a science probe into the gasshole and now it appears someone has simply,..shut it off.
IMP: of course. Your science is not rooted in the faith and the Prophets do not wish to be disturbed in such a manner. They speak through the Tears. Have you received such messages from the Prophets?
KRS: Well, I...
JST: Kai Impala, the Emissary has indeed been contacted. He was invited into the gasshole.
KRS: Justa...
JST: (whispering) Play along with the old bat, Benjamin!
IMP: Then the Emissary must follow the wishes of the Prophets.

Before Krisko could answer, the Kai's image disappeared from the viewscreen. Krisko looked around the room and found the balance of the command crew staring at him.

KRS: What kind of "playing along" do you suggest, old man?
JST: The crystal sent you a message to enter the hole, so why not follow up on it?
KRS: Because the Majoran government would forbid it.
JST: Not anymore. You just got the blessing from the Kai herself to go ahead.
KRS: You're suggesting I take a runabout and enter something as unstable as that gasshole and shoot the breeze with the life forms on the other side?
JST: Sounds like as good an idea an any other. Besides, give me a few hours with the data we did receive and I'll have that gasshole timed better than a human menstrual cycle.
KRS: All right. O'Brother, have a runabout made ready in about two hours.
MOB: Aye, sir.

As O'Brother made preparations for the Genghis Khan and Justa pored over the probe's data, Krisko and Keepyer engaged in a lively debate.

KPR: Commander, do you realize what your actions will do to Federation-Majoran relations??
KRS: Well, for one thing, it'll give me a better understanding of your people.
KPR: You mean "feel out our weaknesses" don't you?
KRS: Quite the opposite, Major, I...
KPR: But you're strangers to us, Commander! We just rid of one occupying force and we aren't too eager to take on another!
KRS: We are not an occupying force here, Major!
KPR: You weren't at Beta Epsilon Vi, or Gamma Somalia, or the New Haitian colonies, either, but look how they turned out!

Before Krisko could reply, O'Brother announced that the runabout was ready for launch. Dr. Bashful had returned to the Ops to watch the launch. Justa briefed Krisko on her findings.

JST: What little information I got from the probe proved rather useful, Benjamin. The gasshole works on frequency harmonics.
MOB: Not unlike our docking approach sensors.
JST: Exactly. I programmed the appropriate frequencies into the docking procedure algorithm on the runabout. All you have to do is approach the gasshole like you'd approach a dock and start the program. If all goes well, you should enter the gasshole unscathed.
KRS: If all goes well?
JST: Arch'a je fai, Benjamin.
KRS: What??
BSH: She said "nothing's perfect," uh, sir.
JST: You know Shrillian?
BSH: Just something I...I've been studying up on, lately.
JST: I didn't know you were into foreign languages, Julius.
BSH: Well,...I've always had an ear for your tongue, Justa.
KRS: Can we save the romance for later in this plot? I've got a runabout to catch.

As Krisko made for the Ops lift, Justa approached for a private conversation.

JST: Benjamin, be careful out there.
KRS: Are you worried, old man?
JST: Of course, Ben. Do you remember Notta's last words to you?
KRS: "Careful where you point that phaser, the safety's off?"
JST: Exactly. Just remember it, OK?

With that, Krisko made his way to the runabout dock. At the airlock hatch, he noticed a brass spitoon by the lock's side. As he gave it a closer look, it melted and reformed into the recognizable shape of Odor. He approached Krisko.

KRS: Odor! Don't ever do that to me again!
ODO: Sorry, Commander, I was regenerating myself while waiting for you to arrive.
KRS: Yeah...I'd heard about that little parlor trick of yours.
ODO: I do not use it for a parlor trick, Commander. I was born that way.
KRS: Fine. Now why don't you ooze on down to Quirk's Place and annoy him for awhile?
ODO: But sir, I intend to accompany you on this little venture.
KRS: Not this time, Sheriff. I need to do this solo. Beside, the security of the station is your responsibility. If I don't return, you'll know what to do.
ODO: (sighing in resignation) Aye, sir. Good luck, sir.

With that, Krisko entered the runabout. After piloting the Genghis Khan out of dock, he sped off to the site of the gasshole and initiated the activation sequence. After a few moments of trepidation, the gasshole bloomed like a Majoran orchid and all sensors gave Krisko the green light to enter the hole.

As this happened, the station's sensors and klaxons began to wail, warning of the approach of a Hardassian armada.

What's this? Suspense on the Good Ship Valium? What good stuff will Krisko find in the hole? And what of those Hardassians?

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 4-1

2005-02-21T16:38:00.000-08:00

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.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 4-2

2005-02-07T21:45:00.000-08:00

JST: If you've finished, major, I have some details of what Starfleet is sending us.
KPR: Go for it, Justa.
JST: They're sending the 12th Martian Marine Division. Commanded by Colonel Moppett-DeFleur. (Reading printout) This is interesting,....
KPR: What?
JST: The lead ship is the U.S.S. Deflated!
KPR: I assume there's some significance o this, Justa?
JST: There is! The Deflated was mothballed from the fleet just after the war with the Bored!
Keepyer, it isn't a Marine-issue ship! These guys mean business!
MOB: The Deflated? Ha! That over-built, over-powered, under-thought-out piece of space garbage? It ranks right up there with that old Earth car, The Edsel!
KPR: Oh, just great!
JST: Now, hold on, you two! As I recall, the Deflated was built as an instrument of destruction, pure and simple. The war between the Federation and the Bored wasn't going well, so the techs at Starfleet threw together what it could beg, borrow and steal to build the Deflated. It was a prototype. After we found a way to shut off the Bored, Starfleet mothballed it without working out all the bugs. Despite what the Commandant says, they're coming out here to kick some ass!
KPR: I hope so, Justa. I hope so.

Justa saw the look of exasperation on the Major's face. She continued to study her files.

JST: And as further proof, the databanks indicate that the entire ranks of the 12th Martian Division are made up entirely of,...clones.
KPR: Clones? I thought the Federation banned cloning ages ago.
JST: Starfleet has been secretly working on selective cloning for some time now. These men are bred to do one thing - kill whatever their directives order.

As Justa's words sank in, Krisko was letting the view sink in. He had found his wife, standing there on the pitcher's mound, dressed in her wedding gown. His mind warred over the rationality of her death versus the reality of what was before him. Familiar smells assaulted his nose. Finally overcoming his doubts, he approached his wife.

KRS: Marla, is that really you?
MLA: I am as real as you wish me to be, Benjamin Krisko.
KRS: But,...you died. At the battle of Jemima III!
MLA: What is death, Benjamin Krisko?
KRS: An end to life. A finality of one's journey. To spin one's self off this mortal coil, et cetera.
MLA: Time? Death? Endings? What are these things of which you speak, Benjamin Krisko?
KRS: What are you, really? My wife would never call me by my full name.
MLA: What shall I call you, Benjamin Krisko?
KRS: Well,...Marla always had a pet name for me. But I'm too embarrassed to tell anyone else.
MLA: As I am the form of your,..."wife," you can tell me, can you not?
KRS: Well,...OK. She used to call me "Mohammed Shabazz." She was always into the "Black to Africa" movement.
MLA: What is it to "return?"
KRS: Wait a minute. Have you no concept of time,..or place?
MLA: We are what we are, Shabazz.
KRS: Just call me "Ben," like my uncle, the rice grower. And what are you?
MLA: We are the GONADS.
KRS: Gonads?
MLA: No, GONADS. All capital letters. It is an acronym.
KRS: I knew that. What are you?
MLA: Galactically Omnipotent Non-Aggressive Deities.
KRS: But why,...? How do you,...? Oh, God,...here comes Excedrin Headache Number 69!

Marla cocked her head and looked quizzically at Ben. She looked to go into a trance for a moment before speaking again.

MLA: Why do you number your pains?
KRS: Never mind. How about if I ask you a question or two?

Again, she blanked as if in a trance. Then she spoke to Krisko.

MLA: This is agreeable, Ben.
KRS: Why take the form of my wife? And how do you know who I am?
MLA: We chose a form that would not alarm you, Ben. We gathered the data of your wife when you touched our probe.
KRS: You mean the Tears of the Prophets?
MLA: That is what the Others call them?
KRS: Yes. These Tears are revered by a people called "Majorans."
MLA: These,...Majorans,..what are they?
KRS: They are much like I am,..except they have funny-looking noses, bad attitudes, and they like to grab people's ears.
MLA: Yes. We have had much contact with these Majorans. They have endured much hardship.
KRS: Yes. You know of the war?
MLA: What is "war?" Your language, it contains many idiots.
KRS: "Idioms."
MLA: Those, too. The Majorans,..they had a war?

Krisko continued his conversation with the GONAD. In turns, he explained much of human culture to her. Meanwhile, the tense standoff between the Hardassians and DS 69 continued. When the crew seemed at its wit's end, the sensors brought a glimmer of hope.

JST: Major, I'm picking up the Deflated on the advanced sensors. I can't be exactly sure until they get closer, but it looks like they brought the entire Martian Guard with them!
KPR: Terrific. Keep me posted.
JST: Aye, sir.
ODO: Security to Ops: Major Keepyer?
KPR: Go ahead, Odor.
ODO: I have detained both Garbaj and Quirk down here. Care to help me with the interrogation?
KPR: Only if you make it real quick, Odor. As the humans would say, "the Cavalry is coming over the hill."
ODO: You'll have to explain that one to me later.

Major Keepyer made quickly for the Security room. She arrived to find Odor and several Security guerrillas standing over Quirk and Garbaj. Both were detained to special detention seats. The Major thanked the Prophets that Odor hadn't yet resorted to using "the rack" the Hardassians had "conveniently" left behind.

ODO: Well, well, well, Quirk. What do you have to tell me about this?
QRK: There's nothing,..uh, nothing to tell, Odor!
ODO: You're awfully nervous about something, when you know nothing. Or do the Hardassians already have what little you knew?
QRK: Rule of Acquisition Number 502: No profit is gained when nothing is sold.
ODO: Rule of Interrogation Number One: I know a Ferengi rat when I smell one. You'd sell your brother to the Hardies if there was a profit involved.
QRK: Rom? My brother Cidi Rom? He's like,...well, like a brother to me! Everything I made, I owe to him!
ODO: How touching. What you owe to him is probably back pay for all his hard work.
GBJ: This is getting you nowhere, Mr. Odor. I have a shop to run and if you have no further need of me, I'm losing money because of this,...charade.
ODO: You may leave when you can explain to me why the entire Fourth Order is parked outside this station, waiting for something to happen that they should know nothing about.
GBJ: And you've detained me because I, too, am a Hardassian?
ODO: Sounds as good as any other reason, Mr. Garbaj.
GBJ: Are you calling me a spy? I don't like that kind of innuendo.
ODO: Innuendo? How do you define that?
GBJ: I define innuendo as "an Italian enema," but that's not important right now. The Obstinate Order has eyes everywhere, Odor. Are you so naive as to think that when the Hardassians pulled out of this station, they didn't leave a few "bugs" behind?
ODO: Such as you?

Major Keepyer, who had been watching this exchange impassionately, approached Odor and conversed with him in private.

KPR: Odor! We're losing time at the gasshole!
ODO: But I know that they know something. I just need more time to prove it.
KPR: Then detain them for now. We haven't got the time for this!
ODO: (sighing) Very well. I'll have my men put them on bread and water until they confess.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 4-3

2005-02-01T11:27:00.000-08:00

Meanwhile, back at the interstellar ballfield, Krisko was still trying to get to first base with Marla. They walked together, admiring the scenery.

KRS: Wow! This is some field.
MLA: And some corn.
KRS: Some grass.
MLA: Some trees.
KRS: Some dew.
MLA: I don't.
KRS: You did when you were alive! You wanted to start such a big family.
MLA: You must,...reproduce yourselves? Why?
KRS: Humans have a limited existence. We are born, grow to maturity, then we expire.
MLA: How do you reproduce? You must explain this to me.
KRS: I think a visual, hands-on approach would be more,...enlightening.

After Krisko's "hands-on" demonstration, he awoke to smell food cooking. He was no longer in the field, but in his home back on Earth. He entered the kitchen area to find Marla preparing a meal.

MLA: Our research indicates that your species requires sustenance. I have prepared some food for you, Ben.
KRS: Is that duck a l'orange I smell cooking?
MLA: Yes, Ben.
KRS: I haven't had duck for ages! Oh, how I miss that fowl taste in my mouth!

As the twosome sat down for dinner, the Marines arrived to cook some Hardassian goose.

MOB: Major, you're being hailed by the commander, Deflated.
KPR: Put him on the screen, Miles.
MOB: Aye, ma'am.

The image on the screen was of a surprisingly young man. He had a look of grave consternation as he addressed the station.

MPT: Major Keepyer, I'm Colonel Frederick Moppett-DeFleur, commander of the 12th Martian Division.
KPR: Glad to have your assistance, Colonel.
MPT: I'll be beaming aboard momentarily, Major. My troops will begin taking up positions around this gasshole of yours. Just how stable is it?
KPR: My science officer's original estimates called for a shutdown about fifteen minutes ago, but for some reason, it's holding.
MPT: Very good, I,...
JST: Major, the Hardassians want a word with you about this.
KPR: Tell them I have a word for them: G'Herk! (Hardassians for "F*** you!")

Before Justa could deliver the message, Gul Droppings broke into the screen display, facing side-by-side with the Marine colonel.

DRP: Major, you must protest,...I must protest! What is a contingent of Federation Marines doing here? I don't recall this area being declared a hostile zone!
KPR: It wasn't a hostile zone until you arrived, Droppings!
MPT: We're here to keep you Hardies in line!
DRP: By surrounding us in the gasshole,...I mean, surrounding the gasshole?
MPT: Our treaty with the Majorans stipulates armed force to prevent foreign incursion until the Provisional government gets its act together.
DRP: But the gasshole is an open claim,..until Krisko returns.
MPT: And until then, you keep your slimy fingers out of our hole!

The colonel moved to drop the Hardassians from the screen. He smirked as he addressed Major Keepyer.

MPT: I'd like to come aboard and go over the finer details of this operation, Major.
KPR: Why,...of course, Colonel. Permission granted.
MPT: Very good. Prepare for beaming.

Moments later, the whine of a transporter beam brought the colonel and several aides-de-camp. The colonel moved to introduce his team.

MPT: Major, this is my executive officer, Captain Oedipus Recks.
KPR: Nice name, Captain.
MPT: I loved my mother very much.
KPR: But you...you're a clone. You don't have a mother!
MPT: Uh,...a little joke from the boys at PsyCorps. Every clone is fitted with a personality profile.
KPR: I see.
MPT: And this is my legal advisor, Lt. Commander Donnie Brooke.

The group made perfunctory greetings before the Major briefed the Marines and DS 69 officers. Back at the gasshole, Krisko continued an intellectual exchange with the GONADs.

KRS: A pitcher throws the ball to the batter and the batter attempts to hit the ball and score. Now do you get it?
MLA: I believe it would be better to know the outcome in advance.
KRS: But that's part of the fun! By not knowing what will happen next, it presents a challenge! Humans crave challenges. That's why we came to this hole. It's why we explore all of space.
MLA: Your people have many concepts foreign to us, but you intrigue the GONADs.
KRS: Thank you, Marla, but I am still curious. What lies beyond this place? Where does the gasshole end?
MLA: Your "probe" will return to you in due time, Ben. Now, you too, must return to your people. The GONADs will allow safe passage to your people through the gasshole.
KRS: Why?
MLA: It shall give the GONADs a chance to further observe you.
KRS: I'll miss you, Marla.
MLA: I shall always be here, Ben. I have always been here.
KRS: How,..how do I explain you to the Majorans?
MLA: The Majorans have chosen you as their Emissary. Tell them what the faithful will believe of us.
KRS: I will. Goodbye, Marla.

With a reluctant embrace, Krisko returned to the runabout and set course back to the station.

What will happen to Krisko when he returns? What about Captain Recks? Does he really have a mother to love? Do you love your mother? Stay tuned, Yekkers, I have to consult with Sigmund Freud before Chapter V!

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 5-1

2005-01-28T08:31:00.000-08:00

STAR YECCH!! DEEP SHIT 69 CHAPTER V - KRISKO'S SLIPPERY ESCAPE... OR, IT TAKES A LOT OF GONADS TO WRITE THIS SHIT!

Special Guest Stars:
Joey Buttawipo as Gul Lattrek
Tom Dickenharry as Lt. Commander Donnie Brooke

SHIP'S STATION LOG, STARDATE 9411.28: Major Keepyer Handsof, still acting commander, reporting. The Federation has thankfully responded to the Hardassian threat to the gasshole by sending, much to our surprise, an entire division of Starfleet marines. I am currently coordinating our efforts with the Marines' leader, Colonel Moppett-DeFleur. I am, however,
worried about the Commander's whereabouts. He was due to return some time ago, and I fear the Prophets may have taken him.

In Krisko's command room, Major Keepyer and the Marine command team organized the safe return of Commander Krisko.

MPT: I'll have two squadrons guard the gasshole from the X and Y apogees and a third squadron keep an eye on our Hardassian friends out there. If all goes well, Commander Krisko's runabout should re-enter our space between the squadrons and we can extend shields around the ship. After that, the escort will be a cakewalk.

KPR: Yuck! You humans walk in cake when you succeed?
MPT: It's just an expression, major. Now, if you have no further questions, I'll return to the Deflated and leave Recks and Brooke behind with you.
KPR: Sounds fine with me, Colonel. "Semper Fi," sir.
MPT: "Semper Fi?" That phrase went out ages ago!
KPR: Then what do you use now as a rallying cry?
MPT: "Semper Scrotum!"
KPR: Semper,...Scrotum??
MPT: "Always on the ball!" C-1 to Deflated: one to beam aboard.

The familiar shimmer of a transport took the colonel out of the picture. The Major turned to the Marine twosome and found Captain Recks leering at her.

KPR: Do you have a problem, Captain Recks?
RCK: No,...it's just that,...you look like my mother.
KPR: I told you,...you don't have a mother, dammit! You're a frigging clone, for Prophet's sake!
BRK: He knows that, major, but he can't help himself. He still likes to go on thinking that beautiful women look like his mother,...and the PsyCorps guys really did a number on him, and...
RCK: Dammit, you're babbling, Brooke! Just shut up!
KPR: You know, gentlemen, this isn't getting us anywhere.
RCK: Did I tell you my mother's name was Hortense?
KPR: "Hortense?" That's an odd name. What does it mean?
RCK: "Nervous Prostitute."
BRK: Major, did you know the Captain's nickname is "Nervous," too?
KPR: "Nervous" Recks??

Captain Recks was overcome with a sheepish look and blushed furiously. With that, Major Keepyer left the room in disgust and returned to Ops to confer with Justa.

KPR: Justa, any sign of the Commander's ship?
JST: No,..and I'm beginning to worry about it. By my calculations, the gasshole should have collapsed 17.4 minutes ago.
MOB: Major, I'm getting a sensor reading from the gasshole!
KPR: A sensor reading? What is it?
MOB: A sensor reading is one of those funny blips that the special effects guys come up with to enhance the plot, but that's not important right now.
KPR: Justa, what are you coming up with?
JST: Increased neutrino readings from the hole. I think it's going to open up again!
KPR: Any sign of Krisko's runabout?
JST: Nothing yet, Major.
KPR: OK. Alert Moppett-DeFleur, nevertheless. If it is Krisko, those Marauders will pounce on him like a pack of vultures.
JST: Aye, sir.

As Justa Broad alerts the Deflated, the viewscreen came alive with a brilliant flash of light as the gasshole re-opened. In the afterglow (?), a small ship became visible. After recognizing the runabout, everybody let out a shout of glee.

KPR/JST/MOB: GLEE!!

Krisko, relieved by the sight of the space station, hailed the Ops Center.

KRS: Genghis Khan to DS 69: Hail!
KPR: Oh, Commander! Are we ever glad to see you!
KRS: I knew you'd miss me, but what gives with the armed escort?
MPT: Just coverin' yer ass, Commander.
KRS: Who are you?
MPT: Colonel Moppett-DeFleur, commander, 12th Martian Marine Division.

Major Keepyer and the Marine Colonel quickly briefed Krisko as to the goings-on in his absence.

MPT: OK, Krisko, just give the signal and my boys will extend their shield around your runabout.
KRS: Fine. Shields to dissolve in 10 seconds.
MPT: Counting down: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,...extending shields. You can place it on autopilot, Krisko, and we'll guide you in.

Moppett-DeFleur's orders were met with silence from the Genghis Khan. The colonel ordered a sensor sweep of the runabout. His apprehension grew with the negative reports of Krisko's whereabouts.

MPT: Deflated to DS 69, have you beamed Krisko back to your station?
KPR: Negative, Colonel. I thought you were guiding him in.
MPT: So did I! There's no sign of him aboard the Genghis Khan! Before the Ops crew had a chance to respond, Gul Droppings hailed the station again.

DRP: Major! Congratulations on a successful adventure!
KPR: Droppings, dammit, where's Krisko?
DRP: Do you look like I know...I mean, do I look like I know?
KPR: Well, he's gone missing and this all smells of a Hardassians plot.
DRP: Actually, Major, the commander has graciously consented to share his knowledge of the gasshole with us, as an invited guest of my friend, Gul Lattrek.
KPR: Lattrek? Of the Obstinate Order?
DRP: In the fresh...flash...I mean, flesh.
KPR: Droppings, if you harm on hair on Krisko's body, I'll break every bone in your head,...I mean,...aww, screw it! As acting commander of this station, I order you to return Krisko to us!
DRP: Order the return of a political prisoner? I don't think so, Major.
KPR: Political prisoner? What did Krisko do to you?
DRP: Trespassing on Hardassian space, in direct violation of our treaty with the Federation.
KPR: But,...but,...
DRP: We have claimed the gasshole as our own, Major. Krisko will be taken back to Hardassia Prime and confess to this deed.

Before Keepyer could respond, Gul Droppings cut her off. Moppett-DeFleur immediately contacted her.

MPT: Major, any word on Krisko's whereabouts? And why are the Hardassians leaving?
KPR: Colonel! Stop them! Gul Droppings has kidnapped Krisko and they're taking him back to Hardassia to try him as a spy!!
MPT: How? Why? But our shields,...
KPR: Ask those questions later, dammit! Just get Krisko back!
MPT: I'm afraid my hands are tied, Major. I'm under direct orders not to start a fight with the Hardassians. If they have Krisko, we'll have to go through diplomatic channels to retrieve him.
KPR: Are you serious???
MPT: No,...I'm Colonel Moppett-DeFleur. Colonel Sirius commands the 11th Division.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 5-2

2005-01-27T09:19:00.000-08:00

As the DS 69 team stewed, the Deflated towed the Genghis Khan back to spacedock for a thorough examination. Odor and a detachment of Marine Security personnel went over the runabout with a fine-toothed comb. Unfortunately, they found the process of dragging a fine-toothed comb throughout the ship to be tedious and time-consuming. Shortly, they resorted to standard tricorder scanning. After this, they reported back to Major Keepyer and Colonel Moppett-DeFleur.

KPR: What did your team find in the Genghis Khan, Odor?
ODO: We initially found nothing out of the ordinary in the ship, but after a second sweep with the tricorders, we found a tiny transponder under the helmsman's seat. My preliminary evaluation suggest the Hardassians homed in on it before the Colonels' troops could blanket the ship with their shields.
MPT: Can you identify the make of the transponder, Odor?
ODO: It's of a Happicampan make, Colonel; favored by the Hardassians for its size and strength.
MPT: Happicampan? Our intelligence reports on them didn't suggest trade with the Hardassians.
ODO: They deal through third parties over the demilitarized zone. Probably the Monquies.
MPT: But,...how did it get on Krisko's runabout?

The Major and Odor exchanged a quick, knowing glance at each other and answered the Colonel simultaneously.

ODO/KPR: Garbaj!
MPT: Who is he? I assume you know him?
ODO: Garbaj is the only resident Hardassian left on the station. I questioned him about the Hardassian's knowledge of the gasshole, but drew a blank.
MPT: Do you still have reason to suspect him?
KPR: Garbaj has intimated for some time now that he has connections with the Obstinate Order, but we can never prove if he's telling the truth or blowing smoke up our asses.
MPT: Well then, I suggest you detain him again. I'll have my security team help you.
ODO: Very well, Colonel. If you will excuse me?

Odor left the briefing to arrest Garbaj. He also gave orders for the detainment of Quirk. Back at the conference, the Majoran and Marine teams continued.

MPT: Major, what of this Obstinate Order? You feel this Garbaj fellow may be involved?
KPR: The Obstinate Order is the elite internal security force for the Hardassian Empire. Their methods make the Romulan Tal Shi'ar seem tame by comparison.
MPT: Hmmm. Sounds like the old American Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms,...and this Gul Lattrek? You seem to recognize his name.
KPR: Lattrek helped orchestrate the execution of a troupe of Majoran mimes. He thought they were passing codes along to the Resistance.
MPT: He slaughtered a troupe of mimes? What a terrible thing to waste!!
KPR: Typical Hardassian methods of subordination, Colonel. Unfortunately, they may try similar tactics on Commander Krisko.
MPT: Despite my tight restrictions, Major, I may have a plan to get Krisko back.

The conference was ended with Moppett-DeFleur returned to the Deflated. By using the ship;s advanced speed, he hoped to catch up to the Hardassians before the crossed back into their sovereign space. As time wore one, the Ops members grew impatient waiting for a reply from the Deflated.

KPR: DS 69 to the Deflated: Colonel Moppett-DeFleur, report.
MPT: Yes, Major,...I was about to give you a call.
KPR: Any luck finding the Fourth Order, Colonel?
MPT: Negative, major. The Hardassians have jammed our ship's radar. Take a look for yourselves.

Sure enough, the forward sensor arrays were covered with thick, red goo.

BRK: Wow! Looks like elderberry jam, Captain Recks!
RCK: No shit, Sherlock!
BRK: Just trying to be helpful, Captain.
RCK: PsyCorps didn't make you the sharpest pencil in the box, did they, Lieutenant Brooke?
BRK: Uh,...no, sir.

Major Keepyer simply shook her head in disgust and amazement.

KPR: Are you telling me you let the Hardassians jam the radar on the Federation's best ship? You must be kidding!
MPT: No, Major. Colonel Kitting commands the 10th Marine Division.
KPR: Well, what do you plan to do next, Colonel?
MPT: After the 121st Lackey and Flunkey Squad cleans all that jam off the sensor array, we'll have to return and start from square one, Major.
KPR: Oh, I can't wait, Colonel.

Meanwhile, the command ship of the Hardassian Fourth Order returned to Hardassia Prime. Krisko was led away to the Central Incarceration Prison to await processing by the Hardassian government. After what seemed like days, a Hardassian dressed in robes of the judicial caste entered his cell.

IBL: Greetings, Commander Krisko. I am Gul Ibble, your jurist.
KRS: My jurist? Now that's a crock o' shit! I know your judicial system all too well, Ibble!
IBL: "Guilty until proven guilty." It's a very effective crime reducer, Krisko.
KRS: If I am already guilty, why have a trial?
IBL: To remind the citizens of the Hardassian Empire what happens when they stray from the flock. Your verdict and sentence have already been worked out. My job is to see that all goes smoothly and that justice is dispensed.
KRS: Humph! Sounds more like justice being dispensed with!
IBL: If you have nothing further to say that will speed things along, then I shall see you at the trial in the morning.
KRS: Wait a minute! I'm a Starfleet officer! I'm entitled to representation from a Federation lawyer! I want to contact the Judge Advocate General's office!
IBL: I'll file a motion on your behalf with mediator Shapiro, but I doubt the Federation will be able to respond before your hearing. Until then, good day, Krisko.

The officious lawyer left Krisko in his cold, grey cell. A short time later, several Hardassian guards entered his cell and escorted him to an office complex. He was led into the chambers of an obviously high-ranking official. A moment later, the Hardassian entered from an antechamber. He wore a Hardassian uniform that Krisko was not familiar with. After inspecting Krisko like he was a new form of insect life, the Hardassian took a seat behind his desk and introduced himself.

LTK: Commander Krisko, I am Gul Lattrek, commander of the Home Sector, Obstinate Order. I wanted to have a small chat with you...before your trial tomorrow.
KRS: You'll get nothing more from me than my name, rank, and serial number.
LTK: You are Benjamin Krisko, Commander. Starfleet ID #135-AB-89007. You're widowed and you have a son named Jerk. You like something called "baseball," which strikes me as humourous. You like to cook and have an obsession with large-breasted Andorian females.

Krisko gawked at Lattrek, dumbfounded. The Gul smirked at him and continued.

LTK: You see, Krisko, that your ancient code of silence means nothing to me.
KRS: If you know all of this, then why bother with this charade? Or am I being taped for display to your loyal citizens?
LTK: Ha, ha, ha! You amuse me, Krisko! As much as we know about you, and the gasshole, we know little of what you encountered inside the hole.
KRS: And you'll get nothing from me. I'll take that knowledge to my grave!
LTK: Again, you are being humourous!
KRS: I don't follow you, Lattrek.
LTK: Didn't Gul Ibble brief you about your trial?
KRS: No.
LTK: Oh, very well. (Sighing) As you now, you will be found guilty of trespassing in Hardassian space and spying. The sentence will be death...by hanging. So you see, Krisko, you might as well "spill the beans," and fill me in on what lies beyond the gasshole.

Will Krisko spill the beans? Will Lattrek make him squeal like a pig and play the banjo with some inbred redneck?....Oops, sorry! That scene's from my parody of "Deliverance."

Anyway, hang on for the next thrilling episode of,...

Star Yecch! Deep Shit 69!

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 6-1

2005-01-21T10:30:00.000-08:00

STAR YECCH! DEEP SHIT 69
CHAPTER VI - JUST HANGIN' AROUND...
OR,.SWING LO, SWEET RUNABOUT!

Special Guest Stars:
Arthur Itis as Gul Ibble
Ima Schrew as Mediator Shapiro

SHIP'S STATION LOG, STARDATE - 9412.20: Major Keepyer Handsof, still acting commander and beginning to like it! With the help of the Federation Marine Corps, we have now lost Commander Krisko to the Hardassians, who have claimed the gasshole as their own sovereign territory. Because the Marine commander has his hands tied by regulations, our only real hope in getting Krisko back is through a long, tedious diplomatic process. Knowing Hardassian justice is swift, we hold out very slim hope in recovering the Commander alive.

In Krisko's offices, the station's senior staff brainstormed with the Marine contingent. After exhausting numerous plans, Colonel Moppett-DeFleur's expression lightened.

MPT: I've got an idea, major!
KPR: Do you mind sharing this synaptic burp with the rest of us, Colonel?
MPT: Why, of course! The Deflated has a "chameleon cloaking" device built into the sensors. We can alter the ship's sensor code to match a Hardassian ship of similar size and sneak a storm team in to rescue Krisko!
KPR: You mean to tell me that after spending the last four hours hashing out one failed plan after another, you just now thought of this?? Why didn't you think of this earlier?
MPT: Uh,...Captain Recks,...why didn't you think of this earlier?
RCK: Uh,...Lieutenant (j.g.) Brooke,...why didn't you think of this earlier?

All eyes turned to face the young officer. he shrugged, swallowed hard and spoke:

BRK: Uh,..aww, shit! Low man on the totem pole again!
KPR: Now that you're done passing the credit around, Colonel, how do you plan on using this cloaking device? And this better be smarter that your "Romulan Rabbit" scheme!

As the daring team worked out yet another plan, time closed in on Krisko as he was still interrogated by Gul Lattrek.

LTK: Krisko, I'm asking a simple question: "What did you find in the gasshole?"
KRS: Little green men from Mars!
LTK: Do not toy with me, Krisko! I'm your worst nightmare come to life!!
KRS: I doubt that. My worst nightmare is waking up and finding my penis missing!
LTK: Oh-h-h-h-h,..alright; then I'm your second worst nightmare come to life! Now, you can tell me what happened in there and become a singular casualty in this sordid affair; or I can kill you, then send out a reconnaissance team into the hole. The Majorans will resist and hundreds will be killed by your arrogance!

Krisko weighed Lattrek's words for a moment before speaking.

KRS: If the Obstinate Order knows all about me, why doesn't it know what's beyond the gasshole?
LTK: Don't be coy with me, Krisko! The Hardassians occupied Labia Majora for several years. We know all about the Majorans' fanatical belief in the "Prophets." What I want to know is this: are those Tears natural artifacts or messages from the other end of the gasshole?
KRS: I wouldn't know, Lattrek. I never made it to the other side!
LTK: is that so? What stopped you, then? The Prophets?
KRS: Hmmmm,...I don;t think you could call them that.
LTK: Then what would you call them? Give me a name!
KRS: I would think that was your parents' responsibility.
LTK: Arrrggghhhh!! I grow tired of this foolishness! Guards!! Escort the prisoner back to his cell!

As the guards dragged Krisko back to his cell, Lattrek obviously infuriated by Krisko's tactics, called out to him:

LTK: Krisko! All shall be revealed at your trial!! Then I'll have the last laugh!
KRS: Laugh at this, Lattrek! (Krisko flipped Lattrek the bird.)

Back at the station, the galactic gestalt finalized plans to invade Hardassia Prime and rescue Commander Krisko. As they prepared to break for some rest, Justa returned from her secondary assignment.

KPR: Justa, any luck going through Hardassian legal writings?
JST: Not very much. There's so little written on Hardassian legal precedent that I even had to bring in Kohnan to help me through the library.
KPR: You asked Kohnan?? Kohnan the librarian? I didn't even think he was alive down there!
JST: Well, when's the last time you went down to the library?
KPR: I,...I, uh,...can't remember. But that name is a hell of a stretch to go for a cheap laugh!
JST: Anyway, it unfortunately appears that Benjamin has little legal ground to stand on. Ever since the Military came to power, Hardassian civil rights have been pared down to "do as I say or die when I say."
KPR: Tell me about it! I lost half of my family to so-called Hardassian "justice!"
JST: Then you know what we're up against.
KPR: Any word from Starfleet?
JST: (sighing) By the time Starfleet files a complaint with the Hardassian Foreign Ministry and they, in turn, file with their Justice Ministry, Krisko will have been tried, convicted and hung.
KPR: Well,..as we seem to be out of options, I move that we commence with the Marines, ASAP.

The group broke up on that note and began to move to their respective positions. Justa, O'Brother, and a team of Majoran and Starfleet volunteers assembled aboard the Deflated for a final briefing with the Marine insertion team.

After getting the go-ahead from DS 69, the Deflated made way for Hardassian space. As the ship got under way and the crew began to settle into their stations, Justa looked over to see that Captain Recks was living up to his moniker of "nervous." She went over to him and engaged in some small talk to help calm him down.

JST: So,...Captain Recks, are you worried about this mission?
RCK: Nah,...the PsyCorps guys never install negative programs like that in us. This is just my first deep-space mission.
JST: Oh, I see. How long have you been with the Marines?
RCK: Just over two years. Most of that time I was in Officer's Training College, though. Once I got my commission, I was shipped out to Mars with the 12th.
JST: Well, having been through this a few times myself, I can tell you it gets a little easier with time.
RCK: That's cool. Beside, this beats stationing on Mars!
JST: Oh, really? In what way?
RCK: At least out here, I get to do what I was trained for. Back home, I just sat by the Martian canals, eating hot dogs and waiting to be mustered out. And,..thinking about my mother.
JST: Uh,...yeah! I've heard about your mother.
RCK: I spent a lot of my free time looking for her on Mars. Some of the locals told me to climb the mountains to search for her. I'd ask them "how high is a Martian mountain?" and the locals would always tell me "yes." Never got a straight answer out of those Martian bastards until I found Howhai Mountain, then I understood.
JST: Really? Well,..Captain Recks, I really do have to get back and help the Colonel. I'll talk to you later.

With the Marines on their way, the outlook was bleak for Commander Krisko. After his session with Gul Lattrek, Krisko knew he'd sealed his fate. The following morning, Krisko held a brief audience with Gul Ibble, then was led away to the chambers of Mediator Shapiro. Upon entering the hall, a crowd of jeering Hardassians met Krisko and video cameras flowed his every movement.

KRS: Jesus, Ibble! Is this a trial or a goddamned circus?
IBL: Both, Commander. As I explained to you earlier, you shall be made an example of to the Empire.
KRS: What about my rights under the Organian Treaties?
IBL: Oh, that? You Federation legal counsel should have an answer by next week.
KRS: But,...but, that will be too late! Can you ask for a continuance?
IBL: Hardassian justice has no precedent for such things, Krisko.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 6-2

2005-01-18T19:13:00.000-08:00

Before Krisko could further protest, trumpets blared a great fanfare and all attention was turned to the podium. Mediator Shapiro entered with a flourish and seated herself on her high horse-leather chair. A court jester,...I mean, a court officer spoke:

CRT: All those having borne witness to this matter: step forward and you shall be heard. Presenting in the matter of the Empire versus Federation Commander Benjamin Krisko, her Imperial Mediator, Shapiro.

The mediator eyed Krisko skeptically and addressed him in icy tones.

SHP: Benjamin Krisko, you have been charged with treason and trespassing on Imperial territory. For this, we have found you guilty. We shall now decide on the manner of your transgression and pass sentence upon you.

As the hearing droned through the opening motions, Gul Droppings hailed the station.

DRP: Gul Droppings to Deep Ship's Station: Hail!
KPR: DS 69 to Droppings: Go to Hail! What do you want now?
DRP: You have bad news for me...I mean, I have good news for you: Commander Krisko's trial has begun.
KPR: But, but,...where's his counsel?
DRP: Krisko has been assigned counsel from the Hardassian Civilian pool. His name is Gul Ibble.
KPR: Gul Ibble?? That old cretin hasn't tried a case since the Occupation! He isn't qualified for this kind of trial!
DRP: The Justice Ministry made special...arrangements for Gul Ibble. Now, since you can't be there for Krisko's trial, I'd though it would be sporting of me to patch in to you the Hardassian video feed of his trial. Stand by on channel 1009.

With that, Droppings faded from view and the viewscreen shifted to a scene of a Hardassian courtroom. And at that courtroom, the perfunctory motions were over and the trial started.

SHP: I'll entertain an opening arguments from the counselors.

IBL: Well, you honor, I think schlemiel stew tastes better without yarmulke sauce! What say you, Gul Wingh?
WNG: I think yarmulke sauce enhances the flavor of the stew!
IBL: Does not!
WNG: Does so!
IBL: Does not!
WNG: Does so!
SHP: OK! Enough with the opening arguments! Let us commence with the case at hand.

It was now Gul Wingh's turn to put on a show. He stepped up and made the most of his moment in the spotlight.

WNG: Imperial Mediator, the Empire has charged this human with a number of crimes: among them are trespassing, treason by withholding information vital to the Empire, and not to mention - man's laughter!
KRS: Man's Laughter??
WNG: I said not to mention man's laughter!
IBL: I believe the counselor means "manslaughter," Mediator.
SHP: The court understands the charge, Gul Ibble. Having heard the charges, how does your client plead, Ibble?
IBL: My client, of course, pleads guilty, as charges. However, owing to extreme circumstances involving the Majoran gasshole and our truce with the Federation, I ask for leniency in Krisko's sentencing.
SHP: Given the gravity of the charges, my only recourse from the conventional sentence of death is life imprisonment and hard labor. However, I have imposed a cap on the population of the prisons and therefore there is no room for this criminal, That said, Gul Ibble, your plea is denied.

Ibble rose from his station to protest.

IBL: Mediator Shapiro, you mentioned the gravity of this case. I am not well versed in the laws of gravity and therefore plead for more time in this matter, so that the cause of justice may move more smoothly.
SHP: Your plea is again denied, Gul Ibble! Gul Wingh, you may call your first witness for the persecution.

As ther trial moved on, Major Keepyer, as well as both the Federation and Majoran Ops personnel looked on in anger. She cursed the Hardassians and prayed to the Prophets that the Deflated's mission be in time to save Krisko's life.

As the Deflated approached the Hardassian border, Colonel Moppett-DeFleur gave the orders to change the ship's identity.

MPT: Helmsman: punch up the cloaking device and enter the code on my command.
HLM: Aye, sir. Cloak is engaged.
MPT: Very good, son. Enter code SUX-2B-U.
HLM: Entering code SUX-2B-U, sir.
MPT: Proceed on course, helmsman.
HLM: Aye, sir. Proceeding on course 148, Mark 27, sir.
MPT: Let's pray to God this works out, men.
HLM: Aye, sir. Praying to God, sir.
MPT: Oh,...shut up, helmsman!
HLM: Aye, sir. Shutting up, sir.
MPT: Well, men,..and ladies, if all goes well, we should arrive at Hardassia Prime in approximately two and a half hours.

As luck would have it, the Deflated was able to pass several listening posts and security checkpoints and was making a beeline for Hardassia Prime. As the hour approached, the Colonel address the insertion team.

MPT: Lieutenant Broad and Mr. O'Brother, you'll use a shuttlecraft and land at the Vulcan consulate. We've arranged through channels to have you two pose as Federation observers to the trial. Once you get a bead on Krisko, you'll guide in the insertion team.
JST/MOB: Aye, sir.
MPT: Captain Recks, you shall lead the insertion team. Ensign Brooke shall take Ensigns Shiv, Dirk, and Bowie and slice a safe path to the courtroom for the Delta team.
RCK: Aye, sir.
MPT: The Deflated will stay back here to avoid visual contact with the Hardassian militia. All of you: keep in constant contact with each other and us. If any of you are captured, the Federation will disavow any knowledge of this escapade and leave you all out to dry. Understood?
ALL: Aye, sir.

Will the Deflated arrive in time? What chance does Krisko have with a counselor who doesn't know the laws of gravity? What the hell am I going to do with all these Christmas gift certificates? Tune in next time for more mind-numbing adventures!

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 7-1

2005-01-12T21:18:00.000-08:00

STAR YECCH! DEEP SHIT 69
CHAPTER VII - NO NOOSE IS GOOD NOOSE,...
OR, HOLY SHIT, I'M RUNNING OUT OF SECONDARY TITLES

SHIP'S STATION LOG, STARDATE 9501.11: Dr. Julius Bashful, reporting. I have placed Major Keepyer on medical leave while she is treated for "Al Haig Syndrome," brought on by the prolonged stress of Commander Krisko's abduction.

In the courtroom of Mediator Shapiro, the case against Commander Krisko droned on.

SHP: Will the spectators stop droning! It's giving me a headache! There will be silence in this hall!
WNG: If it pleases the court, I would like to bring forth as my final witness, Gul Lattrek.

Gul Wingh's announcement was enough to stop the droning of the crowd. Gul Lattrek entered the hall with a grand flourish and was seated in the confessor's box. Gul Wingh addressed him.

WNG: For the record, Gul Lattrek, you interviewed the accused several times?
LTK: Yes, I did.
WNG: At what point did Commander Krisko confess?
LTK: The human never did confess, I'm afraid. Like most of his kind, he fears facing the retribution of his actions.
IBL: I object, your honor. My client is trained to withhold information considered vital to his superiors.
SHP: Your objection is noted but overruled! Gul Wingh, you may proceed.
LTK: If I may, your honor,...I offered Commander Krisko immunity from a court-martial by his superiors, but he rejected the deal.
WNG: With that, your honor, I have no further evidence to present.
SHP: Gul Ibble, do you have anything to say for your client?
IBL: I renew my petition for clemency on my client's behalf, your honor.
SHP: Your petition is again denied, Ibble! I, therefore, pronounce Commander Benjamin Krisko guilty of all charges and sentence him to die by hanging with the falling of the first and second moons.

Gul Ibble turned to the stoic-faced Commander and shrugged. As guards hustled Krisko back to his cell, he called over to his counsel.

KRS: Someone see if Samuel T. Cogley is still alive! If he is, retain him for my appeal!
IBL: Appeal? Not in Hardassian justice, my friend!

As they witnessed the three-ringed circus ending, Justa Broad and Miles O'Brother signaled back to the Marines. Since the trial ended quicker than expected, the insertion team would now have to make a rescue attempt at the execution site.

On the station, the video stream ended. A mixture of sorrow and anger filled the Ops room. Major Keepyer, after venting her own frustration, called for a clean up of the remnants of the sorrow/anger mixture, which was beginning to stain the carpets.

KPR: Dammit all to hell!! Where are Justa and Miles?
ODO: perhaps there's still time, Keepyer.
KPR: How much time, Odor? This is all going too fast!
ODO: If you ever had faith in the Prophets, now would be a good time to call it in. Don't you remember being a member of the Resistance? "Always have a Plan B," you used to tell me!
KPR: What's your point, Odor?
ODO: I don't know, Keepyer. It just sounded inspirational.

In his cell, Krisko pondered his now-limited future. As a show of good will on his captors' behalf, they permitted him to make contact with his family. After going through several delays, Krisko's viewscreen filled with the face of his son, Jerk.

JER: Dad? Is it true, they're going to hang you for going into the gasshole?
KRS: I'm afraid the Hardassians will try, son. But I want you to be brave about all of this.
JER: I'm trying, Dad. The guys on the station are really looking out for me.
KRS: (Sighing) I'm glad to hear that, Jerk.
JER: Yeah! And I even met a girl down at Quirk's Place!
KRS: Jerk,...I warned you about him! What kind of girl did you meet at his bar?
JER: A Dabo girl, Dad. Her name's S'Marti Panz.
KRS: A Dabo girl??? What,...what attracted you to someone like her?
JER: Dad,...you oughtta see the size of her dabos!
KRS: Uh, yeah. (Taking a deep breath) You know, Jerk, physical appearance shouldn't be your only guide to love.
JER: Yeah, I know,...but she writes poetry and she's hoping to go back to school on Majora once things settle down.
KRS: Nevertheless, Jerk, watch yourself.
JER: Aw, Dad, would you lighten up! I've already had a rotten day!
KRS: I'm sorry this trial has upset you, but,...
JER: I'm not even talking about that! When I got up this morning, my "Krispies" cereal started talking back when I poured on the lactose additive.
KRS: I think you should see Dr. Bashful about this delusional behavior, Jerk.
JER: Seriously, Dad! They said "Snap! Crackle! F**k you!" So I threw them back at the replicator!
KRS: Oh, no...my son: "The Cereal Killer!"
JER: Well,...Dad, my time's running out. So,.......I hope you get out of this!
KRS: I hope so, too, Jerk.

Wearily, Krisko turned away from the viewscreen.

Meanwhile, the Federation team regrouped at the Vulcan consulate. Justa conferred with Spick and Spann, the Vulcan strategists who helped clean up several of the Marines' past covert operations. O'Brother convened with Petty Officer Brooke and his insertion team, going over the layout of the execution site. Both Starfleet officers then reported back to the Deflated over subspace channels.

JST: As you know, Colonel, the trial went much quicker than we anticipated. They're getting the gallows ready as we speak.
MPT: Yes, Lieutenant Broad, we caught the Empire's video feed. All that court needed was a ring-master! Have you made any progress with our back-up plans?
JST: Yes, Colonel. I've just met with Spick and Spann. I think their plan will work out.
MPT: Fine, Lieutenant. May I speak with one of them?
JST: Standby, Colonel, I'll get Spick.

After several moments, the calm visage of the Vulcan appeared on the viewscreen. He addressed the Colonel.

SPK: I come to serve, Colonel.
MPT: I assume you understand the gravity of this operation?
SPK: The gravity of Hardassia Prime will not be a factor in your operation, Colonel.
MPT: Great! I'm glad to hear that. Once again, you and your partner are saving my butt! I really owe you, Spick.
SPK: Your emotional reaction is most unnecessary, Colonel. I will continue to "save your butt" as long as you possess those holographs of a certain Romulan woman and myself. This arrangement is most logical.
MPT: Sometimes you sound just like your brother, Spook.
SPK: Correction, Colonel. Spook is my half-brother. While Spook's mother was a welfare addict from Harlem, my mother was an illegal immigrant from Tijuana.
MPT: So noted.
SPK: If you will excuse me, Colonel, I must return to my previous duties. I was converting an old Hardassian ground vehicle into a low-rider and installing the likeness of a Terran canine with a wagging head.
MPT: Well, I'll report all of this to general Motars. Please return Lieutenant Broad to the viewer.
SPK: Live long,...and eat frijoles, Colonel.

When Justa Broad returned, she and the Colonel finalized the latest rescue plan.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 7-2

2005-01-10T11:22:00.000-08:00

As the rescue team plotted, Hardassia moved from the first into the second moonrise. Krisko was hustled from his cell and taken to a courtyard within the Justice Ministry complex. A large gallows occupied the center stage. As Krisko looked up to view the scene, he spotted Gul Lattrek standing smugly beside the gallows.

KRS: Care to give it a dry run, Lattrek?
LTK: Your humor,...so pitiful. I shall see to it that you are well hung.
KRS: My wife, Marla, always thought highly of me.
LTK: Laugh while you can, Krisko. You'll make great entertainment for your audience.

As Krisko looked about, he saw a massive crowd building in the courtyard. Lattrek addressed the crowd with great fanfare, reading the charges against Krisko to the audience. When he was done, he approached Krisko.

LTK: Have you any last words, Commander Krisko?
KRS" A coward dies many times in his life, but the valiant only once tastes death!"
LTK: I think I'll add plagiarism to the list of your transgressions.
KRS: You're really enjoying this aren't you, Lattrek?

As he spoke, Lattrek pointed to a balcony overlooking the festivities. Three Hardassian females smiled and waved to the Gul.

KRS: Care to introduce me, Lattrek?
LTK: Naturally. The woman in the center is my wife, the Lady Fin'Gher. She is flanked by my daughters: the Maiden Giappan and the Maiden Tie'Whon.
KRS: How come your daughters bear a striking resemblance to Gul Droppings?

Lattrek glared at Krisko and shoved him towards the executioner, who place the noose around Krisko's neck. Before a cowl was placed over his head, Lattrek addressed him once more.

LTK: How does the noose feel, Krisko?
KRS: Too loose, Lattrek.
LTK: We shall see who has the last laugh, human!

As the festivities drew to a fever pitch, the insertion team made their way through the crowd. The members reported in.

JST: Brooke, can your team get a shot at the gallows from there?
BRK: Not yet, Lieutenant! Shiv and Bowie are slicing their way to the rear of the stage.
JST: OK, keep me posted. O'Brother, how's that locator beam going?
MOB: I can't get close enough to get a fix on the Commander, yet! These goddamned, bloodthirsty Hardies are unbelievable!
JST: Keep pushing forward, Miles! You've got to get closer to fix the transponder on him!
MOB: I'm,...ouch, watch my feet, dammit! I'm trying, Justa!

As Justa moved in closer, she felt a cold hand grasp her shoulder. As she looked around her, she found herself surrounded by Hardassian troops. As they led her away, O' Brother spotted the goings-on but couldn't break away from his duties to help her. He motioned to several members of the insertion team to follow her and report back to him.

Just found herself hustled into a bleak, dank room. She was forcibly seated into a hard chair and secured to it. The guards left her alone then and as she struggled to free herself, another Hardassian entered the room. She found herself face-to-face with Gul Droppings.

DRP: Lieutenant Broad! You're so glad to see me,...I mean, I am so glad to see you!
JST: I wish I could say the same, Droppings!
DRP: Did you drop in to see the festivities?
JST: I'm here under the authority of the Vulcan consulate! Check my credentials!
DRP: Despite their altruism, we Hardassians know the Vulcans are merely the intellectual puppets of the Federation. You immunity means nothing to us!
JST: Once again, you violate the treaty, Droppings.
DRP: Violate? I liken our actions to "regional interpretation," Lieutenant.
JST: Just like claiming the gasshole?
DRP: The gasshole was ours from the time of the Majoran Occupation!
JST: Are you going to argue semantics with me,...or did you have something more sordid in mind?
DRP: I'm sure Gul Lattrek will be glad to know his gallows won't grow cold any time soon.

As Gul Droppings let that sink in, he left Justa alone in the dark room.

Having witnessed Justa's interrogation, the Marine operatives reported the bad news back to O'Brother. He, in turn, passed word onto Colonel Moppett-DeFleur. Disgusted, the Colonel passed word onto the station, where the communications officers told two friends and they told two friends and they told two friends, and so on and so on, and,..oh, what the hell! Let's get back to the story at hand: Justa's capture was only another glitch in a long series of unanticipated mishaps.

Back at the gallows, Gul Lattrek was winding down the festivities preceding Krisko's execution. As he made ready to give the executioner the high sign, a page (more like a leaflet, as he was quite young) darted from the crowd and spoke briefly to Lattrek. Lattrek smiled, dismissed the page and turned to again addressed the square.

LTK: Fellow Hardassians! I have received shocking news! It seems we have Federation spies in our midst!

The crowd reacted with typical Hardassian fervor to this news. When the gathering quieted some, Lattrek continued.

LTK: Gul Droppings, my good friend, a hero to the Union, has captured a high-ranking officer from our former outpost of Terak Nor! It appears, ladies and gentlemen, that you shall get TWO executions fro the price of one today!

Lattrek approached Krisko on the gallows. Having been hooded for the execution, Krisko was literally left in the dark about these events.

KRS: Lattrek! What kind of sick joke is this??
LTK: Your friends back on DS 69 have made a futile attempt to usurp Hardassian justice. In a short while, we shall round up the entire squad of these human fools and send a message back to the Federation not to screw with us again! Ha-ha-ha!

Down in the square, the news filtered to O'Brother and Brooke's insertion team. Before they could make their escapes, O'Brother and Brooke found themselves set upon by a mob of angry Hardassians. In a last, desperate move, O'Brother hailed the Deflated:

MOB: O'Brother to Deflated: Send in the clones! We've got to have clones!

Immediately, the shimmer of a transporter beam filled their corner of the courtyard.

BRK: Don't bother,..they're here!

A fierce firefight ensued between the Marines and the Hardassian guards. O'Brother, using the diversion, made his way back to the gallows. Lattrek spotted him immediately and began to fire upon him. O'Brother took cover behind a sales stall and returned fire.

As all of the confusion swirled about him, Krisko attempted to wriggle free of his shackles, hoping the swirling confusion would cover his actions. Unfortunately, Lattrek spotted Krisko's escape attempt. Dodging phaser fire from O'Brother, Lattrek gave the executioner the high sign to drop the trap door from beneath Krisko's feet. As he did this, O'Brother got off several quick phaser shots at Lattrek's head and torso. Lattrek crumpled to the ground and, gasping, he screamed to Krisko as the floor gave way:

LTK: I'll,...I'll see you in hell, Krisko!
KRS: You'll have a long wait, Lattrek!

With a fierce phaser battle occupying the square, Krisko felt the floor beneath him give way. His heart sank as fast as he did. Then, even through his shroud, he saw a blinding light.

The same light similarly blinded everyone in the square. As the fighting stopped, a voice penetrated the crowd.

MLA: STOP!!!

Is this the end of our heroes? Will Krisko "follow the light?" Tune in next time to find out!

Ed. note: Majoran mammary joke courtesy of TheFed, commander, SS After You,...Federation coastal runabout.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 8-1

2005-01-09T11:53:00.000-08:00

STAR YECCH! DEEP SHIT 69
CHAPTER VIII - THE LYEIN' KING,...
AND OTHER CAUSTIC FAIRY TALES

Special Guest Stars:
Armin Hammer as Quirk
Okrah Windbag as Marla
Penny Loafer as S'Marti Panz

STATION COMMANDER'S PERSONAL LOG, STARDATE 9502.21: At this moment, I am choked with emotions,...not to mention a large rope around my neck! I've always wondered what the afterlife would be like,...but not this soon!

As chaos reigned supreme in the courtyard of the Justice Ministry, a bright light appeared and a female voice boomed over the din.

MLA: STOP!

All eyes turned towards the light, which was now assuming the shape of a black humanoid female. Additionally, all activity was frozen in time. Krisko hung, suspended, from the gallows. Phaser fire between Marine clones and the Hardassians stopped in mid-fire. The female overlooked the death and destruction surrounding her.

MLA: We, the GONADS, have watched this fiasco from afar! We cannot allow the death of the Emissary!

With that, she motioned her hands. Krisko found himself standing free on the gallows.. The weapons disappeared from the hands of the combatants and all stood around, dumbfounded.

KRS: Marla! You've returned!
MLA: Yes, Ben-the-Emissary.
KRS: But,...why...? I'm,...I'm,...dumbfounded.
MLA: Yes. I've read the preceding narrative. Your life cannot end until you have returned to the faithful and delivered our message.
KRS: I was trying to when I was captured by the Hardassians!
MLA: Yes, we know that, too. It was a test of your character. You showed great bravery in the face of death. But the testing is over. You shall return to the temple in the sky.

With that pronouncement, many Hardassians began to grumble and mutter complaints.

MLA: SILENCE!! This I say to you, Hardassians: Let the faithful live in peace! Let the Emissary go! Now,...Pick up your toys, clean up this goddamned mess and go home!

On DS 69, the Ops crew had been watching this fiasco unfold. Now Major Keepyer watched with reverent awe.

(What? No "awe" jokes?)
(No. This is a solemn moment in the story.)

KPR: It's,...it's one of the,..Prophets! I never dreamed I would live to see this day!

The Major dropped to her knees and promptly fainted. Dr. Bashful rushed to her side. The Major quickly recovered.

KPR: What,...what happened, Julius?
BSH: You fainted, Major.
KPR: Fainted?? I've never fainted before in my life!
BSH: It happens to the best of us, Major.
KPR: Impossible!
BSH: Fine! You didn't faint. You experienced a sudden drop in cerebral blood pressure, resulting from a hormonal change brought about by the vision of the Prophet.
KPR: Good. I can live with that.
BSH: I'll log it in my records as such.

Back on Hardassia, the GONADs allowed the Deflated to transport the Commander and the reminiscing Marines back to DS 69. After departing from Hardassian space, the crew settled in to rest up from their experience. As Krisko sat down on his bunk, the flash of light reappeared before him and took the shape of his beloved, Marla.

KRS: Marla! You're back!
MLA: Yes, Ben-the-Emissary. But I bring ill tidings to you.
KRS: Damn, even you get PMS?
MLA: No, something much worse. The Kai, Impala, is dead.
KRS: I,...whe,..how?
MLA: When the news of your imminent death reached her, she could not bear the stress of your passing.
KRS: Oh, no! This will throw Majora into chaos! She was holding the provisional government together.
MLA: Yes, we saw this event coming.
KRS: And you didn't try to stop it??
MLA: The GONADs exist in many time lines simultaneously. We knew of the existence of the event but not the specific linear moment.
KRS: Oh. That explains everything.
MLA: We must now ask you, Ben-the-Emissary, to assist the Majorans once more.
KRS: How?
MLA: The Majoran faithful look to you as our messenger. You must now choose Impala's successor.
KRS: Me?
MLA: Yes, you.
KRS: But,...but I'm not qualified to choose,...besides, this would violate our Prime Directive. I would be interfering with Majoran politics.
MLA: So? You Federation allowed Kim Jerk to violate this law many times without retribution. Even now, we sense his presence in many alien offspring.
KRS: Well, if you put it that way,...who do you think is qualified?
MLA: You must choose between Veddek Bariel oh-Munqies and Veddek Winnie Bagoe.
KRS: I'll have to call up our data files on the two of them.
MLA: There is no need. Here, I will assist you.

Marla placed her hands on Krisko's temples.

As Krisko and the GONAD passed hours "assisting" one another, Justa and Chief O'Brother conferred with the Marine commandant on the bridge.

MPT: O'Brother, that was some dogfight you put on down there! Pity my boys never got to put our plan into action, though.
MOB: If it's all the same with you, sir, I'm glad to be back in one piece. I'd completely forgotten how fierce those Hardies put up a fight.
JST: And Petty Officer Brooke held up well for his first time out. He seemed nervous about this on the flight over.
MPT: Yes, he was trained to be a killing machine, but sometimes he has his head in the clouds.
MOB: I have a somewhat lower opinion of him myself, sir.
MPT: Pardon?
MOB: Er,..nothing, sir.

Krisko exited his ready room and made for the bridge. Upon his arrival, he addressed Chief O'Brother.

KRS: Chief, what is our ETA back to DS 69?
MOB: At our current speed, sir,...I'd say six hours.
KRS: Hmmm. That's too slow, Mr. O'Brother. We have another crisis back on Majora.
MOB: Yes, sir. I'll prepare to jump to hyperwarp, sir.
KRS: Never mind, Mr. O'Brother. I'll do it myself.
MOB: But, sir,..why?
KRS: Because, O'Brother, white men can't jump!
MOB: Aye, sir.

As the Deflated approached DS 69, Major Keepyer hailed them.

KPR: Deflated! Peldar Joi! (Majoran for "Hail!")
KRS: Yo! DS 69 homies, wazzup?? (Ebonics for "Hail!") Permission to dock?
KPR: By all means, Commander! Docking Bay 12. And,...welcome back, Ben.
KRS: It's great to be back.

Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 8-2

2005-01-08T03:15:00.000-08:00

As the Deflated docked, a crowd gathered around the exit. When the Marines, followed by Justa, O'Brother and finally Krisko exited, cheers rang through the station and people were wishing them welcome. All, except for Major Keepyer and her fellow Majorans, who greeted Krisko with solemn reverence.

KRS: So,...news of Impala's passing has already made it here?
KPR: Yes. The Congress of Holiness has announced that you are to pick the next Kai. Is it true?
KRS: According to the GONADs, yes.
KPR: The what???
KRS: The GO,...I'll brief you later on this, Major.
KPR: Please do, Commander. But have you made a choice?
KRS: The,...GONADs,...what your people have been calling the Prophets, have given me several choices.

With that pronouncement, Major Keepyer promptly dropped to her knees and prostrated before Krisko, who appeared ill-at-ease by all this attention.

KRS: Major!! Stand up and behave like an officer!
KPR: Aye, sir. May I ask if the Reverend Mother is one of the choices?
KRS: You mean Mother Mayii?
KPR: Yes, Ben.
KRS: Frankly, Keepyer, I think I need to consult with Starfleet Command regarding my position and the Prime Directive. Now, if you'll excuse me.
KPR: (sighing) Yes, sir.

As the somewhat joyous crowd milled about, Quirk made his way over to the pair and interrupted them.

QRK: Commander! Welcome home! I never thought anybody could worm their way out of Hardassian justice!
KRS: I had...a little help, Quirk. Now, if you'll excuse me,...
QRK: Of course! Freshen up! I've planned a "Welcome Home" party at my place for all of you! 1900 hours-sharp!
KRS: Quirk, you didn't have to do this.
QRK: Don't worry, Commander. I'm sending the bill to Starfleet.

Before Krisko could further protest, Quirk disappeared back into the crowd. Krisko excused himself and made his way back to his quarters, hoping to find his son. His absence at Krisko's arrival was a point of concern to the commander.

KRS: Jerk? Son, I'm home!
JER: Al,..Alright, Dad! I'll,..I'll be right out!

Jerk sounded breathless. Concerned, Krisko approached his son's room. Before he could open the door, Jerk greeted him. He was sweating and barely clothed. When Krisko looked over Jerk's shoulder, he saw a voluptuous Majoran girl in his bed, lying underneath Jerk's covers.

KRS: Jerk??
JER: Uh, Dad, you're home!
KRS: (icily) Yes, Jerk. I managed not to get hanged. I hope that doesn't interrupt your little tete-a-tete?
JER: No,..no,.Dad! I'm glad you're home. Now you can meet my girlfriend, S'Marti Panz.
KRS: Your,...girlfriend?
JER: You remember, Dad? The girl I met at Quirk's Place? The one with "the big dabos?"
KRS: Oh,..her. Well, I had other things on my mind when we last spoke.

As Krisko and his son made their way over to the living room, S'Marti Panz got dressed in a short blue skirt and joined them.

SMR: I,...I better leave you two alone.
JER: I'll see you later, OK?
SMR: OK. At the dom-jot tables?
JER: Ummmm,....
KRS: You play dom-jot???
JER: Well, I...
SMR: Are you, like, kidding? He's hustled the shit outta everyone at Quirk's!
KRS: Jerk, you and I have a lot to go over.
JER: Yeah, dad.

In the awkward silence that ensued, S'Marti left the apartment. Jerk noticed his father's gaze following her out the door.

JER: Ahem,...
KRS: You're right, Jerk. She does have a nice set of "dabos."
JER: Thanks, Dad.
KRS: Now, lets talk about my son, the hustler.

As the twosome spent some quality time together, Quirk's party gained momentum. Major Keepyer, having suitably grieved for the Kai, joined the festivities. She made her way over to the Marine contingent and struck up a conversation with Colonel Moppett-DeFleur.

KPR: So, Colonel, how do you think General Motars feels about your division's execution?
MPT: I'm sure he's completely in favor of it.
KPR: Really? Tell me more, Colonel.

As the two commanders discussed military tactics, Dr. Bashful managed to work Justa Broad into a corner at Quirk's and put the moves on her. Justa, however, attempted to put the brakes on him.

BSH: So, uh, Justa,..I guess you're glad to be back home?
JST: Sure. For awhile there, I really thought this would be the end of the Broad-Street line.
BSH: Pattison or Fern Rock?
JST: Excuse me?
BSH: Nothing. Inside joke. Anyway, I guess a lot of things went through your mind,..when it got close.
JST: Sure. That's a basic instinct in all people, I guess.
BSH: How about thoughts of me?
JST: In,..what way, Julius?
BSH: You and me,..a holosuite,..the beaches of Oceanus III,...
JST: Get real, Julius! I may have a woman's body now, but I still have Notta Broad's libido! Damn, look at the dom-jot table! That Majoran girl in the blue skirt's got one set of "dabos" on her!

As Julius stood, jaw-to-the-floor, Justa walked over to the dom-jot tables. As her stared after her, a waiter proffered him some food.

WTR: Scrod?
BSH: Royally.

Having refreshed himself, Commander Krisko entered Quirk's. Immediately, all festivities stopped and a round of applause filled the room.

As Krisko worked his way through the crowd, accepting the plaudits of the station's crew and residents alike, he spotted the spirit of Marla off in a corner. She beckoned him and he worked his way over to her.

MLA: Ben, you must make a choice.
KRS: But,...I,..can't! Not now! The ramifications of this are too great!
MLA: But, Ben,..Ben,...Ben,...

Krisko suddenly awoke and found himself lying on an unfamiliar bed with Marla shaking him.

KRS: Marla,..where are we? In the gasshole?
MLA: The what?
KRS: The gasshole. Near Deep Shit 69.
MLA: Deep Shit 69?? You mean Deep Ship's Station 9?
KRS: No, no, no. DS 69,..near the Majoran homeworld. The one we got from the Hardassians!
MLA: The hard...don't even mention them again! Ugh! They send shivers down my spine. If we ever go to war with them, they'll kick our asses all the way back to Vulcan! And who are these Majorans?
KRS: Marla, dear, I know this is going to sound really stupid, but...where am I? And where's Jerk?
MLA: You're home, in our apartment in 'Frisco. Jerk's asleep in his crib. And if you don't get you fat, black ass outta that bed, you gonna be late for your first day in you new assignment!
KRS: You mean DS 69?
MLA: Jeez, you really hit that Romulan ale good last night, didn't you?
KRS: Oh, God. I'm beginning to get a real hangover. Are you telling me...

MLA: Yes, dear. It was just a dream. It was all just a bad dream.

Spinning out in space,
Forever out of time,
I really can't keep pace,
With the ghastly rhyme.

THE END

OK,...YOU CAN STOP LAUGHING NOW!