Fritz: All Fritz/All Fritz.zip/All Fritz/FILES/MISCEOUS/DISKZINE.LZH/FUTURE.DOC

Text File | 1988-07-31 | 20KB | 476 lines

                           (Slightly More Than)
                        20 Minutes Into The Future

                                    by
                               Jody A. Morse


     "Admiral," called Cmdr.  Uhura from the Comm Pit, "There's  a  message
coming in from Starfleet Headquarters. Priority One."

     "On the screen, Commander."

     Admiral  James  T.  Kirk swiveled his command chair around to face the
main viewscreen.  As he did so, he mused, 'So much for our hoped for  "milk
run".'  The viewscreen shifted from the usual panorama of open space to the
craggy features of Fleet  Admiral  Nogura.   "Admiral,"  Kirk  greeted  him
respectfully, as befitted an officer of such high rank and experience.

     "James,"  Nogura  replied with a smile, dispensing of formality.  "I'm
afraid something has come up, something of the utmost urgency."

     "As usual," Chekov muttered.

     "I'm sorry.  James, I didn't quite catch that."

     Kirk supressed a smile.  "That was merely one of my  officers  voicing
his concern, sir.  What exactly is the nature of the emergency?"

     "As  you know, the annual Babel Conference is being held at Starbase 4
at this time.  Well, it seems we've got ourselves another  nest  of  Sirian
vipers.  To make a long story short, there have been a series of unexpected
deaths in the last few days.  Ambassadors are dropping like flies, and  the
entire Conference is in jeopardy of dissolving in panic."

     "I take it that you suspect foul play?" Kirk asked.

     "I  do, though for the life of me I can't imagine how it's being done.
The delegates were each locked in their own rooms, which were  shielded  to
prevent the use of a transporter.  Yet when the rooms were forced open by a
security  detail  after  the delegate had failed to show up for a scheduled
meeting, they were found dead - or I should say, the guards found what  was
left of them.  It appears that they had exploded - from within!"

     "That does indeed sound perplexing, Admiral."

     "Which is why I'm sending the Enterprise to Starbase 4 to investigate.
Remember  that  this  is  a  very  delicate  matter and that it needs to be
resolved as quickly as possible.  Good luck.  Starfleet out."

     As soon  as  the  screen  had  faded  and  become  replaced  with  the
spectacular starfield, Uhura turned around and remarked, "Sounds like a job
for Sherlock Holmes."

     "I  think  we can handle this one on our own, Uhura, thank you.  Sulu,
set course for Starbase 4, warp factor nine."

                                 * * * * *

     As the starship sped through the stellar void, her crew were  blithely
unaware that they were soon to embark on one of the strangest adventures in
Federation history.

     "ETA to the Starbase?" Kirk ordered.

     "One hour, five minutes, sir."

     Suddenly,  the  ship  lurched,  as  if it had collided with something.
Kirk grasped the arms of his chair.  "What the hell was that?"

     "Unknown, sir!"

     "Admiral!" cried Uhura.   "Something's  gone  wrong  with  the  ship's
computer. It's behaving very irratically."

     "Could it have anything to do with that impact?" he asked naively.

     "Possibly  sir.   I  just don't know.  There seems to be a power surge
of some kind affecting the logic circuits and all other  higher  functions,
including  communications."  Uhura  did  not  sound pleased with having her
precious instru- ments out of her control.

     All at once the main viewscreen came alive again.  A strange  humanoid
appeared  there.   He was quite human in appearance over-all.  But his hair
was stiff and sculped, like a mannequin's.  Also  his  eyes  were  strange;
expressionless,  as  if  they  were  made of glass.  And, oh yes, he had no
arms.  He seemed to look about the Bridge for a few seconds, then muttered,
"You guys look like an intergalactic Shriner's Convention."

     Kirk inquired, "Uhura, is this a transmission of some kind?"

     "Negative, Admiral.  It's coming directly from the ship's computer."

     The commander of the Enterprise stood and faced the screen.  "Who  are
you?"

     "Good  question!  Good  question!  I-I'm  M-M-Max  Headroom,  formerly
affiliated with Network 23, the station that's in business to serve  you  -
for dinner!" There was confused silence on the Bridge.  Max tilted his head
forward  and  said,  "Pardon  me, but if there's no one home, you shouldn't
leave the lights on. Wastes electricity."

     "Are you responsible  for  the  disruption  of  my  ship's  computer?"
snapped Kirk irritably.

     "I  can  not  tell  a  lie.   Actually I could, if it would serve some
useful, humanitarian purpose.  Or if it - "

     "DID YOU?"

     "Yeah, I guess so.   Didn't  mean  to,  though.   But  it  is  awfully
cramped  in  here.   Haven't  you  guys  ever  heard of interior electronic
decorating?"

     The crew was now completely lost due to Max's nerve-wracking habit  of
changing subjects without prior warning - or cause.

     "Look, whoever you are ... "

     "M-my name ... My name is-s ... Just call me Max."

     "Look,  Max,  all  I  want to know is where you came from and what the
hell you're doing in my computer system!"

     "Such language! I certainly hope this isn't the Family Hour."

     "Fine.  Spock, check the computer files for any  reference  to  a  Max
Headroom."

     "I have already done so, Admiral," the Vulcan science officer replied,
under  the  curious,  if bemused, gaze of their odd guest.  "No such person
listed in our files."

     "Why am I not surprised? Try historical records."

     A moment later, Spock said, "Affirmative.  According to  our  records,
there  was  a  'personality' that went by that name, circa the early 1990s,
just before the beginning of the Eugenics Wars.  As you may recall, society
was in sort of a decline.  Much of the world  became  electronicalized,  to
the  point  that  its  one  major  industry  became  video  - or to use the
colloquial term, television. Television as an art form had died  out  years
earlier, around the mid-1980s. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice.  The
number one rated station was Network 23."

     Max smiled and mused, "Ohm, sweet ohm."

     "However,"  Spock  continued, still bent over his hooded viewer, "even
Network 23 was in trouble.  Their ratings soon began to drop.   It  was  at
this  point  that  a  computer whiz-kid name Bryce Lynch discovered what he
called the Computer Regeneration Process, whereby a person's mental ingrams
are impressed upon a computer's synaptic circuits, producing - "

     "Me!" Max called triumphantly.

     "Ah, correct.  A popular video journalist named Edison  Carter  became
the  first  and  ultimately  the only subject of the CRP.  The result was a
wise-cracking, irreverent ... "

     "Don't forget adorable!" added Max.

     "... bodiless entity that called itself Max Headroom."

     "And aren't you glad I did?"

     "Max made  frequent,  unannounced,  and  unauthorized  appearances  on
Network  23  over  the  next few years, with the result that that station's
ratings went through the roof."

     Kirk sighed.  "That's all very interesting Mr.  Spock.  But it doesn't
explain how Max got here, now, does it?"

     "Well, according  to  the  records,  he  disappeared  just  after  the
systematic  take-over  of  much  of the Earth by the genetically engineered
supermen."

     "We called them Khan-jobs," Max offered.

     "So much for our  records,"  muttered  Kirk.   "Max,  would  you  mind
filling us in?"

     "Certainly,  Captain  Quirk.  When Network 23 went under, I got fed up
with all the stuff that was going down and so projected  myself  through  a
powerful  satellite and out into deep space.  The final frontier, you know.
Big mistake. Talk about boring.  I've been drifting through the cosmos on a
beam of electron particles for hundreds of years, with only the  occasional
heavy  gravity  star  to talk with.  And they are soooo self-centered!" The
'Talking Head' champed his teeth in accompaniment to his computer generated
laughter.

     "Let me guess," said Uhura, "your 'beam' just  happened  to  intersect
with  the  Enterprise's trajectory.  And now you've decided to 'crash' here
for a while, right?"

     "Right, gorgeous.  By the way, where are we heading?"

     "Starbase 4.  Now listen, Max - " Kirk began.   Without  warning,  Max
vanished from the viewscreen.

     "He's gone," Sulu sighed with relief.

     Kirk mused, "Now why do I doubt that?"

                                 * * * * *

     The  shimmering sound of a transporter accompanied the materialization
of three  Enterprise  crewmembers,  Captain  Spock,  Commander  Uhura,  and
Admiral  Kirk.  They  looked around the main conference room of Starbase 4,
now ominously deserted, save for a  lone,  solemn  figure.   Spock  stepped
forward  and  greeted  him  with  the Vulcan salute.  "Peace and long life,
Father."

     The aging but powerful Vulcan returned  the  salute.  "Live  long  and
prosper,  Spock.   I  regret  that  the circumstances of our reunion are so
threatening."

     "I was under the impression,  sir,  that  you  had  retired  from  the
Diplomatic Service," remarked Kirk.

     "Diplomacy  is  much  like  the  Vulcan  winds, Admiral, and we are as
grains of sand.  It blows us where it will, and when it dies down, we often
find ourselves right back where we started from.  As you may recall, I  was
present at the Babel Conference some years ago in which several ambassadors
were murdered."

     "Believe me, Ambassador," Kirk smiled, "I remember."

     "Since  then,  I  have made it a practice of attending each subsequent
conference."

     "Nostalgia, sir?"

     "Necessity, Admiral.  I find my presence has a soothing  influence  on
the other delegates, which in turn helps to promote productivity.  But now,
with these mysterious deaths ..."

     "Mysterious, indeed," Uhura remarked.

     "Oh,  Ambassador,  this  is my Chief Communications Officer, Commander
Uhura."

     The Vulcan nodded graceously.  "Commander."

     "A pleasure, sir."

     Kirk asked, "Where are the rest of the delegates?"

     "Locked in their quarters, I'm afraid.  In  light  of  the  nature  of
these attacks, that is hardly reassuring."

     "Could  we  see  the  apartment  of  the latest victim, please?" Uhura
asked.

     "Certainly.  If you will follow me ..."

     Their examination of the chambers shed no light on the  dark  mystery.
The  security system had been undisturbed from the time the ambassador from
Troyian entered his rooms until his corpse was discovered the next morning.
The force field was intact and the door was sealed tight from within, so it
was impossible for anyone to have entered the apartment  or  left,  without
alerting  the  security  detail  posted  outside.  The  possibility  of the
delegate's food being laced with explosives was also ruled out, as any food
delivered to the ambassador was thoroughly scanned beforehand.

     The  rooms  were  sparce,  Kirk  noticed.   Aside   from   the   small
communications  terminal/video  monitor,  the  room  was  devoid  of modern
conveniences.  Uhura was examining the system carefully.  When she  flipped
it  on,  she was surprised to find it tuned to receive local transmissions.
The advertisement for the pleasure domes of the starbase flashed across the
screen, before returning to an old Earth entertainment video starring three
gentlemen known, she noted with some amusement, as Stooges.   Suddenly  the
picture broke up, to be replaced with a familiar garish profile.

     "Max! How did you get here?"

     "Where  there's  a  watt,  there's a way.  I simply transmitted myself
here via the Enterprise's comm system. So where's the party?"

     "There is no party, Mr.  Headroom," Spock  replied  evenly.   "We  are
working."

     Max  made a face, showing his distaste at the mention of the 'w' word.
"Don't you guys ever let up? Put on some tunes, slip on  your  ol'  dancing
shoes.  Life's  too  short to waste it on such trivial things as saving the
universe.  So, what are you doing?"

     "Investigating a series of unexplained deaths."

     "Ah, a little gumshoeing, eh?" Max  mused,  imitating  an  old  cinema
actor named Bogey.  "Right up my alley, sweetheart.  Got any suspects?"

     "Not  unless  you  know anyone who can walk through walls," Uhura said
sweetly.

     "That's immaterial."

     Kirk groaned.  Uhura laughed and  Mr.   Spock  merely  nodded  sagely.
"One thing is certain.  No one could have gotten into this room."

     "I don't know about that," Kirk said.  "After all, Max just managed to
sneak in."

     All  eyes  turned  toward the head on the monitor screen. "Well, don't
look at me," Max cried.  "I've never murdered anything."

     "Except the English Language," Uhura corrected him.

     "Touche!"

     Kirk  grinned.   "I'm  not  seriously  accusing  you,  Max,  I'm  just
pointing out that there are ways to infiltrate a shielded room."

     Max asked, "How exactly did the deceased desist?"

     "He blew up."

     "Yuck!"  The comuter man turned a sickening shade of mauve.  "I'd hate
to be the one that cleaned the room afterwards.  Reminds me of my adventure
with Blipverts."

     "Blipverts?" the Enterprise crew asked in unison.

     "Sure.  Don't you remember your history lessons? It  was  one  of  the
biggest  scams  in  the history of - well, history! I myself played a major
role in its exposure."

     "Of course!" Kirk said.  "I remember now.  Blipverts were  a  kind  of
subliminal  advertising  that  caused certain obese people to die horribly.
It caused every molecule in the person's body to explode."

     "What happened to this terrible process?" Sarek asked.

     Spock replied, "It was  outlawed  by  the  authorities  and  over  the
centuries the secret was lost ... fortunately."

     Sarek remarked, "It would appear that someone has rediscovered it."

     "But why? And for what purpose?"

     Kirk flipped open his communicator.  "Kirk to Enterprise."

     "Enterprise.  Scotty here."

     "Scotty,   contact   the  person  who's  in  charge  of  the  televisa
broadcasts on  this  station.   Tell  him  we  want  video  transcripts  of
everything they transmitted last night.  Get on it, Scotty."

     "Aye, sir."

     "Kirk  out."  He  turned  back  toward  the video screen. "Max, do you
think you could scan those  broadcasts  for  traces  of  Blipverts  without
endangering yourself?"

     "Naturally.  'Cause ..." He began to sing, "I ain't got no bo-ody!"

     "Fine.   First  we  determine if our theory is correct, then we figure
out who's responsible."

                                 * * * * *

     Some time later, back on the Enterprise, Kirk paced back and forth  in
his quarters, waiting for the verdict from his computerized guest. Suddenly
the screen of his personal communications console lit up and Max smiled out
at him.

     "Max!   What  did  you  find  out?  Were  the  ambassadors  killed  by
Blipverts?"

     "Yes and no," the electronic man replied.

     "Max, if you're setting me up for another of your insipid jokes - "

     "No, seriously! I  scanned  the  tapes  as  you  requested  and  found
definite evidence of Blipverts - "

     "I knew it!"

     "However,  they  are not exactly like the Blipverts I'm familiar with.
This is a new strain that kills without discrimination.  You see, in  order
for the old 'verts to do you in, you had to be fat and inactive.  But these
new  'verts  can get you regardless of your physical condition. It's a good
thing you had me search for them rather than one of  your  crew,  otherwise
you'd  be  short  one  crewman  ...  or crew-whatever.  The signal with the
Blipverts was transmitted over the station's transmission and fed  directly
into  the  Amassador's  quarters.  The  resulting feedback showed up on the
tapes."

     Kirk  scowled.   "You  mean  the  signal  originated  outside  of  the
Starbase?"

     "Right."

     "Do you know where it orginated from?"

     "Sure  do.  From some weird looking spaceship parked a few light years
from here."

     "What exactly does this ship look like?"

     "Like this!" Max vanished from the screen, to be replaced by an  image
of a Klingon battlecruiser.

     "Klingons! I should have known."

     Max  came  back  on  the  screen.   "I've  devised  a filter that will
prevent any future invasion of Blipverts from these King Kongs -"

     "Klingons," Kirk corrected him, smiling despite himself.

     "- and with the help of your lovely Chief  Communications  Officer,  I
came  up  with  my own special version of Blipverts which we've transmitted
back at them."

     "Max! Even though the Klingons are our worst enemies,  we  can't  just
murder them -"

     "So who said anything about murdering them? My Blipverts are basically
harmless.  But they do have some rather interesting side-effects."

     "Just tell me, Max!"

     "They cause you to lose control of your ...  bodily functions."

     "What?!" The Enterprise commander's mouth fell open in disbelief.

     Max  shrugged.   "Uhura  tells  me that most people think the Klingons
are full of shit.  Well -" He smiled.  "- We'll soon find out."

     For the first time since meeting Max, Kirk laughed - laughed until the
tears ran down his cheeks.

                                 * * * * *

     With the Klingon menace foiled (the ship had turned and fled back into
Klingon space soon after  Max's  subtle  return  transmission),  the  Babel
Conference  resumed  and  the  Enterprise  returned  to its original patrol
mission.

     Kirk was sitting in the center seat when Max  once  more  appeared  on
the  main  screen.   "Ah, there you are, Max.  I've been wondering when you
were going to grace us with your presence again.  We've got a surprise  for
you."

     "A surprise party?"

     "No,   not   a  surprise  party.   We  sent  a  message  to  Starfleet
Headquarters, telling them about the Klingon Blipverts and how  you  gummed
up their works -"

     "T'was nothing, really."

     "-  And they were so grateful that they've offered you the position of
host  of  their  new  PR  program,  'Starfleet  After  Hours'.   You'll  be
interviewing  illustrious  members of some of the most outstanding ships in
the Fleet."

     "You mean I can once more fill the airways with my  radiant  radiance?
I can again be a -" he batted his eyelids comically, "- Star?"

     "That's right, Max.  What do you say?"

     "Need  you  ask?  Uhura, my dear, would you be so good as to give me a
little push?"

     "You got it," Uhura smiled, opening a hailing frequency to HQ.

     "Well, I'd love to stay and chat,  but  I've  got  a  wave  to  catch.
Ta-ta!" With that, Max faded from the screen.

     Kirk  smiled.   Another Babel Conference, another massacre, a bodiless
man from Earth's past, and Klingons uncontrollably soiling their  uniforms.
It had been quite a day.  Then again, the galaxy was a strange place.

     ... and getting stranger all the time!

                               * * * * * * *