ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/mst3k/misties/Treklander.full

Text File | 1994-07-20 | 175KB | 5,895 lines

[MSTH set. As the opening theme plays, "Jack Perkins" is standing
motionless (as usual), and there is a small U.S. flag on the column
beside him.]

PERKINS: Hello, and welcome. Tonight, we celebrate the good old American
         tradition of free speech. First up is a lesson on the roots of
         the American Revolution-- did you know that King Louis XV was
         directly responsible for the Constitution? For our main course,
         a crossover story by John F. Moore III, a man who sticks to his
         own personal spelling rules with such conviction-- he should be
         an example for us all. So, sit back and enjoy a patriotic Mys-
         tery Science Theater Hour.

[roll theme]

...o...2...3...4...5...6...G

[SoL. Servo and Crow are the only ones visible. They are trying hard to
not laugh.]

SERVO: Hello, everyone. Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot here, and we're...
       [goes into uncontrollable giggling]

CROW: [gasping for breath] We're just waiting for Joel to find out...
      <snicker> what we... <hee hee>

SERVO: [whispers] Oh, here he comes!

[Cambot pulls out a bit as Joel walks into view, wearing a jumpsuit
whose colors have run. Once evenly-colored, it now looks like something
designed by the Grateful Dead.]

SERVO: [clears throat] Hi, Joel, how're you doing?

JOEL: I think someone needs to have a lecture about inappropriate deter-
      gents.

SERVO: But Joel, it looks so much better now!

CROW: Yeah! I bet all the women'll-- *dye*!

[Both 'bots start laughing out loud. The "commercial sign" button
flashes.]

JOEL: We'll be right back. [hits button]

[Commercials, commercials, commercials. Coming up at 9...]

[Back at the SoL, Joel has changed into an unaffected jumpsuit. Servo
and Crow have calmed down.]

SERVO: So you're not really mad at us? Not just a bit?

CROW: No time outs or anything?

JOEL: No, let's just let bygones be bygones. That was pretty clever of
      you guys, actually. I wouldn't have expected you to do something
      like that when some of your clothes were in the wash, too.

CROW: What?

SERVO: You... no!

JOEL: Yup. [pulls a basket of assorted clothing, in the same state as
      his earlier jumpsuit, out from under the counter]

SERVO: My nurse's-- I mean, my surgical gown!

CROW: You've been washing *my* loose-fitting jeans with *your* underoos
      all along?

JOEL: Yeah, you guys are really smart! [the big red button flashes] Oh,
      the Mads are calling. [hits button]

<>

DR. F: Hello, booby! Our invention exchange this week is aimed at the
       Generation X market. Frank?

FRANK: Earrings are out. Nose rings are passe. Eyebrow rings are in. This
       is your brain on drugs. Live in Arizona. It'z new, it'z--

DR. F: [pushing Frank off-camera] Forget it, Frank. As you know, today's
       youth are experimenting with piercing every body part imaginable.
       Our studies also show that they're always forgetting their keys.
       The answer?

FRANK: [bouncing right back] Key rings!

DR. F: But not just ordinary key rings! [picks up some variously-sized
       key rings] Ours are specially made to fit through any part of the
       body. Now you can combine the comfort-- so to speak-- of riding
       the latest fashion wave with the confidence of knowing you'll
       always be able to use your getaway vehicle. Your turn, Joel.

<>

[The basket of clothes has vanished, and on the counter there is now a
four-cup coffee machine, decorated with Celtic interlaces.]

CROW: Can I have my beak pierced?

JOEL: No, honey, it'll get infected.

CROW: Aww.

JOEL: Well, sirs, our invention this week is also based on some new
      trends. Almost everyone who lives in downtown Seattle knows that
      the wave of the future is made up of gourmet coffee, Celtic music,
      and karaoke. That's why we've put together the Celtic Coffee Ka-
      raoke Machine! Check it out-- you can make just one cup--

[He switches the machine on. The uneven percolating of coffee into one
cup eventually becomes recognizable as a less-than-thrilling rendition
of "Twa' Corbies".]

CROW: --or up to four, while singing along with your favorite ancient
      tunes!

[The machine lauches into a four-part-harmonic bludgeoning of "Tom
O'Bedlam". Joel indicates a microphone hooked up to the machine, then
picks up something that looks like a miniature hopper and puts it on top
of the machine.]

SERVO: And for those of you who enjoy mixing your own special coffees,
       this handy grinding attachment!

[Joel picks up a scoopful of coffee beans and pours them into the
hopper. A grinding noise joins the dripping in an utterly hideous
performance of "Black Jack Davy".]

JOEL: What do you think, sirs?

<>

[Frank, standing in the background, is wearing a gigantic key ring,
which runs in one of his ears and out the other.]

DR. F: Your torture for today follows in the footsteps of "Star Dwarf"
       and "Highleaper". It's a Star Trek-Higlander crossover called
       "Treklander", and it's really, really... not very good. But
       first, a brief homage to ineffectual monarchy. Bon appe-die!
       [pushes button]

<>

[Alarms are going off, lights are flashing, and the Celtic Coffee
Karaoke Machine is pumping out an unbearable version of "Fair John and
the Seven Foresters".]

JOEL: We got message sign!

[Everyone runs like heck.]

G...6...5...4...3...2...o...

> Path:
> agora.rain.com!pagesat.net!olivea!decwrl!hookup!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!
> howland.reston.ans.net!wupost!csus.edu!netcom.com!netcomsv!midcom!
> liberty.com!Mishka
> From: [e-mail]
> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Message-ID: <11684

SERVO: THX 11684.

> [e-mail]>
> Subject: KIng Louis XV & America
> Lines: 49
>
>
>  King Louis XV & America
>
> Everyone loves King Louis XV of France. (Pronounce King Louie).

JOEL: Oh, I always thought it was "King Huey".

> As the number
> of visits to the replica of his castle in Disneyland would testify.
> After his
> death in the 1700s, there hasn't been a king as worthy to replace
> him.

SERVO: And thank goodness!

> Said
> one french revolutionary, "If we can't have the right king (King
> Louis XV),

CROW: (they always used parentheses in speech)

> we rather not have a king at all."  So there was the French
> Revolution which
> sparks off other revolutions in other countries subsequently.

SERVO: Revolutions in tense usage.

> Notably, the
> United States of America, which had a vast French

JOEL: [putting one hand over each 'bot's mouth] Leave it.

> occupied territories at
> the time. In 1787, after the American Revolution, the Constitution of
> the United States was was written; all in the fond memories of King
> Louis XV.
> Note, included in the Constitution, "...No punishment cruel & unusual
> shall be imposed."

SERVO: Then this article is unconstitutional.

> So as to say, the foundings of the United States was originally
> in the name of Good, and in the style and compassion in which King
> Louis had
> governed. And no subsequent man-made errors nor craving from greed or
> selfishness shall tear down the Constitution.

JOEL: Congress-made errors, sure, but not man-made errors.

> The Constitution must be
> upheld. The Constitution may not be as wise or as good as King Louis,
> but

CROW: It has better table manners.

> it's still better than a lot of corrupted proxy (unworthy, fake)

SERVO: Oh, no! It's a multiple-choice test!
CROW: Darn! I forgot my pencil!

> royalties
> (eg: Tzar Nicolas of Russia).
>
> Subsequently, many events had happened to this country, just, unjust,
> corrupt, uncorrupt. Many selfish, corrupt, greed reasonings from
> lesser men
> has led this country to many tragedies. *Sigh*.

SERVO: But enough of that gloomy stuff.

> Only if we have KIng Louis XV
> again! He would have made the right decisions.
>
> Of many things to watch out for, greed for capital gain is like a can
> of
> gasoline in a hot furnace.

JOEL: It makes your parents real angry.

> Shall not the fight of Capitalism Vs. Democracy

CROW: I'm betting on Capitalism-- Democracy has a weak right jab.

> destroy our values & morals of what is right and what is wrong. It's
> alright
> to be kind. It's alright to be good.

ALL: Alright! Alright!

> Who in the world is as worthy as King Louis?

CROW: Ollie North?

> No one. His fond memories is now
> upheld in the very system we live in, hopefully. May the corruption of
> merchant greed in Capitalism not deter the morals of Democracy.
> Justifying
> that Democracy is good enough. "If we can't have a system that is just
> and
> does us right, then we rather not have a system at all!"

SERVO: Yes! Anarchy! Burn all the English teachers!

> We owe what we have today to King Louis. The Liberty/Freedom,

JOEL: Only one or the other?
CROW: Give me liberty or give me freedom!

> the Justice,
> the Comfort of the people. I will always be loyal and think fondly of
> King Louis XV. May good truimph!

JOEL: Well, if that's okay with its parents.

> Long live King Louis!
>
>
>
> ... ... .

SERVO: Small-Scale Entropy?
JOEL: I think they're just cursor droppings.

> ========================= !!! Automated Notice !!! ==================
> =====
>  E-mail replies to this user should have the following on the first
> line
>  of message text:

CROW: "Bite me".

>        TO: Mishka
> =======================================================================
> =====

SERVO: Look! All of the characters in that line are equal!
JOEL: But some are more equal than others.

[disconcerting jump-cut]

> Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
> Mime-Version: 1.0

SERVO: On top of everything else, it's going to be *mimed*?

> Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

JOEL: Literary merit: 0

> Status: OR

CROW: Oregon?

>
>               (There can be only one...

SERVO: Yeah, and this isn't it!

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III

CROW: Now, that's Moore like it.

>                                  Part 1
>
>   CAPTAIN'S LOG:  Stardate 48344.5 The Enterprise has been ordered to

JOEL: Guard Tess, a feisty yet loveable ex-First Lady. Oh, for fun!

> Fyla
> VI to recieve Embassador MacLoud,

SERVO: "Embassador MacLoud"?!?
JOEL: I was wrong, guys-- this is going to hurt.

> who has been asked to oversee peace
> talks between two warring factions on Clari III.

SERVO: Or was that three warring factions on Clari II?

> I admit

CROW: Yes, I admit it! I did it! It was me! Call off the search, I can't
      hide any more... oh, God, the horror is finally over. [starts to
      sob]
SERVO: Crow, have you been taking Gypsy's medication again?

> a small amount
> unease with this mission as Embassador MacLoud is a relatively
> inexperi-
> enced emmissary...

JOEL: I never did like this on-the-job training program.

>   Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in

CROW: A pile of steaming...
JOEL: You, mister, are headed for nap time.
SERVO: [Picard voice] All right, who let the dog aboard? Speak up! Worf?
       Deanna?
JOEL: Stop encouraging him.

> transporter room 3 with Commander Riker
> and Councillor Troi, all in dress uniforms.  Behind them, the
> transporter chief was monitoring his station.

SERVO: [O'Brien voice] Engineering?  Can you get these stupid text
       crawls off my monitor?

>   "Fyla VI indicates they're ready, sir," the chief said.

CROW: I thought VI wouldn't by Fyled.

>   "Energize."
>   The transporter hummed

SERVO: A breezy little tune, secure in the knowledge that it was not
       a part of this fanfic for long.

> and two figures appeared.  The first was a tall
> man in his early thirties with long black hair wearing a loose-fitting

JOEL: Kimono. Karate Kid Part II: The Quickening for Spock.

> shirt and pants under a black sleeveless overcoat.  Next to his was a
> man in his early twenties with curly blonde hair and dressed similarly
> to the other man.

SERVO: If writers wrote sentences the way programmers wrote programs...

>  Picard spoke, "Greetings Embassador MacLoud,

JOEL: That's an odd title.

> I am Captain Jean-Luc
> Picard.  This is my first officer Commander William Riker and Deanna
> Troi, ship's Councillor."

SERVO: She'll be your... hostess for the evening.

>   The taller man shook Picard's hand with a firm grip.  "I'm pleased
> to meet all of you.  I'm Embassador Duncan MacLoud and this is my
> assistant Richard."
>   Riker addressed the pair.

CROW: But forgot to put postage on them.

> "We've arranged for a dinner in your honor
> Embassador

SERVO: Unfortunately, you're not invited.

> at 1800 hours, as well as a tour of the ship.  If you'll follow
> me I'll take you to your quarters."

JOEL: If you won't, this fanfic will die right now.
SERVO: Talk about wishful thinking!

>   MacLoud nodded to Riker.  "That would be most appreciated.  By your
> leave, Captain?"
>   Riker led the pair out of the transporter room as Picard addressed
> Troi.

CROW: But got slapped when he tried to--
JOEL: I think that's better left unsaid.

> "What do you think of him, Councillor?"

SERVO: [falsetto] I think that curly blond hair is cute...
CROW: [falsetto] But he only has eyes for you, Captain.

>   "He's very sincere in his desire to help the people of Clari III,
> but there's something...distant about him.  I felt it in his assistant
> as well.  They're both trying to hide something..."

CROW: [Picard voice] Call the President of Fyla VI and ask him to count
      his silverware and other valuables.

>   "Do you think they might be a danger to the ship?"
>   "I don't think so.  They're not hostile, but I sense unrest in both
> of them."

JOEL: Which is highly unusual for people going on a diplomatic mission
      in a hair-trigger war zone.

>   Riker led the pair to Ten Forward.
>   "And this is where we spend our off duty hours.  We call it Ten
> Forward."

SERVO: Because it would sound silly if we called it Five Backward.

>   Suddenly MacLoud and Richard seemed very distant for a moment.

CROW: Hey!  Riker noticed that just like Troi!
SERVO: Yeah... they both have the special psychic ability to sense the
obvious.

>   "Something wrong Embassador?"

JOEL: [as Riker] Something you'd like to share with the class?

>   MacLoud snapped

CROW: Riker's neck for having the impudence to ask him questions.

> out of whatever he was under.  "Umm...nothing
> Commander.
> Would you mind if Richard and I looked around here for a while?"

SERVO: No way!  How can I give you a tour of the ship if you keep
       stopping to look around for a while?

>   "I suppose that would be all right.  If you need anything, I'll be

JOEL: Hitting on that hot purple chick over there.

> by
> the viewport."
>   As Riker walked toward the tabled by the viewports Richard turned to
> the Embassador, "did you feel it Mac?"

CROW: You mean that grope just now?  I'm afraid so.

>   "Yes I did, Richie.  But who is it?  There are so many people
> here...and there's no way of telling if whoever it is will attack us."
>   Across the room, Guinan looked at MacLoud and Richard.

SERVO: [as "MacLoud"] Stop looking at me! NOW!

> She then turned
> to Data, who was sitting at the bar near her.
>   "Data, who are those two?"

CROW: They're the wackiest pair of cut-ups ever to... uh, that's right,
      I'm an android. I'm not allowed to be funny.

>   "They are Embassador MacLoud and his assistant Richard.  They are on
> a diplomatic mission to Clari III."
>   "You don't say...I think those two need a drink."

JOEL: I think anybody who reads this thing needs a drink.

>   A waiter approached MacLoud and Richard with two glasses.
>   Richard looked confused.  "But we didn't order...?"

SERVO: Order, schmorder.  There's a two-drink minimum here.

>   "They're compliments from...an old friend," the waiter explained.
>   "Who is this `old friend'?" asked MacLoud.

CROW: Oh, just take the free drinks and shut up!

>   "An anonymous one...by the being's request."  The waiter left

JOEL: Absentmindedly leaving his period behind.

>   Richard looked agitated.  "Great!  We may be in danger and we don't
> know who to watch out for!"

SERVO: It's so unfair!  I was only trained to fight enemies who an-
       nounced themselves in advance!

>   MacLoud looked around.  "Calm down Richie.  The last thing we want
> to do is attract attention to ourselves.

JOEL: Er, maybe we should have thought of that before we got dressed...

> I think it's time we got on with our
> tour."

SERVO: Well, enough of that-- on to the next plot point!

>   After informing Riker that they were ready to go, The pair left Ten
> Forward.  Guinan watched them leave.
>   "Oh, don't worry Mr. MacLoud...you'll find out soon enough..."
>
>   Captain Picard sat in his ready room when his door chimed.
>   "Come!"
>   Riker entered the ready room.
>   "Yes Number One?"
>   "Permission to speak candidly, sir?"

CROW: Your fly is open.

>   "Of course.  What's on your mind?"

JOEL: Uh, lymph, sir.

>   "I don't trust Embassador MacLoud sir.  When we were in Ten Forward
> he appeared to be looking for something rather intently."

SERVO: Over to your left, in that alcove.  I really think Guinan should
       put up a sign or something...

>   "Do you think he plans on endangering the Enterprise?"
>   "I don't know sir, but Lt. Worf ran a routine scan on the Embassador
> and found a sword on his person."

CROW: Well, that settles it.  The ship's endangered, all right...

>   "A sword, Number One?"
>   "Hidden beneath his robes.  A sword was also found in his
> assistant's robes."

SERVO: *Two* guys with swords?  They must be planning a takeover!

>   "I'll have Lt. Worf keep an eye on our guests, but Councillor Troi
> doesn't sense any hostility toward us."

JOEL: So if they kill us, we'll be comforted by the knowledge that it
      was never anything personal.

>   "One other thing I noticed in Ten Forward sir...MacLoud's assistant
> became very restless soon before we left, almost as if he was
> expecting trouble."
>   "Could his assistant be a bodyguard, Number One?"

SERVO: No, he's a juggler. The swords are part of the act.

>   "I don't know sir.  MacLoud doesn't strike me as the type who would
> need a bodyguard."

CROW: Then again, he hasn't struck me at all yet.

>   "I'll have someone monitor them while they're on board."
>   "Thank you, I'd feel a lot better sir."

JOEL: --if you could spare some punctuation.

>   `Enter Program' the Holodeck computer said.
>   Lt. Worf was about to enter his usual workout when MacLoud sauntered
> up.
>   "Hello, Lieutenant.  Mind a little company?"

SERVO: Now that you mention it, yes. Go away.

>   Worf looked agitated.  "I was about to engage in my daily
> excersizes. I doubt you'd want to join me."
>   MacLoud leaned his hand against the wall

JOEL: Wow! How'd he take his hand off?

> and grinned casually at
> Worf.
> "Oh, I dunno...it could be fun."
>
>   Richie stalked his quarters.

CROW: Hey, there's a law against that!

> He knew MacLoud would be fine...he was far
> more experienced than he was.  He just didn't like the idea of an
> unknown...

SERVO: High school algebra left scars that remain centuries later.

>   The door chimed, interrupting his thoughts.  "Come in."
>   The door opened and the Sense hit him.  He suddenly realized his
> sword was in the other room.

JOEL: D'OH!!

>   He had to face his opponeent unarmed...

SERVO: With only three small dots to defend himself.

>   "Relax, will ya," Guinan said as she entered.  "If I was gonna kill
> you I'd have done it long ago."
>   "You're...you're the bartender from Ten Forward, aren't you?"
>   "My name is Guinan.  So you're the Immortal I sensed this afternoon.
> What's your name?"
>   "Richie -- Richard."

CROW: Didn't you used to have your own TV show?

>   Guinan smiled.  "Pleased to meet you Richie Richard.  I'm not hotile
> to you.  I've been an Immortal for much longer than you'd care to
> imagine.

JOEL: Why doesn't Richie care? Tonight, a special report.

> If I wanted to kill you you'd be dead before you could blink."
>   Richie believed her...despite being over 400 years old he was still
> far too inexperienced at fighting other Immortals.
>   "Well, it's good to hear that you're on my side.  I'll come by and
> we can talk about...old times."
>   Guinan smiled and left.  Richie decided to consult with Mac before
> he met up with Guinan again.  He wasn't sure he fully trusted her yet
> and he wanted to check

SERVO: Her FBI record.

> with MacLoud before he revealed to Guinan that
> there was a third Immortal on board
>
>                                  Part 2

CROW: The Tribes.

>    CAPTAIN'S LOG:  Stardate 48367.8 The crew has been reporting
> increasing unrest toward the Embassador and his assistant.  I am
> planning to meet formally with Embassador MacLoud and discuss this
> in-depth.

SERVO: Committees! Meetings! That's what we need!

>   Captain Picard entered the bridge as Riker relinquished the command
> chair.

CROW: I've had it! I resi-- oh, hi, sir.

>   "Status, Number One?"
>   "We're due to arrive in just under three hours.  According to
> reports, the situation on Clari III is becoming volitile.

JOEL: Their spelling has become unpredictable.

> The delegates from each
> side doubt that the cease-fire will last much longer."
>   "Go to warp 8, Mr. Data."

CROW: Right here, in front of everyone?

>   Data turned to face the captain.  "At warp 8, we will arrive at
> Clari III in 1 hour, 26 minutes, sir."

JOEL: Unless we get pulled over for doing Warp 8 in a Warp 5 zone.

>   "Good, I'll be in my ready room if I'm needed.  You have the bridge,
> Number One."
>   As Picard turned to leave, he noticed that an Ensign DeMarcus was
> manning Tactical.

CROW: What?! A secondary character on my bridge?

>   "Has anyone seen Lt. Worf?  He was supposed to report for duty ten
> minutes ago."
>
>   MacLoud and Worf stood back to back as unidentifiably monsterous
> humanoids attacked.

JOEL: It's the return of the the Eye Creatures!

>   Worf was breathing heavily.  "Have you had enough, Embassador?"

SERVO: Not yet, you Klingon man, you!

>   MacLoud glanced back at Worf.  "I'm just getting warmed up."
>   Suddenly the holodeck intercom switched on as Riker spoke.  "Lt.
> Worf, report for duty at once!"

CROW: [Worf voice] Just when I was about to set a new high score!

>   Worf suddenly realized that he was late to report for duty.
> "Computer, halt program."
>   The battlefield disappeared as the familiar black and yellow walls
> of the holodeck appeared and Worf almost sprinted out of the room.
>   "Computer," MacLoud said as Worf exited.

JOEL: Well, don't say bye, then.

> "I'd like to see a dojo from
> Los Angeles, California, Earth, circa 1994...complete with the
> following people..."

CROW: Cindy Crawford, Christie Brinkley...

>   Richie entered Ten Forward and sat at the bar.  A waiter greeted
> him.
>   "May I take your order?"
>   Richie simply said, "I'm here to see Guinan."

SERVO: [French waiter voice] Non, monsieur, we do not take zat sort of
       order here.

>   "I'm sorry, but Guinan isn't on-duty right now."
>   "Where would she be?"
>   "I'm not sure...she seems to like the botanical gardens."
>   "Thanks," Richie said as he went to leave.

SERVO: Kinda suggestible, isn't he? Hey, mister, she seems to like
       visiting the airlocks, too!
JOEL: And she seems to like watching the warp drives up close!
CROW: And she definitely likes trying to beam herself to twenty
      different places simultaneously!

>   As he reached the doors, he nearly bumped into Data and fell on the
> floor.

JOEL: It's Kooky the Attache!

>   "Excuse me," Data said as he helped Richie up, "I did not see you.
> Are you hurt?"
>   "Only my pride...What species are you?  I don't think I've ever seen
> a being with white skin and yellow eyes..."

SERVO: I think this guy needs to work on his pick-up line.

>   "I am Lt. Commander Data, and I am an android.  You must be Richard,
> Embassador MacLoud's assistant."

JOEL: Doesn't this guy have a last name?

>   "yeah.  Listen, Commander...I need to find Guinan, otherwise I'd
> love to stay and talk."
>   "Perhaps another time.  I am interested in you and the Embassador,
> espe-
> cially since I can find no record of your births anywhere in the
> Federa-
> tion."

CROW: [Data voice] Therefore, I had no alternative but to report you to
      the Immigration authorities.

>   `Oops,' Richie thought.  Neither he nor (he thought) Mac had counted
> on anyone checking their birth records.

SERVO: Yeah, right!  Like this is the first time that problem ever came
       up in the past four hundred years!

> He knew Mac's record wouldn't be on
> file, since births weren't generally recorded in the 1500's, but he
> was certain that if a record of his existance was found it would
> certainly raise some questions.

JOEL: [Picard voice] How did you keep your hair from turning grey and
      falling out?

>   "Ummm...yeah, sure.  Catch ya later."
>   As soon as the doors to Ten Forward closed, Richie sprinted to find
> Guinan.

CROW: Unfortunately, he failed a drug test and was disqualified.

>   "Commander," Worf said, "we are recieving a transmission from Clari
> III. The cease-fire has been broken and hostilities have resumed."

SERVO: That *is* what usually happens when a cease-fire breaks down.

>   Riker sighed.  This peace mission could be the end of MacLoud's
> short career as an Embassador in a bloody way.
>   "Computer, locate Embassador MacLoud."
>   `Embassador MacLoud is in Holodeck 3'
    ^                                   ^
JOEL: Check it out, they've got a British computer. See? Single quotes.

>   "I'm going down there to inform him of the situation personally.
> Lt. Worf, you have the bridge."
>   "Aye, sir," Worf said as Riker entered the turbolift.
>
>   Riker entered the holodeck to find a run-down training center.
> MacLoud was helping a well-built black man about his age to his feet.

SERVO: Here, help yourself to my feet.

>   "One more time, MacLoud," the black man said.
>   MacLoud turned to see Riker enter.  "Not yet, Charlie.  I think you
> need a break."

CROW: [Riker voice] Don't call me Charlie!

>   MacLoud went over

SERVO: --the edge, firing at random...

> to Riker as Charlie sat on a bench catching his
> breath.

JOEL: And tossing it up in the air again.

>   "What can I do for you, Commander?"
>   "The situation on Clari III has escillated to open fighting."
>   MacLoud looked concerned by this.

CROW: But inside, he was jumping for joy!

> "Do you have details?"
>   "Not yet, but as soon as we hear we'll let you know.  Do you want to
> wait until things calm down before talking to the leaders?"

SERVO: Sounds like a good plan.  Wait for the problem to solve itself,
       beam down, and take credit for everything.

>   "If we wait we may never have a chance.  I'm going down there."
>   "I can't allow you to beam down without a security detail."

JOEL: Details, details!

>   "The last thing we need is more people with weapons down there--"
>   "True enough.  I mean, two people with swords beaming down is bad
> enough."
>   MacLoud looked unconcerned about this discovery.  "Richard and I
> carry swords because it's tradition for our people."
>   "Is it...tradition... to hide them under robes so they can't be seen
> by the naked eye."

CROW: Yes, but it's also tradition to wear X-Ray Specs, so that doesn't
      matter.

>   "You'd be surprised how many people get paranoid about people
> carrying weapons."

SERVO: Yeah, they think we might use them or something.

>   "Well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't carry them at all while on
> board the Enterprise."
>   MacLoud walked over to a glass-walled room on the far end of the
> train-
> ing center and grabbed something.  As he exited, Riker saw that he was
> carrying a sheathed sword.

JOEL: [as Riker] Why am I carrying a sheathed sword?

> MacLoud then handed the weapon to Riker.
>   "I'll inform Richard to do the same.

SERVO: What, grabbing something?

> We're on your side, Commander."

JOEL: [as Riker] That's what I was afraid of.

>   MacLoud walked back toward Charlie, then turned back to Riker.  "Oh,
> and I'd like all the information you have on the situation on Clari
> III, if you can."

CROW: Oops! Almost forgot all about that!

>   "I'll see what I can do," said Riker as he exited the holodeck
>
>
> Path:
> agora.rain.com!pagesat.net!olivea!uunet!mozz.unh.edu

SERVO: A rolling stone gathers no mozz.unh.edu.

> !christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 3
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 138
> Message-ID: <2lir

JOEL: Two lire just to get a message posted? Geez!

> 78$sn

CROW: Hey, they're using TIN!

> [e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>               (There can be only one...

SERVO: Don't we wish...

> These are the voyages...)

CROW: ...of a diseased mind.

>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                                 Part 3
>   CAPTAIN'S LOG, Supplimental:  We're approaching Clari III and are
> preparing to beam Embassador MacLoud and his assistant to the surface.
> Commander Riker expresses concern about the pair going down alone

SERVO: But if there's a pair, how can they be alone?

> due to
> the renewed conflict, but the Embassador seems unconcerned.  I have to
> wonder if he knows something we don't...
>
>   Picard sat on the bridge, monitoring the orbital maneuvers performed
> by the ensign at Ops...

JOEL: Oh, wooow.

> what was her name...Cathaway?

CROW: [a la James Bond]  Cathaway.  Jane Cathaway.

> Yes, that was it.
> Cathaway had been assigned to the Enterprise two weeks ago from the
> Acadamy.

JOEL: Already she had been assigned work that could endager the lives of
      everyone aboard.

> She worked very hard to please her superiors and seemed likable.
> Still, on a ship as big as the Enterprise, it wasn't difficult to
> understand why Picard, or any of the senior officers (except Data) had
> trouble remembering the names of everyone on-board.

SERVO: Or even the names of everybody on the main bridge shift.

>   MacLoud entered from the turbolift, getting the attentions of Worf.

CROW: Why, Worf, I didn't know you cared.

> Giving the Klingon a cheery smile, he approached the Captain.
>   Picard looked up at him.  "Hello, Embassador.  I must say this is a
> surprise.  I thought you'd be--"

JOEL: --wearing the yellow dress today.

>   "Something wrong, Cathaway?"
>   Everyone except MacLoud to see what Riker was talking about.

SERVO: The author to take remedial English.

> Cathaway
> seemed concerned, and until Riker alerted the crew, she was staring at
> MacLoud.
>   "Nothing, sir," Cathaway said as she turned back at her station.
>   "Captain, may I speak to you in private?"
>   "Of course, Embassador.  We may use my ready room.

CROW: Or we may not.

> You have the
> bridge, Number One."
>   As Picard and MacLoud exited the bridge, Riker walked up to Ensign
> Cathaway.

SERVO: Geez, he doesn't waste *any* time, does he?

>   "Do I detect a problem with the Embassador, Ensign?"
>   Cathaway seemed like a little girl who had been caught with her hand
> in the cookie jar.

ALL: [nervous falsetto laughter]

> "Of course not, sir.  But as the Captain was saying, his
> arrival on the bridge was a surprise."
>   Riker looked at her sternly.  "Your duty is to fly this ship, not
> watch the comings and goings of people who may or may not belong in
> the bridge,

CROW: Or in the brig...
SERVO: Like the author...

> is that understood?"
>   "Implicitly, sir.

JOEL: But not actually.

> It won't happen again."
>   "See that it doesn't," Riker said as he sat in the command chair.

ALL: [whoopee cushion sounds]

>   "What can I do for you, Embassador?"
>   "Captain, I don't like titles much, especially

CROW: Lame, uninspired ones like "Treklander".

> in private.  Mr. MacLoud
> or Duncan will do."

JOEL: All right, Mr.-MacLoud-Or-Duncan...

>   "Very well, Mr. MacLoud.  You wanted to speak to me?"

SERVO: No, I wanted to use you for daikyu target practice.

>   "Captain, I understand Commander Riker is a little concerned about
> my wanting to go without armed escort."
>   "So he tells me.  I can't say I blame him.  The violence down
> there--"
>   "I can handle myself rather well, although...that Ensign out
> there... Cathaway was her name?"

CROW: [a la James Bond again] Cathaway. Jane Cathaway.
JOEL: Didn't you just do that?
CROW: Who's counting?

>   "Yes, what about her?"
>   "If you could spare her, I'd like to have her along."
>   "Rather a strange request...why her and not Lt. Worf?"

SERVO: Because I don't want any more of Worf's "attentions".

>   "Because I feel...there's something special about her."

JOEL: I sense she is a main character in this fanfic.

>   "I will consult Commander Riker about it.

CROW: Because, as you know, he makes all the real decisions around here.

> What have you discovered
> about the situation on Clari III?"
>   "Not as much as I'd like.  The two sides were willing to talk peace
> until someone...the reports didn't say who...took over as leader and
> renewed the attacks.

SERVO: Leader of both sides?
JOEL: [Rocket J. Squirrel voice] Say, aren't you Devil Dan Hatful?
CROW: [Boris Badenov voice] No, I be Felonius Floy, I be!

> Most unsettling...
>
> (The Alamo, night:

SERVO: Remember the Alamo!
CROW: How about remembering the plot?
SERVO: What plot??

> Duncan is nursing the wounds of several of the
> defenders of the besieged fort.  With him is Pierre DuSable,

JOEL: The token minority.

> a Canadian
> sympathetic to the Texans' cause.
>   "I tell you, mon ami, if we can hold out a little while longer ze
> reenforcements will arrive and we'll route Santa Anna's men back to
> Mexico!"

SERVO: Why do we need to route them?  If they knew the way here, they
       should know the way back.

>   Duncan sighed.  "I wish I had your optimism, Pierre, but the fact is
> we're running out of supplies.  Even if anyone arrives we may starve
> to
> death before then."
>   DuSable stood proud.  "Zen I shall form a raid to get supplies from
> ze
> Mexicans!"

CROW: If you're going for Mexican food, don't forget to pick up some
      Pepto-Bismol.

>   Duncan looked at him.  "Don't be a fool!

JOEL: Get out of this fanfic while you still can!

> You'll die out there!"
>   "Better to die fighting zen to starve to death!"
>   Duncan exited the medical shack a moment later shaking his wrist

SERVO: And hoping that in a century or so they'd invent a decent wrist-
       watch.

> and
> barring the door from the outside.
>   "Forgive me, my friend, but I'm more qualified than you for this
> kind of
> thing."

JOEL: I've been on more idiotic missions than you'll ever see!

>   Under cover of darkness, Duncan crept into the Mexican camp.  After
> killing a sentry and taking his uniform, he walked into the supply
> area.
>   *The mother lode*, he thought as he found two wagons full of food,
> waiting to be unloaded.  *This will sustain the Alamo for a few more
> days*
>   Suddenly, he Sensed someone.

CROW: [Worf voice]  Your ambushes would be more successful if you were
      to *bathe* more often.

> Pulling out his sword and turning, he saw
> a Mexican officer enter the tent,

JOEL: They keep their wagons in a tent?

> carrying a sabre.
>   "Well, well," he said.  "Looks like I found myself a spy.  You know,
> spying's a dangerous business...one could lose his head if the
> pressure
> gets too high."

SERVO: [pompous literary reading voice] If you can keep your head while
       all about you are losing theirs...
JOEL: [similar voice] Then you will be a *spy*, my son.

>   Duncan barely managed to block the Mexican's attack.

CROW: With what?  A burrito?

>   As Duncan retreated, the Mexican began speaking.

SERVO: Why is it that the villain always tells the hero his plans in
       full detail?
JOEL: Union rules.

> "I plan to order

SERVO: Ham and Swiss, on rye.

> my
> forces to attack.  That fool Santa Anna will have no choice but to
> order a
> full assault.  He wants to play the waiting game, let the Mexicans
> starve
> to death.

CROW: The *Mexicans* starve to death??
SERVO: I guess he just didn't notice all those supplies...

> Doesn't he realize those idiots will die for what they believe
> in?"
>   "And you're just the man to help them, right?"

JOEL: Wait! Who's saying what?
SERVO: Accents! We need accents!

>   Duncan dodged as the Mexican's slice cut open a bag of flour.

CROW: On second thought, if they waste their food like that, maybe they
      *will* starve to death...

> As a
> white cloud hung around them, the pair continued, but Duncan began to
> fight back.

SERVO: A real tactical genius, that Duncan.

> As the battle raged between the two, Duncan seized the
> advantage until the Mexican was forced to his knees.
>   Suddenly, there was a loud thunderclap as Duncan's eyes widened and
> he
> fell to the ground.

JOEL: [pained "MacLoud" voice] Ow! I've strained my levator palpebrae
      superioris!

> The Mexican put away his pistol and readied himself
> for the Final Strike when he also fell from a gunshot.
>   A figure crept up to Duncan.  "Mon ami, are you all right?"

SERVO: I just got shot, but, other than that, I'm fine.

>   Duncan looked weakly at him.  "Pierre?  What are you doing here?"
>   "I thought you might need some help, especially since it was my
> idea,
> non?"
>   The pair walked back to the supplies, leaving the Mexican to
> heal...)

CROW: And leaving the audience to wonder what the heck this scene has to
      do with anything.

>   "And you hope to reason with a man like that?"  Picard asked.

JOEL: Either that or beat his head in.  Whatever works.

>   "I hope so.  But if not I want as few people as possible down
> there."
>   "I will recommend that Ensign Cathaway be assigned to you for this,
> if
> you think that she'd be helpful."
>   "Thank you Captain."
>
>   Julia Cathaway Sensed MacLoud

CROW: Hey, she's related to that Embassador guy!

> exit the Captain's ready room.  She tried
> hard not to let it affect her again, though it was easier since she
> knew
> he was there this time.  She couldn't let Riker know her secret, and
> he
> really came down on her hard.

JOEL: [suggestively] She *liked* it that way.

> The fact was that she was scared of Riker,
> moreso than any Immortal she'd faced.  She tried hard not to come into
> conflict with him, but it wasn't always easy.  She heard Riker and the
> Captain discuss something, but was too afraid to do anything but watch
> the
> screen as the planet revolved below the ship.

SERVO: No, when you've really got to worry is when the planet starts
       rifling below the ship.

>   "Ensign Cathaway."
>   Julia nearly jumped out of her skin as Riker bellowed her name.  She
> wondered what she did now to deserve his ire.
>   "Yes sir?"  she said, turning to face them,

JOEL: "Them"? How many personalities does this guy have?

> hoping her nervousness
> didn't show.
>   "You're relieved of duty.  Report to Transporter Room 5 at 1800
> hours."
>   "Yes, sir."
>  Julia almost sprinted off the bridge, relieved to be away from
> Commander William Riker.

CROW: Hey, who wouldn't be?

> --
> ************************************************************************
> *****

JOEL: I see it's snowing out east again.

>       Prince John III

SERVO: Oh, does His Highness *dare* to try using English grammar?

> [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>                 "I Feel Like a Number"  --  Bob Segar
>
>
>Path:

JOEL: Yes, Mirrim:?

> agora.rain.com!pagesat.net!olivea!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!
> pipex!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 4
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 113

ALL: [singing] Take one down, pass it around, Lines: 112!

> Message-ID: <2llo29$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>              (There can be only one...

CROW: Then why have there been four so far?

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                      T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                    Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III

JOEL: Just think, there are two more of him running around.

>                                Part 4
>
>  FIRST OFFICER'S LOG:  Stardate 48380.1 Embassador MacLoud is
> preparing
> to beam down to Clari III with his assistant and Ensign Julia
> Cathaway.
> I'm a little concerned as to why the only escort the Embassador wants
> is a
> recent Acadamy graduate who's not even associated with security.

SERVO: If you review your choice of words, Commander...

>   Richie had finally found Guinan in the Botanical Gardens.

CROW: Right on Kew!

> Of course
> Guinan Sensed him long before he approached but made no indications of
> it.
>   "Hello Richard," she said without looking up from the plants she was
> studying.  "I was wondering when you were going to show."
>   "Hello Guinan."
>   "You and your boss have made quite a stir on the ship.

SERVO: You've only been here two hours and met five people, but around
       here, that's quite a stir.

> I don't suppose
> he's an immortal too?"
>   `Uh-oh...I didn't want her finding out'.  Richie maintained his
> cool,
> glad that Guinan was an Immortal and not a Betazoid like that Troi
> chick.

JOEL: "That Troi chick"?  Geez, a 400-year-old adolescent.

> For whatever reason Immortals seem to be full humans of Earth descent.

CROW: As opposed to, say, full humans of Klingon descent.

> If
> there were other Immortals, he had yet to encounter them.
>   "Why do you say that?"  he asked.
>   "Mainly because the crew seems to be more aggrivated with him than
> you.  But there are other reasons..."
>   "Such as?"
>   "Neither of you have any birth records within the lifetimes of any
> crewman on board, and Ensign Cathaway Sensed him..."
>   "You mean there are FOUR Immortals on board."

JOEL: Great!  We've got enough for a bridge game!
SERVO: At this rate, they'll have enough for a minyan.

>   "Yeah...scary thought, eh?  I had to reassure her that neither of
> you
> were gonna decapitate her.  She really is a nice girl, if a little
> high-
> strung."
>   "Mind if I ask--"
>   "The late 1700's."
>   "What?"

CROW: [as Richie] How'd you know I was going to ask when Gustavus III
      was assassinated?

>   "You were about to ask how old I was right?"  Richie nodded in
> response.

JOEL: Oh, great.  Ask a lady her age.  Hasn't this turkey learned *any*
      social graces in four centuries?

> "I experienced the Awakening in the 1700s in the Southern US.  My
> master
> beat me to death.

SERVO: Actually, it was his wives-- they noogied me to death.

> I remained anonymous until Earth started space travel
> in earnest.

JOEL: And it's important to be earnest, you know.

> It was then that I left Earth.  My ship fell into a wormhole
> into deep space.  It was there that I met my first alien, the last sur-
> vivor of a people that had been destroyed by the Borg.  He died in my
> care
> some five months later,

CROW: Remind me to never ask for you as a nurse.

> but I had learned much about his culture.  Event-
> ually I found my way into Federation space and I met Picard.

SERVO: You mean, met Picard *again*, after that time in 1890-whatever.
CROW: Hey!  When Guinan met Picard in the 1890s, she didn't know
      anything about that alien, so how did she keep her story straight?
JOEL: Forget it.  Just forget it.  You're trying to have this all make
      sense, and it just doesn't...

> I claimed to
> be a member of the race the alien belonged to.

SERVO: So many aliens races look exactly human, no one ever doubted me.

> And the rest is history.
> Now what about you and MacLoud?"
>   "I was Awakened in the 1990s.  I was hanging around with Mac back
> then
> too, along with his girlfriend Tessa.  Tessa was shot to death by gang
> members.  I was shot that day too.

CROW: Along with any chance I might have had of a decent acting career.

> I've been travelling off and on with
> him ever since.
>   "Mac I'm not too sure of.  I know he's been around since the 1500s
> but
> he doesn't talk much about his Awakening.  I know he's battled more
> Immortals before I met him than I've seen since hooking up with him.

JOEL: He's changed him!

> And
> what about Cathaway?"
>  "I don't know much about her.  She tends to avoid me, or any
> Immortal."
>
>   MacLoud sat in his room staring at a picture when his door chimed.

SERVO: Hey, watch it out there!

>   "Yes?"
>   The door slid open as Cathaway entered.
>   MacLoud stood.  "Ah, Ensign.  Come in, please."
>   Cathaway looked nervous.  MacLoud tried assuring her, "Come on, I
> don't
> bite,

CROW: Unless asked, of course.

> and I don't attack unless threatened."
>   Cautiously, she entered.  MacCloud

JOEL: McCloud!

> could see her white-knuckled death-
> grip on her sword, expecting an ambush of some kind.  Slowly, he put
> his
> hand, his sword hand, on hers and gently guided it to a nearby table.

SERVO: I've heard a lot of euphemisms, but boy!

>   "We're all friends here, Cathaway...I promise I won't hurt you.  Now
> put
> the sword down..."
>   Something in MacLoud's voice calmed her enough that she released her
> grip on her sword.  Breathing a sigh of relief,

JOEL: I didn't inhale!

> MacLoud backed away.
>   "Would you like something to drink?"
>   "Ummm...no thank you."
>   MacLoud walked to the replicator.  "2 Synthales"
>   Two mugs of the liquid

CROW: --which was almost, but not entirely, unlike tea--

> appeared and he brought both to Cathaway.
>   "I said I wasn't thirsty, sir."
>   "Stop with the formalities and the pretenses.  I'm Duncan MacLoud of
> the
> clan MacLoud, not Embassador MacLoud.  I'm an equal, not a superior.
> The
> only difference is that you think I'm going to trick you into a
> compromis-
> ing position

SERVO: And get some really hot blackmail holograms, heh heh.

> so I can kill you and take your Quickening.

JOEL: And watch, and wallet, and jewelery...

> To prove that
> I'm not going to, I'll let you choose the drink,

CROW: Huh?  But you already picked synthale!

> that way if I've
> poisoned one you have a 50% chance of choosing the other one, and if
> I've
> poisoned both then we'll both recover at the same time and it won't
> make
> a difference.  Now take the drink."

SERVO: Probability 101 will air again Thursday at 11 a.m.

>   Cathaway chose one and they both drank at the same time.  When no
> ill
> effects occoured, Cathaway relaxed a little.

CROW: I feel fine! It's not effecting my speling a bitt!

>   "You're probably wondering why I asked you to join my little party
> planetside?" MacLoud asked.  Cathaway nodded.

JOEL: I need someone hand out noisemakers.

> "Well, I don't want any
> mortals endangering themselves needlessly, but we're relatively
> safe--"
>   "Unless someone phasers us at maximum level," she said.

SERVO: Geez, such a worrywart!

>   "Well, there is that, and there's little I can do about it if they
> try,
> but other than that we're safe."

JOEL: We're in deadly danger, but, other than that, we're safe.

>   Cathaway noticed the picture on the table next to where MacLoud was
> sitting.  "Who's this?  Another Immortal?  A sweetheart, perhaps?"
>   "No, it's someone I loved a long time ago.  I did my best to save
> her
> life, but..."

SERVO: ...it had been decades since that Red Cross seminar, and,
       well...

>   Cathaway turned to him.  "I know the feeling.  When I was on my
> training
> cruise, we were struck by an asteroid that got past our nav shields.

CROW: See what happens when you shield yourself against navigation?

> The
> section where we were hit was the section where my fiancee and I were
> walking.  The whole section went up in flames.

SERVO: You can't have flames in space!

> I was Awakened that day.
> No one else survived the explosion.  To this day I wish that I hadn't
> been
> cursed with Immortality."
>   "I didn't know--it's hard falling in love with an Immortal knowing
> that
> you'll outlive her, possibly by centuries...but I can't imagine what
> it's
> like--"

JOEL: --being in some decent fan fiction.

>   Cathaway turned to face him.  She was crying.  "That's right,
> MacLoud!
> You can't know the pain I endure every day, knowing that my Adam

SERVO: [falsetto] My Adam-12--

> is
> dead
> because he wasn't born into this curse!"
>   She grabbed her sword and ran out of MacLoud's room.
>--

JOEL: Just as the author ran out of steam.
SERVO: You can't have steam in space!

> ************************************************************************
> *****

CROW: I see stars!

>       Prince John III                           [e-mail]
>      Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask how!
>                 "I Feel Like a Number"  --  Bob Segar

JOEL: "I Feel Like a Free Man" -- I Wish.

[Zeveral commercialz later...]

[SoL bridge. Joel, Servo, and Crow are all wearing Enterprise-style
badges. Joel is also wearing a fake beard, a beard that practically
screams, "Who the hell am I fooling?" Gypsy, dressed as Guinan, is
pacing purposefully about behind them.]

CROW: [as Data] Captain, reports show that the situation is worsening.
      Bite me.

JOEL: [as Riker] Sir, I strongly feel we should do something.

SERVO: [as Picard] The Prime Directive, Number One. You know it as well
       as I. Wait, [starting to slip out of Picard mode] did Data just
       say "bite me"? Data doesn't say "bite me"!

JOEL: Uh, it's, uh, his evil twin, Lore! Oh no!

CROW: For my research on humanity this week, I've decided to study the
      habits of one of the great 20th-century personalities, one Crow T.
      Robot. Millions of humans patterned their lifestyles after him.

SERVO: Great personality? I don't *think* so!

CROW: Bite me.

JOEL: Hey, calm down, you guys. Let's just get on with the skit.

SERVO: Okay. Um, where were we?

JOEL: Uh...

CROW: Bite me.

SERVO: Crow!!

JOEL: C'mon, Crow, stop that. The, uh, situation. [back to Riker mode]
      I feel we should do something, sir.

[Gypsy paces across in the foreground once.]

SERVO: Under the Prime Directive, we can do nothing.

CROW: Captain, our sensors indicate the situation has reached a critical
      point. Bite me.

SERVO: Aw, heck, phaser them all. You only live once. Shoot those ships,
       too. We've already shot this whole skit. [glares at Crow, then
       does a very good imitation of stomping off, for someone who does-
       n't even have feet]

[Joel sighs and takes the fake beard off.]

CROW: You think it was something I said?

[Joel looks like he's about to say something rather acidic, but the mo-
vie light flashes, alarms go off, etc.]

JOEL: Message sign!

[The picture freezes with Joel about to hit the big red button. The fake
beard has flown out of his hand, and is on a collision course with
Gypsy, whose costume is falling into disarray. Servo is a blurry shape
just at the edge of the picture, and Crow is in a random state of panic.
Fade to the MSTH set, where "Jack Perkins" is holding a large sword.
Another sword is resting against the column next to him.]

PERKINS: [pointless chuckle] It just goes to show that, like a high jump
         and a low ceiling, some things just don't mix. Well, that's all
         for tonight, but tune in next time for the Mystery Science The-
         ater Hour.

[The lights go down, and one of the techies comes out and appears to be
talking with Perkins. Roll theme...]

MSTed by Steve Brinich <[e-mail]>,
         Jason Cohen <[e-mail]>,
         & Petrea Mitchell <[e-mail]>

Host segments and other boring stuff by Petrea Mitchell

[Perkins turns around for some reason. The techie grabs the claymore
that was leaning aganst the column. Perkins turns around just in time to
start defending himself, but is being pressed back.]

Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, merchandise,
and dust bunnies all copyright Best Brains, Inc. This MSTing not en-
dorsed, authorized, or supported by anybody. This is not meant as a
personal attack on Mishka, John F. Moore III, or King Louis XV of
France, but if any of them should learn from it, the world will be a
better place. "Treklander" reproduced by honest-to-goodness permission of
the author. This article may be freely distributed as long as this para-
graph remains intact.

[Perkins and the techie move off the set, still duelling...]

If you'd like to MSTify some deserving piece, contact <misties-request
@jg.cso.uiuc.edu> to join the "dibs" mailing list.


************************************************************************


[MSTH set. Well, what were you expecting-- Disneyland? The MSTH theme
plays, the lights come up, and "Jack Perkins" is there as usual.]

PERKINS: Welcome to another rollicking Mystery Science Theater Hour.
         When we last saw our friends, they were in the middle of John
         F. Moore's gripping psychological drama, "Treklander".

         Starfleet "Embassador" Duncan "MacLoud" and his assistant Rich-
         ie have joined the Next Generation Enterprise crew on a peace-
         keeping mission. No sooner have they come on board than they
         discover two more Immortals, Guinan and Ensign Cathaway, with
         whom they become friends after what seems like a lifetime of
         wandering back and forth between scenes, ending them just as
         they're getting somewhere. Meanwhile, Commander Riker, in a
         desperate attempt to have something to do with the story, has
         become leery of the Embassador and his assistant. The tension
         builds as the ship approaches Clari III, and... who knows what.

[roll theme 1.1]

[Commercials-- pH-balanced for your calling needs!]

[Theater. Joel carries Servo in, with Crow following.]

SERVO: ...can't even stay with it for one stupid skit!
CROW: Bite me.
JOEL: Cool it, guys.

> Path:
> newserv.ksu.ksu

CROW: .bang.bang

> .edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen

SERVO: That's one amorous bang path!

> .cso.uiuc.edu!howland.
> reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 5
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 96
> Message-ID: <2m53pr$dng

JOEL: Oh, that's it. Blame the newsreader.

> @mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>               (There can be only one...

CROW: [a la Rocky] Again??

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                                  Part 5
>
>   At 1800 hours Ensign Cathaway entered Transporter Room 5.

SERVO: At 1801 hours Ensign Cathaway retreated hastily, mumbling an apo-
       logy to the couple she had just interrupted.

> She was
> carrying a tote bag full of things she thought she might need
> planetside:
> spare uniforms, energy packs for her phaser,

JOEL: For when it gets tired out on those long hikes.

> toiletries,

CROW: Hey, it's Wakko's tote bag!

> her sword...

SERVO: No, it's a SCAdian tote bag!

>   MacLoud and his assistant were already waiting.  That she knew
> before
> entering, thanks to her damnable Sense.

SERVO: That is, thanks to her damnable fashion Sense.
JOEL: Stripes with plaid? Ewww!
CROW: [as Madam] I think your dress is FAAAA-bu-lous!

> She really hated being
> Immortal,

SERVO: [sarcastic] Oh, heavy burden!

> but didn't know if she had the courage to end it.  Besides, Adam
> wouldn'
> have approved...

JOEL: [falsetto] I consult his spirit about all major decisions, you
      know...
SERVO: This is sounding like an ABC Afterschool Special about peer pres-
       sure.

>   Commander Riker was also there, as well as Lt. Worf.

CROW: [falsetto] And Scarecrow, and Tin Man, and YOU, Cowardly Lion!

> She was about
> to
> step onto the transporter pad when she noticed that no one else was
> making a move in that direction.

JOEL: They were all standing around the water cooler swapping college
      stories.
SERVO: [slightly nasal tone] Remember that time you drank a whole bot-
       tle of Everclear and ralphed on the dean?
CROW: Oh, those _were_ the days, weren't they.

>   "Something wrong, sirs?"

SERVO: What do you think, s--
JOEL: [placing a hand over Servo's, er, mouth] No.

> she asked, placing her bag on the pad and
> walking over.

CROW: [as Worf] Damn you, woman, be quiet! The souffle will fall!

>   Riker cleared his throat.

SERVO: How unpleasant!
CROW: Well, it's more pleasant than having someone else clear it for
      him.

> "The situation has escalated.  The
> Captain
> has ordered that a qualified security detail be assigned--"

JOEL: Instead of the unqualified phaser fodder we usually send.

>   "Despite my objections," MacLoud interrupted.

CROW: "Despite my interruptions," MacLoud objected.

>   `I'm sure you objected MacLoud,' Cathaway thought.  `You want my
> Quick-
> ening to yourself with no witnesses!'

JOEL: I didn't know Duncan was a Kennedy!

>   "In any case," Riker continued,

SERVO: The prosecuting attorney is given a chance to reexamine a wit-
       ness after the defense has taken its turn.

> "the Captain has ordered Lt. Worf to
> accompany the three of you down.

JOEL: Huh?  I thought the captain wanted a qualified security detail!
CROW: Yeah -- the last couple seasons, Worf has been the galaxy's pun-
      ching bag!

> Good luck to you all."

JOEL: If you or any of your team are caught or killed, Starfleet will
      disavow any knowledge of your actions.

>   The four stepped onto the pad

SERVO: Cool pad, man.
CROW: Thanks, I just had it done.
SERVO: Groovy.

> and Riker barked,

ALL: Woof!

> "Energize". Cathaway
> felt the tingle of her atoms being converted to energy

JOEL: You're not fully beamed unless you're ZESTfully beamed!

> and sent to the
> planet's surface.

SERVO: Then though the planet, out the other side, and back into deep
       space. Apparently someone at the controls of the transporter had
       really screwed up.

>   As soon as Worf saw the surface of Clari III he pulled out his
> phaser
> and began scanning for potential targets.

CROW: I haven't shot anything this whole fanfic!
JOEL: This whole fanfic is shot already.

> The beings on this planet
> were
> hostile creatures who might mistake him and those he was sworn to
> protect
> as enemies.

SERVO: He was sworn to protect his enemies?
JOEL: Ha-- those wacky Klingons!

>   MacMoud

JOEL: [announcer's voice] And the spelling and grammar errors are begin-
      ning to fly fast and furious here at SoL Downs as we anxiously a-
      wait the end of this fanfic.
CROW: Boy, do we ever.

> placed his hand on Worf's phaser arm and lowered it.

JOEL: Hey, gimme my arm back!

> "Calm
> down, Lieutenant.  The last thing we need is for whoever's here to
> mistake us for the enemy by a display of weapons."

SERVO: We'd like them to think we're the enemy on the basis of our gar-
       ishly colored clothes.

>   Worf couldn't argue with MacLoud, because he was right;

CROW: Oh, is the great *MacLoud* infallible?

> any display
> of
> hostile intent could causew them to become targets.  But at the same
> time,
> MacLoud made him look bad to a subordinate.

SERVO: What a crystalline depiction of the deep inner workings of
       Worf's mind.
CROW: I feel like I know him!
JOEL: Yeah. Go, Worf!

> Worf settled on giving
> him a
> dirty look.

SERVO: No more "attentions" for you!

>   "I'm going to have a look around.  A representative of the Tyone
> faction

CROW: --really TIED ONE ON last night! A-heh, 'cause, y'see...
JOEL: I think it's pronounced "ty-own".

> was supposed to meet us here and take us to a neutral position where
> we'd
> meet with the Feuhl

SERVO: To feed the drive.

> faction's representative.
>   "I'll go with you Mac,"

CROW: And cheese!
JOEL: But it _should_ be cheese and macaroni.
SERVO: 'Cause this thing is definitely the cheesiest.

> his assistant said.
>   "No Richard, you stay with Worf, in case our contact centers on our
> transporter signal.

CROW: But, being the logical thing to do, the possibility's extremely
      unlikely.

> Ensign Cathaway, you come with me."

JOEL: The principal wants to see you in her office right now.

>   Worf noticed Cathaway tense immediately, but she complied and
> grabbed
> her bag.

SERVO: But what did Worf _think_ about that? How did it make him feel?
CROW: Yeah, we got such an insight into Worf's mind earlier, now I
      want to know more!
JOEL: "Worf wondered why Cathaway tensed up, but then his warrior
      training snapped him out of his introspective reverie and he a-
      gain began scanning for those nasty aliens."

>   As soon as they were out of sight and earshot from Worf, MacLoud
> turned
> to Cathaway.  "Why are you afraid of me?"

SERVO: Because I heard you graduated from the Robert Packwood Charm
       School.

>   The question took Cathaway by surprise.

ALL: [jumping] AAAH!

> She was expecting MacLoud
> to
> go for his sword and blame her beath on `hostile natives', not a
> direct
> question.

JOEL: Yeah, it's hard to blame a person's beath on a direct question.
SERVO: Joel, what's a "beath"?
JOEL: When you're older, honey.

>   "You...you're Immortal..."

CROW: Boy, she's quick on the uptake, isn't she?
SERVO: Yup.

>   "You think all Immortals are cold-blooded killers?

JOEL: No, no-- some of us are more into white-collar crime!

> If I was, then
> Richard would've been dead long ago."
>   "Richard is..."

SERVO: The guy who's always hanging around me. The one with the sword.
       Will you pay attention, please?

>   "You remember the picture in my quarters?"

SERVO: [thick German accent] Yes! I vas the sheep!

> Cathaway nodded.  "He
> was
> with her the day she died.

CROW: In fact, he killed her. But we won't go into that.

> He was Awakened that day.

JOEL: By Robin Williams.
SERVO: Good movie.
CROW: I thought it bit.

> If I was such
> a
> cold-blooded killer, I would've taken his head the day I found out,

SERVO: And had it mounted above my fireplace.  It'd look nice, don't you
       think?

> while
> he was still adjusting to the change.  Instead I nurtured him and
> tried
> to keep him safe

JOEL: And loved him and petted him and called him GEORGE.

> until I felt he was ready to explore the limits of
> his
> new abilities.
>   "I admit I've taken more than my share of Immortal lives, but

CROW: I didn't learn not to in kindergarten.

> never
> unless they deserved to die.

JOEL: [as MacLoud] *I* decide who lives and who dies!

> You think Richie is my only Immortal
> friend?

SERVO: [falsetto] I think he's your only friend, period.

> I've come close to killing a few friends,

JOEL: And he wonders why she's afraid of him.
SERVO: Sad, really.

> only to pull them back to
> reason
> before the final strike.

JOEL: Then they'd take the next one high and tight for ball four. God,
      I love baseball. What was I saying?

> One friend I DID kill, but only after he
> real-
> ized that he was a danger to everyone around him if he lived."
>   "Why was he--"

SERVO: WILL you stop interrupting? The sooner he finishes his story, the
       sooner this fanfic is over. Sit down and shut up!

>   "He had a dark side that came out and killed those he felt close to.
> He had no memory of his dark side's actions; in fact, he thought that
> it
> was a different Immortal.

CROW: Yeah, yeah-- tell it to the judge!

> When he realized that his enemy was himself,

JOEL: He decided to switch sides. That way, everyone was happy.

> he begged me to take his life."

SERVO: I believe his exact words were, "What are you doing with that
       sword? Get away from me! Help!"

>   "I'm sorry, MacLoud," Julia said.  "It's just that I've run into
> three
> Immortals since my Awakening, and every one of them

CROW: Has yelled at me for not knowing how to drive a stick, then sued
      for physical and emotional damages.

> cared nothing but
> to
> take my head.  Friends?"

JOEL: What about them?

>   Julia extended her hand, which MacLoud took.

SERVO: Thanks. I'll return it next week.

> Julia found herself
> looking into MacLoud's eyes.  She wanted to turn away, but there was
> something captivating about him.  She was entranced in his eyes,

JOEL: But first she had to be carded.

> eyes
> that
> have seen an eon pass.

SERVO: And trust me, folks, it isn't pretty.

> They gazed at each other for what seemed like
> an
> eternity.

CROW: To the helpless fanfic victims praying only for a quick and pain-
      less demise.
SERVO: Will you stop with the pointless optimism already? It's depres-
       sing me.

> The moment before their lips met her communicator switched
> on.

JOEL: Julia, this is Dot Matrix. Watch it, girl.

>   *Worf to Cathaway*

CROW: Oh, great timing, Worf!

>   Julia composed herself

SERVO: In E Flat.

> and pressed her commbadge.

CROW: [falsetto] He's always commbadgering me!

> "Cathaway here."
>   "Prima Tu-Jar of the Tyones has arrived.

JOEL: Prima Tu-Jar, by Sylvia Plath.

> Return to Base Camp

JOEL: Oswald's been shot. Repeat, Oswald has been shot.
CROW: Wait a minute. Worf and Richie set up a camp while these two were
      having their interlude?
SERVO: Yeah, they probably set it up during that eternity back there.

> immediat-
> ly."

ALL: Immediately, immediately, immediate-L-Y!
JOEL: Bye-bye!

>   "On our way."
>   Julia looked at MacLoud.

SERVO: Stop looking at me!
JOEL: Tom, I think you're getting a bit carried away with that joke.
SERVO: No, I mean it. Crow! Stop looking at me!
CROW: [innocently] I was only watching the fanfic like I was supposed
      to.
SERVO: The hell you were!
CROW: Well, how do YOU know?
JOEL: All right, that's enough. Tom, pay attention to those nice people
      in "Treklander". Mr. T. Robot, I'll deal with you later.
SERVO: [sotto voce] I hope you fry.
CROW: Bite me.
SERVO: Hey!

> "Perhaps another time...Duncan?"
>   MacLoud grinned at her.  "If it's one thing we have, it's time."

CROW: That, and an amazing capacity for irritating hyperbole.

> --
> *********************************************************************
> ********

SERVO: Now I know where the snows of yesteryear are.

>       Prince John III                           [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...

JOEL: And die a watery death!

> Email me today and ask
> how!

CROW: How you ever got access to an Internet account?

>                 "I Feel Like a Number"  --  Bob Segar

SERVO: "I Feel Like I'm Going to Puke"  --  Tom Servo

> Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu

JOEL: Not to be confused with curly.ksu.ksu.edu or jfm.ksu.ksu.edu.

> !vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.
> reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 6
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 87
> Message-ID: <2mi0

CROW: What? It's B1FF singing an aria!

> b7$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>               (There can be only one...

SERVO: If that's true, how come he's said that six times so far?
JOEL: Because he's a... liar!
ALL: Liar, liar!
CROW: It's my birthday today.
SERVO: Heh heh.

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                                  Part 6
>
>   Duncan and Julia

ALL: Sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
SERVO: Heh heh.

> walked back to the Base Camp.  Along the way,

JOEL: They met a wizened old man who offered them the secret of immor-
      tality in exchange for a single kiss.
SERVO: Julia laughed in his face. Strangely, Duncan complied.

> they
> shared a number of things about themselves,

CROW: Bodily fluids, that sort of thing.

> and Julia admitted that
> there
> was one other Immortal who didn't try to kill her, Guinan.  Guinan
> helped
> her through her fiancee's death and through her own fears about her
> new
> life.
>   "I had someone like that too.  His name was Darius, and for over
> four
> hundred years he was like a father to me...until he was murdered by a
> mortal."

SERVO: As much as I try, I still can't reconcile the term "Immortal"
       with being murdered 'n' death 'n' stuff. Can they be killed or
       can't they?
JOEL: Well, yes...
SERVO: Then they're not Immortal, are they?
JOEL: Well, no, but...
SERVO: Well, which is it?
JOEL: It's not as simple as that.
SERVO: You don't know, do you?
JOEL: Um... no.
SERVO: Then what good are you?

>   Julia noticed that Duncan was very tense when he mentioned Darius.

CROW: [suggestively] Of course, Julia knew what to do when someone was
      tense.
JOEL: Crow.
CROW: What? She read him a bedtime story until he fell asleep.
JOEL: Uh huh.

> She
> was about to question him about Darius's death when she saw Worf and
> a
> squat four-legged orange

SERVO: They're mediating a war between ambulatory fruits?

> creature with several pseaudopods on its
> torso
> eyestalks all round its conical head.

JOEL: It had pseudopods on its torsal eyestalks?
SERVO: No, on its round conical head. Can't you read?

> She and Duncan immediately
> stopped
> the conversation.  She was told of the dangers of allowing mortals,
> especially ones prone to violence, know of the Immortals' existance

CROW: And never EVER let them see you sweat.

>   Duncan walked up to the creature and addressed it.

JOEL: Let's see, "John F. Moore III, [e-mail]". That should
      do it.
CROW: Hey, how come you never let us do that?
JOEL: This is a special case, Crow. It's called using art against the
      artist.

> "Long life to
> you
> and your family.  I am Embassador Duncan MacLoud."

JOEL: You killed my father. Prepare to die.

>   The creature faced Duncan and spoke.  "Have peace with your Essence,
> MacLoud-Duncan.

SERVO: Oh, God, it's an alien flower child!

> I am Prima Tu-Jar of the Tyone peoples.

JOEL: And this is Lothar. He's a friend from across the hills.

> It is
> refreshing
> to see a two-leg who knows our customs."

CROW: Err... we prefer to be known as `persons of bipedality'.

> Worf sneered at Tu-Jar

SERVO: [deep voice] I sneer at you. Look. Look at me sneer! Do you see
       it?

> as it
> continued, "The meeting place is ready, as per your specifications.

JOEL: It's a good thing Riker didn't come, though... we couldn't get
      those fifty dancing girls he wanted.

> The
> Feuhl will be arriving soon, although I do not expect much."

JOEL: [Minnewegian old lady voice] They never bring anything to these
      parties, though I asked them to bring bars and punch.
SERVO: [similar voice] Oh, they're so rude. Why do you keep inviting
       them?
JOEL: [dat voice again] Well, their daughter's married to my cousin's
      kid, so it's like they're family.

>   "We must be hopeful, Prima.

CROW: Donna.
SERVO: Shalala.
JOEL: Stop.

> I take it the Feuhl were the ones to
> resume
> hostilities?"

CROW: Yes, those Feuhls. Heh, heh.

>   "Yes.  Soon after a large, dark-skinned two-leg arrived, the
> hostilities
> resumed."

JOEL: Worf? You started this?

>   "I would be very anxious to meet this...`two-leg'

SERVO: ...and I use the term loosely...

> that seems to have
> spurred the conflict."
>   The party arrived at the meeting place, an abandoned underground
> shelter.

JOEL: I wanted to live deep, and suck all the marrow out of life!
CROW: Carpe Cattrell!

> Inside was a table with a single makeshift chair (the
> Clarians
> apparently had no use for such things,

SERVO: No, they had factory-built chairs.

> as well as two others against
> the
> wall.

JOEL: They apparently have no use for right parentheses, either.
CROW: Oh, I'll put it in for them: )
JOEL: That was very nice of you, Crow. Thank you.
SERVO: Suck up.
CROW: Bite me.
SERVO: Make me.
CROW: Watch me.
JOEL: Excuse me?

>   "I apologize for not having enough sitting apparatus

SERVO: Shouldn't that be "apparatuses"?
JOEL: "Apparati"?
SERVO: Thanks, not before lunch.

> for your group,
> but we were unsure of the size of your group."

CROW: <heh heh>
JOEL: Before you finish that thought, mister, think about how many RAM-
      chips that'll cost you.
CROW: [meekly] Sorry, oh Captain my Captain.

>   "It's quite alright.  This will do just fine.  Your hospitality is
> most
> appreciated."

SERVO: Mister Bond.

>   Julia heard Richard clear his throat,

CROW: That _rat bastard_!

> but Duncan ignored him.

SERVO: [whispering] Psst! Mac! XYZ!

> "When
> will the Feuhl delegate be arriving?"

JOEL: Let me check. Ah, here it is. Arriving 2:27 at gate 33. Thank you
      for choosing TreklandAir.

>   "Within two cycles.

CROW: Wash and spin.

> The Feuhl have been informed of your arrival."

SERVO: My God, they know we're here!
       No, wait, that's good.

>   "Perhaps we should keep a watch so that

JOEL: We can always know what time it is.

> the delegate can be welcomed
> when it arrives.  Do we have sleeping arrangements?"
>   Tu-Jar seemed confused.  "You do sleep erect?

[Crow makes a big show of not saying anything.]

> We were unaware of
> this
> detail of two-leg society."
>   "I'm sure the floor is quite comfortable," Duncan then turned to the
> others, "unless you wish the comforts of the Enterprise?"

SERVO: Boy, let's see. Floor, Enterprise, floor, Enterprise... it's such
       a tough decision.
JOEL: Unless they'd be sleeping on the floor of the Enterprise.

>   Richard seemed to consider Duncan's offer to return, but declined.

JOEL: I'm FALLLLLIIIINNNNGGG...

> Worf was duty-bound to remain, while Julia

CROW: Was bound by leather and chains.

> had...her own reasons to
> stay.
>   "Then I'll take the first watch with Ensign Cathaway," Duncan said.

SERVO: Although I don't plan to do much watching, if you know what I
       mean.

> "We'll take four-hour shifts, Richard and Lt. Worf will take the other
> watch."

JOEL: Richard and Worf... I don't think I can handle another romantic
      subplot.

>   "And what shall I do, MacLoud-Duncan?"
>   Duncan grinned at Tu-Jar.

SERVO: First off, don't EVER screw up my name again.

> "You'll teach me about your people.  It
> will
> help me relate to both delegates better.  I'm sure the sociology files
> the
> Federation has don't begin to explain tyour people's ways."

JOEL: [as MacLoud] *I* wrote those files, haha!

>   Tu-Jar made a guttaral warble,

CROW: What's that?
JOEL: I think it's a kind of bird.
SERVO: He made a bird?
JOEL: Well, an origami bird.

> which Julia assumed was the way the
> Clarians laughed.

SERVO: Little did she know...

> "You are indeed a wise being, MacLoud-Duncan.  I
> shall
> rest until you return from your watch."

CROW: Tu-Jar's resting while Duncan's working. Which one is the wise be-
      ing?

>   As he prepared to go outside, Duncan was stopped by Richie.

JOEL: [adolescent voice] Can I see your hall pass?

>   "Why didn't you introduce us, Mac?"

SERVO: [as Richie] I wanna make sure I get the first dance!

>   "Because both delegates haven't arrived arrived yet.  Get some rest
> Richie."

CROW: Richie's not the one who's typing things twice twice.

>   Julia was already waiting for Duncan when he exited the shelter.

SERVO: [Scottish accent] You must have flown to reach this room ahead of
       me.
JOEL: [falsetto] You have learned many things since your arrival on this
      planet, but the short route through the labyrinth is not one of
      them.

>   "Do you think you'll be able to talk peace with these people?"
>   "First I need to talk them into renewing the cease-fire.  Tu-Jar
> seems
> more than willing to help me, so now I need to work on the Feuhl
> delegate.  Once I can stop them from killing each other I can try to
> reach some sort of treaty."

CROW: See, most people would try for the treaty first.

>   "What about this other being that he mentioned?"
>   "*It* mentioned.  Clarians are unisexual beings.  I'm not sure what
> to
> make of that.

JOEL: You wanna make somethin' of it?

> Someone wants to keep the hotilities going, and I want
> to
> find out why."
>   "That can wait until the fighting stops.  For now, why don't we make
> a
> little peace of our own..."
>   Duncan then embraced Julia and kissed her.

SERVO: As if the euphemism wasn't obvious enough...

> --
> ********************************************************************
> *********
>       Prince John III                           [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!

JOEL: How?

>            "If You Love Somebody, Set Them Free" -- Sting

CROW: But if you hate someone, surely you can commit no greater evil
      towards them than sending them this fanfic.

> Path:

SERVO: Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we
       DIED.

> newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.
> reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 7

CROW: [on the verge of breaking into tears] I feel like a bowl of petun-
      ias!

> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 102
> Message-ID: <2mnrl5$[e-mail]>

JOEL: [Southern accent] Says here you wuz born in 1975. Is that true?
SERVO: [adolescent voice] Uh... yessir.
JOEL: Well, that ain't 21 now, is it?
SERVO: No, sir, not back then. But that's an old ID.
JOEL: I see. In that case, I s'pose it's okay.

> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>               (There can be only one...

SERVO: One post to rule them all, one post to bind them.

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                                  Part 7

CROW: Look, lucky seven!
SERVO: Oh, yeah, real lucky.
JOEL: At least it isn't lucky seventy.
SERVO: Eurgh. You've made your point.

>   After a day and a half, Duncan had learned much about the

JOEL: Way of the ninja.
CROW: [bored] Hai... keeba.

> Clarians and
> the reasons behind the war between the Tyones and the Feuhl.

CROW: Strangely enough-- bad haircuts.
SERVO: Hmm.
       But you'd think he'd've researched that while he was on the En-
       terprise.

> He and
> Julia
> were about to relieve Richie and Lt. Worf

JOEL: After a day and a half? That's the longest four-hour watch I've
      ever seen!

> when the sound of a

CROW: Hundred thousand people saying `whop'--

> phaser dis-
> charge was heard and Worf flew backwards down the stairs with a burn
> on
> his chest.

SERVO: [deep voice] I can fly! I can fly! I can-- waauugh!
CROW: Sounds wacky! If only someone had been there to videotape it for
      "The Federation's Funniest Home Videos"!

>  Julia pressed her combadge.

CROW: --into her neck, taking herself out of this fanfic for good.

> "Enterprise, beam Lt. Worf directly to Sick
> Bay,

JOEL: And none of those "shortcuts" like last time. We lost fifteen peo-
      ple!

> he's been hit hard by a phaser!"

CROW: Either that, or he's been eating Riker's super-hot chili again.

>   Julia turned to Duncan, but he was already bounding up the stairs.

SERVO: Duhh... stairs go UP!

>   "Richie!"
>   Duncan exited the shelter, but there was no sign of Richie or
> whoever
> attacked Lt. Worf.  His first thought was that Richie was
> disintegrated,

JOEL: And he'd be rid of that pest forever!

> but if that was so, why was Worf still intact?  No, Richie had to be
> hiding or trying to find whoever attacked the shelter.  Drawing his
> sword,
> Duncan began searching as well.
>   After a few minutes, he Sensed someone behind a column.

CROW: So they're outside... and there just happens to be a column handy.

>   "Richie?" he whispered.  No answer.
>   He stalked up to the column and whispered Richie's name again.
> Still
> no answer.  He came around to face whoever was behind the column, and
> nearly caved in Julia's skull.

JOEL: [as MacLoud] Damn! Missed!

>   "Jesus, MacLoud,

SERVO: [as MacLoud] I told you to never call me that in public!

> a simple hello would've done!" she whispered.
>   "Julia, what're you doing out here?  You should be guarding the
> Prima."
>   "I had the Enterprise beam Tu-Jar aboard."

CROW: Just imagine all the trouble we could've avoided if we'd thought
      of that *a day and a half* ago!

>   "Get there yourself.  I don't want to endanger--"
>   "No way, MacLoud!  You're not getting away from me that easily.
> We'll
> split up and find that bastard."
>
>   Richie limped back to the shelter to find it empty.

JOEL: Hey, Mr. Moore, don't tell us how he got that limp or anything.

>   *Great!* he thought, *either they're all dead or they left thinking
> I
> was.  Well, I'm gonna find a way to get home.*

SERVO: Screw this. I'm gonna go back and hit on Troi.

>   Richie limped out to find his hunter.
>
>   Duncan Sensed someone on the other side of a nearby structure.  He
> hoped it was Richie.  He was starting to worry.  He'd been searching
> for
> over twenty minutes and had found Julia three times,

JOEL: I guess his life span wasn't the only thing his mutation helped...

> but still hadn't
> found Richie.
>   He came around and caught the glint of moving steel and ducked just
> in
> time as the blade of a sword struck the structure where his neck was
> a
> moment ago.

CROW: The basilisk had gotten to him first!

>   "So, Sinor MacLoud, we meet again.  Thees time only one of us shall
> walk away!"

JOEL: Oh, no, he's being attacked by Speedy Gonzalez!
CROW: Andale, andale, andale, aieeeEEEEE!

>   Duncan stood poised to face a man he had not seen since the Alamo.

SERVO: That other guy's really refined his accent in the past five cen-
       turies, y'know?

>   Captain Picard entered Sick Bay to see his head

CROW: Covered with luscious, thick, curly hair.

> of security under a
> surgical unit.

JOEL: Worf, really!

>   "What's his status, Doctor?"
>   Dr. Cruasher's eyes never left the screen she was looking at.

CROW: Who's Doctor Cruasher?
JOEL: Apparently, someone with removable eyes.

> "He
> was
> hit by a phaser down there.

SERVO: And we've been using him for target practice a little up here,
       too.

> He's in critical condition, and not
> improving
> very well."

JOEL: That's why we call it "critical" condition.

>   "Will he be all right?"

SERVO: He's in critical condition!!

>   "I don't know.  He was hit square ion the chest.

CROW: I've heard of cations and anions...

> Whoever hit him
> was
> an excellent shot and knew exactly where to hit him.

JOEL: And had superb marksmanship skills as well.

> If not for
> Ensign
> Cathaway's quick response he'd be dead."
>   Picard pressed his combadge.  "Picard to Bridge."

JOEL: King's bishop to Queen's pawn four, check.

>   `Riker here.'
>   "Any word from the Away Team

SERVO: They were cancelled back in the '80s.

> since the attack on Lt. Worf?"
>   `Ensign Cathaway had Prima Tu-Jar beamed aboard and said she was
> going
> to try to capture whoever attacked the Away Team, thinking it might be
> a
> link to whoever renewed conflicts down there.'
>   "Keep track of her.  And send down a security detail to help in the
> search.  Picard out."
>
>   Julia ran to the sound of steel on steel.

SERVO: [singing] Hark to the sound of metal on metal, the call of bat-
       tle, come if you dare!

> She was stopped by
> Richard.

CROW: Who appeared magically at the command of the author.
SERVO: Oh, come on, he was probably just behind a tree or something.

>   "What's going on?"
>   "Mac's found our attacker...an Immortal."

CROW: I thought this planet was supposed to be a wasteland-- you know,
      blast craters and toxic gases, the ruins of shattered cities, the
      wreckage of war everywhere...
SERVO: No, I have it more like a dangerous wilderness. In the hidden
       depths of the forest, guerilla fighters strike from hidden bases,
       then blend once more into the night...

>   "How do you know that?"
>   "I Sensed him just before Worf was hit.  How is he?"
>   "He was barely alive when I had him returned to the ship."

JOEL: I was thinking it might be a lot like back home. Sure, it's got
      its rainy days and mosquitos and stuff, but it's really a nice
      place, if you stop and look around.
CROW: No, I've got it-- the fierce sun burns mercilessly over a parched
      land. Gusts of wind hurl sand at the unwary traveller, chafing
      the skin, and the airs scorches your lungs. Here, you must find
      water-- or die.

>   "And the Prima?"
>   "Safe.  We've got to help Duncan!"
>   "It's his fight.  We can't interfere.  It's part of the Rules, you
> know
> that."

SERVO: Oh, who are we kidding? It's just a standard-issue blank planet!
JOEL: I miss the earth.
CROW: Shh. We're watching the fanfic.

>   "But--"
>   Julia watched helplessly as she saw Duncan gaining an upper hand,
> backing his foe against one of the columns.  Suddenly Duncan was
> thrown
> back by a phaser discharge.
>   The other Immortal holsered his phaser

SERVO: So how _does_ one "holser" a phaser?

> and sauntered up to Duncan.
>   "So sinor MacLoud, eet seems that you fell for the same treeck
> twice,
> eh?"

CROW: [Sylvester the Cat voice] Thuff'rin' thuccotash!

>   The Immortal poised over Duncan for the Final Strike.

ALL: [assorted cheers of encouragement]

>   "NO!" Julia screamed as she charged him.  Throwing her fury behind
> her,

SERVO: And her melancholy in front of her--

> she knocked the Immortal back.  But he was quick to recover and hit
> her
> behind the neck with his sword, sending her reeling.

CROW: Joel, what part of the body is behind the neck?
JOEL: I'll explain later.

>   "You should not be so queek to die, sinorita," he said as he swung
> his
> sword to her neck...
>   ...And was blown back by a phaser blast.

ALL: [disappointed] Aww!

> Three officers from the
> Enterprise rushed into the battlesite.
>   "Away team to Enterprise.  Six to beam up and one to beam to the
> Brig."

SERVO: Ahhh... which one goes to the brig?

>
> --
> ********************************************************************
> *********

JOEL: Floral borders courtesy of 1-800-FLOWERS.

>       Prince John III                           [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today

CROW: And receive a complimentary straitjacket!

> and ask
> how!
>            "If You Love Somebody, Set Them Free" -- Sting

CROW: `Hey, Joel, haven't you noticed how inconsistent Prince John is
      about quoting text?'
SERVO: *Yeah, like asterisks get used for the communicators, or for
       people thinking to themselves, or for emphasis, without any
       rhyme or reason.*
JOEL: #Oh, I see what you mean. Like this?#
CROW: ++You've got it!++
SERVO: [boyish voice] %%HaHA%% It's fun!
JOEL: @This@can@get@really@cumbersome.@
CROW: -=>I see what you mean!<=-

> Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.
> reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 8
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 71
> Message-ID: <2n7r6e$pkt

SERVO: [singing] R-6-e-string-p-k-t, find out what it means to me!

> @mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>               (There can be only one...

CROW: ...way to stop this. Paw, get th' shotgun.

> These are the voyages...)
>
>                       T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>                     Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                                  Part 8
>
>   CAPTAIN'S LOG:  Stardate 48397.4 We have captured the leader of the
> Feuhl military, an Earthling known as Sancho Marin.

JOEL: Sancho Marin County?
SERVO: Sancho Marin County, Jr.?

> We have not yet
> found
> out why he's trying to escallate hostilities here, or even how he
> managed
> to survive a direct hit from a phaser,

CROW: Or how this fanfic has survived to have a Part 8,

> but I intend to find out.
> Embass-
> ador MacLoud and the away team assigned to him, with Lt. Dijar
> replacing
> an injured Lt. Worf

JOEL: I think they should've traded for Canseco instead.

> have since returned to the surface to begin
> negotia-
> tions between the two factions.

SERVO: Say, one of them was critically injured, and two more came this
       close to being killed! Let's send them down AGAIN, but with a
       less experienced security officer!

>   Julia watched as Duncan disarmed the tempers of Prima Tu-Jar and the
> Feuhl delegate, Ryla Drei-Fru.

JOEL: [MacGyver voice]  OK, now I just snip this red wire, and that
      should disarm it...

>   "But we have no promise that the Feuhl will keep the cease-fire this
> time!  Your military advisor, Marin-Sancho, could not have brought you
> to
> battle if you did not wish to go."

CROW: Look, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

>   "It has a point," Duncan said.  "What promise can you give that
> you'll
> keep your end of the bargain, Ryla?"
>   "I swear on the blood of my children that we will not attack the
> Tyone
> as long as Marin-Sancho remains away.

SERVO: Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

> His followers were few, but
> they
> were enough to convince the Tyones that we wished to continue the
> attack.

JOEL: Wouldn't they have wanted to convince their own side first?

> Without their leader, his followers have no direction."
>   MacLoud stretched.  "Well, it's getting late.  I think we have
> enough
> trust between us that no one will try to kill the other, so why don't
> we
> rest for the night and start talks in earnest tomorrow?"

CROW: Yeah, we don't want to end this story too soon.

>   "Agreed, MacLoud-Duncan."
>   "I concur."
>   "At last," Julia mumbled to Dijar.  "I thought he'd NEVER get those
> two
> to speaking terms..."

SERVO: He got them to speaking tongues. Is that close enough?

>   Julia and Duncan went to the back room as Dijar stood guard.  Dijar,
> a
> Ceradian, only needed sleep once every standard month for 72 standard
> hours.

CROW: But he packed a whole month's worth of snores into those 72 stan-
      dard hours!

> Because of this, Ceradians were excellent as sentries or
> guards.

JOEL: But really terrible as customer service reps.

> Riker certainly picked a good replacement for the Klingon.

CROW: In fact, they were thinking of letting Michael Dorn go.
SERVO: But he's got that cool deep voice! It wouldn't be the same with-
       out Worf!
CROW: Well, they got rid of that Pulaski doctor woman, and David Ger-
      rold, and the show's somehow withstood those irrevocable losses.

>   Julia looked at the cots that MacLoud had replicated.

JOEL: Oh, so not only was he defusing tempers and charming the ladies,
      he was experimenting with inanimate reproduction.

> These were
> certainly more comfortable-looking than the floor.
>   She was asleep moments after lying down.

SERVO: But how does Worf feel about this?

>   "I advise against this, sir," Riker said as he and Picard headed
> toward
> the brig.

CROW: [as Picard] First officer or not, you stole those Jolly Ranchers
      from Ten Forward, and you're going to have some time to think a-
      bout what you've done, young man!

>   "I understand your concern, Number One, but if he won't talk we have
> to
> do this."
>   They arrived at Marin's cell.  Waiting there was Lt. T'dor, a Vulcan
> with Behavioral Sciences.

SERVO: Say, Lt., could I borrow couple of your Behavioral Sciences for
       the weekend?

> The Vulcan nodded to the Captain and his
> first
> officer as they approached.
>   "Hello Mr. T'dor."
>   "Captain, Commander.  I am ready to perform

JOEL: The Major-General's song from _Pirates of Penzance_, *without a
      net*!

> the mindmeld with your
> permission."

CROW: I'd rather you performed the mindmeld with the prisoner.

>   "Make it so."  Picard said as the security officer trained his
> phaser
> on Marin and released the force field.
>   Marin didn't move as T'dor entered and began the ritual.

JOEL: O Eater of a Thousand Characters... O Mighty Shub-Internet...
SERVO: Whisper its name!

>   "My mind to your mind...my thoughts to--"
>   Suddenly, as quick as thought, Marin seized the Vulcan officer
> andused
> him as a shield.

CROW: He also grabbed a couple spaces to use as bracers.

>   "Let me go, or your pointy-eared amigo weel have an odd angle to
> hees
> head!"

JOEL: Like he doesn't have plenty of odd angles around his head already.

>   `Captain,' Data said,

SERVO: Data, I didn't know you could teleport! Boy, you learn something
       every day around here.

> `Sensors are picking up a ship approaching
> fast.'
>   "What type?" Picard asked.
>   `Unknown.'

CROW: Strike up another impressive victory for the ever-knowledgeable
      Enterprise computer!
JOEL: Well, it's not _totally_ unknown. After all, they already know it's
      a _fast_ ship.

>   "Go to Yellow Alert."
>   `Aye sir.'
>   Sancho Marin merely smiled.

JOEL: [Bela Lugosi voice] How fortunate! This simplifies everything!

> --
> ********************************************************************
> *********
>       Prince John III                           [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...

CROW: Could we not and say we did?

> Email me today and ask
> how!

SERVO: Whew! Thank God that's over!
JOEL: [picking Servo up and standing up] Yeah, I was worried--

> Path: agora.rain.com!pagesat.net!olivea!decwrl!hookup!europa.eng
> .gtefsd.com!howland.reston.ans.net!wupost!csus.edu!netcom.com
> !netcomsv!midcom!liberty.com!Mishka
> From: [e-mail]

JOEL: [sitting down again] Oh, no.

> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
> Subject: KIng Louis XV & America

CROW: Noooo! Not this again!

> Lines: 11

SERVO: Hey, it's the Reader's Digest version!

>  A word on Compassion.

JOEL: Have you hugged your kids today?

> It's alright to be kind, but kindness must only be given to those who
> deserves it. And who would deserve it more than the ones who gave it
> most
> (ie. King Louis).

SERVO: Or your humble Mishka self, I suppose.
CROW: Joel, can a guillotine be considered an instrument of compassion?

> ========================= !!! Automated Notice !!! ===================
> ====
>  E-mail replies to this user should have the following on the first
> line
>  of

JOEL: Their hospital admission forms.

> message text:        TO: Mishka
> =====================================================================
> =======

SERVO: Okay, now we're outta here.

[Joel picks Servo up again, and they all leave the theater.]

...o...2...3...4...5...6...G

[SoL bridge. Joel, Crow, and Servo are standing in their usual places.]

CROW: Whew! Eight chapters, and the plot only made a cameo appearance at
      the end!

SERVO: Yeah, but there was something all through this story... something
       ominous. Didn't you feel it?

JOEL: C'mon, there wasn't anything we haven't seen before. One-dimension-
      al characters, bad grammar, worse spelling, scenery that exists on-
      ly for convenience, total rewriting of the history of well-estab-
      lished characters, dumb heroes and dumber villains, everything
      else-- sure, but we've dealt with all that before.

CROW: Tom's right, Joel. There was a feeling of inescapable doom! It was
      like watching a countdown to my own execution!

SERVO: Yeah! Transporter Room 5...

CROW: Fyla IV...

SERVO: Clari III...

JOEL: John F. Moore, too...

CROW: There can be only one...

[Cambot starts up some music that is a bit cheerier than the mood might
suggest. Tom, Crow, and Joel start singing.]

ALL: We'd like to see them all at ground zero--

SERVO: The blithering sidekick,

JOEL: The smart-aleck hero,

CROW: The Mexican who's after everyone's head--

ALL: We'd like to see them all dead!

JOEL: The ensign who jumps at the sound of her name,

CROW: The alien extras who all talk the same,

SERVO: And ev'ryone else in this flaming cow pie--

ALL: We'd like to see them all die, die, die, die!

CROW: Lock them away where some horrid thing lurks,

SERVO: Shoot them, behead them, whatever will work!

JOEL: Push them off a lighthouse-- what do you think of that?

ALL: We'd like to see them go splat!

SERVO: It isn't a kind thought, but it must be said--

ALL: We'd like to see them all dead!

SERVO: DEAD!

JOEL: [back to speaking] What do you think, sirs?

<>

DR. F: I think I'll have to make sure you get to see the rest of this
       one. [yanks Frank forward by the head ring] Until next time, boo-
       by-- [hits button]

                               <fwshhhh>

                                \  |  /
                                 \ | /
                                ---0---
                                 / | \
                                /  |  \

[sound like tearing and snapping celery]

FRANK: <whimper>

DR. F: Well, don't dig your heels in like that, then!

[MSTH set, one more time. "Jack Perkins" is holding an elderly-looking
hardbound book as though he was in the middle of reading it.]

PERKINS: Did you know that quite a few members of royalty have become
         authors? Queen Marie of Roumania, for instance, not only wrote
         her own book of fairy tales, [waves book a little bit to call
         attention to it] but illustrated it herself as well.

         That's all for tonight, but join us again next time on the Mys-
         tery Science Theater Hour.

[Lights down; roll theme and credits. Perkins wanders over to stage
left, reading the book.]

MSTed by Steve Brinich <[e-mail]>,
         Jason Cohen <[e-mail]>,
         Larry Hastings <[e-mail]>,
         & Petrea Mitchell <[e-mail]>

Host segments and other boring stuff by Petrea Mitchell

[Perkins wanders over to the right, still reading.]

Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters, situations, merchandise,
and dust bunnies all copyright Best Brains, Inc. This MSTing not en-
dorsed, authorized, or supported by anybody. This is not meant as a
personal attack on Mishka, John F. Moore III, or King Louis XV of
France, but if any of them should learn from it, the world will be a
better place. "Treklander" reproduced by honest-to-goodness permission of
the author. This article may be freely distributed as long as this para-
graph remains intact.

[Deciding to take his life in his hands and live on the edge, Perkins
starts wandering randomly around the set.]

If you'd like to MSTify some deserving piece, contact <misties-request
@jg.cso.uiuc.edu> to join the "dibs" mailing list.

[Perkins wanders off the set completely.]


************************************************************************


[MSTH theme; "Jack Perkins" is standing stock still as always.]

PERKINS: Hello, and welcome once again. Tonight, we present the long-
         awaited continuation of the space adventure "Treklander".
         You know, when "Treklander" first aired on alt.startrek.
         creative, it received some of the highest and most copious
         praise any story had ever gotten there. Well, we know Joel
         and the robots aren't going to like anything the Mads send
         them-- let's see what they think of it.

[roll theme v1.1]

...o...2...3...4...5...6...G

[SoL bridge; fake greenery is everywhere. The supposed plants and
trees range in quality from "hey, at least it's got style" to "this
wouldn't fool Bert I. Gordon." Joel walks by, carrying a small potted
plant that could almost be mistaken for the real thing at twenty or
thirty yards, and notices Cambot.]

JOEL: Oh, hi, everyone. Welcome to the Satellite of Love. We're green-
      ing up the ship today for our invention exchange.

[Servo walks-- er, floats in as Joel puts the "plant" down just off-
screen.]

SERVO: Oh, you're finished! It looks really nice.

JOEL: Actually, we've still got to move that big tree into position,
      if you wouldn't mind helping.

SERVO: Uh, I'm still looking for Crow to get him to help.

JOEL: I thought he was looking for you.

CROW: [coming in behind Servo] Is he done yet?

SERVO: Crow!!

JOEL: C'mon, guys, you're helping. [walks off-screen]

SERVO: You were supposed to wait for the all-clear!

CROW: Well, he *looked* done...

[The commercial sign button flashes.]

JOEL: [leaning back into the frame and hitting the button] We'll be
      right back. Now come on, you two.


[It doezn't matter what comez, there will alwayz be death, taxez, and
Clotheztime adz.]


[Joel, Gypsy, Servo, and Crow are maneuvering a reasonable simulation
of an evergreen into place beside the big "G" door.]

JOEL: ...okay, there. All right.

[All step back to look at it. The Mads lights flash.]

JOEL: Oh, just in time-- Fry and Laurie are calling. [hits button]

[Deep 13]

[Deep 13 has also had a plant invasion. Several real, if ill-tended,
plants are drooping over the various consoles. Dr. Forrester is push-
ing a half-barrel-sized planter with a bush in it across the floor.]

DR. F: Ah-- the Cambrian Explosion is here, Frank! You go first with
       the invention exchange, Joel, we're still setting up for ours.

[SoL]

[Joel and the 'bots are wearing model dinosaur heads and necks that
seem to be coming out of the tops of their heads. Crow has a tricera-
tops head, Gypsy has a tyrannosaur, Joel has a maiasaur, and Servo's
headgear is the top of an iguanadon.]

JOEL: Well, sirs, our invention exchange this week is based on Larry
      Gonick's book _The Cartoon Guide to (Non)Communication_.

[The maiasaur head speaks in a voice similar to Joel's, if Joel were
in the process of being strangled.]

MAIASAUR: I loathe you! I despise you!

JOEL: Some scientists believe that emotions first evolved in the time
      of the dinosaurs. In essence, all our feelings are messages from
      an "inner dinosaur" buried in our brains.

SERVO: I thought you humans didn't evolve from dinosaurs.

MAIASAUR: Oh, *duh*!

JOEL: [to Servo] Shh, not now.

SERVO: Anyway, we've taken Gonick's graphic representation one step
       further. Now you can let the world know how you really feel
       without the inconvenience of having to do it yourself.

CROW: Hey, Joel, mine isn't doing anything!

MAIASAUR: Geez, you gotta explain *everything* to 'em!

JOEL: [patiently] That's because you're a robot, Crow. You don't have an
      inner dinosaur.

CROW: Aw, what a gyp.

[Deep 13]

[Frank, wearing a pakycephalosaur head, is being attacked by Forres-
ter, who is wielding the model head and neck of a diplodocus.  Forres-
ter glances at the camera, then shoves the diplodocus head at Frank,
who stumbles back.]

DR. F: Your experiment today is the continuation of John F. Moore's
       train wreck of a fanfic, "Treklander". Choke on it, C. Arthur
       Toon.

FRANK: [stumbling forward now] Why don't they look? Tell me... [col-
       lapses on the console]

DR. F: Frank, have you been into the deathangel again?

[SoL]

SERVO: Terse today, aren't they?

MAIASAUR: [to Gypsy] Hey hey *hey*! Your swamp or mine?

[The tyrannosaur head emits a deep, menacing growl.]

[Alarms sound, lights flash, etc.]

EVERYONE AND THEIR DINOSAURS: Aaaaa! We got message sign!

G...6...5...4...3...2...o...


> Xref: agora alt.culture.internet:1381

[As our heroes enter and sit down, Joel removes all the dinosaur
heads.]

SERVO: Culture. Internet. What am I missing here?

> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net

CROW: Bennett, do you have a question for our mystery guest?

> !usc!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!
> news.kei.com!

SERVO: Pity it isn't `tokei.com', or we could tell them to "watch"
       their step!
JOEL: Huh?
SERVO: Uh, a little bilingual joke for our friends in Japan.

> rs6a.wln.com!news.uoregon.edu!netnews.nwnet.net!news.u.
> washington.edu!dogpest
> From: [e-mail] (Mister Pastry)

CROW: "Dogpest"? Isn't that Li'l Abner's home town?
JOEL: No, that's Dogpatch.
SERVO: Oh, then it must be the name of Blondie's husband!
JOEL: No, Tom, that's Dagwood.
CROW: Huh. So what is "Dogpest", anyway?
JOEL: Maybe it's an obscure comment on the quality of today's post.

> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Subject: What is the internet?

CROW: You have two hours to complete your response. Go!

> Organization: University of Washington
> Lines: 12
> Message-ID: <2rc7vo$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: stein.u.washington.edu
>
>
>   Recently I have been hearing about something called the "internet".

JOEL: I have also been hearing about something called "prozac".

> What is the internet?

SERVO: Page 243.

> Also, what is "usenet"?

SERVO: Page 9.

> How can I gain accesss
> to

ALL: Yes???

> usenet, whatever it is?

JOEL: You're soaking in it!
SERVO: Page 378. Internetics, by L. Ed Krol.

>   Just to give you some idea of my situation here:

JOEL: I am currently writing this from the Washington Home for the Crim-
      inally Bewildered. Please excuse the crayon-- they won't let us
      use any sharp instruments here.

> I am using a
> computer

CROW: Made from stone knives and bearskins.

> with a standard keyboard and monitor, and a phone-connection devvice
> called a modum.

SERVO: 'Cause I'm mo' dumb than you can believe.

> Our current

CROW: ...position is 20 degrees north by 15 degrees west. Target: Bor-
      neo!

> is (I believe) 120 volts ac, and we have
> cable tv (incidentally, this is where I heard about the "internet"
> whatever that may be!)

JOEL: Ah, don't believe everything you hear on cable TV.

>   So help me.

SERVO: At last, an honest cry for help from our friend, Mister Pastry.

>   Thank you.
>
>
> Xref: agora alt.culture.internet:1419
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!

JOEL: [singing] Interjections! of excitement, of emotion. They're gen-
      erally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by
      a comma when the feeling's not as strong.
      So when you're happy--
CROW & SERVO: Hurray!
JOEL: Or sad--
SERVO & CROW: Aw!
JOEL: Or frightened--
'BOTS: Eek!
JOEL: An interjection starts a sentence right!

> ihnp4.ucsd.edu!library.ucla.edu!
> europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.uoregon.edu!netnews.nwnet.net!news.u.
> washington.edu!dogpest

CROW: So, exactly which parasite are we talking about here?

> From: [e-mail] (Mister Pastry)

JOEL: It's a post from everybody's favorite late-night donut shop!

> Newsgroups: alt.culture.internet
> Subject: What the Internet is.

CROW: Wait a minute, first this guy is asking what the Internet is, and
      now he's going to explain it to us?
JOEL: Maybe he had a sudden epiphany while sending the post.

[jump-cut]

> Organization: University of Washington
> Lines: 29
> Message-ID: <2rpbht$[e-mail]>

CROW: Yeah? Well, 2rpbbbbhbhbhbhpttttt to you too!

> NNTP-Posting-Host: stein.u.washington.edu
>
>   What The Internet Means to Me

JOEL:            Billy Hufnagel
CROW:            Age 8
SERVO:            Mrs. Krapinski's English Class

>
>
>
>
>
>
>

CROW: Hm.
JOEL: Mm.
SERVO: Means that much to him, eh?

>    With the help of my buddies here,

CROW: THANX B1FF!!!!

> I now know what the internet is.

JOEL: And I know that I am not welcome on it.

> There was such an outpouring of emotion when I asked the good, kind
> people of this newsgroup what the internet is that I feel the need to
> share some of the responses I received.

SERVO: The top response was "Bite me," closely followed by "Get a
       clue"...

>   (First, let me give you all some kind of idea what my situation is
> here:

JOEL: I have now been put in the room with the puffy walls, and the
      jacket with the extra-long sleeves.

> I am using what appears to be a keyboard connected to a box.

CROW: This sounds like a description out of "Zork II"!

> This box,
> or
> "computer" ((to use the colloquialism)) Is the electronic brain that
> makes
> it possible to "talk" to

JOEL: [singing, to the tune from "Dr. Doolittle"] ...the animals. Just
      imagine it!

> other "computers" on the "internet"  ((more
> about
> that later)).  Attached to the box is a small television that doesn't
> get
> the local stations or cable.

CROW: Gee, no CC.
SERVO: That can be rough.

> My power is, as before, 120 volts ac.

JOEL: This is significant?

> I
> am
> also a longtime toaster user

SERVO: Eventually, I'll graduate to using a stove.

> but there is no keyboard attached to my
> toaster or my iron lung.

CROW: Personally, I think somebody fed nitrous oxide into the iron lung.

> Both, however, are cable-ready.

SERVO: Somebody just went off the deep end, folks.

> The steel
> plate
> inside my head is titanium, and greatly aids my defense against the
> Pulsations that the government is using their Electromagnetic Antenna
> to
> generate, the purpose of which is, as before, to read my mind.

SERVO: The result of which is, as before, a flat carrier-wave signal.
CROW: Joel, is this what they call trolling?
JOEL: Yep, pretty much.

> I have
> modems attached to every electrical appliance in my house.)

SERVO: He must have a hell of a phone bill.
CROW: It's not a very good troll, is it?
JOEL: Nope.

>   The internet, as I understand it, is a large number of "computers"
> that
> can share information because I said so!

JOEL: It's Abian by another name!
SERVO: And not as sweet.

> This can get tiring, and I
> need

CROW: A Valium cocktail with a Ritalin chaser?
JOEL: A good hard beating?
SERVO: A nap?

> my nap.

SERVO: HOOOO!! Tommy-Gun Servo calls the shot once more!!
JOEL: He's gotten stranger since the Mads started sending up the Psychic
      Network to us.

>
>      end of part one.
>

SERVO: There's more???
JOEL: Coming soon: "What Electroshock Therapy Means to Me".

>
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.
> unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm

CROW: Your time is up, Bennet. We now move to Dorothy Kilgallen.

> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

JOEL: Brace yourselves...

> Subject: Treklander, Part 9

JOEL & CROW: AAAAAAGGHH!!!!
SERVO: I've changed my mind! Bring Mister Pastry back!

> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH

JOEL: Bull Durham, NH.

> Lines: 91
> Message-ID: <2nqbk6$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>         (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)

CROW: Why does he concatenate...the two cliched slogans?

>
>             T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>               Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III

JOEL: [Boris Badenov voice] Or, as we know him, Prince John III of At-
      lantis.

>
>                    Part 9
>
>   Julia and Duncan were walking hand-in-hand under

SERVO: [singing] The beautiful briiiiiny sea.

> the twin moons of
> Clari
> III.

JOEL: Or was that the triple moons of Clari II?
SERVO: Hey, I did that one already.

> Julia couldn't remember being happier than she was by Duncan's
> side.
> She never thought she could feel this way after Adam's death...
>   *Adam,* she thought, *I'll always love you, but I don't want to be
> alone
> any more--*

CROW: [falsetto] And this man is so cute, and neat, and he's better in
      the sack than you ever were.

>   Julia's thoughts were interrupted as a phaser blast hit the pillar
> near
> the pair and Sancho Marin jumped the pair.

CROW: Two pair?
JOEL: [knowlegdeably] Beats three aces.
SERVO: I wouldn't call these guys aces.

> Duncan pulled out his
> sword
> and pushed Julia away, telling her to get to safety.

CROW: How effective is a sword against a phaser?

>   The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion

SERVO: As opposed to the rest of this story, which has seemed to happen
       in even *slower* motion!

> as the
> combatants
> clashed swords.

JOEL: Geez, that green sword and that puce sword just look hideous toge-
      ther!
CROW: Wait, Marin had a phaser!
JOEL: Oh, this must be a dream sequence.
SERVO: All of "Treklander" so far has been like a bad dream.
JOEL: Well, if it's a dream, then it can't hurt you. [Crow leans over
      and bites him] OW! Hey!
CROW: *You're* not dreaming.

>   Duncan pressed the offensive, trying to get Marin away from her.

CROW: Okay, so he's getting Marin away from the female offensive.
SERVO: No, no, he's pressing Julia, trying to get *her* away from *it*--
       uh, him-- oh, forget it.

>   "Ah, sinor MacLoud, you are mucho aggressive when you have the
> sinorita
> to defend, eh?"

JOEL: There oughta be a law against writing dialect.

>   "You'll not touch her while I still live!"

SERVO: You call that living?

>   "Then I shall have to make you no longer live."

CROW: He must've flunked out of his Combat Quips class.

>   Suddenly Marin charged Duncan, forcing him back until Marin gained
> the
> upper hand.  Duncan tripped onto his back and fell prey to Marin's
> sword.

JOEL: And there is something I have not told you... I, too, am not left-
      handed.

> As he soaked up his Quickening,

CROW: With Bounty, the Quickening-Picker-Upper!

> Duncan's head rolled in her direction.
> She lookedf at in horror as she stared into the vacant eyes of her
> dead
> lover...

SERVO: He seemed pretty vacant while he was alive! Zing! Heh heh.

> Adam?!

JOEL: [police band voice] One-Adam-Twelve, we have a 530 in progress,
      repeat, bad fanfic in progress... the author must be considered
      armed and *goofy*.

>   She was so horrified by what she saw that she didn't hear Marin's
> Quickening finish.
>   "Well, well...looks like sinor macLoud died in vail, eh?"

SERVO: [announcer voice] Yes, "Duncan MacLoud", you're dying, but you'll
       be dying for six days and five night on an all-expenses-paid va-
       cation in... sunny Vail!
CROW & JOEL: [cheering crowd noises]

>   Marin's sword flew toward her neck...

SERVO: D'oh. Note to myself: Do not let go of sword in the middle of an
       attack.

>   ...and she woke up.

JOEL: And found "MacLoud" in the shower, revealing that the events of
      the previous year had all been a dream.

>
>   Data sat in the command chair.  He was the only crisis-experienced
> officer on the bridge.

CROW: So he immediately summoned some more crisis-experienced officers
      to take over from the rest of the bridge crew! Ha ha, I kid.

>   `Go to Yellow Alert,' Captain Picard said from the brig.

SERVO: The Captain's in the brig?
JOEL: [Captain Bligh voice] You'll *hang* for this, Mr. Data! Hang from
      the highest yardarm in Starfleet!

>   "Yellow Alert, Mr. Kaal," Data said to the Tactical officer on duty.

CROW: I've changed my mind-- make that Mauve Alert.

>   "Raising shields,"  Ensign Kaal said as the klaxons wailed.

ALL: ["Goon Show"-type weeping and wailing]

>   "Captain," Data said, "we may have to break orbit.  I am alerting
> the
> away team of our situation."
>   `Make it so.  I'll return to the bridge as soon as the situation
> here is
> resolved.'

SERVO: Besides, you ought to handle the ship through a few emergencies
       without me. Sort of on-the-job training.

>   "Understood.  Data out.  Helm, talk us to 356 Mark 67, Warp 3."

CROW: The ship is driven by talk?
SERVO: The whole SHOW is driven by talk!

>   "Heading set and engaged, sir," Lt. Dhemn, the Navigation officer
> stated.

SERVO: "Kaal"? "Dhemn"? Does John pick his names by banging his head
       against the keyboard?
JOEL: I'll explain when we get a break.

>   "The ship is powering up weapons!"

CROW: Our ship or theirs?
JOEL: Oh, that's such a stale old line.

>   "Go to Red Alert."
>   The klaxons wailed more urgently as the weapon systems were brought
> online.

CROW: Would somebody please feed those klaxons?

> The ship shook under enemy fire.

SERVO: [haughty director voice] All right, people, the ship has just
       been hit by one of those nasty Kling-free torpedoes. Now, roll
       to the left-- mm-hmm, now right-- beautiful, beautiful, now grip
       those instruments!
JOEL: [putting his hand on Servo's shoulder] Okay, I think that's e-
      nough.
SERVO: "Spock Rock", for those of you playing along at home.

>   "Enemy weapons barely touched the shields, sir.

CROW: The *ship*, on the other hand, is getting the crap pounded out of
      it.

> Maybe they're no
> threat to us after all."
>   "I do not think that is the case, Mr. Kaal.  If I am correct, the
> ship
> pursuing us wants our prisoner intact.  But why would they chase
> us...?"

JOEL: Maybe... they want our prisoner intact?

>
>   "My followers weel not rest unteel I am free, sinor Picard."

CROW: Free? 10,000 credits, that's my final offer!

>   "Then they'll be awake a long time," Riker stated.

JOEL: Riker's been polishing up his Snappy Retorts to Silly People.

>   "Don't be so hasty, Number One," Picard whispered to his first
> officer.
> "Don't forget he has Lt. T'dor in his custody."

SERVO: And his dragon, Boogaleth.

>   He then spoke aloud.  "If we let you go, will you agree to leave
> Clari
> III?"
>   "You have my word as a Mexican, sinor Picard."

CROW: What's that got to do with anything?
JOEL: How about his word as a badly written stereotype?

>   "I still don't trust him sir," Riker murmured to his Captain.
>   "Nor do I, Number One, but what choice do we have?"

CROW: You could stun everyone in the room and sort 'em out at your lei-
      sure...

>   Picard tapped his combadge.  "Picard to transporter room.  standby
> for
> transit to the pursuing vessel."
>   `Standing by.'
>   "If you release Lt. T'dor, I'll beam you back to your ship.
>   "I think I Like thees Vulcan's company, so he weel amuse me unteel
> I am
> returned."

SERVO: I eespecially Like hees watermelon-smashing act.
JOEL: That accent is the literary equivalent of fingernails on a chalk-
      board.

>   Picard tapped his combadge again.  "Mr. Data, signal the vessel that
> we'll be returning their leader to them."
>   `Understood, sir.'

CROW: [as Picard] Mr. Data, signal the pursuing vessel that, as usual,
      I'm collapsing like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.

>
>   Duncan exited the shelter to the windy Clarian night.

JOEL: A piece of information about the setting? How'd that slip through?

> He saw Julia
> standing with her back to him about ten meters away, her hair blowing
> in the
> breeze.  He approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder.  She
> shrugged it off and backed away.

SERVO: Backed away? If she's facing away from him, shouldn't she plow
       right into him?

>   "Julia, what's wrong?"

JOEL: [falsetto] I have no sense of spatial relationships.
CROW: Or any other kind.

>   "I can't be involved with you any more, MacLoud...I can't take
> losing
> another man I care for."
>   "Julia..."

SERVO: Half of what I say is meaningless.

>   "Duncan, please...just go."

CROW: By the way, Duncan, we're just good friends now. Okay? Bye!

>   Duncan walked away silently.  He didn't see Julia's tear-streaked
> face

JOEL: Because she was laughing and dancing with joy!

> under the twin Clarian moons.

SERVO: Won't somebody send this guy to Clarion?
JOEL: The system?
SERVO: No, the science fiction writers' workshop.

>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
>     Prince John III                  [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>          "If You Love Somebody, Set Them Free" -- Sting

CROW: Set us free! Set us free!
JOEL: He can't set us free-- he doesn't love us.
CROW: I wish somebody would come along and sting him.

SERVO: Let's roll, fellas.


...o...2...3...4...5...6...G

[SoL bridge, as green as ever. Joel is holding a small bag of some-
thing.]

CROW: All right, so how does John F. Moore come up with those weird ali-
      en names?

JOEL: Well, he could be using any one of a number of proven techniques.
      For instance, one of the most common is pulling letters out of
      [shakes bag] a Scrabble bag. Want to try?

CROW: Sure, okay.

JOEL: Okay, let's see... [rummages around in bag, pulls out letter] Q.

SERVO: <heh> Hey, it works!

JOEL: I think we could get sued for that one, though. [tosses letter
      offscreen, pulls another out of bag] W. Oh, how many letters do
      you want?

CROW: Something short, so the hapless victims could scream it quickly...
      yet distinctive, so it haunts the mind.

JOEL: Okay. [pulling letters out of bag and putting them on the coun-
      ter] H, A, T, D, O--

SERVO: [laughing] "Hat do"? Isn't that when you wear a fez, and it mes-
       ses up your hair?

CROW: Hey!

JOEL: [still pulling letters out of bag] Y, O. That enough?

CROW: "Hatdoyo". Uh, I dunno.

JOEL: [to Servo] Here, you take a turn. Say when.

SERVO: Okay... [Joel pulls out five letters] ...when. [examining let-
       ters] "Ugetw".

JOEL: There, that's a good one.

CROW: No, no, it just doesn't have that box-office ring to it.  Here,
      let me try again. [Joel pulls out more letters] When!

SERVO: "Henyo". That could be "Hatdoyo"'s brother.

JOEL: I think that sounds like one of those giant rubber monsters. You
      know, like Rodan, Gaigan, Gamera-- [both 'bots come as close as
      they can to wincing] --oh, sorry, guys. Okay... [pulls four more
      letters out of the bag]

CROW: "Umul". [pronounces it "a mule"]

SERVO: Isaac Asimov already used that one.

JOEL: Yeah. [pulls a bunch more letters out] "Tiplysi".

SERVO: Isn't that the capital of Soviet Georgia?

CROW: Joel, are you sure real writers do this?

JOEL: That's *formerly* Soviet Georgia, and yes, lots of writers do
      this.

CROW: Which ones?

JOEL: Oh, lots of them.

SERVO: You don't know, do you?

CROW: You're just making this up, aren't you?

JOEL: [in a tone of parental authority] That is beside the point; now
      could we get on with the exercise?

SERVO: [sotto voce, to Crow] He doesn't know. [Joel looks at him] Uh,
       four letters.

JOEL: Right. [shoves previous letter tiles out of the way, pulls out
      four more letters] X, B, Y, N.

CROW: Oh, that's one of those enigmatic energy beings that knows every-
      thing and goes and tests humanity to make sure it's worthy.

SERVO: Worthy of what, they never say.

JOEL: Well, try this one. [yup, he pulls more letters out of the bag] I,
      N, E-- oh, there aren't any more. [the commercial light flashes]
      And we got commercial sign. We'll be right back.

SERVO: I still say John F. Moore hits his head against the keyboard.

JOEL: Where'd that Q go?

CROW: I think it fell in the privet bush.


[More Clothestime commercials. Are you SURPRISED?]


> Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.

JOEL: Hey, isn't that a blues singer?

> reston.

SERVO: And a NY Times Columnist.

> ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.

CROW: And a dead astronaut! [looks at Joel] Oh, uh, sorry.

> unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

SERVO: <sigh> Creative is not the word.

> Subject: Treklander, Part 10
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 121
> Message-ID: <2nuutr$716

JOEL: Wow, those user fees are going up fast.

> @mozz.unh.edu>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>         (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)

SERVO: Theorizing that it was possible to travel through time, Dr. Sam
       Beckett...
JOEL: Four Vietman veterans were framed for a crime they didn't com-
      mit...
CROW: It was the dawn of the third age of mankind...

>
>             T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>               Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III

SERVO: As if someone would want to steal this dreck.

>
>                   Part 10
>
>   Councellor

CROW: Ow.

> Troi quietly entered from the turbolift and watched the
> events from the Science stations.  Data was, of course, the epitomy

JOEL: He was made by Tomy?

> of
> calm on the bridge.

SERVO: Everyone else was gibbering in panic.
CROW: I would be, if I were stuck in this story.

> The rest were young officers who would have been
> replaced by the more experiences department heads, were they able to
> report to the bridge,

SERVO: Join us now as we give the status of every crewmember on the
       ship.

> but the Captain and Will were handling the
> hostage
> situation in the brig and Lt. Worf was recovering from his wounds in-
> flicted by Sancho Marin.

CROW: So Picard, Riker, Data, and Worf are the only experienced officers
      on the *entire starship*?

> These were mere babes,

JOEL: Troi's a bit of a babe herself.

> hinging on Data's
> every
> command and counting on him to save them.

SERVO: You know, I feel they've been turning out a lower grade of offi-
       cer ever since those budget cuts at Starfleet Academy.

> She didn't need to be an
> empath
> to feel their fear of making a mistake that could cause the deaths of
> every man, woman, and child on the Enterprise.

CROW: Or, worse yet, show up on their permanent records.

>   `Picard to Data.  We're ready to transport.'
>   "Understood Captain.  We will lower shields momentarily."
>   Lt. Kaal pressed a few buttons on his station and indicated that he
> had
> lowered shields.

SERVO: Okay, guys, you can shoot us now!

>   "Hail the vessel," Data said.

ALL: Taxi! TAXI!!

>   The bridge of the vessel came up.

JOEL: Boingg!

> It was filled with Clarians.

CROW: Oh, it must be a convention of Clarion Motel Managers.

> Marin
> still had Lt. T'dor in his grip.

SERVO: Sorry, but thees cab is, how you say, occupied.

>   "Ah, Enterprise.  Muchos gracias for freeing me...now I shall have
> the
> honor of destroying you," Marin said as he effortlessly snapped
> T'dor's
> neck and tossed him aside.

SERVO: Whoa! Time to thin out the cast, I guess.
JOEL: This is going to look bad on their quarterly evaluation.
CROW: Well, send in the next disposable lieutenant...

>   "Shields up!  Red Alert!"  Data ordered as the screen shifted back
> to
> the vessel.
>   The vessel fired phasers and photon torpedoes, the Enterprise shook
> violently.

JOEL: [sings] I'm all shook up, hm hm hmmmmm.

>   "Shields down to 35%, Mr. Data!"
>   "Helm, evasive maneuvers.

SERVO: Isn't that like closing the barn door after the cows have left?

> Mr. Kaal, return fire.

JOEL: And CANCEL CHRISTMAS!

> Data to Captain
> Picard."
>   As the Enterprise fired its weapons, the vessel disappeared.

CROW: Yee-ha! We got 'em!

>   "Cloaking device activated, sir."  Kaal reported.

CROW: Oh.

>   `Crusher to bridge'
>   "Data here.  Go ahead Doctor."
>   `Data, that attack seems to have knocked the Captain and Commander
> Riker unconcious.'

JOEL: So the Enterprise fires its weapons and disappears, Riker and Pi-
      card are knocked unconscious by their own ship's attack, and Dr.
      Crusher suddenly knows this from Sickbay?!
SERVO: [shaking head] <yageta ageta ageta>

>   "Are they injured?"

CROW: [falsetto] Of course not. Just a slight touch of unconsciousness.

>   `They appear to have concussions, but I don't know how bad yet.

JOEL: They're just really really bad. Take my word for it!

> There
> are a lot of casualties coming in that are more serious.'

SERVO: The plot, for instance, needs major surgery.

>   "Understood Doctor.  Keep me informed.  Data out."
>   Dianna felt the tension on the bridge climb even higher as the
> bridge
> crew realized they were on their own.

CROW: Hey, I just joined Starfleet to get money for college, man!

>   "Damage report, Mr. Kaal?"
>   Kaal looked at the readouts coming in.  "Warp Drive damaged; we can
> only get to Warp 2 until repairs are made...Impulse engines also seem
> to
> be hard hit as well...communications are out...

JOEL: Oh, he's reporting on the status of the author.

> Decks 10 through 19
> report
> heavy damage...they hit us hard, sir.
>   Data stroked his chin in a fashion that he saw other crewmen do when
> they were deep in thought.

CROW: He curled up in a ball and whimpered as he had seen other crewmen
      do when under pressure.
JOEL: Android see, android do.

>   "Bridge to Sick Bay."
>   `Crusher here.'
>   "Doctor, transfer all wounded to the saucer section.

SERVO: Just slosh them over the side of the cup.

> I am taking
> the
> drive section back to Clari III while the saucer section is taken to
> the
> nearest starbase."

CROW: [announcer voice] Remember, wherever you go in Federation terri-
      tory, there'll always be a 24-hour starbase near you.

>   Data then turned to Troi.  "Councellor, I want you to assume
> command of
> the saucer section--"
>   "Data," Dianna said, "Why are you separating the ship?"

JOEL: Because it's a neat SFX clip that we don't get enough mileage out
      of.

>   "Because I must protect the lives of the injured and the crew's
> families--"
>   "But Data, these people aren't battle-experienced.  Wouldn't it be
> better to--"

SERVO: Can't anyone get a complete sentence out around--

>   Data looked squarely at Troi,

JOEL: [falsetto] You're a square, Daddy-O.

> and she thought she could almost feel
> a
> glimmer of concern from him.  "Councellor, no one is ever ready for
> their
> first battle.

CROW: Starfleet training makes sure of that.

> Most hope they never have to face another being in a
> contest where there is a good chance only one will survive.  But
> Embassador MacLoud's group

SERVO: Chief!
CROW: McCloud!

> is back at Clari III, and the Clarians are
> trying to achieve peace...a peace that can not happen if Mr. Marin
> returns.

JOEL: He'll learn too late that man is a feeling creature.

> For the sake of a world's safety, we must place our own
> safety
> aside."
>   Dianna had never seen Data like this.

CROW: In Spandex!

> If she didn't know better,
> she
> would have thought that Data was trying to avenge a blow to his pride
> in
> allowing the Enterprise to be crippled under his command.

SERVO: But of course she knew better.

>   "All right, Data.  I'll get them to safety.  You do what you feel is
> right."
>   Data turned to his bridge crew.  "Please report to the Battle Bridge
> and prepare for seperation."

JOEL: [falsetto] I get half of everything!
CROW: No, se*per*ation, see? It's entirely different.

>
>   Duncan sat by the entrance to the shelter.  He couldn't understand
> why
> Julia had sent him away.

SERVO: No one's going to tell you you need Clearasil...

> All he knew was it hurt...he hadn't felt so
> hurt
> in almost 400 years...since Tessa's death.  He could almost feel her
> body
> in his arms...

JOEL: Julia's body? Tessa's body?
CROW: Troi's body?
SERVO: That wouldn't make any sense.
CROW: Does it make any sense anyway?

> and the bodies of all the others he'd loved and lost in
> his
> 800 years of existance.  He couldn't begin to count the people that he
> cared for, male and female, lovers and friends, mortal and Immortal,
> who
> died despite his best efforts to save them.

[Both 'bots start sobbing. Joel puts his arms around them.]
JOEL: There, there, it's okay.

> (The Alamo:

SERVO: Scene of yet another irrelevant digression from what passes for
       the plot.

> Duncan heard the charge of the Mexican army as they
> stormed
> the fort.  The brave Texans and their allies valiantly fought to keep
> their enemy out, but eventually it proved to be to no avail.  He saw
> the
> body of Davy Crockett fall from the platform above to his feet.

ALL: [singing] Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier--
     yeaaaaagggghhh!

> He
> checked Crockett's pulse, already knowing there would be none.
>   Suddenly, the Mexicans burst through the doors of the fort.  Duncan
> charged the onslaught and wound up fighting alongside Pierre.
>   "Quite ze fight, eh mon ami?"

JOEL: Hey, who let Gambit into the fight?

>   "Just watch your back and don't let them in!"

CROW: Into his--?? Oh. Eww!

>   Suddenly a shot hit Pierre square in the chest and he crumpled.

JOEL: Oh, and watch your front, too-- d'oh.
SERVO: [nodding] It's always the one you don't see coming.

>   "Pierre!"  Duncan knelt before his friend.
>   "Please....mon..ami.......do an old..Quebecois proud.......Do not...
> let

SERVO: [as Pierre] ...ze English-speakers...

> ze Mexicans......ween........"

CROW: So, in essence, Duncan screwed that one up too.
JOEL: Yep, pretty much.

>   "Don't die on me, Pierre!

SERVO: Die over there, out of sight! The NEA is reading this!

> Please don't die...")

JOEL: Please, inflict more of your cheesy accent on the world!

>

'BOTS: Doodledoodledoot! Doodledoodledoot! Doodledoodledoot!

>   "Duncan?"

CROW: Lincoln Duncan is my name and here's my song.

>   Duncan slowly lifted his head to see Julia looking at him.
>   "Hi."
>   "Listen, I'm sorry I was hard on you like that--"
>   Duncan placed a finger over her mouth.  "Shhhh....

JOEL: But only half-heartedly Shhhh.

> you don't need to
> explain.  If it's what you want..."
>   "I don't, but I'm just afraid of seeing you die."
>   Duncan held his hand out to her.  As she accepted it he pulled her
> down
> and held her close.
>   "I know.  It's one of the prices of Immortality."

SERVO: Fifty down, seventy-five a month.
CROW: The other price is having to be in awful fanfics like this one for
      all eternity.

>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
>     Prince John III                  [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>        "I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching me" -- Rockwell

CROW: Yep, the NSA's got a tap on John's home.

>


[Come and see the 61% Old Tour, now playing at a metropolis near you!]


[Deep 13, and no one's home. A bewildered young man happens by. He's
wearing tennis shoes, a T-shirt with a dragon on it, a nose ring, and
jeans that must have seen many trials and tribulations. He is holding a
ragged piece of paper, and carrying a cardboard sword.]

GAMER: [looking nowhere in particular] Hey, Rob! You in here?

[TV's Frank walks in, still wearing the pakycephalosaur head, although
it appears to have been switched off.]

FRANK: What are you doing here? How'd you get in?

[The young man is startled, but quickly recovers and dramatically
swings his sword at Frank, giving him a moderate tap on the shoul-
der.]

GAMER: Ha! I smite you with my +8 Sword of Munchkins!

FRANK: We don't want any. Why don't you try the lab down the block?

GAMER: [tapping Frank in the shoulder and neck ar-- er, region as if to
       prove a point] You're dead.

FRANK: I am not dead.

GAMER: Yeah, you are. I just hit you with my +8 Sword of Munchkins.

FRANK: Look, I have been dead several times, and I know I'm not dead
       now. So if you would please *leave*... [indicates the way out,
       but the gamer tries to go the other way]

GAMER: Uh, I came in that way.

[Frank pauses, making some mental adjustment.]

FRANK: You came in through the steam tunnels?

GAMER: Yeah, the Caves of Depression...

[Frank has already run off. The gamer looks alert and ready to hit some-
thing, but can't figure out what to do. Frank speedily returns with Dr.
Forrester, who is wearing the model diplodocus section, switched off, on
his head.]

GAMER: Isn't this supposed to be the Temple of the Broken Shield?

DR. F: [in an extraordinarily cheerful manner that makes it plain some-
       thing unspeakably evil is about to happen] Of *course* it is!
       [begins leading the gamer away] Now, I have some vital informa-
       tion about the... what was it again...

GAMER: The Ring of Total Fish Annihilation?

DR. F: Exactly. Just make yourself comfortable over here... [glances
       back at Frank, and speaks quietly] You know the drill, Frank.

FRANK: Third drawer from the top, the... green syringe.

DR. F: Right. And switch the visuals back to the satellite.

[Frank hustles over to the console.]

[SoL]

[The fake plants and tree have been decorated with itty-bitty white
lights and life-size plastic cherries. Posters depicting various super-
heroes cover most of what would be visible of the walls behind the
greenery. Gypsy is wearing a bowl of fruit on her head. Joel is attired
in his "Feet of Fate" robe from _"Manos"_ and a long, multicolored scarf
similar to the one worn by the Fourth Doctor. There is a bunch of silver
glitter in his hair. Servo has on a grass skirt, a pink Spandex top, and
an English judicial wig, and there are two plastic fish in his head.
Crow, a Spock ear attached to each side of his head, is hanging by his
mouth from a trapeze. Two dozen paper cocktail umbrellas are suspended
from the ceiling at various heights. Breath mints are EVERYWHERE. On the
counter, there is an electric guitar and a gallon of milk.]

JOEL: You mean we weren't on the air at all?

CROW: Mmmph mrrgmf!

GYPSY: Aww.

SERVO: Geez.

[Alarms go off and lights flash; Crow's trapeze starts swinging wildly.]

JOEL & SERVO: Oh no! Message sign!

CROW: MMGMMMMMRFMMMLGMF!

[The picture freezes as Joel is hitting the button, and fades to the
MSTH set. There are several British Museum plastic dinosaurs on the col-
umn next to Perkins.]

PERKINS: Much like the dinosaurs, the Star Trek universe was once
         thought to be primitive and outmoded, but has been shown to
         have more potential for adaptation than people first thought.
         "Treklander" is only one of the thousands of species of cross-
         overs that have evolved from it. Join us for the conclusion on
         the next Mystery Science Theater Hour.

[The lights dim, the theme starts, and Perkins turns to his plastic di-
nosaur collection. He appears to simulating a fight between them.]

MSTed by Steve Brinich <[e-mail]>,
     Laurie Cubbison <[e-mail]>,
     Petrea Mitchell <[e-mail]>,  (Almighty Editor)
     Mark Sachs <[e-mail]>,
     & Spatch <[e-mail]>

Host segments by Laurie Cubbison & Petrea Mitchell

[One of the dinosaurs falls to the floor. Perkins picks up a winged
plastic reptile and runs around the set with it.]

All characters, logos, and sharp objects copyright Best Brains, Inc.;
all rights reserved. "Treklander" reproduced electronically by permis-
sion of the author. This MSTing is not intended to infringe upon any-
thing except the humorlessness of today's world. This article may be re-
distributed freely as long as this notice remains intact.

[Perkins returns to the column, and the battle there intensifies. Dino-
saurs are falling to the floor right and left.]

If you'd like to MST some deserving piece, contact the "dibs" mailing
list at <[e-mail]>.

[Having disposed of all the dinosaurs remaining, Perkins pauses and
kicks a couple around on the floor. He shrugs and strolls off the set.]


************************************************************************


[MSTH set, and "Jack Perkins" is there, standing like a statue. Unfor-
tunately, he starts moving when the theme ends.]

PERKINS: Hello. Welcome once again. Tonight, we at last see the end of
         "Treklander". Or is it?
         "Embassador Duncan MacLoud" is on a peacekeeping mission on the
         planet Clari III. Meanwhile, in a completely different story,
         his arch-enemy, Sancho Marin, is commanding a ship full of
         Clarians in a pitched battle with the Enterprise. On the Enter-
         prise, Captain Picard and Commander Riker have been knocked
         out, leaving Data to command the ship. He gives orders for the
         ship to split up, sending the saucer section out of the story.
         Will Marin and his unnamed ship get the better of Data and half
         the Enterprise? Will "MacLoud" ever have a meaningful relation-
         ship with his girlfriend, Ensign Cathaway? And will we be trea-
         ted to any more flashbacks to the Alamo? Stay tuned!

[roll theme v1.1]


[It's Comedy Central's new fall season in July! Unless it gets delayed
'til August.]


>
> Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.

[Joel and the 'bots walk in, still dressed the way they were at the end
of the last segment. Joel takes the "Feet of Fate" robe off before sit-
ting down. Presumably he had his jumpsuit on under the robe, but in Sha-
dowramma, one can never quite tell...]

> reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm

[Joel takes the Spock ears off of Crow's head, and the judicial wig off
of Servo's.]

> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, Part 11
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 40

SERVO: 40 lines too many.

> Message-ID: <2o5enc$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>         (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)

[Crow sighs.]

>
>             T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R

[Servo sighs.]

>
>               Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III

[Joel makes the "c'mon, keep it moving" gesture.]

>
>                   Part 11
>
>   Data and his bridge crew sat ready on the Battle Bridge.

CROW: That's a change.

> Each of
> them
> knew this was for real.  The slightest mistake could cost them the
> lives
> of everyone in the drive section.

JOEL: Whoops, I dropped my coffee-- BLAM!

>   `Troi to Data.  We're ready to separate.'

SERVO: After all we've meant to each other? <sniff> What about the kids?

>   "Commense separation maneuver Counsellor," Data said.

JOEL: Now that we have the property and joint custody deal taken care
      of.

>   As the saucer section sped away,

CROW: [dripping sarcasm] Wow, I guess that scene *really* strained the
      special effects budget of this *fanfic*!

> Data said,

JOEL: All right! We ditched 'em!

> "helm, set course back
> to
> Clari III, best possible speed."
>   "Course laid in and engaged, sir."

SERVO: You know, those Clarians are pretty polite, just sitting there
       waiting for the Enterprise to get its act together.

>   "Go to red alert, Mr. Kaal."

JOEL: I thought they already had?
CROW: I'm pretty sure they had.
SERVO: It's a minor point at this stage, guys.

>
>   Duncan was worried.  The Enterprise had not acknowledged his check-
> in
> for over two hours.  He hoped nothing had gone wrong,

JOEL: Naah, somebody probably just turned the clock an hour the wrong
      way for Daylight Savings Time.

> but when dealing
> with an Immortal one could never tell.
>   Julia walked up to him.  "The Enterprise is capable of handling
> itself,
> you know.

CROW: I thought they gave up on that idea way back in the original ser-
      ies, after the M-5 thing didn't work out.
SERVO: Geez, such a fanboy....
CROW: Am not.
SERVO: Are too.
JOEL: C'mon, cut it out.

> She doesn't need you to worry about her."

JOEL: I think I'd be worried when a ship has a sex change in the space
      of two sentences.

>   "If it was just Marin we were dealing with I'd agree with you, but
> he
> has followers and I'm not sure what kind of resources they have.

CROW: Am not.
JOEL: Shhh.

> They may
> be able to obtain something that could destroy the Enterprise."

SERVO: [becoming hysterical] They're dealing with a species that's con-
       fined to one planet except for the one ship and they're worried
       about the Enterprise being destroyed? I know there's no chance of
       seeing any more continuity, but is a little perspective too much
       to ask for? [breaks down and sobs into Joel's shoulder briefly]

>   "At least the talks are almost over.  Personally, I think Richie and
> Lt.
> Dijar are going stir-crazy

JOEL: The wacky comedy with Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder!

> waiting for something to happen."
>
>   "Damage control reports impulse power restored...shields up to full
> power."

CROW: What? Who said that? Where are we?

>   "Thank you, Mr. Kaal.  Estimated time to Clari III?"

SERVO: How about estimated time to the end of this story?
JOEL: Too long.

>   "Estimating 4 hours, 23 minutes, sir."
>   "I only hope we will not be too late..."
>
>
> --
> **********************************************************************
>  *******

CROW: Hey, that was a pretty short episode. Maybe they'll all be like
      this!
JOEL: Bite your tongue, my little one, lest the bad spirits hear and
      send us a 950-line magnum opus.

>     Prince John III                  [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>        "I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching me" -- Rockwell

[All look back over their shoulders at Cambot.]

>
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:8706
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!cs.utexas.edu!math.ohio-
> state.edu!jussieu.fr!univ-lyon1.fr!swidir.switch.ch!newsfeed.ACO.net!
> Austria.EU.net!EU.net!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!christa.unh.edu!jfm

CROW: Around the world in 80 hops.
SERVO: [singing] I've been everywhere, man, I've been everywhere...

> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, part 12
> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 67
> Message-ID: <2q9lt1$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>         (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)
>
>             T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R

CROW: Why does he space the title out so much?
JOEL: It's just the thing for this spaced-out fanfic.

>
>               Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                    Part 12
>
>   The drive section took an orbit around Clari III.

SERVO: And called its doctor in the morning.

> There was no sign
> of
> Sancho Marin's vessel.
>   "Open a channel to the Away Team, Mr. Kaal."
>   "Channel open, sir"

CROW: Whoops, dropped my period, sir. Sorry.

>   "Enterprise to Away Team.  Report please."
>   *Enterprise, this is Ensign Cathaway.  Where have you been?

JOEL: We just took the phone off the hook for a while.

> Is
> some-
> thing wrong up there?*

SERVO: Yeah, some joker's replaced all the quotation marks with Nathan
       Hales!

>   Data briefed the Away Team of the situation.  *So Marin could return
> at
> any time, then?*

CROW: Yes, but we predict that he won't return until after rush hour.

>   "I do not know.  It would seem likely that he would return here to
> resume the hostilities again--"

JOEL: Who's talking?!

>   Suddenly the drive section was rocked from a phaser blast.
>   "Shields down to 54% sir!"  Lt. Kaal announced.  "Sensors indicate
> that
> they appeared briefly and cloaked again."
>   "Find them, Mr. Kaal.  Lt. Dhemn,

JOEL: Oh, dhemn!
SERVO: Heh.

> scan the area for somewhere where
> we
> might be able to... even the odds."  Data mentally patted himself on
> the
> back for being able to use one of the phrases he picked up from
> Commander
> Riker.

JOEL: That's something to be proud of?

>
>   "I do not understand your concern, MacLeod-Duncan,"  Drei-Fru said.

SERVO: I just don't see why you keep using your names in the wrong or-
       der.

> "I
> have assured you that the Feuhl will not resume conflicts--"
>   "But there is no way the Tyones could know that,"

CROW: [speaking slowly and evenly, as if about to lose his temper] Well,
      maybe, you could *tell them*?

> Tu-Jar said for
> Duncan.

SERVO: [as Duncan] Oh, *may* you put words in my mouth?

>   Duncan was worried.  Not only did he need to worry about the peace
> talks
> breaking down, but he knew Marin would be back to have another go at
> either Richie, Julia, or himself, and he didn't need to have either
> delegate or Lt. Dijar endangered because of the three Immortals.

CROW: He didn't want to get beaten to the assassination.
SERVO: I wish someone'd assassinate him.

>   "It's me Marin's after.  He'll be back to finish the job.  I'm
> going
> out there to provide him with a target besides the five of you--"
>   "No way, Mac," Richie said. " I'm going with you.  We're in this
> together."

JOEL: And how else am I going to get a line?

>   "And if you think I'm letting you out of my sight for one minute,
> Duncan
> MacLeod, you've got another think coming!"

ALL: [singing] I hear a think a-coming, a-coming down the line.
CROW: Why don't they look?
SERVO: Huh?

>   Duncan was touched by his friends' loyalty,

CROW: He was touched *long* before that.

> but only briefly as a
> band
> of Clarians burst into the shelter, phasers drawn.

SERVO: [deep alien voice] Cease your sketching, Klingon...
[Joel touches Servo's shoulder; Servo stops.]

>
>   "I think I've found something, sir," Lt. Dhemn stated as another
> phaser
> burst rocked the drive section.

JOEL: [singing] Rock-a-bye section...

>   "Shields down to 32%," Lt. Kaal announced.
>   "Lay in a course, best possible speed," Data said calmly.
>   "Course laid in, sir,"  Dhemn stated.
>   "Engage."

CROW: Huh? But we're not even going steady!

>   As the drive section sped toward Dhemn's "odds-evener", Data looked
> over Dhemn's shoulder.
>   "All right, Lieutenant, show me what you have found."

SERVO: You mean he ordered the Enterprise to head toward something found
       by some lieutenant without even knowing what it IS?!?

>   Dhemn's panel screen lit up

JOEL: Is that an odds-evener registering on your panel screen, Lieuten-
      ant, or are you just glad to see me?

> as he spoke.

SERVO: [Spock voice] The Mutara Nebula.

> "The Ydires Nebula.

SERVO: Well, close enough.

> If we
> reconfigure the sensor array to 5338 angstroms,

CROW: --and rewire the motohydraulic hyperspace abnormalizer, and add
      just a teeny dash of salt...
JOEL: Don't you have to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, too?

> we should be able to
> use
> the ionized particles of the nebula to track the vessel's exhaust
> trail,
> even if it's cloaked."

SERVO: Suppose they've got a catalytic converter?

>   "Well done, Lt. Dhemn.  Lt. Kaal, adjust the sensors accordingly.
> Time to

JOEL: Put on my dancing shoes!

> the nebula?"
>   "Estimating twenty minutes at this speed," Dhemn announced.
>
>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******

CROW: See, what did I tell you? That was pretty short!
SERVO: It made "Highleaper" seem like a novel.

>     Prince John III                  [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>        "I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching me" -- Rockwell
>
>
>
>

JOEL: No one will be admitted during the breathtaking Line Eater Food.

>                                                      Part 13

SERVO: Will not be seen tonight. Instead, we bring you the following
       program that is in much better taste.
CROW: What, no fancy "There can be only one... these are the voyages..."
      opening?
JOEL: I bet unh.edu is charging him by the word now.

>
>   The Clarians attacked with a ferocity that Duncan had not seen in
> some
> time.

SERVO: Not for at *least* two or three installments.
JOEL: They're avenging jfm's brutal attack on science fiction.

> Prima Tu-Jar and Ryla Drei-Fru retreated to the sleeping
> chamber.
> Duncan, Richie, Julia, and Lt. Dijar had hidden behind crates and
> tables
> to shield them from the phaser fire.

CROW: Yeah, crates and tables will block phaser fire real good!

>   "Just like the Alamo," Duncan mumbled.
>   "Sir?" Dijar queried.
>   "A similar situation I was in a long time ago," Duncan said,
> phasering
> one of the attackers.

SERVO: Yes, join the Federation Diplomatic Corps and enjoy hours of
       wholesome conversation while casually offing new and unknown
       lifeforms.

>   Slowly, the number of attackers was dwindling, but how long did they
> have before their phasers ran dry?

[Joel and the 'bots look at each other.]
SERVO: I'm not touching that.
CROW: Me too.
JOEL: Me neither.

>   The Enterprise rocked again as it entered the Ydires Nebula.

CROW: YEOW!
JOEL: As the audience is rocked by the sudden, unmarked change of venue.
CROW: It gave me whiplash! Owie owie owie...

>   "Shields down to 16%.  Sir, one more hit could penetrate the hull!"

JOEL: [Captain Kirk voice] I know now why they call a ship "she"!

>   Data studied the viewscreen as he spoke.  "I am well aware of that
> fact, Lieutenant.  Any sign of the vessel?"

SERVO: [Spock voice] Captain, analysis of our opponent indicates two-di-
       mensional thinking.
CROW: You mean the Clarians?
SERVO: No, the author.

>   "I think I have something...

JOEL: ...that I picked up on my last shore leave.

> 036 mark 64, range 45,000 kilometers."
>   "Lock phasers and fire!"

SERVO: Say, Data, do you usually fire on unidentified targets?

> The Enterprise's phasers connected and, for the first time, the battle
> bridge crew felt as if they had a chance of surviving.
>   The away team stood victorious,

CROW: YOWCH!

> though their phasers were nearly
> drained.

JOEL: [relaxedly] Mmmmm.
SERVO: I'm gonna need a shower when this one's over.

> They managed to take a prisoner and find out where Marin was
> hiding.

JOEL: Huh? How'd they do that?
CROW: Wouldn't that be something he'd want to SHOW us?

>   "I'm going after them," Duncan said.
>   "Not without us," Richie stated.
>   "Not this time, Richie," Duncan said.  "I need you to guard the
> delegates and try to get them to safety.  I'll contact you in 24
> hours.
>   Grabbing the phaser with the most power,

CROW: [pitchman voice] The Blast-O-Matic 3000! Accept no substitutes!

> Duncan ran off after Sancho
> Marin.

JOEL: That's going to be a loooong run.
SERVO: Well, let's us run off now.

>

...o...2...3...4...5...6...G


[SoL bridge. Servo is still wearing the pink Spandex top, and Joel
(who is wearing his jumpsuit after all) is examining it. Crow is
intently watching something going on behind or under the counter.]

JOEL: It's no good, we'll have to cut this off. Come on.

[Servo whimpers as Joel carries him away. The sound of things being
shifted around emanates from behind or under the counter.]

CROW: So, Gypsy, whatcha doing?

GYPSY: I'm trying to get at this access panel.

CROW: Why?

GYPSY: Because I need to do some maintenance.

CROW: Why?

GYPSY: Because Joel programmed me to.

CROW: Why?

GYPSY: Because if no one did any maintenance, the ship would break down
       and he'd die.

CROW: Why?

GYPSY: Richard Basehart!

CROW: You always say that when it's getting interesting.

MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... commercial sign
             now.

CROW: [looking up] Why?

GYPSY: We'll be right back.

CROW: Why?


[Mentos, Zima, and Neon. Why?!]


>
> Xref: agora alt.startrek.creative:8818
> Path: agora!pagesat.net!news.cerf.net!usc!howland.reston.ans.net!
> europa.eng.gtefsd.com!newsxfer.itd.umich.edu!uunet!mozz.unh.edu!
> christa.unh.edu!jfm
> From: [e-mail] (John F Moore)
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
> Subject: Treklander, part 14

JOEL: Yes, John F. Moore's fourteenth episode. He's having episodes e-
      very day now!
SERVO: Ba dum ptshh!

> Organization: University of New Hampshire  -  Durham, NH
> Lines: 77
> Message-ID: <2r8dm1$[e-mail]>
> NNTP-Posting-Host: christa.unh.edu
>
>         (There can be only one...These are the voyages...)

CROW: Aah, the snazzy opening montage is back.

>
>             T  R  E  K  L  A  N  D  E  R
>
>               Copyright 1994 John F. Moore III
>
>                    Part 14
>
>   The drive section exchanged blows with the Clarian craft for some
> time.

SERVO: Uselessnetter!
CROW: Compu$murf!

> The Enterprise, having already been weakened, was getting the worst of
> it.
>   The ship rocked yet again.

CROW: [gleefully] They destroyed the Third Bridge!
SERVO: Ugh, I'm getting seasick, if that's possible in space.

>   *Data,* Geordi called from Engineering, *the containment fields on
> the
> warp drive are collapsing!  If Engineering takes another hit--*

JOEL: Our stash will be used up!

>   "Understood Geordi.  Do we still have warp power?"
>   *Yeah, but I wouldn't push it too hard until we canh stabilize the
> field.*

SERVO: I'd advise the author not to push it too hard either, at this
       point.

>   "Helm, get us out of here, best possible speed."
>   The drive section sped away.  After a few moments of disorientation,

CROW: Freshman disorientation?

> the Clarians followed.

JOEL: They must have been taking some hits, too.

>   "They're gaining," Lt. Kaal said.
>   "Geordi," Data said, "I am about to do something that might be
> consid-
> ered...suicidal.

JOEL: I'm going to watch the entire broadcast run of "Full House"!
CROW & SERVO: Ahh! No!

> Can the ship take full reverse?"
>   *Are you NUTS, Data?!

SERVO: Have you been listening to your friend Marvin again?

> The strain put on the ship at this speed
> would
> be tricky if the ship was intact, but in the shape it's in--*
>   "Can you draw power into the inertial dampers?  Perhaps that will
> decrease the strain."
>   *Hell, anything's possible.

CROW: At least in Star Trek fanfics.

> I'm shutting down all nonessential
> systems

SERVO: Why are any nonessential system still RUNNING?! They've been in
       the middle of a battle, getting the crap kicked out of them, for
       crying out loud!

> ...that means you may have to deal with emergency lighting only...

CROW: [as Data] What? Well, forget it then.

> give me
> five minutes.*
>   "We do not have five minutes, Geordi.

JOEL: [Shatner voice] We don't HAVE five minutes!

> The Clarian ship is faster
> and
> more maneuverable than we are currently."
>   Geordi sighed.  *I'll see what I can do.  Buy me three minutes.

CROW: And a vowel.

> LaForge out.*
>   "Mr. Kaal, I want a spread of Photon Torpedoes that will keep the
> Clarian ship from coming within firing range."
>   Kaal looked at Data quizzically.  "Sir?"

JOEL: [stupid voice] I had jello today.

>   "The Clarians' Torpedoes have a considerably shorter range than
> ours.
> We must keep them beyond that range."  Data walked over to Kaal's
> panel
> and pulled up a tactical display.

CROW: Revealing Lt. Kaal's novelty underwear!

> "Fire the torpedoes in such a way
> that
> the Clarians will have to slow to avoid getting hit, in a conical
> pattern."
>   Kaal's face lit up in understanding.  "With their ship caught in
> the
> middle beyond firing range!  But why not fire dirctly at them?"
>   "Their shields are more able to take direct hits.  No doubt they
> have
> boosted frontal shield power.  Therefore, I am going to attemp

SERVO: I wouldn't use a temp-- they're always getting into your private
       files, and trying on silly hats when you're not looking.

> reversing
> warp speed to get behind them and attack their weaker side before they
> can react."

CROW: Somebody's been watching Return of the Jedi on the USA Channel.

>   Kaal set the firing array.  "Spread ready, sir.

SERVO: So, what are they spreading, again?
JOEL: The good taste of Smucker's raspberry preserves, of course.
CROW: Raspberry? Only one person would dare give me the raspberry...
ALL: LONE STAR!
SERVO: Heh, heh.

> Awaiting your
> orders."
>   Data returned to the command chair.  "Wait until we are aklmost
> within
> their firing range, then fire the spread.  Boost frontal shields."

CROW: Now, why couldn't Data have become such a tactical genius BACK IN
      PART 10?!!

>   Data's firing spread kept the Clarians at bay, though they tried to
> hit
> the drive section .  The few shots that reached the ship weren't
> enough to
> penetrate the shields.
>   *LaForge to Bridge, you have your boosted dampers.  I hope you know
> what
> you're doing, Data.*

SERVO: That's it. They're doomed.

>   "Helm, reverse thrust, maximum warp!"

JOEL: Oh, man.

>   The drive section strained under the sudden change in thrust.  The
> inertial dampers were hard-pressed to keep the ship together.  The
> Clarian ship shot by the drive section.
>   "Fire all weapons, now!"
>   The drive section unloaded everything onto the Clarians' rear.

CROW: What's Peter North doing in this fanfic?
JOEL: What's Peter North doing in your memory bank?

> The
> ship shuddered as its rear shield began collapsing.  Then, it
> disappeared.
>   "Sensors are still picking it up," Kaal announced.  "Apparently
> their
> cloaking system was damaged."
>   "Make them aware of that fact, Mr. Kaal," Data said.
>   A single torpedo was fired, impacting on the Clarian vessel.

ALL: Neener, neener, neener!

>   "They appear to be heading back to Clari III."
>   "Mr. Dhemn, get us there, best possible speed.  Bridge to
> Engineering,
> damage report?"

CROW: Does the word `roadkill' mean anything to you, sir?

>   *We took a beating from that maneuver, but we're still holding
> together.
> We can give you warp 3, no higher.*

SERVO: But back in that other part, they could only get to Warp 2... and
       the... but the... [he begins to shake, and a little smoke rises
       from his head]
JOEL: [steadying Servo] Whoa, careful there.

>   "Understood.  I only hope the Ambassador will be all right."
>
> --
> **********************************************************************
> *******
>     Prince John III                  [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!
>           "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More

CROW: [almost crying] I don't want it all, I just want this to be over!
JOEL: [patting him on the back] There, there, my little metal friend.
      We're near the end now.
CROW: [sniffling] *Why*, Joel? *Why*?

>
>
>                                                      Part 15
>
>   Duncan crept into the fortress Sancho Marin was using.

SERVO: And where'd THAT come from?!?

> After
> rounding
> a corner and making sure there were no guards, he said, "You can stop
> trying to follow me.  You should have known that I could Sense you..."
>   Julia sheepishly crept from the shadows.

ALL: [sheep noises]

>   "What the hell are you doing here, Julia?"
>   "No way was I gonna let you out of my sight, Duncan MacLeod," she
> said
> in retaliation.

SERVO: Oooh, fifteen all!
CROW: To add insult to injury, she spelled his name right.
SERVO: Hey, you're right! Maybe there *is* a light at the end of the
       tunnel!
JOEL: You see? If we stick together, we'll make it through!

>   Suddenly, the pair Sensed someone approaching.
>   "Did Richie follow you?" Duncan asked.
>   "Not that I know of," Julia answered.
>   The pair turned to see Marin approach.
>   "Well, Sinor MacLeod...shall we dance?"

JOEL: You know the Charleston?
SERVO: I think Hole in the Wall would be more appropriate here.

>   Duncan drew his sword and the pair circled each other.

CROW: Hey, it *is* Hole in the Wall!

>   *Why did I have to be an Immortal?* Julia thought.  *I just wanted
> to
> be a Starfleet researcher, and now I've got to watch the man I love
> face
> death yet again!*

SERVO: Yeah, life sucks, kid. Get used to it.

>   Julia unconciously drew her phaser as Marin and Duncan clashed
> swords.

JOEL: [falsetto] Hmm... they're fighting... I can't decide which one
      looks dreamier... what's this? I've drawn my phaser!

> Duncan was forced back until he was close to the edge of the floor.
> Marin
> swung and Duncan dodged, but lost his balance and fell over the edge.

SERVO: This story's broken all the laws of narrative and physics-- I
       guess Paul's Law was the only thing left.
CROW: Hey, at least we've got an action scene.

>   Marin cartefully aimed his phaser at Duncan,

JOEL: Carte blanchefully!

> who was sprawled on the
> ground recovering from the fall.  "As much as I would love to take
> your
> Queekening, eet would be much easier to destroy you."

JOEL: [mechanically] No. Stop. Don't do it.

>   "NO!"  Julia screamed as she fired on Marin.

SERVO: BAD right hand! Don't do that!

> The phaser blast
> knocked
> Marin over the edge as well,

CROW: Okay, okay, wait juuuuuuuuuust a minute! First Marin says he'll
      destroy Duncan by shooting him with the phaser, and then Julia
      shoots *him* but he's just fine? What's the deal?
SERVO: [exasperated] Crow, you want narrative consistency at *this*
       stage?

> and watched the battle from above.

JOEL: Phaser blasts have eyes?
SERVO: Joel, it's pointless arguing any more.

> She
> knew
> she'd bought Duncan time to recover.
>   Duncan rose to his feet first and immediately attacked.  Marin was
> hard-
> pressed to defend himself.  Duncan saw Marin draw his phaser, but
> before
> Marin could fire it, Duncan attacked the phaser with a blow that
> removed
> Marin's hand.
>   Marin's scream alerted the guards, who charged in, guns blazing.

JOEL: [space radio voice] Ah, Houston, we have a negative on that
      flashback separation.

> This
> distraction gave Marin enough time to activate his communicator.

CROW: What *with*?

>   "Amigos," he said through gritted teeth, "get me away from here!"
>   Marin disappeared in a transporter beam, leaving his allies behind.
>
>   CAPTAIN'S LOG:  Stardate 38434.7.  The drive section has rejoined
> the
> saucer section at Starbase 136.  Sancho Marin has escaped,

CROW: Giving us a plot opening for Treklander II.
SERVO: DON'T even THINK about giving him any ideas!

> but the
> Clari-
> ans have signed a peace treaty thanks to Ambassador MacLeod.  Ensign
> Cathaway has given her resignation from Starfleet to join the
> Ambassador
> on his next assignment:  overseeing diplomatic relations in the Gamma
> Quadrant.

CROW: Oh, come on, don't trash DS9, too!
SERVO: Fanboy.
CROW: Am not.
JOEL: This is your last warning, guys.

> The trio will be transferring to the USS Serties in a few
> hours.

JOEL: In a wacky new sitcom from ABC!

>
>   Captain Picard and Commander Riker entered Transporter Room 5 with
> Duncan, Richie, and Julia Cathaway.
>   "Well, I want to thank you for all your help, Captain," Duncan said.

CROW: [apopleptic] Help? *Help*? Captain Pick-a-card there was out with
      a concussion for the last five chapters and the one before that,
      he let Duncan's mortal enemy escape and cripple the Enterprise! I
      can't *believe* this!
JOEL: "Help" as in, without Picard's help they might have defeated Marin
      for good and closed up the storyline.
CROW: So he was really helping the author?
JOEL: You got it.

>   "The thanks should go to you for your help with the Clarians,"
> Picard
> said.
>   Suddenly, Duncan, Julia, and Richie looked a little distant as
> Guinan
> entered.

JOEL: She can always quiet a room when she enters.
CROW: [as Richie] Oh, man, she's gonna tell!

>   "I should've known I couldn't leave quietly," Richie smirked.
>   "Don't flatter yourself, kid," Guinan said flatly,

SERVO: Hey, Guinan Swifties!
CROW: Huh?

> "I'm here to say
> goodbye to Julia."
>   Julia and Guinan embraced each other.

CROW: Wrong newsgroup.

>   "Take care of the ship, Guinan," Julia whispered.
>   "And don't you lose your head over MacLeod," Guinan warned Julia.

JOEL: Ha, ha, a little Immortal humor there.

>   The trio stepped onto the transporter pad.
>   "Energize," Duncan said,

CROW: [as Picard] Hey, that's *my* line!

> and with a shimmer of light, they were
> gone.

SERVO: Hey, wait a minute, was that "Energize or "Atomize"? I think I
       pushed the wrong, uh, thingie... heh...
CROW: We only wish.
JOEL: Come on, you guys. Let's clear out of here while we still can.
      [moves to pick up Servo]
CROW: I wanna stay and watch the sig block.
JOEL: Oh, all right. [settles down again]

>
> --
> **********************************************************************

ALL: [singing] Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true...

> *******
>      Prince John III                              [e-mail]
>       Join the Government of New Atlantis...Email me today and ask
> how!

SERVO: He's Prince John, the PHONY king of New Atlantis!

>           "You want it all but you can't have it!" -- Faith No More

JOEL: You can have all this, John F. Moore.

[And they leave.]

>

...o...2...3...4...5...6...G


[Servo and Crow wear the closest thing to jubilant expressions that they
can manage. Joel walks in, carrying a plate of turkey.]

SERVO: Hey, what's this?

JOEL: Since we've made it all the way through "Treklander", I thought a
      little thanksgiving celebration would be in order.

SERVO & CROW: Yeah! All right!

CROW: Lemme go first! I want to go first. I give thanks because "Trek-
      lander" is finally over!

SERVO: Oh, you took the easy one.

CROW: Yes, the nightmare is at an end! Wooo-hooo!

JOEL: Yes!

SERVO: I give thanks because John F. Moore finally got a spellchecker.
       He even figured out how to spell the names of the characters he
       was stealing!

JOEL: Right on!

CROW: Yessss!

JOEL: I give thanks because... uh... he changed the quote in his sig
      block!

CROW: Well...

SERVO: Actually, I looked forward to seeing the same quotation, as the
       only constant in the erratic mishmash that was "Treklander".

JOEL: Well... nothing else really got better toward the end.

SERVO: True.

JOEL: Come on, as bad as it was, at least it's over with. We won't be
      hearing from Sancho Marin for quite a while.

[WHAM! On top of his last line, the ship shakes violently.]

CROW: Don't be too sure!

SERVO: Why do I suddenly feel like doing a Red Cross spot?

JOEL: [with feeling] Oh, of all the times for contrived plot construc-
      tion to rear its ugly head! Cambot, give me Rocket Number Nine!

[Cut to exterior SoL. One of the Klingon warbirds from Original Trek
has pulled up to the SoL and is firing phasers at it. The shots are
glancing off an energy shield. Cut to interior SoL.]

CROW: [surprised] Gee, this experiment got *expensive* all of a sudden.

SERVO: There's something coming in on the hexfield.

JOEL: Open hailing frequencies!

[The hexfield opens up to reveal... Sancho Marin, grinning evilly!]

SERVO: Oh, no! It's Sancho Marin, the villain from today's experiment!

CROW: Thank you, Ensign Exposition.

MARIN: Well, sinor McCloud. Once again we meet for the first time for
       the last time.

JOEL: Look, there's some mistake. We're not Duncan MacLeod.

MARIN: Don't try to geeve me that "We're not Duncan MacLeod" story, ami-
       gos! Apollo 13 said "We're not Duncan MacLeod." The _Liberator_
       said "We're not Duncan MacLeod." Babylon 4 said "We're not Duncan
       MacLeod." Every time, he was aboard!

[Joel, Crow, and Servo look at each other, consternated.]

MARIN: And every time he gave me the sleep! But thees time you weel not
       get away! Seence you are trapped and cannot escape my eventual
       revenge, I'm going to let you tweest in the weend for now, ami-
       gos. But I'll be back in the sequel. Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha!

[The hexfield closes.]

CROW: I wonder what *he* wanted.

SERVO: I wonder what he meant about a sequel.

JOEL: [mugging to the camera] Well, Tom, Crow, let's just hope that it
      was just an empty threat. Grid willing, there will *never* be a
      "Treklander II". Well, what do you think, sirs?

[Deep 13]

[Frank is still wearing the pakycephalosaur head; Dr. Forrester is
wearing the diplodocus head and neck on his head. Dr. F breaks into
evil laughter.]

DIPLODOCUS: [in a strangled Dr. F voice] Push the button, Frank.

[Frank shrugs meekly and reaches for the button.]

PAKYCEPHALOSAUR: [in a suprisingly normal-sounding Frank voice] Why me?
                 How come you can't push the button, huh? I mean, just
                 once...  [continues in a similar vein as...]

                                \  |  /
                                 \ | /
                                ---O---
                                 / | \
                                /  |  \

                                <fwoosh>

[Fade to MSTH set, where there are no extra props visible.]

PERKINS: Oh, little do they know-- well, I shouldn't spoil the surprise,
         but tune in next time for the Mystery Science Theater Hour.

[Lights down; Perkins relaxes a little and leans on the column.]

MSTed by Steve Brinich <[e-mail]>,
         Laurie Cubbison <[e-mail]>,
         Petrea Mitchell <[e-mail]>,  (Almighty Editor)
         Mark Sachs <[e-mail]>,
         & Spatch <[e-mail]>

Host segments by Petrea Mitchell & Mark Sachs

Peter North trivia person: David Hines

[Perkins is still patiently leaning against the column.]

All characters, logos, and sharp objects copyright Best Brains, Inc.;
all rights reserved. "Treklander" reproduced electronically by permis-
sion of the author. This MSTing is not intended to infringe upon any-
thing except the humorlessness of today's world. This article may be re-
distributed freely as long as this notice remains intact.

[And still he waits.]

If you'd like to MST some deserving piece, contact the "dibs" mailing
list at <[e-mail]>.

[Suddenly, for no reason at all, Perkins pulls the back of his suit over
the top of his head, and ambles off the set like the Hunchback of Notre
Dame.]