This MSTing is sort of a sequel to "Robotech III", in which Belldandy visited Mike and the 'bots. It hopefully stands just fine on its own, though. With that... ** Mystery Usenet Theater 3000 Post MS-9, reel one ** [Open on the SOL Bridge. Tom and Mike are present, Tom wearing a rumpled gray uniform and ranting at Mike.] TOM: ...and THAT'S why you've got to enter Federal Service, TODAY! MIKE: Sure, but -- Oh, hi everyone, welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Mike, and my robot friends Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot just saw "Starship Troopers" on cable. I think as usual, they took it just a little too seriously. Tom, we don't even have a government up here, so I don't see the point -- TOM: Don't see the POINT?! Do you want to go through the rest of your life as a yellow-bellied nobody CIVILIAN? Do you know what happens to civilians? MIKE: [patient] No, Tom, what happens to civilians? TOM: DON'T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT! Now sign here! MIKE: Okay, if it'll make you happy... [Mike signs.] TOM: Congratulations, kid! Federal Service made me the man I am today. Um, could you pick up the form for me? My arms don't work. [Enter Crow, in a sergeant's uniform.] CROW: Well, look what we have here. A weak-kneed, lily-livered, yellow-bellied, charndonnay-sipping citizen wanna-be. MIKE: Oh, and you're dressed as the drill sergeant too. That's really cute. CROW: DID I give you permission to SPEAK, MAYONNAISE?! MIKE: No, you didn't, but -- CROW: [sneering] You think you've got what it takes to be a citizen? MIKE: Well, sure. CROW: Then come right up here... and NAME ALL THE STATE CAPITALS! MIKE: Uh, okay... Buffalo, New York... Harrisburg, Pennsylvania -- CROW: NOT TO ME, MAGGOT! Write them down! MIKE: Yes, sir! [As Mike starts writing furiously, the 'bots gather in front of the camera.] CROW: Well, what do you think, Corporal? TOM: Greatness, Sergeant T. Robot. Greatness. Yes, greatness is exactly the quality he lacks the most. [They look back at Mike for a moment, then shake their heads sadly. Commercial Sign light starts to flash.] CROW: I can just tell this guy'll be buried in the credits as "Third Impaled Infantryman." Sometimes I'm saddened by sending young fools like him out to die. TOM: Really? CROW: No, not really. TOM: Me neither. We'll be right back. [** Commercials **] [We're back. Crow and Tom are looking over Mike's papers in disgust.] CROW: This is pathetic. Look, Oregon has TWO senators. EVERY state has two senators! You got half the Supreme Court justices wrong, you didn't know the name of Washington, D. C.'s alternate delegate, and you put the Department of the Interior under the legislative branch! MIKE: Well, okay, civics was never my strong point, sure, but -- TOM: Sheesh! I bet you think the first President was George Clooney! MIKE: Does this mean I don't get into the Federal Service? CROW: Forget it, Mike. Just forget it. You're condemned to have to live a life of undisturbed luxury and extravagance while we go find some more qualified young man to die bleeding in the dirt on a godforsaken alien world. MIKE: Oh well, I guess I'll get over it. Hey, Spider Robinson is calling. TOM: Dink. CROW: Civilian. [Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is leering at the camera, smug as ever.] DR. F: Ah. Doogie. Glad you could drop by. I do hope you have today's Invention Exchange ready...? [SOL] MIKE: Well, gee, Dr. F, you don't have one. [Deep 13] DR. F: And? [SOL. There's a big, old color TV set (the kind with knobs) behind the desk, with a fragile-looking gadget mounted on top. Tom and Crow's costumes are suddenly gone, by the way.] MIKE: [agreeably] Good point. Fortunately I do have a little thing I've been messing with, y'know, after work and on weekends. It's called the Home Brain Box, and I think we're ready to give you a little demo here. TOM: *ahem* Thank you, Mike. Everyone always complains about dumb television shows, but nobody ever does anything about it. Well, we've fixed all that with this invention. Let's say you're coming home from work, tired and worn out, and ready to vegetate in front of the TV for a while. [Mike leaves and comes back in. He turns on the TV.] TOM: Way too apathetic and preoccupied to even think about what channel to choose, you're perfect cannon fodder for the sinister forces of Network Programming. [Mike turns the channel knob. Tinny sound comes out of the TV.] CROW: So like a big dumb squarehead -- take a bow, Mike -- you turn it on and start watching "Men Behaving Badly..." [Lights flash on the Home Brain Box and it starts beeping. The channel changes with a loud "clunk."] TOM: And before you know it, the TV changes its own channel and you're watching "Homicide: Life on the Street." MIKE: Pretty slick, huh? [Cambot zooms in a bit on Mike and the 'bots as they talk, so the TV is offscreen left. Suddenly there's a brilliant flare of light!] TOM: Whoa! Geez! MIKE: What's going on? CROW: Hey, who's that climbing out of the TV set? [The lights die down. Cambot pulls back and there's someone new on the set: it's Urd! (Who "Oh My Goddess" viewers will recognize as Belldandy's older sister: tall, sexy, dark-skinned, a mane of wavy white hair and a slinky blue dress cut up to here and then some; part-time Universal systems operator and self-styled Goddess of Love.)] TOM: Wow. I'd make comical hair-smoothing motions if I had hair. URD: [with incredible reverb] Greetings, mortals! I, the goddess Urd, greatest of the Three Norns, have come to your Satellite seeking the one they call... Mike! MIKE: That would be me, I guess. [cheerfully] Hi. URD: [normal voice] You're Mike? MIKE: Yup, pretty much. URD: Thought you'd be taller. Anyway -- my sister Belldandy told me about you, and your wish to return to Earth. MIKE: Well, yeah, I mean that was three years ago, and -- URD: [reverb again] Silence! MIKE: Sorry. URD: Anyway, I just hate to see a man not getting what he wants. So hold real still. [Urd strikes a pose and starts to chant a spell.] MIKE: Hey... this is it! I'm finally going home! Goodbye, guys! Look, I'll write, okay? And -- [BOOM! Mike vanishes in the traditional flash of light and puff of smoke.] CROW: Huh. Typical human. TOM: Yeah, you love them, you nurture them, and then bam! They're out of the Satellite as soon as they're old enough to drive. CROW: I suppose it's all for the best. So, who's hungry? URD: [preening] My good deed for the day. Well, see ya. [She reaches for the TV set but it goes dark just as her finger touches it. The Mads' light starts flashing.] URD: Huh? [Deep 13.] DR. FORRESTER: No no no, don't try to deny it. I saw what happened up there. [Long, calm pause.] I just want you to know that I harbor no ill will over this little technical glitch. [SOL. Urd is still trying to get the TV to work.] TOM: Really? Despite the loss of years of experimental results? CROW: That's awful sweet. [Deep 13] DR. FORRESTER: [airily] Oh, absolutely. It's all part of science. These things happen. [SOL] TOM: He's taking this pretty well. CROW: So, I guess no experiments for a while, huh? URD: What's wrong with this thing? [Deep 13] DR. F: [innocently] I didn't say _that_. After all, I've still got a full complement up there, and it would be a crime not to take advantage of it. Now then, Josie and the Pussycats, I present for your disapproval "Justice and Mercy," a giant wad of nothing from the senescence of the once-beloved Undocumented Features. It's two hours of your life that you will never, ever get back. [chuckles] I almost feel sorry for you. [SOL] TOM: Aw, man... CROW: I knew it was too good to last. URD: [disdainfully] You can't experiment on a Goddess Second Class (Limited). I'm outta here. [She tries to travel through the TV screen and bumps her head painfully.] URD: Owww! [Deep 13.] DR. FORRESTER: I said _almost_, Zoo Crew! Now get in that theater and start hurting! Oh, and Miss Urd -- just to make sure there are no further inconvenient disappearances, I've disconnected the Satellite's cable television feed. Hahahahaha -- you're stuck here! [SOL] CROW: No cable television. Big deal. TOM: Yeah, all we got was VH-1, two shopping networks and Comedy Central. Phh. URD: What do you mean, I'm stuck here!! [Enter Gypsy.] GYPSY: Hello! Did something happen to Mike? [Buzzers, flashing lights, etc] GYPSY: Oh! Hey, you, uh, guys, you've got movie sign! URD: [desperately] This _sucks_! Somebody help meeee! [Panic and pandemonium...] ...*...6...5...4...3...2...1... [All enter the theater and sit down, Urd where Mike usually is.] URD: I swear, that is the last time I ever do a favor for anybody... *Ooooh!!* CROW: What? What? URD: Woww! That's the biggest TV screen I've ever seen! How many channels do you get on this thing? TOM: Well, that's the funny part. We don't actually get channels per se... > > > >From TheeInterNet@HotMail.com Thu Aug 21 02:06:41 1997 URD: Oh. >Path: netaxs.com!news->xfer.netaxs.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu! CROW: Quick thinking, 99! >howland.erols.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!nanap >From: URD: The whole thing? CROW: Guess so. >Newsgroups: news.admin.net-abuse.policy >Subject: mediated capital spectacular enemy TOM: Uh... words in a party platform! Words you'd see in a movie review! Um, um, pass! >Date: 18 Aug 1997 15:28:33 GMT URD: Good morning, hacker, and welcome back to Citadel Station. >Organization: Auto-Moderation Bot, v0.99a >Lines: 12 TOM: The amount of pure cocaine required to enjoy this post. >Approved: nanap-req@uiuc.edu >Message-ID: <19970818063504.AAA22444@gallery.ravenna.com> >NNTP-Posting-Host: alpha.math.uiuc.edu CROW: Brought to you by Alpha Complex. TOM: The Internet is your friend. Trust the Internet. >X-Submissions-To: nanap-sub@ravenna.com >X-Auth: PGPMoose V1.1 CROW: [thick Russian accent] Yuri! Look out for the moose! > PGP news.admin.net-abuse.policy >iQCVAwUBM/hqG11wH2VcGi8lAQHtpgP+JS7RNKe0ruZ >DOksfrzSvZFxQKbYk/waH >kN97G092zeY1ZrPJSy9jZ4oIKLGztgVdzvVWSdUmmZ6Qb4HzcpOZl >DhVTHKNY6Qi >NKEzUZ7vvua6YNZ5r1myUXOJcdhBQxeNs0lmhfSUL5Jecvd1g+QECZWv9sfUP94 >>9gFphIAUt8A= =zLT/ URD: Gee, looks like it's broken. Can we go? >Originator: tskirvin@alpha.math.uiuc.edu >Xref: netaxs.com news.admin.net-abuse.policy:7375 TOM: "Speed" didn't have this many credits at the beginning! > >Thee InterNet TOM: I really dig them FunkyCaps. I do. >is not a collection of machines, CROW: I... am not... a machine! Oh, wait. I guess I am. Never mind. >but a social >relation among people, *mediated* by nothing. URD: [head in hands] Oh, _man_... > >Thee InterNet is *capital* TOM: [foppy] *Capital*, Jeeves! Just capital! > to such a degree of accumulation >that it becomes a machine. > >Thee InterNet URD: The extra "e" is for extra goofy. >which eliminates TOM: Ew. >all geographical distance >reproduces distance internally as *spectacular* separation. CROW: So this is the USENET equivalent of randomly pulling letters out of a Scrabble bag? > >InterNet theory is now the *enemy* of all InterNet ideology >and knows it. URD: I don't get it. TOM: I think he means we should lock John_-_Winston and Stephen Ratliff in a room and let them fight it out. URD: Ohhhh. ...Huh? > > > > TOM: Is it safe to come out? CROW: Yeah, I think he's gone. URD: That's _it_? Hah! That was _nothing_! [standing up and raising her fist] C'mon, Forrester, bring it on, you wimp! Do your worst! [Stunned gasps from the 'bots.] > > CROW: Take it back! Take it back! TOM: Oh, man... that has got to be the jinx to end all jinxes. URD: [sitting back down] What? > > > TOM: You'll be sorry. That's all I'm saying. CROW: No, Tom. _We'll_ be sorry. We'll _all_ be sorry. URD: You bunch of babies. Hey, here it comes. > > > Smalltime Writers, International > in association with > Eyrie Productions, Unlimited > presents [Urd produces a bag of popcorn and starts munching.] > > H A M M E R T I M E : > > Tales of a > F U T U R E > I M P E R F e C T TOM: Hey, where'd you get the popcorn from? URD: I used my divine powers to intercede with the Almighty. CROW: Just to get popcorn? URD: [shrugging] It was either that or walk to the kitchen and make some, and that would've taken nearly five minutes. My time is valuable. [Awed pause.] TOM: Man, I wish I were you. > > > JUSTICE AND MERCY > > > by Martin "PCHammer" Rose CROW: Please, Hammer, don't hurt us! > and Ben "Gryphon" Hutchins TOM: And Phil "Seven Piece Rotary Tiller Attachment" Shlabotnik. > > > The doorknob turned, unbidden, and the door swung open. TOM: It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out. A door slammed! A maid screamed! A pirate ship appeared on the horizon... URD: [through the popcorn] Oh, stop. That was a perfectly decent opening sentence. > Kei whirled, almost with a start, URD: All right! A Dirty Pair story! CROW: Huh? URD: C'mon! I love those two. Kei's my favorite though. Go, Kei! > holding little Kaitlyn close to herself > with one arm and trying to assume a defensive stance with what remained. TOM: Any attackers would meet a veritable wall of random body parts. CROW: Adam Warren's Dirty Pair would've used the baby as a shield. URD: Quiet, you. Get 'em, Kei! > True, she may live in one of the cleanest, friendliest, _nicest_ cities in > the Federation, TOM: Would you like to know more? > and she may even have what would likely qualify as > superheroes for neighbors, CROW: She rooms next door to the Kids' Crew. Big deal. > but she didn't live four centuries by being > careless. (Being careless nearly cut that number quite short, on several > occasions.) CROW: So, then... she _did_ live four centuries by being careless. > She had no intention of letting anything more happen to her > child; what she'd had to go through before even being born was quite enough. URD: [confidentially] This is a side of Kei we haven't seen before, the caring, violent side. > Before Kei could even complete her present train of thought, which > consisted of threat estimation and optimal modes of attack, she was already > relaxing and calming herself. The head of bright red hair peeking through > the partially-opened doorway was most assuredly no threat. TOM: [falsetto] Hmm. Red hair. Well, I'm already here, so it can't be me... > Eiko smiled a little sheepishly, realizing that the fierce gleam that > flashed for a moment in Kei's eyes was due to her TOM: Nasty plutonium-snorting habit. CROW: No, she's a SOLDIER First Class! > neglecting to knock or > ring the doorbell. URD: [still munching popcorn] Kei must be slowing down now that she's a mother. In the old days this Eiko person would've been perforated in eight places before she took a step. > The Hutchins and the Roses had established a rather fast > friendship, [Urd halts, a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth.] URD: The what? CROW: The who? TOM: Uh oh. > with Kei and Eiko having become surprisingly close after the > former finally moved into the house. URD: No, what's with this "The Hutchins and the Roses"? Explain it now. > It didn't seem so much like two > families across the street from each other as one rather oversized one. TOM: [Cockney accent] Wull, it was great growin' up there, everyone was always in and out of each others' houses with each others' posessions... > "Hi," Kei smiled, speaking with a hushed voice. > "Sorry," Eiko replied in the same breathy tone. CROW: Sayyy! It's that kind of fanfic, huh? TOM: Crow! CROW: What? TOM: There's a lady here! URD: Where? > "Just came over to say > hi. ALL: "Hi!" > Little too used to just walking in, I guess." TOM: Wasn't, eheh, expecting anyone to be home. Ah-heh, ahem. > Kei shrugged carefully. "It's okay. Nearly being killed when you're > about to give birth tends to put you on edge." CROW: [as Kei] ...As does the wide variety of stimulants I've been taking. TOM: Dru-u-u-u-u-g humor! > She began walking toward an > inward-leading hallway as Eiko slipped through the door and pulled it shut > behind herself. "Come on, I was just about to put her down." > Eiko followed with a grin. "Just don't use any overly harsh words or > I'll have to get rough." TOM: [flat] Oh no. Eiko's feeling... saucy. CROW: Wait... Eiko? As in "Project"? URD: I sense retroactive continuity here -- dark and deep. > They entered the darkened baby room with careful footsteps, which all > fell silently into the carpet. Even in the unlit gloom, Eiko's eyes could > easily detect the room's purpose; URD: The handcuffs and the mirror over the bed made it pretty clear... > the teddy-bear-patterned wallpaper was a > dead giveaway, to say nothing of the crib against the left wall. TOM: Please do! > The two > women proceeded to the crib, a rather pleasant infant cage of wood, steel > and silk, CROW: [grim] I spent three years in an infant cage in 'Nam... > and Kei set her delicate armload into it. Eiko took one of the > small blankets in her hands and pulled it up over Kaitlyn's tiny form, and, > with stealth even greater than that they practiced on the way in, they left > the child to her slumber. URD: Bang! Thud! TOM: Whoops! Oh, sorry -- CROW: Crash! Shatter! TOM: Sorry, sorry, that was me! I just -- URD: Mreeeeeeowr! TOM: Oh, man, I'm so clumsy. Sorry... > "She's beautiful, Kei," Eiko commented once they were back in the living > room. URD: [as Kei] Thanks, I made her myself. > Kei beamed. "Thanks. I must admit we were worried for a while that > there would be some kind of repercussions from the attack, with the > NeuroKill and all, but she's been just fine." CROW: [thoughtful] In another universe, this could've been a Miles Vorkosigan story. > Kei began to move past Eiko, > toward the kitchen. "D'you want anything? I'm not sure we have anything > ready, but--" URD: [as Kei] Here, have some damn fine coffee. > "No, no, I'm fine," Eiko blurted rapidly. "I don't want to be a burden > -- Mitra knows you've done plenty already. CROW: Mitra? TOM: The unit of measurement? CROW: The defense company? TOM: The floor wax? > You just sit yourself down and > let someone else wait on you for a change." TOM: ["Minnewegian"] Oo, yah, you just sit right down and take a load off. CROW: [ditto] Oo, I dunno, I really shouldn't, I got all that shopping ta do. > She emphasized this by guiding > Kei toward the sofa, her hands on the taller woman's arms. TOM: [falsetto] Hey, what are you doing -- no, not towards the window! Stop! Aieeeeeee... > Kei's initial reaction was to try to resist, but against strength like > Eiko's that was a losing proposition at best. "Oh, all right," she groaned > mockingly, lowering herself to the seat. "But I'm afraid I don't really > need anything at the moment, either." Eiko sat beside her as she pulled her > bare feet up underneath her, curling up into a ball of warmth. "Goddess, URD: [sourly] Bite me. > it > feels so good to be able to do that again." > Eiko's smile softened. "This must be incredible for you." > "Mm. An incredible pain," Kei grumbled. "You're lucky that you get to > see her when she's in her quiet moods -- when she gets into one of her fits > she can be a little hellion, and her sleep cycle's nowhere _near_ normal > yet." She chuckled slightly. ALL: [lamely] Ah ha ha ha... ehh... > "But why am I lecturing you on this? You've > already been here." TOM: [Kosh noises] You have always been here. CROW: Eerie. TOM: Thank you. > Eiko's smile turned wistful. "Well, yes and no ... Noriko never had the > short sleep-cycle of an infant when her mind was in that state. Her > physiology was still adult -- we had the questionable good fortune of > keeping her baby attention span occupied while she stayed awake for adult > lengths of time. CROW: Ivan, you idiot, what are you doing here? > And besides," Eiko added with a tone of voice which could > only convey a marginal level of humor, TOM: I'm picturing that tone of voice continuing pretty much throughout this entire fanfic. > "I've never been through the > barefoot-and-pregnant phase." She raised a leg to emphasize her point, CROW: Miss Eiko, are you trying to seduce me? > as > if to point out the shoe covering the end of it. URD: This story reads like a cross between a Danielle Steele novel and a software licensing agreement. > "Lucky you," Kei replied dryly. "Spending nine months carrying a hungry, > weakening weight around in your gut isn't all it's cracked up to be. CROW: [falsetto] And as for being pregnant, well, don't get me started on _that_! > At > least my Detian body'll get itself back into shape a little more quickly > than most." She stuck out her tongue. "My dietary habits may never > recover, though. I cringe at the thought of the things I ate near the end, > there..." > Her voice trailed off as she realized that Eiko didn't seem to be > laughing at her jokes. URD: [surprised] Was she making jokes? [TOM and CROW shrug.] > Instead, she seemed to be staring at her knees. > "What's wrong, Eiko?" CROW: [as Eiko] It's just that I wish you'd put your tongue back in your mouth now. > Kei spoke with almost uncharacteristic concern. TOM: Usually, she laughs loud and long at the suffering of others. Ha ha! > "Huh?" Eiko's sapphire-blue eyes blinked with surprise as she became > aware that she was being spoken to. URD: [as Eiko] Sorry, your attempts at conversation put me into a trance. > "Oh, I'm sorry, no, I'm fine, I'm..." > Her gaze fell back to its former place. "...just fine." > "Right." Kei scooted herself a little closer on the sofa, putting a hand > on the other's shoulder. TOM: You're gonna pull back a bloody stump one'a these times, lady... > "You're not very convincing," she added softly. CROW: She's right. I don't believe that's A-Ko for a _second_. > Eiko looked up into her brown eyes, hesitant to speak, and timid when the > words finally came. "I don't want to bother you ... you should be so happy, > now..." TOM: [singing] ...You should be so glad, but why are you so lonely... > "I don't believe this," Kei whispered. Then, louder, she asked, "All > this time ... you've been _jealous_?" > Eiko winced at the J-word. URD: Jousting? CROW: Jelly? TOM: Jerry's Kids? > She nodded dumbly to Kei. > Kei shook her head, chuckling softly. "For Eris's sake." URD: Pick a trendy pagan goddess and stick with it, will you? > She moved > closer still, bringing her whole arm around behind Eiko. "It's not worth > losing SAN over, Eiko. CROW: Even _we_ don't talk like that. > You and Marty are like few other couples I've ever > known ... TOM: [breathless] It's your fanfic, Marty! Something's gotta be done about your FANFIC! > hell, sometimes _I_ envy _you_. At least your husband doesn't > have a starship to command, a shipyard to run, thousands of people hanging > on his decisions..." URD: It's not so bad that you're married to a street mime, Eiko! Really! > She shook the other woman lightly. ALL: [yageta yageta yageta] > "When the time's > right ... it'll happen." > Eiko seemed to be refusing to be consoled. "He can be gone for a week or > two at a time, sometimes, when he's on a heavy case..." URD: Oh, that's what he _says_, sister... > "That's because he believes in what he's doing, Eiko. TOM: Covering the entire state of California in bubble wrap? > Just as he > believes in _you_. He doesn't think any less of you just because you > haven't ballooned out at the belly for'im." TOM: I think this story reads more like a Heinlein novel. CROW: Hey, Urd, when women are alone together do they talk like that? URD: Not since 1680, no. > Her face brightened with a grin > that would definitely be classified as feces-devouring. TOM: Yes, the time-honored way to endear your characters to the audience: feces-devouring. > "Tell you what -- > when he comes home today, I want you to URD: [gruff] Whack 'im. Whack 'im good! > tackle'im, drag'im to the bedroom, > rip off whatever he may be wearing and boink'im until you think your legs'll > fall off. If Noriko asks what you're doing, you just tell her this was Aunt > Kei's idea to get her a little sister. Hell, I may do that to Ben when he > gets home, just for fun. Got it?" > Finally, Eiko started to crack a smile. The absurdity of Kei's > suggestion CROW: [robotic monotone] Yes. A man and a woman having sex. Ha ha. URD: [sighing] Yeah, well, you wouldn't _believe_ how resistant some people are to that. > snuck up on her, like a ninja who tickles his victims in the > dark. The smile became a grin, with a faint chuckle underneath. The > chuckle built, increasing in intensity until TOM: Earthquaaaaaake! [All dive for cover.] > Eiko was all but doubling over > with laughter. [All sheepishly re-emerge and take their seats again.] CROW: Then her face froze in a horrible rictus as she keeled over, dead! TOM: Dark, Crow. > Then, slowly, subtly, the laughter turned to something similar, but very, > very different. TOM: Delicious strawberry pudding! > Aw, hell, Kei thought to herself as she saw tears gathering at the > corners of Eiko's eyes. Guess trying to make light of it isn't going to > work. URD: How can she tell if she doesn't try? > She put her arms around Eiko and held the smaller woman as she broke > down. Eiko's body spasmed as she sobbed, and she worked to keep her voice > down, so as not to disturb Kaitlyn. > "It's all right," Kei whispered. "It's okay. ALL: [singing] It's all right, it's okay... > Let it go ... it's okay." > "it's not FAIR, dammit," Eiko's voice croaked and squealed. TOM: [brash Boston accent] Okay, this croaking and squealing noise usually means ya got a stuck valve. CROW: [ditto] No, don't listen to my brother, he couldn't tell a radiator from a gladiator. It's definitely the fan belt! TOM: The Car Talk sketch, ladies and gentlemen. > "'s'just not > FAIR!!" > "Life isn't fair." URD: Wow, she _is_ comforting. CROW: I suppose Kei's gonna offer tips on which artery to open now. > "how the FUCK would YOU know?? you weren't even pithing TRYING TOM: _pithing_ (pith-ing) 1 a : to kill (as cattle) by piercing or severing the spinal cord; 2 : to remove the pith from (a plant stem). > t'have a > baby!!" Eiko's sob escaped as a yelp. "c-couldn't ev'n wait 'til you were > MARRIED!!" TOM: She's so upset, she's lapsed into dialect! CROW: Maybe her CAPS LOCK key is just stuck. URD: Oh, yeah. That always upsets me. > Kei's eyes widened at the venom unexpectedly levelled at her, but she > couldn't bring herself to reply in kind, particularly not in Eiko's state. > Besides, it wasn't as if what Eiko'd said was false. Detian biocontrol was > sufficiently thorough CROW: [muffled PA voice] Citizen 1827A. Report immediately to Detian Biocontrol for processing. > as to allow her to prevent herself from becoming > pregnant if she so desired, but on that first night when she and Ben were > finally reunited, URD: [leaning forward] All right! The good stuff at last! > she hadn't even considered exercising the option -- it > hadn't even occurred to her. A fortunate accident, literally. CROW: I think that was it. URD: Oh. [disappointed] I suppose it takes a certain knack to make a night of unbridled passion sound like a stock market report. > "d-damn it all," Eiko bit out, raising her head to look Kei directly in > her startled brown eyes, "what k-kind of WIFE am I if I can't even BRING HIM > A CHILD?!?" TOM: [falsetto] Well heck, I've got a child right here, you can just pick it up and bring... oh... > Kei's brows knit. "Eiko ... come on, you can't have all your self-worth > hinged on whether or not you can produce a baby!" She glared at her. URD: [as Kei] Your self-worth has to be hinged on your weight, you ninny! > "What, do you think that makes you any less a mother? Any less a woman?" > Eiko watched her dumbly. CROW: Yeah, it was like hum-de-dee, mother, la-dee-da something? > "Any less loved?" Kei added with quiet emphasis. > Eiko released a sigh, leaning on her again. TOM: Tell us every muscle they move, story! > "'m'sorry," she muttered. > "It's just -- it just pisses me off, dammit." > "Don't worry about it. You're entitled to a few weaknesses -- it's part > of your contract with life." CROW: That, eight paid holidays, and a really nice dental plan. > She considered something. "Have you ever > thought about checking with Life Sciences? I'm sure they could work > something out, if this means that much to you." > Eiko's face twisted into a faint, rueful smile. URD: [thoughtful] It's so weird, how all these characters' body parts move completely by themselves. TOM: Oh, like Richard Nixon's. URD: Yeah, it -- huh? > "Mm-hm ... not the first > time that's been suggested. Gryphon offered to take me down there himself, > a year after we'd moved here." > "So why'd you turn it down?" > Eiko shook her head, actually releasing an insincere chuckle. CROW: Achtung! Die chuckle ist escapen! TOM: Achtung! Schnell! Schnell! "Because > I'm too damn rock-headed to ask for help. URD: [as Eiko, brightly] I guess I'm just incredibly stupid. > I ... I want this to be _mine_, > Kei. Mine and his. Not some test-tube jockeys playing guessing games with > our chromosome patterns." She chuckled again. "Color me selfish." TOM: How is that selfish? > "We're out of that shade of crayon," Kei smiled. CROW: [grumbling] The authors used it all. > Turning serious again, > she continued, "At least, they could try to see what's gumming up the works > inside you, if you're sure you're the problem..." > "I think I'd be able to tell if it was him." CROW: _How_? URD: Come on, man. You don't think a fanfic author would write a self- insertion story in which he was, y'know...? CROW: Ohhhhhhh. > Eiko's face brightened a > bit. "But in the meantime ... I'm not about to give up." > Kei grinned back at her and patted her cheek. "There ya go. C'mon ... > Kait'll be busy for a little while. TOM: She has to do those filings for the Worldcom-MCI merger, you know. > Let's go over to your place, and I'll > watch you rearrange your furniture." URD: My God, they've domesticated Kei. Let's get out of here, I can't take too much more of this. [Exeunt all.] ...1...2...3...4...5...6...*... [SOL. Tom and Urd are present.] URD: Funny thing how in these fanfics it's always the women who have to do all the work in the relationship, huh? The men never say a word or even notice it coming until it's all over. TOM: Well, I -- Say, are you coming on to me? URD: [recoiling] No! Er -- I mean, you're just not my type. B-u-u-u-u-t, I couldn't help but notice a little chemistry between you and that... vacuum cleaner thing. TOM: What, you mean Gypsy? Oh, ha ha ha, that's silly! Gyps and I are just friends. We've known each other since Mrs. Slassky's second grade math class, grown up together, played in the fields and sat out under the stars talking about life together -- Oh, who am I kidding? It's true, it's all true! I've held a torch for her all these years! How did you know? URD: 'Cos I'm the Cupid of Love, honey. And I'm gonna make your dreams come true. Check this out. [She produces a tiny bottle.] URD: Urd's Perfect Love Potion #18! TOM: If it's so perfect, why is it number 18? URD: Shh. Now, I've added it to this delicious lunchbox I -- that is, you -- prepared for Gypsy, and called her over to pick it up. One taste of this and she won't be able to keep her, um, whatever she has off of you. Wait, here she comes! [Enter Crow, wearing a silly baseball cap and carrying a videotape.] TOM: Crow?! URD: What are you doing here? CROW: [cheerily] Hey, keep your shirt on... [sleazy voice] or don't, heh heh. [normal again] I'm just makin' sure the VCR is set to tape "V.R.5." if Dr. Forrester ever turns our cable back on again. TOM: [as if chewing glass] Then don't let us keep you. CROW: Oka -- [sees the lunchbox] Whoa! Looks good! URD: Oh, no, it's just a little, um... heh... uh... TOM: It's not a love potion for Gypsy, anyway. URD: Oh yeah! It's definitely not that. CROW: Phew, that's a relief. Wouldn't wanna get mixed up with love potions by accident, who knows what wacky hijinks it could lead to! Well, don't mind if I do! TOM: No! Wait! URD: Somebody stop him! [They stand by helplessly as Crow eats some of the lunch.] CROW: [munch, chew] Hmm... not bad... a little spicy, but... [Crow freezes a moment, then looks over at Tom.] CROW: Tom, have I ever told you how... _masculine_ that dome makes you look? TOM: AAAHHH!! [Tom flees offstage left.] CROW: [pursuing] Come back here, you hunka robotic goodness, you! TOM: [off] GET AWAY GET AWAY! [The voices fade. Urd stares after them.] URD: [tiny voice] Oops. [Tom rushes in from offstage right.] TOM: This is all _your_ fault!! URD: Oh, ha ha ha, who ever could have imagined that this would happen? Well, I'd better leave you two lovebirds alone. TOM: WHY YOU --! [He lunges for Urd, who vanishes in a puff of smoke. Buzzers and lights start flashing.] TOM: Oh no! FANFIC SIGN!! CROW: Right this way, Thomas! Rowrr! TOM: AAAAHHH!!! ...*...6...5...4...3...2...1... [Tom and Crow are in the theater.] CROW: Ah, Servo, I was just kidding about that, you know, love potion stuff. TOM: [huffy] I can never trust you again. [There is a puff of smoke and Urd appears in the center seat.] URD: [brightly] Hey! I miss anything? CROW: Nope. URD: Damn. > > This was a time of relative quiet, CROW: The Rebellion has succeeded in destroying the Empire's Death Star. But DARTH VADER has pursued them to the ends of the galaxy... > in the wake of the renewed stillness > at the Cardassian frontier, and Admiral Hutchins, possessed of the need to > Do Something, was skulking around the shipyards, TOM: [as "Admiral Hutchins"] Can I help? Huh? Huh? URD: You can help by setting the table. > supervising the repairs to > the WDF vessels still damaged after the Second Battle of Zeta Cygni, the > Fifteenth Kilrathi War, and the Cardassian Offensive. TOM: And the Sarcasm Wars of 1999. CROW: And the Eighty-Sixth Crossover Battle of Phoostagoni Four. URD: And the Pamela Anderson-Tommy Lee divorce proceedings. > Today he was > wandering aimlessly around Sector B, TOM: [importantly] Sonic booms scare minority groups in Sector B. > Shipyard Central, CROW: Slipgate Central? > where the battlestars > were being repaired, and PCHammer was with him, in the midst of a week-long > "forced vacation" from his positions at Criminal Investigations and Flying > Yak. [Tom starts humming dramatic TV promo music.] URD: One's an Admiral of the Space Fleet. The other's a private investigator. Together, they solve crimes. CROW: "Justice and Mercy." Tuesdays at 10 PM on ABC. > (He'd say he hated it, just to keep up appearances.) > They entered Bay Seventeen-Alpha, where the battlestar Centauri was being > repaired following TOM: An all-night drinking binge by Ambassador Mollari. > her extensive damage in the Second Battle; URD: [sighing] How depressing. The future they've created is just an endless parade of cliched wars. Why must they pour all their energy into battle? Where's the humanity? Where's the _love_? CROW: Wow. TOM: That's beautiful, Urd. URD: More importantly, where's the love _scenes_? > Gryphon was > saluted by the occasional uninformed Caprican technician, but did not return > the salutes. Martin CROW: WhatUP! > just shrugged when they looked quizzically at him, as > if expecting an explanation. > Gryphon paused at one point on the catwalk TOM: [singing] I'm a model, you know what I mean... CROW: So are you saying he's too sexy for this fanfic? TOM: That is what I'm saying. CROW: How 'bout that. > ringing the vessel, leaning on > the rail and surveying the gaping rent in her hull just forward of the > engineering area. Caprican and UP technicians swarmed here and there, > working on the internal systemry; nearby, a tritanium hull patch TOM: [newsreel voice] Tritanium, the miracle metal! CROW: [ditto] Tritanium, the fuel that powers our nuclear zeppelins in the struggle against the Hun! URD: Yet, tritanium is soft and gentle enough to wash my delicate whites in! ALL: Tritanium! > hung on > gravlev units, waiting to be fitted into position once the internals were > repaired. > From inside the hole, a voice rang out; TOM: A door slammed! A maid screamed! A pirate ship -- URD: Will you quit it with that? > pretty and female, but definitely > irate, ranting about incompetence and improper placement of a plasma > conduit-tap. A much deeper, equally irate male voice contended that the > conduit was not poorly placed, and, furthermore, that the female speaker was > an unreasonable Mondan bitch. TOM: It must be like Lincoln-Douglas all over again. CROW: Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that room. > Gryphon's eyebrows rose, and he ducked into the covered walkway that > actually entered the side of the vessel, following the sound of the arguing > voices -- not a diffucult task, really. Martin snickered and followed, > recognizing the female voice rather easily. TOM: [good-humored] Gidget, what are you up to now? > Gryphon came around the corner into Main Engineering, and spotted the > male part of the argument first: a Caprican Colonial Engineer, holding a > rank equivalent to a UPNS Master Technician. Old, grizzled and red-faced, > he held a number-six hydrospanner URD: And a number four nuclear powered wrench. TOM: And a number eight asteroid paint chipper. CROW: And a number thirty advanced technobabble accelerator. > in an almost threatening position and was > shouting with all his might to be heard -- and failing. TOM: What, is he hollering into a stack of pillows? > As Gryphon cleared > the primary fusion plant, CROW: [as Gryphon] Made it! Let's see, kills 100%, secrets 96%... Damn! What'd I miss? > he spotted the other side of the argument, and > came to a halt so abruptly that, had they been made of a material which was > prone to doing such things, the soles of his Doc Martens would have left > black streaks on the steel decking. TOM: [as Gryphon] Oh my God, I left the iron on! > The other, and apparently winning, side of the argument was a human > woman, taller than himself and slender, with dark skin, short black hair, CROW: Rally Vincent! TOM: Knowing this fanfic, you might be right. > and luminous (at the moment with ire) eyes. She was gesturing with one > greasy, fine-boned hand at the plasma conduit, URD: [as the woman] Look at this stupid hand! Do you have any idea how bad it was wedged in there? CROW: Homer Simpson was trying to get a free soda from the plasma conduit... > and holding a diagnostic > sensor unit in the other. TOM: [deadpan] Gosh, they missed an opportunity to do a "Doctor Who" reference. Gettin' careless. > Her white UPNS coverall was rumpled and dirty -- > she had apparently been here for quite a while -- URD: [as the woman] Eighteen takes! Jeez! > and there was a streak of > grease running across one high-boned cheek. The epaulets on her jumpsuit > identified her as a WDF Navy officer, holding the rank of Commander -- a > rank two grades below, on an absolute scale, Colonial Master Technician. CROW: Hot organizational-chart action! TOM: Hey, all this info about the comparative ranks of fictional organizations could come in really handy someday. CROW: How so? TOM: Well, what if this story tells the future, just like Star Trek did in "Time Speeder"? CROW: [shudders] > Gryphon's technical side looked over the conduit. The woman was right -- > the conduit was poorly placed. Any power spike at all in the primary EPS > would cause a flashover from the tap to the nearby, also poorly shielded, > internal comm line, blowing out the entire vessel's intercom system. TOM: That's what you get when you buy secondhand battleships from the Gamelons. CROW: [as Desslok] I can't stand a fanfic writer who laughs at his own jokes. > The > tap was supposed to be at least three meters AWAY from the intercom line... URD: Dun dun _dahhh!_ > He stood back, arms folded, and watched the argument for a moment before > leaning to Martin and whispering, "Stop the press! Who is _that_?" TOM: [as Mr. Burns] Who is that lollygagger, Smithers? > Hammer fought down the urge to reply, "That's Vicki Vale," in a gravelly > voice, CROW: _We'll_ make the meaningless pop culture references around here, thank you very much! > and replied, "That, sir, is engineering talent with an Attitude." URD: Attitude with a capital A, and that rhymes with J which stands for, uh... TOM: No, I meant the guy. He's hot! > "She's marvelous," Gryphon observed, his eyes glued to the argument. "I > must have her, Martin." > Hammer cocked an eyebrow, CROW: [panic] No, don't! That thing's loaded! TOM: *bang*! Aaauugh... > a gesture Gryphon noted in his peripheral > vision. Turning with irritation, he roared quietly, "For my TEAM, > smartass!" TOM: Ahh, the cutting edge of 1959 humor. > Hammer rocked back on his heels and CROW: Toppled over backwards. > looked angelically at the > ceiling. URD: [pointing] There's a copy of the script taped up there. > "Do you know who she is?" Gryphon asked, his gaze returning to the > now-becoming-very-spirited conflict. > "Indeed I do," Hammer replied. CROW: [Ned Flanders] Yep-indeedly-doo, neighborino! > "She was the chief engineer of Righteous > Indignation, CROW: (ring ring) Oh, hold on a sec... Yes? Hello? Hang on, I'll get him. It's for you, Mr. Hammer, it's Iain M. Banks. He wants his shtick back. > under both Noriko's and my command ... Commander Nadia Davion." URD: I can see how this is in character, because in the actual show Nadia was a perfectionist, opinionated engineer too, right? > "Chief engineer of a WDF starship, and now she's playing second fiddle on > a battlestar refit to that Caprican schmo? I don't think so. You know I > need a field superintendent for my shipyard time, and a new chief engineer > for Concordia when I'm in the field ... and I think she's perfect for both > jobs. TOM: Plus she's a chick, so we can pay her less! > I want her on my team." He cocked his head in Martin's direction. > "Think she'd go for it?" > The taller gent considered for a moment. CROW: [Brit accent] Oh, yes, I say Jeeves, there was a taller gent here a moment ago, wasn't there? Some deuced literary crony of Aunt Agatha's... URD: [deeply] I'm afraid I had to send him away, sir. Having a fanfic writer in the drawing room would be so terribly crass. TOM: "Jeeves and the Shameless Self-Insertion." > "Naah. No way she'd want any > opportunity to serve under the Chief Engineer of the Yards, nope nope, never > in a million years. She'd definitely prefer to stay right here with that > codger bucking for my old nickname." > "Thank you for your incisive commentary, Martin." > "All part of the service, sir," replied Hammer i"n a perfect > slightly-sardonic-subordinate voice. CROW: If he was any droller he'd be _dead_! > "I would hate to interrupt her tirade, especially when she's winning so > handily ... could you do me a favor?" > "Name it." TOM: Can I hit you really hard? Just once? > "When the Caprican sacks her -- which shouldn't take too long -- convey > my order to fix that conduit per her specifications, and then ask her if she > would mind popping by my office at her nearest convenience. Meantime, I've > got a lot of formwork, and I promised Vision I'd help with it at least..." > CROW: And the scene just sort of... stops. > Now in his office, TOM: [cheesy French accent] _Pafu!_ And I am in my office! ALL: [polite applause] > Gryphon worked on some of the interminable formwork > that was his bane on his desktop workstation, with Vision in a corner window > of his display, as usual. URD: [as Vision, bored] So should I do anything for you, sir...? Superintelligent AI just sitting here, sir... I could calculate pi to a billion decimal places if you like, sir... > He was still in his yardside uniform, which was a > bit rumpled, since he'd been working now, in the office and around the > yards, for 12 hours or so. CROW: Yeah, all that wandering aimlessly really takes it out of you. > His office was rather large and dominated by the desk, which had three > comfy chairs in a so-called "conversational grouping" in front of it for > visitors. URD: Is there a lava lamp, too? > In addition to the paper scattered around -- he still liked > working with hardcopy -- it was and cluttered with lots of neat decorations > on the shelves and bookcases, including: > > - Models of all the ship classes he had designed and seen put to space; > - A model of the old SDF-17, with all relevant decals; CROW: [excited] Gekiganger seals!! > - Lots of Transformer figures (most of them, personal acquaintances); > - A metallic human skull, polished and mounted on a mahogany board; and URD: Alas, poor T-800. I knew him well. > - Several pizza boxes and discarded Chinese-food white boxes. (Okay, > they're not really decorations, but they're part of the landscape.) > CROW: Hmm... TAKE SKULL. TOM: You can't take that. CROW: EXAMINE PIZZA BOXES. TOM: That's not important right now. CROW: QUIT. TOM: Nice try. CROW: Damn. > The back wall of his office was a quartzitium window, TOM: Which I guess must be at _least_ one-third better than _tri_tanium. CROW: These guys should write for "Star Trek: Voyager." > banked as most > shipyard windows were, which looked out over a bay where, at the moment, the > Lovely Angel lay moored. URD: Pretty nice. He has it set up so he can watch other fanfics going on while he works. > The right wall was a bookshelf, TOM: Okay, I've got it. Climb up the bookshelf, then jump to the shipyard windows, slide down, and then backflip into the secret area. > adorned partially > with the items mentioned above and partially with actual books; the left > wall was dominated by a painting, depicting the Wayward Son and her > Executioner locked in their mutual death above Canopus ]I[, CROW: Oh, I had one of those once! Used'ta play "Miner 2049er" on it. > known better as > Musashi. Gryphon had painted it himself, from descriptions the Wedge > survivors gave him. TOM: [as survivor] Yeah, and I personally shot down the Executioner with my hand pistol at the end and saved everybody. You'll put that in, right? > His concentration was broken by the faint gleep of the doorchime, and he > looked up from his desk. "Enter freely and of your own will, and leave some > of the happiness you bring," he called overdramatically. CROW: I'd turn around and walk right back out if I heard that greeting. TOM: This isn't Starfleet, it's the Society for Creative Anachronism! > The door slid open, smartly and professionally, URD: That door must be bucking for promotion. CROW: [as door] Glad to be of service! > revealing exactly who he > was expecting to find. TOM: [as Morden] Greetings, Admiral. My associates and I want our part of the bargain now... > She had changed to a standard uniform, the white > uniform tunic denoting her current UPNS/Experimental Fleet status. > Gryphon's own tunic was red, indicating his URD: Expendability. TOM: [evil] You put on a red shirt, and we all move up in rank! > superceding allegiance to his > Strategic Fleet. URD: So are we all clear on the tunic issue? TOM/CROW: All clear, ma'am! URD: All right, then, we'll continue. > Gryphon smiled. "Come in, Commander." > Nadia stepped into the office, allowing the door to slide shut behind > her. CROW: [as door] Thank you for making a simple door very happy. URD: I think you can stop doing that now. CROW: Aww... > She stopped after two paces. TOM: [falsetto] Eww! What is that on the rug? > "Admiral," she replied with a nod. "Commander Nadia Davion, reporting as > requested, sir." Her arm snapped up in a smart salute, CROW: Poit! TOM: Oh, a wise guy, eh? Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk! CROW: Yeow! Woob-woob-woobwoobwoob! URD: I'll never understand what's so funny about that. > another sign to Ben > that she'd been with the Capricans too long. > He returned the salute, out of courtesy. "Please, sit down," he said, > indicating one of the comfy chairs facing his desk. TOM: [as Gryphon] Sorry about the mess, I kinda live out of my office. > "Jelly baby?" he added, > his hand signifying a Mason jar on the desk itself. > "Thank you," she smiled, accepting a morsel from the jar and seating > herself, straightening out her jacket. CROW: Random sci-fi reference? URD: Thank you. > Gryphon smiled again. CROW: It's the happiest ship in the fleet! > "I know you're a busy woman, Commander Davion, so > I'll get right to the point. TOM: Ten bucks says he doesn't get right to the point. CROW: Settle in, everyone... > You have talent and drive, and I believe that > those qualities are entirely wasted in your current assignment. TOM: [old man voice] Talent and drive have no place in Starfleet! > I saw you > arguing with that Caprican engineer earlier today." CROW: [falsetto] Um, we weren't kissing, we were just talking! > He waited for her > reaction to that revelation, and was not disappointed by the look of faint > embarrassment on her face; he wondered how he'd react if someone had pulled > him off the street and complimented his bickering skill. > "And if I may be so bold as to say so," he continued, leaning back in his > chair, "it was exquisite. The fool was completely in the wrong. TOM: And if I may be frank -- that fool? I pity him. > What I > want to know, though, is this: had you been in the wrong, could you have > accepted that, with enough proof? Can you admit it when you're wrong? > Stubborn devotion to a wrong idea is no good to anyone." (He smiled > slightly before she spoke, remembering Saavik's response to that question so > long ago, in deadly seriousness: "I do not know, sir. I am never wrong.") > Nadia nodded sternly to him. "The reality of being in the wrong is > something I have faced before, sir. When I am mistaken, I will admit it." URD: Enough of this coy banter, Nadia! Jump over that desk and take him right now! C'mon! > Her face turned a sly smile, however, as she added, "Remember, though, that > it _is_ part of my job to minimize the number of times that is so." CROW: [as Nadia] So it's my policy to discredit and silence all witnesses. > "Excellent. TOM: [evil] Ex-cellent. > I have reviewed your service record in great detail, > Commander. It is, in a word, URD: "Splunge." CROW: Oh, splunge for me too! > superb. Service records don't tell me > anything about the person, though, CROW: ...Other than their life history, achievements, successes, failures, special talents, personality profile, and career goals, that is... > and that is what I want to know. I need > to know who this person called Nadia Davion is. For example, I need to know > if you've a sense of humor -- something I consider vitally important." TOM: We may just have to take him at his word, here. > With > that, he spieled the entire Rocket Attack USA monologue, and waited. > She sat in silence for a while. Gryphon had no idea what to make of the > look on her face. Thoughtful? Bemused? Dumbfounded? He wondered, for a > moment, if his initial hopes were in error, and then she drew a breath and > replied in a truly bad Lloyd Bridges impression: > "By this time, my lungs were aching for air." [Stunned pause.] CROW: I feel so dirty. > He fell forward in his chair, striking his head firmly on the desk and > laughing too hard to care. URD: Okay, who left the nitrous valve open? > "Splendid!" he replied when he could speak > again. (It somehow seemed more appropriate than "MARRY ME!", which was his > first reaction.) CROW: [Brit accent] But I've already been asked to marry this man here, sir. TOM: [same] No, no, you don't understand. I need for you to marry me. CROW: Well, divorce doesn't work _that_ fast, sir... > "Now then..." He punched a few keys on his terminal. TOM: (Beep!) This fanfic has executed an illegal instruction and will be terminated. > "Tell me about your birthworld." CROW: [melodramatic] Tell me of the waters of your homeworld, Usul. > This interview was taking this odd, > randomly jumping course for a reason, besides Gryphon's own disorganized > brain; he wanted to test her ability to respond to rapidly and capriciously > changing demands. > Besides, he wanted to know about her birthworld. TOM: It cost a quarter of a billion dollars and it still sucked! CROW: _Birth_world, Tom. TOM: Oh. ...Well, I'm still right, you vultures! I want my $8.50 back! > Nadia's face flashed a brief look of surprise. It had been many, many > years since she'd been given cause to think of the place she'd once called > home; URD: [deeply] A blighted sphere of water they once called... Mars! > so long since she'd left it, on what amounted to a combination of a > whim and an accident. She put her hand to her chin, and her eyes reflected > a deep, sincere thought. CROW: [slowly] So... she wasn't thinking at all, just looking at someone who was. > Ben found the overall effect on her completely > mesmerizing. TOM: SLEEP! > The words came slowly, at first, as she began to speak. (Gryphon hung on > every last one of them.) He could see she selected every word with care, > working half methodically, half passionately to paint an image of the place > she'd been mostly raised. URD: Mostly? CROW: Well, there and Columbus, Ohio. > Soon, the slow trickle of word-pictures became a > rushing torrent, a vocal tapestry of the world called Mond and the time > she'd spent there. TOM: The only problem was the Cybermen were always coming over to borrow cups of sugar. > It was a beautiful place, with forests so vast they > rivaled those of Earth itself. URD: This blessed plot! This earth, this realm, this Mond! > Thunderstorms wracked almost every night in > the region Nadia had called home, and the days were clear and bright. It > sounded like the kind of place he could spend a very long time. CROW: So does a bus station. I mean, come on... > She continued in that fashion for some time -- perhaps a half-hour -- > before slowing her brushstrokes, bringing the whole work to a close with a > wistful sigh as her signature in the corner. TOM: [snooty] Phh, an obvious forgery. Just look at the awkward use of dependent clauses. > Gryphon sat in utter silence for long seconds, his mind half racing and > half mired CROW: He's gonna snap an axle thinking like that. > in reflection, not looking so much at her as through her. He was > distracted only by Vision, who spoke through his cybernetic link to his > workstation so Nadia wouldn't hear her: TOM: "The subversion slingshot cannot be shipped to Malta." > [Chief, I don't like this.] URD: At last, a voice of reason! > [What's wrong with it?] he asked. TOM: [crying] What isn't wrong with this story!! URD: [shaking him] Get a hold of yourself, man! TOM: [pause] I was hoping for a warm, reassuring hug, actually. URD: Wrong Goddess, hydrant-boy. > [I know what you're feeling,] Vision replied, CROW: [singing a la Devo] ...And I know what you do! > [and it scares me. I think > you're falling for her, Chief, TOM: [gruff] McCloud! > and that would be BAD.] > [Oh, Vision, Vision,] he chided her. CROW: Hey... double Vision! Heheh. > [You do worry so over me. URD: [unbearably patronizing] Awww. Does pwiddy widdow Vision have a pwobwem? > Did I > not fall for you? And she who came before you? Priss, Deunan, how many > others? CROW: Oh, God, he has a harem! URD: [cringing] My name isn't on that list, is it? > What if I do fall for Nadia? I won't love you, or Kei, or anyone > else any less for it. You know me ... better than I myself, come to that.] > [I ... I suppose. I just didn't know if you knew what you were doing ... TOM: ... URD: ... CROW: ... > and I thought I'd warn you. This is liable to be ... different.] URD: Y'know, for a supercomputer, Vision doesn't think very fast. > [I never know what I'm doing, but it hasn't stopped me yet -- and > everyone's different,] Gryphon said with a mental smile. CROW: I'm so [cool] I can speak in [brackets.] > [But thank you for > your concern.] TOM: Though I feel it necessary to point out that you're WRONG WRONG WRONG!! > Upward of forty seconds of silence had passed now, and Gryphon was still > gazing contemplatively at Nadia. Taking a deep breath, she brought herself > out of her state of retrospection, once again focusing her attention on the > present. She lifted her head from her hand, pulled herself upright, URD: It's not so much a fanfic as it is stage directions for a puppet show. > and met > the Admiral's eyes directly, ready for whatever he might say next. TOM: [as Gryphon] Reply hazy, ask again later. > Which was absolutely nothing. Instead, he sat, his chin on his hand on > his elbow on his desk, unaware that there was a real world which was waiting > for his response. URD: So the author's basically just drifted off at the keyboard, here. > Nadia allowed herself a hint of a smile after another minute of dead > silence. CROW: This story doesn't let up! TOM: So far, that's a minute and forty seconds of dead silence. I'm keeping count. > She'd had to put up with things like this from others in the past, > with Martin high on that list, though he'd typically lose himself staring at > Noriko. CROW: But... but, wait a minute... wasn't Noriko his... TOM: But didn't they say... CROW: But wasn't she... 'BOTS: Ewwww! > (Buchanan was like that, as well, CROW: Pat Buchanan? TOM: WRONG! > but the look in his eyes was far > less... virtuous.) She turned over a small myriad of possibilities in her > mind, dismissing several immediately as completely inappropriate, physically > unpleasant, and suicidal in nature. URD: So she's thinking of killing herself to get out of this situation? ...Okay, I can understand that. > She became aware of a slight bulge in her uniform jacket. CROW: [falsetto] Whoops! Must've picked up another alien chest-burster! URD: I'm surprised at you. I mean, it would be so easy to come up with a dirty joke there, and you skipped it. CROW: Uh... > Her hand went > slowly into it, immediately locating the source. Her slight smile turned > into a grin. CROW: Oh, okay! Well, how about... URD: No, forget it. The moment's passed. > Yes, this would do nicely. > She pulled at the object, careful not to make any sudden movements ... CROW: Careful not to advance the plot... > the Prey must not be disturbed. TOM: It might miss its release date. > As it was released from its undersized > prison, URD: Hey, um -- > she could feel her weapon expanding, URD: Oh, God... > filling itself out, URD: Oh, God! > restoring > itself to its proper form. CROW: If this turns into a fanfic version of "The Crying Game" I'm leaving! > Then, with a snap of her wrist and a mental note to thank Danilia, ALL: [singing] Ya put it all together with a how-do-you-do -- > she > hurled the Nerf brick directly at the still-comatose Gryphon, striking him > directly on the bridge of his nose. CROW: [deeply] Excellent! TOM: [deeply] Finish him! > The impact made him blink and start slightly, as it was so close to his > eyes. He shook himself like a man crawling out from under a snowdrift. > "I'm sorry," he restarted, "I seem to have gotten lost in your narrative. > Or perhaps your eyes. No matter either way; both are exquisite. CROW: Bingo, old boy, have you fallen in love again? > What was I > going to ask next, hmmm..." > [You were going to ask about her husband,] Vision said pointedly inside > his skull. > [Such venom, my lovely,] Gryphon replied. [Do trust me. URD: Any more of this mock-Victorian dialect and _I'm_ gonna be hurling something. > You act as > though you think I'm about to ask her to leave the man and run away with me > to France.] That elicited a laugh from his CI, even now. > Outwardly, he smiled. TOM: Inwardly, he seethed. They'd pay... they'd ALL pay! > "Your service record lists you as married to > Commander Hanson Davion. Can you tell me a bit about him?" > Nadia let her grin relax to the smile she normally wore when thinking of > Hanson. URD: Carefully! Don't disturb the Grin/Smile balanace! > Though Gryphon could tell she was being thoughtful again, she > wasn't quite so deeply into it this time -- this was, obviously, one of her > most favored subjects. She proceeded to begin another picture with her > words, but rather than a landscape, a portrait began to form in the air; an > image of a gentle, blue-haired fellow who had little or no fashion sense to > speak of. TOM: Self-Insertion Rule 6: All men are terrible dressers. URD: [shaking her head] What a waste... > As she spoke, Ben tore his attention away from her eyes and took in the > rest of her, CROW: [sleazy] Heh heh. Bet she doesn't even notice I'm checkin' her out. > noting the neatness with which her uniform was arranged on her > lean body, the clean precision of her haircut, TOM: She's Grace Jones! > and other such details. As > he did so, a couple points of interest made his mental eyebrows rise; URD: Guess it must be pretty cold in the Admiral's office. CROW: ...I would have gotten in _so_ much trouble if _I_'d made that joke. URD: [preening] Divine privilege, honey. > he > patiently waited for her to complete her thought before asking the question > that had occurred to him as he'd surveyed her. > Soon enough, a soft chuckle marked the conclusion of her description, and > she returned to his eyes with a bright smile, which he returned directly, TOM: [hushed] Volley. Return. And... out. Fifteen love. > looking back at her and being careful not to get lost in those remarkable > eyes, and being especially careful not to wonder why they were such an > alluring shade of violet. CROW: Probably just that was all the cel painters had in stock that day. > "Why are you wearing a phaser collimator crystal around your neck?" he > queried. TOM: [chortling] Because we need the eggs! Ho-hah, zing! > Nadia looked down to her chest with a bit of surprise. "Phaser... oh, > you mean Blue Water." ALL: [groan] > She took the small, gleaming blue gem into her hand, > considering it carefully. Gryphon nearly made a startled noise when it > glowed faintly at her touch. CROW: So he _almost_ did _nothing_. > "This ... TOM: Oh, just another beloved anime series we've strip-mined for this fanfic. Don't worry about it. Zagnut? > is a family heirloom. It's been > handed down in my family for nearly a hundred generations; it's supposedly a > sign of royalty." CROW: Ooooh, plot point! TOM: We've found the narrative hub, sir! > His eyebrows rose. A hundred generations? > "I'm not so sure about that, myself," she continued. "At this point, I > suppose it's just a reminder of home." She carefully returned the jewel to > its place; its glow subsided. TOM: ...along with any traces of reader interest. > Gryphon looked rather impressed. "Hm. It looks exactly like a > Number-114 phaser collimator crystal, CROW: Huh huh, thanks. I kit-bashed it together from a flashlight bulb and some bendy straws. > from the AX-94 modules used in the new > Olympus-class dreadnaught." He shrugged. "But be that as it may." CROW: [foppy German accent] Your story has become tiresome... > [Vision,] he added, [mental note. Check that out. URD: [as Vision] Sorry, sir, I'm out of mental notepaper! Haha, thank you! TOM: Ba-dum-shh! > Mondan pre-antiquity > civilization, capable of working a stone like that?] > [Got it,] Vision replied. [Curiosity getting the better of you?] > [You could say that.] "Which brings me to my last question, and then > I'll tell you the purpose behind this little meeting. CROW: I get the weird feeling he's gonna ask her to join the Freedom Fighters. > And that last > question is..." CROW/URD: Yes? TOM: _IS_... CROW/URD: YES?!! > He leaned forward and locked eyes with her again, and said, > "Preconceptions and those damnable near-legends aside, what do you think of > me?" > Nadia paused briefly, without so much as blinking away from his gaze. CROW: Oww, my contacts... > Then, leaning forward and poking a finger at his nose, she replied with a > smile, "I think I could get to like you." She looked around the office. > "So long as I don't have to establish any sort of working relationship with > the pizza boxes." > Ben growled and snapped his teeth playfully at the offending finger. ALL: Yaah! URD: Run for it, Nadia! > "Grr," he grr'ed with a smile. "I get too entangled in my work to care > about that ... I'd forget to eat if Vision didn't remind me." CROW: Ah. This explains his habit of biting his subordinates. > Nadia lowered an eyebrow at him. "'Vision'?" TOM: The voice in my head. Occasionally it gets insistent about killing my family, but usually it's pretty friendly. > "My CI, assistant, and helper-to-get-through-work-sane. URD: That looks like a sentence you put together out of refrigerator magnets. TOM: Or a Larry Niven character. > I know these > forms would drive me completely 'round the twist without her help. CROW: Will you shut up about about the freakin' forms!! > And this > brings me URD: [muttering] ...at _last_... > to why I've called you here." CROW: [as Gryphon] I'm afraid we have to let you go. Here's your two weeks' pay in advance; security will escort you to the gate... > He leaned back. "Commander Davion, as Chief Engineer of the Yards, I > have far too many responsibilities. TOM: [weeping] Dammit, they just won't leave me ALONE! > ReRob, as Master of the Yards, URD: [dramatic] And now, the dance stylings of ReRob, Master of the Yards! ALL: [breathy cheers] > handles > some of those for me, mostly in the areas of materials acquisition and > prototype testing -- as you know, he's the commander in chief of the > Experimental Fleet. TOM: This fanfic would be more exciting if it was _about_ the Experimental Fleet. CROW: [sighs] Yeah. > "I don't get the chance to go out into the field and supervise the actual > work of making and remaking a starship nearly as much as I'd like, and it > worries me. For every top-flight engineer or tech we have here at UPNS, we > have at least one clown like that Caprican ... URD: And I'm just the Admiral of the Fleet, so I can't do anything about it. TOM: I knew that merger with Ringling Brothers was a bad idea! I fought it every step of the way! Now look at us! CROW: [brightly] But the advantage is, now we're really good at carpooling. TOM: Shut up. Just shut up. > it's a law of physics, I > think. What I need is a good right arm, someone who can TOM: ...Be bolted to my shoulder. Just here. > go out into the > field and supervise the field construction/reconstruction work, and at the > same time assist me in a design and implementation category. Basically, I > need an engineering assistant -- Vision is my _administrative_ assistant, > but a CI isn't much use in the field, or the lab." His eyes turned toward > the corner window of his display, CROW: [as Gryphon] Man, I _still_ can't connect to AOL? What's with them? > where Vision was pouting at him. "Sorry, > love, but it's true." He returned his attention to Commander Davion. TOM: And Vision returns, weeping, to her empty, go-nowhere life. URD: [imperiously] Back to defragmenting my hard drive, drone! > "In addition, when I rotate into the operational field, take the center > seat of Concordia back and head for the stars -- which will probably be in > ten to twenty years, but still -- Concordia will need a chief engineer, now > that Henry Lang has retired to head up Refit Command. I want you for both > of those jobs, TOM: I'm only going to _pay_ you for one, granted... > and I'm prepared to give you an immediate grade increase to > Captain, O-5, and process the orders of transfer right this very instant. > Of course, you don't have to accept now ... CROW: You can take the promotion and the ship duty, or trade it all for what's behind Door Number Three! TOM: Take the promotion! URD: The door! TOM: The promotion! URD: The door! The door! > or, indeed, accept at all ... TOM: [sobbing] In fact, I know you hate me already. Go away. Just forget it. > but I would be very pleased if you did." > Having said his piece, he leaned back and steepled his hands, hoping the > answer he got would be "yes". > Nadia blinked. For the first time since witnessing the "rebirth" of her > former commanding officer, she was utterly flabbergasted. CROW: Dammit, ever since the Captain came back from Z'ha'dum, he's had this God complex! > Captain? Captain > Nadia Davion? TOM: _The_ Zaphod Beeblebrox? > Engineering assistant to an engineering legend? URD: Sounds nice. Maybe this job can help her mark time until that happens. > Thoughts of > what she could accomplish in such a position -- CROW: It's a great place to start her infiltration and takeover of the WDF. TOM: Cool! I'd read that. > a whopping great lot -- CROW: [Brit] Yeah, a whopping great lot! And hu-u-u-uge, ah, tracts of land... > were > momentarily interrupted by a small voice TOM: Damn pledge drives. Change the station, willya? > asking what Hanson would think of > the news. URD: Think they might cancel their tour? > It was immediately shouted down by a chorus of "He'd be overjoyed, DUH!" CROW: The conversation inside her head continued for some time. TOM: Meanwhile, Gryphon has long since gotten bored and gone home... > The small voice returned, battered but insistant, pointing out the minor > detail of going off aboard Concordia. Would he be left behind? > This time, the rebuttal was calm and rational -- she would have ten or > twenty years to iron that little detail out. If nothing else, the Admiral > was definitely easy to reason with ... and, if that failed, she knew he'd > probably cave in if she batted her eyes at him, if his earlier fit of blank > staring was any indication. His appreciation of her appearance was not > something she found offensive -- she'd always thought that kind of reaction > was stupid. CROW: Prese-e-e-e-nt... self-justification! > If he found her attractive, so much the better. It would > enhance their rapport, in all likelihood; URD: "Enhance their rapport?" That's what she's hoping to get out of this? TOM: You probably find this really offensive, right? URD: No, I'm just saddened by her lack of ambition. _I_ would have already been in the big chair shooing _him_ out of _my_ office by now. > after all, the power of his "true > love" for Morgan was a thing of demi-legend. CROW: Morgan Freeman? URD: Understandable. > Gryphon noted the look of faint worry on her face, wondered what it could > be, and mentally kicked himself for overlooking such an obvious detail. "I > see your worry," he blurted suddenly. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it > before. I know full well the rigors of separating a family with duty > assignments, and the WDF has always tried to avoid that as much as possible. > When the time comes, I've a spot for your husband on Concordia's exophysics > staff, CROW: -- on the outside of the hull -- > if he accepts it -- I've checked his background as well." > [Nice save,] Vision commented. > With that, Nadia watched her little voice of doubt go flying through the > uprights, URD: Aw, man! There goes the only sympathetic character in this story. CROW: Sorry, Voice of Doubt. You tried your best, but you just didn't have anyone to work with. > punted into next Tuesday by what had to be the correct answer. > "In that case, Admiral ... you've got yourself an assistant." TOM: [gruff] Great. Now go get me some coffee. > Her smile > beamed as she extended a hand toward him. URD: Is this the same hand she found in the plasma conduit? > Gryphon took her hand and shook it, impressed by the firmness of the grip > -- well, she's a field engineer, it stands to reason, said his rational side CROW: But his frosting side is the one he really loves. > -- and somewhat surprised by the smoothness and softness of her skin -- > she's a field engineer, how does she keep them like this? asked his rational > side. TOM: [falsetto] Warp chamber reaction coolant, sir. You're soaking in it! > Then he opened the top drawer of his desk and handed her her new > captain's bar. > "Report to my ready room on Level 6 at 0900 tomorrow; CROW: [sleazy] Wear something sheer. TOM: [as Gryphon] And I may want to bite you again, so be sure to wash up. > if you have any > problems at any time, feel free to contact me at home." URD: No! Don't do it! TOM: Why not? URD: Speaking as a sysop, I know how important it is to never let the users find out your home phone number. > He smiled. > "Welcome to the team, Captain ... I think we're going to create great things > together, you and I." > Nadia nodded. "It'll be my pleasure, Admiral." > Ben grinned. CROW: Is everyone in this fanfic on Valium? > "I guess we're finished ... you can stick around if you > like, but it'll be pretty boring watching me work. TOM: [singing a la Weird Al] Watch me work! Hey... CROW: [as Gryphon] Actually, I'll mostly just be playing Minesweeper, and occasionally performing small puppet shows for my cat. > And please, call me > Gryphon. I do hope you do get to like me; CROW: [Jon Lovitz] GET TO LIKE ME! URD: Well, he's the author. Something tells me Nadia's gonna fall in line. > friends make much better > co-workers than subordinates." TOM: [as Gryphon] Then again, I could just rule by fear. It's so much simpler. > She grinned right back. "It shouldn't be too hard, sir. But the pizza > boxes are still your problem." > "I suppose," he sighed, surveying the mess around him, "just for you, > I'll clean the place up ... in a little while." > With a slight tilt of her head that said "yeah, right" to him, Nadia > turned and strode happily toward the door. TOM: [cheerfully] Mind if I pinch your butt before you leave? URD: [falsetto] Why sir, I'd think less of you if you didn't. > In doing so, she missed seeing > him reach under his desk with an evil smile. URD: _A_-hem! > "Oh, Nadia -- one last thing." TOM: [gravelly] Just one more thing, ma'am... > Her hand stopped as it was about to touch the door-open switch, and she > whirled on her heel, still smiling. "Yes?" > Gryphon extracted from under the desk a Model XX-945-Zeta-Zeta > Multi-Barrel Belt-Fed Rotary Nerf Ultrablaster. CROW: Price under Pentagon contract: $20 million. > Centuries of dealing with > Hammer and Danilia had taught him a lesson or two. "I always pay my debts. > Sometimes, I overpay them, just to be sure. And don't call me 'sir'." TOM: Call me Ishmael. CROW: Call me Deep Throat. URD: Call me "Dr. Squishy." I think I'd like that. > He depressed the trigger and chased Nadia out the door with a brief > hailstorm of 300 Npm (Nerfballs-per-minute). TOM: The worst part is, that's as close as we're gonna get to an action sequence in this fanfic. > Putting down the weapon, he sighed. "One more thing to clean up." Then, > grinning anew, he punched the stereo next to his desk on, and, pumping a > fist at his side, exclaimed, "Yarrrrrr!" CROW: [pain] I sat on my pipe! > > Nadia slowed to a walk, then stopped entirely, catching her breath in the > corridor. TOM: Okay, breath... _talk_! Who sent you? >She went over the entire episode in her mind ... it all seemed so > unreal. URD: [nodding sympathetically] I haven't been able to make head or tail of "The X-Files" lately, either. > She almost wanted to think it was a dream, CROW: Hey, denial's how _I'd_ deal with this situation. URD: I'm in denial even as we speak. > until she noticed that > she was still holding a Captain's bar in her hand. > Behind her, she heard the organ intro to "Walk of Life" filtering out of > Gryphon's office, which meant it was on Ridiculously Loud. With the music > and the memory fresh in her mind, she could only think of one way to express > herself: she leaped as high into the air as she could, TOM: *Whonggg*! CROW: [falsetto] Damn these low ceilings! > arms raised in > victory, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "YYYYYYYYESSSSSSS!!!" > Wait until Hanson heard about _this_. URD: Let's make tracks, boys. [All depart.] ...1...2...3...4...5...6...*... [Satellite of Love. The desk is covered with papers. There's also a little computer terminal and a bottle of jelly babies, while in the back is a bookcase filled with sci-fi memorabilia. More papers and forms are stacked everywhere, tacked to the walls, hanging from the ceiling. Tom, wearing an admiral's hat, is sitting before the terminal and talking to himself.] TOM: Oh, drat all these forms. If only I could be Admiral of the Yards without having to do so much paperwork. It's a good thing I have you to help me, Vision dear. No, darling, I'm afraid I don't have that assault rifle yet -- there's that waiting period, you know... [A doorbell (loud, very '50s "My Three Sons"-ish) chimes. Tom looks up.] TOM: Enter freely and of your own will, and leave some of the happiness that you bring! [Urd, wearing a sharp-looking military jacket, enters hesitantly.] URD: I think I'm in the wrong room. TOM: No no no no! Have a seat in the conversation pit here! Let's see, Commander Nadia Davion, right? URD: [saluting] Yes sir. Master Engineer, ten years service, awarded the WDF Order of Merit after the Battle of Woodlewix Fifty sir. TOM: Aw, now don't be so formal. We're all friends here in the WDF. Shake. URD: Okay. [*Bzzzzzt!*] URD: Ahh! TOM: Haha! I find that joy buzzer helps my subordinates become more relaxed, shed this annoying military discipline so many of 'em have. Jelly baby? URD: [straight-faced] Yes, they are. TOM: [breaking character] Do you want to do this sketch or don't you? URD: [yawning] Wasn't my idea. Can we wrap this up soon? I'm missing my soaps. TOM: Um, uh -- ahem, now then, I know you're a busy woman, _Nadia_, so I'll come straight to the point. Ever watched "Battlestar Galactica"? URD: [back in charcter] What? TOM: It's a simple enough question. You have to have encyclopedic knowledge of cult SF shows to get far under me -- that is, under my command. You know, you have very pretty eyes. URD: Oh, well, thanks. TOM: So, tell me about your birthworld. URD: Well, there's not much to tell. Mondas is a pretty nice place, you know, beautiful forests and lots of rain. Sure, our basements flood a lot, but we're a hardy, good-humored folk, and -- [Pause.] Admiral, I'm up here. TOM: Of course you are! You know, you have very attractive breasts. URD: Thanks, I take care of them. TOM: So just one more question, and then I'll tell you why you're here. My rows of commendations, raw animal sexuality, and four-century history of personal heroism aside, what do you really think of me? URD: [pointing a finger at him] Well, you're a bizarre person, but because I'm so dedicated to the ideals our organization stands for, I can work with you. TOM: [playfully biting at her finger] Grr! URD: Yaah! [In one motion she overturns the desk and crushes Tom under it, then bolts out of the room. Long pause. Tom emerges, shaken and busted-up, from the wreckage.] TOM: What'd I say? [He collapses as the lights and buzzers start going off.] ...*...6...5...4...3...2...1... [Urd carries Tom in, followed by Crow. All sit down.] URD: That didn't damage you too much, did it? TOM: Nah, I have this cool breakaway body. URD: I should be in more sketches. I'd make a great Naga the Serpent. > Martin strolled casually through a quiet area of New Avalon. CROW: [deeply] It was raining on Mongo that morning... TOM: New Avalon. I can't believe I'm still on New Avalon. > It was a > magnificent, sparkling day, with Zeta Cygni moving slowly toward > mid-afternoon. TOM: Suddenly, a shot rang out! [Urd gives him a quelling look] Sorry. > He smiled at no object in particular, CROW: The tranquilizers had kicked in, and he was feelin' fi-i-i-ine! > only paying cursory > attention to his stride to keep himself from tripping or plowing into some > hapless bywalker. He hadn't checked back with either Ben or Nadia after > directing her to his office yesterday, and wondered what had become of their > first meeting. CROW: That Nadia's one smart cookie. TOM: Yeah, I bet she could make it on her own. > (It was, indeed, their first. The number of times the two > had missed seeing each other for the six years before then could have been > the source of endless sitcom material.) URD: _Bad_ sitcoms, admittedly... TOM: You mean, sitcoms. URD: Well, you know. > The smile was for more than just that, though; URD: Say. > you see, Noriko was > finally out of home schooling and entering classes with children of her > aptitude level. They'd home-schooled her for the first several years of her > new life, TOM: [announcer voice] It's your NEW LIFE! > to avoid the almost-certain humiliation of having a young woman > with a child's mind in a classroom full of toddlers. CROW: Kind of the female equivalent of Dan Quayle at the spelling bee, then. > Now, though, she > almost physically fit in with the age group, thanks to her early biocontrol > retraining, and syhe was making new friends. Yet another sign that his > Little Angel was growing up. ALL: Awww. > Watching her mature, if not physically grow, had been one of the most > rewarding experiences of his life. TOM: [slacker] Not as rewarding as the time I called into K-ROQ and got to talk to Dishwallah, and won that buttkickin' shirt. But still pretty cool. > Oh, there were always times when he > wished for his dearest friend to return to him. He missed Noriko, and > grieved her loss as if she had died, URD: [sad] We used to talk all the time... we'd say things like, "Pass the sugar," or, "That's _my_ flannel"... > for that is, for all intents and > purposes, what had happened. The fact that she was always nearby made it > all but impossible to truly release her memory, TOM: Dumb ol' dead people. > and he still found himself > visiting the headstone they'd put up in the WDF cemetary as a lasting > reminder. (Sometimes with Eiko, or maybe Ben or Kei, CROW: [singing] Could it be Bill or Jim, or Ed or Bernie or Steve -- > but never with Noriko > -- that, he was sure, was something he just couldn't take.) URD: _He_ couldn't take it? What about the girl he's bringing to see her own grave? > But for all its > troubles and torment, especially in this case, parenting was a singularly > rewarding experience. TOM: Yep, y'know, as the Baby Boomers get older we're just gonna get more and more fanfics like this one. Better get used to it. > He wondered when he'd get another chance. Just to make sure this one > wasn't a fluke, you understand. URD: Oh, sure. CROW: Got it. TOM: Uh huh. > Abruptly, his feet halted beneath him. TOM: AAAAGH! URD: [deeply] Spalding. You won't slip. > Regaining his balance, he slowly turned his head toward the street-side > of the sidewalk, ALL: [hydraulic noises] > and, more specifically, to the tiny form sitting on the > curb. > What he found was a very small girl. URD: [as Martin] What luck! Here I am wanting to be a parent again, and there's an unclaimed child just _sitting_ here! C'mere, kiddo! > Standing, she would be little more > than two feet tall, TOM: [dramatic] And this is what he said. This is what Jack Bach said... > and she was very small-boned and slender; she couldn't > have weighed more than thirty pounds at the very most. She was covered in > short black fur, wearing a rather battered grey jacket under which he could > easily see a threadbare white sweater, and a cute pink skirt. She was > barefoot, and her feet were actually white, three-toed paws. She had a > longish, catlike tail that flicked listlessly at one of her feet as she sat. CROW: There's a crossover bearin' down on us like a freight train. I can just feel it. > She was also crying. Actually, she was trying her hardest not to cry, > from the sounds she was making. URD: So then she _wasn't_ also crying. > He found himself taking immediate pity on > her. > Almost as a footnote, he glanced behind himself to see if he could > determine where she was from. CROW: *New York Mills, Minnesota. > The question summarily answered itself, as he > readily discovered the New Avalon Displaced Children's Shelter. (Newspeak > for "orphanage".) TOM: Guess Newt Gingrich got his wish. > He lowered himself to his knees, sitting next to her. CROW: [stilted] So, uh, live around here much? > He saw her notice > him, but she declined to react. URD: He should be used to that. CROW: Oooh! TOM: Ouch! > "Hi," he opened gently. > She sniffled and answered, "Kh'thak." > Martin was rather doubly surprised at the response -- firstly, it really > wasn't the type of word he'd expected to hear from someone so small, as it > was an expletive equivalent to "go fuck yourself sideways", TOM: And yet, "pithing." > and secondly, URD: Why sideways, specifically? CROW: Huh? URD: I'm just wondering. > it was spoken in perfect Kilrathi. > "Well, you didn't get _that_ word from the Beginning Kilrathi course." URD: Because they emphasized it was sideways... and I've never heard an expression like that, so... TOM: Maybe you're overanalyzing this. URD: It's either that or read it. > She wiped at her eyes. "Didn't get it from teachers. Got it from > Dad..." > Now, he was _really_ surprised. She didn't look at all Kilrathi. At > least, not any Kilrathi he'd ever seen, heard of, or read about. CROW: Well, if she _is_ a Kilrathi that dopey mask should come right off. > "So, where's your Dad, now that he's taught you such an interesting part > of his language?" > "Donno." TOM: I think that's in Newfoundland. CROW: Yeah. > She wiped her eyes again. URD: It must really bite to, y'know, be a cat and still be allergic to cats. > "He left, and Mom too, like they > always did before ... but they didn't come home. People came, and said > they weren't coming back. They brought us here. Actually, they took us > _there_." She jerked a thumb, indicating the Shelter. URD: There's like five musical numbers going on in there right now. TOM: Yeah, everyone dancing and singing, lining up for gruel... CROW: Long-lost princesses piled up six deep... > "Us?" > "Me and my brothers. No one likes us. They call us names all the time, > and gang up on us..." > As if to prove her case, the sounds of no minor scuffle came from around > a corner, in the Shelter's general direction. TOM: In fact, it was completely silent, so much was it not a minor scuffle. > She whirled, and he got his first good look at her face. It followed the > standard humanoid-mammal layout, URD: Hey, wait a minute. Didn't they already describe her? CROW: I think... Didn't they? > with two eyes, a nose and a mouth in > approximately the right spots, but he could see a Kilrathi influence in the > short muzzle that ended in a small, round, bright red nose. Her face was > white, with the fur on the rest of her head as coal-black as the rest of > her. URD: Fair enough. So then, about that scuffle... > Her eyes, set rather close together and forward, URD: Oh, come on! > were completely > black; Martin could detect no whites, irises, or pupils, just deep, > intelligent blackness. [Crow sighs.] TOM: I'm suddenly nostalgic for the sparse elegance of a Stephen Ratliff battle scene. > Two longish ears, not particularly rabbit-like, nor > catlike, but more akin to of those of a dog, URD: Urk. CROW: Okay, T. S. White, could you move it along please? > stood erect at either side of > the top of her skull, CROW: [sad old man] I remember those times long ago, before this paragraph started. Those were happy days. Birds sang, children played... TOM: [ditto] People seemed to laugh more, then... > and she had gathered them together with a little > device that resembled a daisy. URD: But was actually a refrigerator. CROW: Phew, I should have deposited a penny in a savings account when this paragraph began. I'd be rich by now. > The overall effect was one of enigmatic, anthropomorphic cuteness, even > though she looked a bit too upset, frightened, and distressed to really be > cute at the moment. > "No! YACH'O! WACH'O!" TOM: Eww, she coughed up a hairball! > She hopped to her feet and ran toward the > noise, a cacophony of young, shouting, angry voices. > Martin followed, not too far behind. He turned the corner, only a > moment after she did, and discovered a rather unpleasant sight. > The brawl -- there had obviously been one -- had chosen that moment to > quiet itself, if only for a few seconds. What he now saw was a ring of TOM: Pies! URD: Pies? TOM: [shrug] I like pies. > jeering children of various ages, from 7 to 14, if he were guessing in > human ages. Of course, those guesses were most likely completely off, > since many, if not most, of the children were Salusian. CROW: Well, you know, if you're not part of the problem you're part of the [Urd clamps his beak closed] uglmmmph! URD: Be good. CROW: [meekly] I'll be good. > They posed, > shouted, cursed and spat TOM: Oh no! It's the oppressive forces of the Ching Government, or whatever, posing up a storm! > at two youngsters at the center of their little > gathering. > These two looked like a possible alternate punch-line to "What's Black > and White and Red All Over". Martin instantly saw the resemblance to the > girl he'd just met. They were both older -- the three were likely born at > two-year intervals, or somewhere around that sort of time-frame, again, if > he were guessing human ages. The brothers snarled at their adversaries, > clenching fists, baring teeth and blinking away tears. > The shorter of the two was wearing a red baseball-style cap, completely > cockeyed (probably as a fashion statement) and slightly torn (probably > not). The taller one had a pair of loose, light brown trousers with a wide > belt around the waist. URD: I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about this... > The girl, for her part, was yelling and pushing her way through the > crowd. TOM: Make room! Make room! Oswald's been shot! > Her journey ended with an unkind shove, which landed her face in > the dirt right at her brothers' feet. > One of the Salusian children threw a can and shouted, "Why don't y'go > back where you came from, half-breeds? We don't want you here!" He > received an instant hail of positive feedback from his comrades. CROW: [milquetoast] Well, I thought Niles's ethnic slur was very effective. TOM: [ditto] Oh, yes, it was short and to the point and really came out nice. > Martin clenched a tight, quaking fist. These are just kids, he told > himself. CROW: Click! > They're just kids. CROW: Click! > They're just kids. CROW: Click! URD: If you keep doing that, the story's never going to end. [Crow shuts up quickly.] > "Go back t'your litter-box, kitty!" jeered a second. > "Yeah!" another, old enough to understand the meaning of being an > orphan, added. "My dad died fighting your lousy kind!" TOM: He never came back! Never came back! Never came back... > He threw something > rather bigger, a largish rock, and caught the little girl in the head as > she tried to get to her feet, knocking her back down with a small, sharp > cry. > Bloody hell. > No one in the group seemed to notice the quiet sound of Cybertronian > transformational harmonics behind them. TOM: A kazoo that turns into a giant robot? The hell? > "Miz Williams says they aren't really half-Salusian -- they're just > mutie cats!" URD: Yeah, well Heisenberg says you can never know both the location and the velocity of a particle with absolute precision! > And so, a chant began. ALL: [chanting] Brickabracka, firecracker, sis boom bah! Bugs Bunny Bugs Bunny rah rah rah! > The Salusian children danced around, > chanting "Mutie cats! Mutie cats!" as the two brothers hovered on the line > between rage and despair. TOM: [dramatic] The Line Between Rage and Despair, starring David Caruso and Shari Belafonte. Wednesday at 9 on ABC. > The circle broke only momentarily as a new player entered the arena. > This was an enormous brute of a child, whose status as a minor should have > probably been submitted for review. His feathery complexion, and the fact > that he had a stubby beak where his nose and mouth would have been were he > fully sapienoid, identified his avian descent. As the circle reformed > itself around him, he cracked his knuckles loudly. The two brothers moved > defensively around the crumpled, sobbing form of their sister. > The chanting went on, shrill and loud and maddening, URD: Can whoever it is turn off their Nine Inch Nails CD, _please_? > its pace increasing > as the Salusian children moved in. The brutish one spoke in a slightly > nasal, brash voice. "Guess I hafta show youse what we does ta freaks 'round > here." CROW: We are going to make you look FAAAAAB-ulous! > "OR MAYBE NOT," said the Voice of Death behind him. TOM: Or maybe not what? > The dancing and chanting stopped so quickly, it almost seemed like a > paused video replay. > The avian looked surprised. "What? Whatwhat? Who said dat?" > Every eye in the crowd turned to the new voice's source, and saw, for > the first time in person, a living legend. TOM: Umberto Eco! URD: B. B. King! CROW: Tom Jones! TOM: Ray Harryhausen! > A dark, fearsome, _angry_ living legend. URD: Pretty sharp of Hammer, finding someone like that so quickly. > The more intelligent and well-learned of the mob began backing away in > terrified awe; those with common sense shrank back under the stranger's > imposing shadow; the craven ran as fast as their legs would take them. The > circle had broken, and its components scattered for fear of their very > lives. CROW: [as kid] Aiee, it is the Author! Flee before his righteous vengeance! > Hammer knew he was hardly being fair to the little shits, TOM: Whoa! CROW: I think someone is using this story to work through a few things. > but also knew > how much he wanted to personally maul the lot of them, so their actions > turned out for the best, all things considered. TOM: I'm Noah Adams. CROW: And I'm Robert Siegel. > In the end, only four of the children remained -- the former targets of > the taunting circle, and the mammoth Firekkan child, who must have traded > his sum intellect for extra body mass. CROW: Is it a good idea to give away the fact that they rolled up these characters? > "Well, what do you know," the being of shadow said, inadvertantly > chilling the blood of the wrong kids. "They _do_ still make 'em that > dumb." > The bully turned to face his new adversary, puffing himself up in an > attempt to make a good first impression. "You sayin' I'm dumb? You sayin' > I'm some kind'a mute? Izzat what yer sayin'? ALL: [giggles] URD: Tony Danza, in an uncredited cameo. > You sayin' I'm some kind'a > deaf-mute circus clown, here to AMUSE you?" TOM: Man. And I thought _we_ strained to make references sometimes. > Hammer stepped forward. If he were in a better mood, he would have > enjoyed toying with the brute's tiny mind, but bullies were one of his Hot > Buttons, and the scene he'd just witnessed had rubbed him rather thoroughly > the wrong way. > In short, he was Pissed and Not To Be Taunted. URD: He was Capitalizing Words Almost at Random. > "Leave now, stupid," he said frankly, TOM: -- my dear, I don't give a -- oh, wait. > "while you still can." > "You gonna MAKE me? Hah? You gonna MAKE me?" > Hammer groaned internally, forcing several dozen childish retorts aside. > Instead, he reached forward, pulled the kid's face up to his own, and > growled through the scarf that hid his mouth from view, CROW: He's Vincent Valentine! URD: Really? ...[disappointed] Oh, you were kidding. > "YES." TOM: [Ed McMahon] You are CORRECT, SIR! URD: [sighing] Vincent. > The grunt looked displeased. Pushing himself out of Hammer's grasp, he > took a half-step backward, shouted "*DAT'S* IT!", and threw himself into an > attacking mode. 'BOTS: [start humming the Final Fantasy 7 battle theme] > The altercation that followed wasn't much of one, really, since the > ex-bully immediately found himself setting the new Utopia Planitia speed and > distance records for unpowered manned flight. CROW: Hmm, okay, I suppose. URD: At least he's being reasonably heroic. You know, rescuing orphans from bullies and all. TOM: Yeah, I guess this is all right. > Martin watched his retreating form fly off into the distance. He > wondered, for a moment, whether he'd gone overboard. (He already knew he > had. There was no way the boy, if that term applied, would survive the > landing unless he expended his entire life's quota of Good Fortune in a > fraction of a second. URD: Uh, excuse me...? > He may have been feathered, but he certainly didn't > look fit to fly.) URD: _Excuse_ _me_...!! CROW: Heh, see, it's funny because it's... premeditated murder... > "Oh, smooth," he groaned to himself. "Beating up on kids, now. _Real_ > smooth." URD: And then there's the whole _killing_ kids part. Let's not even go there. TOM: I guess it's not so much the morality as how slick you look doing it. > Then, the sound of a quiet grunt -- someone trying to stand while badly > injured -- reminded him just why he'd flung a hapless imbecile into the > wild blue yonder. He turned around, and was greeted by a trio of startled > gasps. ALL: [gasp, then start coughing violently] > The smaller male -- the one with the cap -- braced himself and said to > his brother, "Take Dh'ot and run, Yach'o. I'll try an' 'old 'im off long > enough for you to get away." > (Whoops,) Martin realized. (I keep forgetting how frightening I can > look.) He quickly transformed, TOM: Yikes! No pants! > then transformed again. TOM: Whew. > He was now wearing > exactly what he'd been wearing before, when he'd discovered the girl. URD: So, what do you think he was wearing? CROW: I say a "Forever Knight" T-shirt, jeans with holes in them and a Babylon 5 cap. > As he looked back toward them, Dh'ot's eyes widened with twofold > recognition. "No..." she protested weakly as Yach'o tried to carry her > away. "Don't ... he's okay..." Her warning was already a little behind > the times, though, as Yach'o and Wach'o also realized who they'd stumbled > across. TOM: Must be sort of like accidentally shooting a Post Brother. > Yach'o found his tongue first. "Saaaaay ... you're that Autobot guy! > One of the original Wedge Rats!" > Martin chuckled. He never really considered himself a member of that > particularly elite group; more as a Marty-come-lately. After all, in their > second test of courage, he was just a spectator. CROW: He just waited upstairs while they squished a spider with a board, that's all... > But he nodded, for > Yach'o's benefit. URD: Hey, might as well take the credit. > "The same." > "Faboo!" Wach'o breathed quietly. > Martin stepped forward and dropped to his knees as the three siblings > gathered themselves in front of him. "So ... you know who I am. Now who > are you?" CROW: Crossover coming in on runway four... > "We're the W'harnyr brothers!" the two males chimed in immediate unison. > "And the W'harnyr sister," added the girl, somewhat weakly. ALL: [groan] URD: [wonderingly] I'm being punished, aren't I. Kami-sama, you big meanie! [Urd shakes her fist at the ceiling and then slumps down in her chair.] > Martin chuckled again. Somehow, he chided himself, you should have > _known_ this would happen, sooner or later. TOM: Gee, aren't _we_ metatextual today. URD: Don't talk to me. I'm sulking. > "Cute. How long have you > three been here?" > "About six months," the elder brother replied. > "But it feels like f'rever," his brother added. ALL: [chorus] We know the feeling! > For some reason, he > alone had a vocal accent, which made him sound like a very young Ringo > Starr. > "I suppose it's been like this the whole time." > "Oh, no," said the younger brother. "Sometimes i's worse." URD: I'm still sulking, by the way. [CROW and TOM nod.] URD: Just so you know. > "Usually they stay away from Dh'ot," Yach'o elaborated. "They know what > Wach'o's like when someone hurts her ... but this time there were just so > many..." He shrugged. "Good thing you showed up." > "Yeah," Martin replied ruefully. "Good thing." TOM: Imagine the inner conflict that must be roiling under that placid surface! Wow! > He looked at them. He knew he couldn't possibly watch over them all the > time, and the looks he saw in their entirely-black eyes told him they knew > that, too. They needed a protector. But while they were here, he couldn't > really help them. CROW: [as Martin] Welp, nothin' I can do. See ya! > Wach'o summed it up rather succinctly when he stuck his hands in his > pockets and observed, "They're really gonna get us for this one." > That was all Martin needed to hear. He got to his feet and opened his > mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, he was cut off by the > horrified crowing of a woman bustling out of the Shelter behind him. URD: Ooh, a female authority figure. This should be good. > "YACH'O W'HARNYR!" the heavy-bodied, middle-aged woman shrieked. TOM: COME ON DOWN! CROW: [audience cheering] > "You > get yourself and your siblings INSIDE the building, RIGHT THIS INSTANT! > You know, I have just about had enough of you and your troublemaking, young > man." CROW: You darned kids, with your backward baseball caps and your loud music... > As she spoke, she advanced, seeming not to even notice Martin. CROW: ...and your fax modems and your baggy pants and your virtual pets... > "Always picking fights, pushing the other children around -- CROW: ...and your plaid shirts and your 23-skidoo and your global networking... > and where's > Pestoe? URD: I could do with a little pestoe, actually. TOM: Oh yeah, with clam sauce and a little garlic. CROW: And some of those special cheeses. Mmmmmm. URD: Well, let's go then! TOM: Wait, can we just leave in the middle of a paragraph? URD: [picking him up] Who's gonna stop us? Heh heh. [All leave the theater.] ...1...2...3...4...5...6...*... [SOL Bridge. It looks like a restaurant kitchen, with steaming pots everywhere, food hanging from the ceiling and so forth. Closeup on Urd, looking over one of the pots.] CROW: [offscreen] I thought when you suggested this, Urd, that you were going to do the cooking. URD: Please! I'm far too beautiful a Goddess to be sullied with menial housework. Come on, is it ready yet? I'm hungry! [Pull back. Urd is hovering around the kitchen and being a nuisance. Crow, Tom, and Gypsy are wearing chef hats, aprons, et cetera and doing the actual work.] CROW: Well, give it time! Rome wasn't burnt in a day, you know, and neither was this meal. Mmm, a little more garlic, and a little more cinnamon, and a dash of MSG... Adjust the baking rack to 350, would you, Tommy my boy? TOM: [almost crying] Um, without working arms, this is really hard! GYPSY: Veggies coming through! [She dumps a bunch of vegetables out of her mouth into a pot, which promptly boils over. Flames shoot out of the burner.] GYPSY: Oh my stars! CROW: Fire in the hole! Put out the main course, would you Tommy? TOM: [sobbing openly] I told you, I can't! I'm useless!! URD: [disgusted] What kind of robot servants are you? This is pathetic. TOM: [wailing] Let's see _you_ do better! URD: Oh... a challenge? That's another story! Out of the way, lesser beings, let the great goddess Urd handle this. [Urd sweeps the 'bots out of the way and strikes a pose. Light starts collecting in her outstretched hands. She makes as if to throw it, then pauses.] URD: What was it, ten minutes at 45000 degrees? CROW: Uh -- URD: Here we go! [She throws the fireball and there is a massive explosion! The kitchen is wrecked, small fires and smoke everywhere. Urd and the 'bots are covered with soot and random food. Without missing a beat, she reaches over to Crow, takes a fingerful of something gooey off his head, and tastes it.] URD: [brightly] Perfect! [Buzzers, lights, et cetera --] ALL: We've got fanfic sign! ...*...6...5...4...3...2...1... [Enter all. Urd is still licking her fingers.] URD: Heh heh. Eat your heart out, Belldandy. > The others said he was still out here. URD: Who? CROW: Pestoe. URD: Oh, yeah. Mmm. > Frightened half out of > their WITS. TOM: WITS, 1720 on your AM dial! Bringing you smooth jazz in the morning since 1978. > I've a good mind to send you to another sector, where you > can't cause as much trouble, and give your siblings a chance to grow up > in--" CROW: Forget Darth Vader, Kagato, and Hannibal Lecter. _This_ is the scariest villain I have ever seen. > She didn't get any further; Martin cut her off, both verbally and > physically, at that point. TOM: Scarier than... Prince Zordar? CROW: Please! Scarier. > "EX-cuse me, ma'am -- may I call you ma'am? -- but I think a couple of > your details on the situation are off just a scoche." TOM: Okay, scarier than... Sephiroth? CROW: Much scarier. > The woman drew herself up to her full height, which was entirely > unimpressive. URD: Scarier than... the Spice Girls? CROW: All right, _second_ scariest villain. Sheesh. > "And WHO," she said in a voice that had undoubtedly cowed > hundreds of children, "might YOU be, sir? And what possible business is > this of yours?" TOM: Um, sleep? > Martin, being neither a child nor particularly short, was unruffled. > "I am the terror that flaps in the night," he replied in his typical, > rumbling fashion. CROW: Was that you? TOM: Sorry. I skipped breakfast. > "I am the misfiring stapler that ruins an otherwise > nice day at the office." CROW: But you can call me Gary. > The woman looked quite impressed, and took a complete step backward. TOM: People in this story are easily intimidated. URD: It's a good thing he didn't quote "Highlander" at her. She might've died. > Martin lived for these moments, and was always saddened when they were > over. > Producing an ID, he completed, in a more normal voice, "Detective > Superintendent PCHammer, Wedge Defense Force Criminal Investigations, > Covert Operative. TOM: See, covert, that means nobody can know who I... oops... > Technically, I'm out of my jurisdiction ... URD: ...so I'll be going now. Bye! > but the > Truth is always worth defending, and seems somewhat lacking in your > accusations." > The woman regained her composure. "Well, the Truth, as you so > melodramatically put it, TOM: ...is out there. Thank you! Thank you! > is that these three children -- especially the > oldest, he's the ringleader -- are right holy terrors who have just about > torn this Shelter apart in the six months Standard CROW: One-third the calories of a regular month. > they've been here. The > middle one put one of my orderlies in the med center TOM: Med Center! In color. > for two weeks!" > "'E 'it Dh'ot!" Wach'o protested. CROW: Apostrophes: your key to quality science fiction. > "Well, I'm sure she did something to deserve it," the woman snapped at > him over Martin's shoulder. "Don't you be fooled, Mr. ... Hammer, was it? > They look cute, but they're demons." URD: Oh, like Macaulay Culkin. > Yach'o snorted derisively. "Sure, she did something to deserve it all > right. She was crying, and Ralph didn't like it. That rates as a > punishable offense, wouldn't you say?" CROW: All right, look, I call no way. The _real_ Warner Brothers would've had that orphanage on its knees with their zany antics by the end of the first episode. What's the story with these shallow imitations? URD: They're fakes! Check the basement for pods! > The word 'incredulous' wouldn't have even begun to describe the look on > Martin's face. The picture he was getting of how this Shelter was operated > was quickly developing into something he definitely didn't like. TOM: It's Dr. Ho's Lair of Evil and Daycare Center! > "'Torn > this Shelter apart'? I suppose that's supposed to justify the Junior Lynch > Mob I had to _personally_ break up out here. Oh, that's right ... you > thought all those little monsters were running from these three." Martin > broke a slight smile. CROW: [as Martin] Hee hee hee, I'm so naughty... > "Sorry ... it was me. Apparently, some of _them_ > were diligent history students." > "I don't think I like your tone, Mr. Hammer. And I'm _certainly_ not > going to discuss this out in the street! URD: [Brit accent] Well, speaking _as_ a man in the street, I WAAUGH! > If you wish to speak to me > concerning the operation of my shelter, my office hours are posted in the > lobby. Come _along_, children." > The W'harnyrs didn't pass Martin; TOM: ...and did not collect $200. > instead, they clustered together. > "We're not going back in there," Yach'o said firmly. > "Besides, Dh'ot needs a doctor," Wach'o added. CROW: This patient needs an apostrophectomy, stat! > The woman shook her head. "Ridiculous. You three will try _anything_ > -- they've attempted to run away at LEAST twenty times," she said, > parenthetically, to Hammer. > "Given the tender loving care they were receiving from their Salusian > comrades," Martin stated with a tone of overt sarcasm, TOM: Oh, Special Agent Sarcasm. > "I could hardly > blame them. But, if having someone keep an eye on them is all you're > worried about, I can help with that, too. Pardon me a moment." > Martin pulled out a small device, flipped it open, and punched a few > buttons. URD: Hold on, gotta clean up my Giga Pet... > He put one of the hinged sides to his ear, with the other close > to his mouth. > "Hon?" he said into it after a moment's pause. CROW: What sorcery is this magic box that allows you to speak across the air? > The woman started > toward the W'harnyrs, but Martin stopped her with his free hand. > "Yeah, it's me. TOM: [tinny phone voice] If you would like to make a call... > Listen, I'm down at the New Avalon Displaced > Children's Shelter, TOM: ...please hang up and try your number... > over on West Cross, URD: At the intersection of Street Street and Corner Avenue. CROW: I feel like I'm right there. > and I need a hand here. S'pose you > could jog over? ... Uh-huh ... well, she won't be home for at least an hour. > She'll be okay. You know how responsible she is. ... Thanks, Hon. ... I > love you, too. And I'm timing you. URD: Oh, how romantic. > Bye-bye." He snapped the device shut. CROW: "Device"? "Device"? It's a FREAKIN' TELEPHONE! The AMISH have 'em! > "Now see here," the woman dictated, now that she had his undivided > attention. "You have no jurisdiction here. TOM: [Dirty Harry voice] Oh yeah? What about the rights of that little girl? URD: [deeply] He's a fanfic writer who doesn't play by the rules... > This is MY shelter, and these > children are MY charges. If you think you can just waltz in URD: [grandly] Well, shall we, Mr. T. Robot? CROW: [gallant] Why, I'd be delighted. [Urd starts waltzing Crow around the theater.] > off the street > and change the way I do things here--" > Her tirade was cut short by a growing sound of something screaming > through the air at high speed. TOM: Oh, someone else must be reading "Justice and Mercy." [Urd and Crow sit back down.] > Martin smiled CROW: Well, yeah. > and everyone else gaped as a > blurred, quick-moving form resolved into a young woman, not quite five-and- > a-half feet tall, with longish red hair. TOM: Speed skater Bonnie Blair recommends SLUDCO(tm) brand fanfiction! > She stopped herself by grabbing Martin, whirling the both of them quite > rapidly. CROW: Do you want to go... faster? TOM/URD: Wheeee! > "Hiya, Diggy!" ALL: [canned sitcom applause] URD: I love it when she does that! > "Hi, Little One." They kissed. "You're getting slow." > She dropped from him, waving a hand. "The cross-town traffic is > murder." CROW: [as Martin] Oh... heh heh, yeah... speaking of murder, honey -- > "Thanks for coming. Look, it seems..." Martin paused, then turned. > "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I haven't determined your name yet." URD: [as Martin] Let me just make up something comical... okay. Go ahead. > "Flamiel. Personnel Director Candace Flamiel. URD: Tada! Goodnight, everybody! TOM: "Candy Flamiel." Sounds like a Bond girl. > And if you think you > can just--" > "Thank you, Director," he said curtly, returning his attention to the > young woman. "It seems Director Flamiel is concerned that these three > kids will try to make a break for it if she turns her back on them. I > just got done watching a gang of adorable little angels from this very > Shelter try to kill them only a minute ago, CROW: Fortunately a bunch of angst-ridden teenagers in giant robots came along and killed all the angels. But I was worried for a while. > so I would understand > completely if they did -- but I'd rather TOM: ...Sing! > they didn't. They'll just get > in deeper." CROW: [mobster] I try to get out...! But they keep pulling me back in! > "You want me to keep an eye on 'em?" Eiko glanced at the bruised, > bloodied trio, TOM: That's what the Monkees were going to be called originally, y'know. The Bruised, Bloodied Trio. > and her heart went out to them. She understood, in the > most intimate way, what it was like to be a picked-on child. > "Truth to tell, Little One, I'd like CROW: [Daffy Duck] -- I'd _like_? I'd _like_ a trip to Europe -- > to take them to a hospital. The > girl, Dh'ot, has a nasty head--" > "You'll do _no such thing_," Ms. Flamiel huffed in outrage. "Now > listen here! I've had just about all I can take from you. I don't care > if you're Special Agent PCHammer, Asrial of Salusia, Admiral MegaZone or > Batman! TOM: [as Martin] Well, actually I could get Batman for you if you w... CROW: [falsetto] And keep your crossovers to yourself, buster! > You can't just walk in on a situation you know nothing of, draw > conclusions, and then walk away with three of MY children!" > "We're not YOUR children!" Yach'o cried. "We don't belong to anybody. URD: [as "Yach'o"] I thought we were an autonomous collective! > We're not furniture." CROW: Senator, I am not a potted plant! > "That'll be about enough out of YOU," she replied archly, raising her > hand meaningfully. TOM: No! Not interpretive dance! CROW: Aah! > Martin glared at Director Flamiel. She didn't even realize that she'd > begun shrinking away from him. TOM: The Incredible Shrinking Plot. In color. > "And THAT, in turn," he replied, "will be > quite enough out of YOU." > "Dh'ot _does_ need a doctor," Wach'o said, in a quieter voice, as > though he could care less about the greater trial that was going on around > him. URD: It's weird how life imitates art, because, y'know, right now I don't care about what's going on either. > Martin looked back at Eiko, and she recognized the gleam in his eye. She > sighed before he could say a word. > "You're right," she told him. "We can't just stand by and watch this." URD: Neither can we! TOM/CROW: [chanting] Union! Union! Union! > She pulled herself up and kissed him again. "You're so impuslive." > He nodded, beaming a smile. "I'm so transparent, you mean." TOM: [Homer Simpson] Yeah... transparent like a FOX! > Eiko dropped to the ground, starting toward the W'harnyrs, as Martin > returned his attention to the Director. "Well, Ms. Flamiel, there appears > to be only one way to alleviate your concerns in this matter. URD: A Chinese martial-arts cooking tournament! BOTS: Yay! > As of now, > I'm taking these children off your hands." > She gaped and sputtered. "You-- the NERVE! There are PROCEDURES, > CHANNELS to be followed! CROW: FORMWORK to be filled out! TOM: CARDBOARD CHARACTERS to kick around! URD: AUDIENCES to bore! > You'll have to follow the usual protocols > through the front office -- TOM: -- the front office in Scottsdale, Arizona, tonight's Top Ten -- > now get out of my way and let me reclaim my > charges, or I'll have no choice but to call security and have you removed!" CROW: Chief, there's some lady calling about a fanfic...? TOM: Tell her to soak her head, Zack. CROW: Gotcha, Chief. > "I have been following procedures and channels all my four hundred years > of life, Director, and I've been through this process before. CROW: Okay, I saw it on TV once. > There is no > way I, in good conscience, can allow these kids to return to that building > without _proper_ supervision." He broke a confident smile as he added, > "And security can bloody well TRY." > He turned toward the Wh'arnyrs, then snapped his fingers and returned > his attention to Flamiel. URD: [as Martin] Oh, hang on. I have to patronize you a little more first. > "And, one last thing ... consider this > establishment officially Under Review, Director." > Director Flamiel paled slightly, then stood solidly and said, CROW: "No!! This cannot be! I am INVINCIBLE!!" > "You > don't scare me, Mr. Hammer. You haven't the power, and even if you did, > nothing could come of it. I'm sorry, but if you MUST insist upon > threatening me, I will have to TOM: Be even more ineffectual. > call security." > All but ignoring her, Martin transformed to his Rotofoil mode. Eiko > guided the children into him, with Dh'ot cradled in her arms. The front > end slid shut, and the vehicle turned toward the Director. > "I never threaten, Director," it said in the voice she had come to > know and loathe. "I _promise_." URD: [sinister] No, Director Flamiel, I expect you to die! > A loud TCHAP was accompanied by a mild shockwave as it leaped skyward. > At the apex of its leap, it grew rotors and a tail, and hovered overhead. > "I shall return shortly to give you your precious paperwork," it > announced, TOM: [excited] The jewel-encrusted tax return of the Pharaoh Khaleimi! > "provided the hospital doesn't take too much time. And don't be > surprised if Gryphon calls, asking for me. Just tell him ... I'll be back." > The last three words were spoken with a poor imitation-Austrian accent. CROW: [as Martin] Oh, no wait, I can do that better. "I'll be bahhck --" No, wait, I've got that accent down, I really do, hold on a sec... > The 'foil-copter turned toward the nearest hospital and flew away, TOM: "And as yon pinhead doth vanish into the sunset, so doth our troubles vanish with him." How true! URD: Aw, you don't need to quote the classics to impress _me_... > leaving Director Flamiel to fume to herself. CROW: It _is_ possible to write a good story with the director of an orphanage as the villain. It really is. > "Gryphon, eh? TOM: [as Smithers] One of your fanfic writers in Sector 7-G, sir... > We'll just SEE about that," she muttered, returning to the > relative safety of the Shelter. Pestoe had been all but forgotten. CROW: [weakly] Sure, what's one orphan, more or less? I mean... heh... TOM: [ditto] Yeah, it's... not like his parents are gonna ask after him... > > Some hours passed. TOM: Empires rose and fell. CROW: The Sun cooled and went out. URD: The first Twinkie ever made started to decay. > The three children had been to the hospital, > proclaimed fit for home care (after some treatment on all three, > particularly the girl), and were now patiently awaiting their fate in the > Roses' living room. URD: [singsong] Soup's ALMOST ready, dear! Bring in those three "special ingredients," would you? > The telephone rang. CROW: That noise again! What -- does -- it -- mean?? > Martin was not surprised, and punched it on. TOM: Yes, uh huh... uh huh... uh huh, got it! Max, that was someone who talked like the Commissioner and sounded like the Commissioner and probably was the Commissioner! He says there's big trouble at the Earth's core! > "Batphone." CROW: Batphone? You've got the wrong man. I spell my name... Danger! > Gryphon's face appeared in the screen. He looked a little curious and > bewildered, and his face was smeared with grease. TOM: He'd been drugged and kidnapped by auto mechanics! > Overall, he appeared > tired and disheveled, but quite pleased with himself. CROW: ...and he _liked_ it! > "Marty," he stated, by way of abbreviated greeting. "What's this about > you kidnapping three kids from the New Avalon Displaced Children's Shelter?" > Martin's shoulders slumped. He somehow knew the Director would raise no > small stink over the incident, URD: Man! Kill one orphan and everyone just blows it way out of proportion. > though he had no idea why she so thoroughly > hated the kids that she'd put them right back where they'd been. TOM: [singing] Back to where we once belonged -- > And she'd > gone straight over his head. Typical. TOM: How can you say "typical" about someone you've known for under an hour? > "You probably wouldn't think it > could happen here, Ben, CROW: [old man voice] It can happen here! > but I had to rescue three poor kids from a ravenous > pack of Salusians." > Gryphon looked strangely unsurprised. URD: [as Gryphon] I _was_ at the script meeting, Marty. > "Actually, no. The W'harnyrs?" > Martin nodded. "The same. I couldn't let'em go back to face their > execution, and the Director wouldn't take the girl's condition seriously." > Ben sighed. "I TOLD them it was stupid to put those kids in a mostly > Salusian orphanage, but does anyone in Personnel Services listen to _me_? > Of course not. 'Go play with your ships, Admiral -- we know how to handle > children.' TOM: [crying] Then they intentionally lost my change of address card. CROW: Then they held me down and snagged on me. > I had a feeling something bad would happen. Those poor kids ... > Salusians have been fighting Kilrathi for centuries, did they think all that > enmity would just disappear in one generation?" He sighed again, and made a > small and vaguely profane noise. TOM: Drt. CROW: Fgn. URD: Sncmpl. > "How do you know about them, pray tell?" Martin cocked his head to one > side. "I'm sure Director Flamiel didn't describe them to you in any > favorable light." > "Actually, I was part of the 'expedition' that recovered them. Their > father was a Bastard Son of Kilrah, a rather nice fellow we all called > Stripe -- CROW: Aw, man! Did they have to drag Gold Digger into this too? TOM: Well, wait and see. I'd pay good money to see Cheetah beat these guys up. > damn good fighter pilot. TOM: Why isn't anyone ever a _mediocre_ fighter pilot in these stories? > His wife was a Salusian from a fairly > large, well-to-do family, and the couple ended up taking her family name, > since he wanted nothing to do with his." > Martin blinked forcibly. CROW: It was an effort, but he managed. URD: I've had mornings like that. Well, okay, afternoons. > "I thought Kilrathi and Salusian DNA were > wildly incompatible." ALL: [a la Thomas Dolby] Science! > "I know. Life Sciences still claims that's so, but I think we can see > the evidence to the contrary." > "Doubtless," Martin replied with a brief glance toward the sofa. CROW: [idly] Yeah, whatever. Hey, that sofa could've been made for me, y'know? With those two big headrests and all... > "Anyway, they both lost their lives in the Big One. TOM: A gigantic Super-Sized combo meal that went horribly out of control! > When we went to > check on their estate, to see if there was anything for the next-of-kin to > reclaim, we found the three of them, doing rather well for themselves. > Personnel took over from there; I guess the mother's family wants nothing to > do with them." Ben sighed once more, for good measure. "How's the girl?" > "Getting better. She should be up and about in a couple days. It was a > pretty big rock." > "Rock?" TOM: No, a rock. CROW: [Sean Connery] I can get us into the Rock. > "Yeah, one of the insufferable little urchins took it upon himself to > bean'er with it." CROW: [chuckling] Bean'er? I hardly even know -- no, that's not right... > Gryphon's face darkened. "She's expected to recover?" TOM: [enraged] You did this to Agent Scully, didn't you! > "That's what they told me. She's a little doped up at the moment, but > her brothers are watching her like hawks." URD: They're circling her body and when she lets her guard down they're gonna eat her. > Now, Ben looked downright livid, though still in control, mostly. TOM: I've never seen someone's facial expression described to eight decimal places before. > "Damn, > damn, damn, CROW: ...Rooooooock Lobster! > I knew this was gonna be trouble. Wait until I get a hold of > those idiots. I'm meeting them at 18-hundred; TOM: Eighteen Hundred, New Avalon's hippest and happenin'est dance club! CROW: Appearing tonight: Weezer. All double drinks half price. > Director Flamiel is foaming > at the mouth. To hear her tell it, those three beat up the whole population > of the Shelter, scared the hell out of them, and chased them inside. One of > them's still missing." He didn't pause when he noticed Martin's shoulders > sag at that news. URD: Out, out, damned spot! > "Then you showed up and said something about taking them > away on my authority. She's screaming for my blood and your head, Marty." > He grinned. TOM: Ha, ha, abuse of power is pretty funny when you come to think of it. > "I wish I knew when I'd authorized kidnappings." URD: Mr. President, we wanted to maintain plausible deniability. > "'Kidnapping' is such an ugly word," the other replied with a weak smile. > "I prefer to call it 'protective custody'. CROW: Uh, and I didn't kill that orphan, either. Heh heh. > Still..." He sighed, shaking > his head. "Remarkable story she's got there. Pity it's a fabrication, but > everyone needs an excuse, I suppose. She wasn't even there. Sorry if I > overstepped my bounds, but..." He dropped his gaze. URD: Clank. > "I'm sorry. Watching > that mob scene ... I had to do something." TOM: [earnestly] Look, none of us liked "The Postman." But you didn't have to burn down the theater! > Gryphon laughed. "You've got a lost puppy complex, you know that? > Hell, I don't mind ... CROW: [as Gryphon] But about that arms-for-hostages scheme of yours, Marty... > but what I have to know now is ... well, what do you > plan to DO with these kids I told you you could take out of the Shelter?" URD: I hear Kathy Lee Gifford needs some loom operators. > Martin shrugged, CROW: Here's the windup... > the eternal smirk finally returning to his face. CROW: ...and the smarm! > "Well, they're not such bad kids, once you get to know'em. Eiko's taken a > liking to'em, they can break Kei with no trouble at all; heck, Riko TOM: Rico! Youngblood! > thinks > they're positively aDOrable..." > Ben looked thoughtful for a moment. "Vision'll have the formwork ALL: Noooo! CROW: The IRS has less paperwork than this fanfic! > crammed > down their throat by eighteen hundred if you authorize her to forge your > signature..." URD: Tell me they're not doing what I think they're doing. Please... > Martin's smirk was replaced by a broad smile. "Authorized." TOM: Man, his smugness is like a creature that follows him around. > A hand appeared in the corner of the screen CROW: [Gomez Addams] Ah, Thing, glad you could make it! > and shoved the edge of the > central vid image down; with much simulated effort, Vision pushed herself > a corner window. Martin began to regret teaching her video tricks. URD: I suppose there's no reason why a sentient computer program would be able to figure them out by itself. CROW: Well, it's a _girl_ computer program. URD: Good point. > "They won't know what hit 'em," she promised. "You want the whole > schmeer, TOM: Why do I suddenly crave bagels? > legal adoptions, name changes, the works?" > Martin met the lovely CI's gaze thoughtfully for a moment before > replying. "Everything except the name changes, Vizh. They know who they > are, and they've fought for it. They deserve to keep it." He snapped his > fingers. CROW: Ayyyyyyyy. > "Oh, and while you're at it, put up a little blank space on the > screen for a sec." URD: [airily] You can do it by filling a window with all the accurate characterization in this story. > She blinked. TOM: [falsetto] What do I look like, your screen saver? Do it yourself. > "Sure." URD: [as Vision] I was just going to calculate some transfer orbits and power-use projections, but sure, I can spend my processor time MOVING YOUR WINDOWS AROUND FOR YOU, mumble mutter lazy son-of-a... > She pushed her window up, and a much smaller her > pulled a blank area underneath, along the bottom of the screen. CROW: Nobody will be seated during the thrilling Task Manager sequence! TOM: Bill Gates must've sponsored this part of the fanfic. > "What's > that for?" > "Trace my finger, Vizh," Martin smiled. TOM: Hey -- oh, _trace_ his finger. Never mind. > He put a fingertip to the screen > and began scribbling it around the blank area, as Vision traced the > movement, drawing the pattern it made in its wake. CROW: L... I... C... K... M... E... Wait a minute! > She grinned when she > realized what he was doing -- rather than leaving any doubt to his personal > stake in this, he was giving her his signature to use on the forms. TOM: But were the copies collated and stapled? Why are we left hanging like this? CROW: And what about the finger? Was it right or left? Index? Ring? Thumb? URD: There are huge holes in this fanfic! > He ended it with a flourish, as he always did. "There. Let them argue > with _that_." > Vision winked at him and threw him a thumbs-up. URD: Then promptly crashed. > "Right. Time to go > mug the Personnel Services mainframe. TOM: [zany] All these newfangled computers, flibbity-floo! > Now THAT's comedy." CROW: Other than not being at all funny, that is! ALL: Haha! > She ducked > under the main image, reaching up and yanking it fully into the corner to > cover her window as she went, and was gone. URD: Vision is just the 24th-century version of Microsoft Bob. > "Hey -- what's goin' on over there?" Yach'o, sitting on one side of > Dh'ot on the living room couch, asked Wach'o. CROW: Ahh, looks like they're just reinstalling Windows 95 again. > "I dunno," Wach'o replied. "I think we've jus' been saved..." > Yach'o looked over at Martin's back, considered, and brightened, his > ears pricking up. "Works for me." TOM: [Cartman voice] Sweet. > Martin gave one last nod to the screen. "Thanks, Ben. You're a > lifesaver. And I _don't_ mean you're donut-shaped and fake-fruity." > Gryphon gave a 'tsk' and waved a limp-wristed hand at the monitor in > perfect impression of Kevin Tefft. "Oh, you." URD: Were we supposed to do some reading for this fanfic? TOM: Yeah, actually. URD: Really? TOM: About three thousand pages or so. I skipped it though. CROW: Me too. Um, I had a doctor's excuse. > "Hey!" a familiar voice cried from off-screen on Gryphon's end. "Are > you gonna yap on the phone all day and let us do all the work?! Get it > in gear, wide-load!" TOM: I'm sort of picturing Rosie O'Donnell as the voice actress for Nadia. CROW: Heheh. > Gryphon cringed as Martin stifled a roaring laugh. This answered any > questions he'd had about Nadia's interview yesterday. "Gotta go. Mommy's > calling. Have fun, Marty ... I think you're in for quite the adventure." > The screen went blank. CROW: D'oh --! Stupid Nynex. > Martin nodded, turning to look at the smiling faces behind him, TOM: The faces of those he's wronged float before him! > though > not all smiling for the same reason (Dh'ot's seemed somewhat vacant). > Indeed, he said quitely to himself; the grandest adventure of all. > CROW: And we have closure! URD: At least it _stopped_. Let's get out of here. [She gets up and all start out of the theater.] > "How does this look?" URD: Aw, man...! [Grumbling, all return to their seats.] > Eiko draped a drab olive handbag over Selene's > shoulder. URD: They're playing dress-up with Sailor Moon? CROW: Nothing surprises me any more. > "How hard will you hit me if I'm honest?" TOM: Ooooh, you don't wanna know, buddy. > Martin then ducked as said > handbag swung through the space once occupied by his head. CROW: Before it was horribly severed! A scream echoed through the air -- URD: Are you okay? CROW: Um, sure. > It was something most people didn't even know to see as peculiar -- > Martin, Eiko and Noriko were taking Selene, formerly known as Iczer-2, [BOOM! Servo's head explodes.] URD: Whoa! > out > shopping, yet another of those human foibles that Selene hadn't even known > about until her recent change-of-heart (or acquisition-of-heart, depending > on who you asked, and when). [With a snap of her fingers, Urd puts out the small fire in Servo's dome.] URD: You all right? TOM: [woozy] Jus' five more minutes, Mom... > It had, apparently, come to Dr. Mann's CROW: Doctor "The" Mann. > attention that Selene had only ever been seen wearing one non-combat costume > as she explored New Avalon and its outlying areas. URD: Dr. Mann: Fashion Physician. CROW: I'm just wondering who brought it to his attention. "Excuse me, doctor, but your patient isn't quite the snappy dresser that she could be..." TOM: [dazed] Can I have drink now? > Not feeling qualified as > a trainer in this field, he'd asked Ben Hutchins for help, who'd turned to > Kei, who'd suggested Eiko. Noriko was presently off in another part of the > store, TOM: Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Scene. URD: Feeling better? TOM: I just let my guard down for a moment and that Iczer-Two thing came in. I'm okay now. > while Martin and Eiko tried to help Selene with her wardrobe. > "I'm still not sure I understand the purpose of this 'fashion'." URD: [casually] Lady, if you have to ask, you ain't never gonna know. > Selene > lifted a rather frilly, overcute and not-like-her-at-all blouse from its > place on the rack, hugging it in front of herself and looking into the > mirror. "What do you think of this item?" ALL: It stinks! > Martin and Eiko peered at it, then at each other, and then at her. They > shook their heads in obvious disapproval. > Selene sighed, placing the blouse back with those like it. TOM: Tears of shame roll down her cheeks! > "This concept > is beyond me." > "Now, now, no fatalism allowed," Eiko chided. "If I can get Diggy to at > least dress in a way that doesn't cause hearing loss, TOM: See? See? Rule 6! CROW: [thoughtful] I think you may have something there. > I'm sure I can get > _you_ fashionable." > Selene shrugged. "I've been wearing the same basic thing for some four > centuries now. TOM: Well, isn't it about time you washed it? Oh, zing! > I didn't know I was supposed to have different modes of > dress for different moods and occasions." TOM: You have to _have_ different moods first! Zing again! > "Well, it's not _really_ a necessity," Eiko elaborated, rifling through > another rack of blouses. "Fashion's a fickle and frivolous thing. More a > luxury than anything else, I suppose." URD: [sadly] Eiko's priorities are so screwed up. I feel sorry for her. > Selene's eyes caught on something dark, TOM: Ow! Owww! Someone get me some saline, willya? > and she lifted it from its place. > She held the new item to herself and looked in a mirror, and, to her > amazement, a smile formed on her lips. > It was another blouse, but this time basically black. CROW: [singing] I see a fanfic and I want to paint it bla-ack... > A strip of red > traced a path diagonally down from the right shoulder, halting when it met > another, thicker path of turquoise coming TOM: Through the rye. > down from the left. The turquoise > strip continued all the way to the waist, where it curled around the back. > "This," she said quietly, "I like." > Eiko clapped as Selene turned to display her new choice. "Brilliant! > Take it from me, Sel, you were _made_ to wear black." URD: Now, it's off to the Anne Rice convention! > Martin regarded her thoughtfully, nodding. "That works quite well with > your hair, Selene." > "Thank you," Selene smiled, turning back to face the mirror. "I suppose > I may have an aptitude for this, after all." > It took a bit more time to assemble a complete outfit around that one > piece, and several others as well; but it was accomplished, and the foursome 'BOTS: [horrified] No! No no no no no no! > strolled outside to greet the late-afternoon sun. > They were in an open-air shopping district, with several multi-floor > shops and boutiques built around a brick-patterned walkway as wide as a > two-lane street with sidewalks. TOM: So... they're shopping. CROW: Yeah. TOM: Huh. CROW: Yeah. URD: I just thought of something. Iczer-Two is an omnipotent avatar of evil. Why does she need to _buy_ clothes? > The wind blew lightly, so the faint chill > in the air didn't attack them as strongly as it could have, CROW: Right, can't she make clothes with her mind, or something? > but the > occasional lumps of snow where the walkway's inlaid heating didn't reach > readily evidenced the wintery season that was upon them. TOM: I always figured if Iczer-Two needed a new outfit she'd just raze a planet and pick one she liked out of the wreckage. > Dark clouds > gathered off in one direction, but they were part of a storm front that > wasn't going to actually overtake them, like a gloomy stranger standing off > to the side, trying to convince you you shouldn't be having fun. > "Okay," Eiko mentally checked off, her bright coat crinkling as she moved > her arms URD: This spring, the modern Zeta Cygnan woman is wearing bubble wrap and cellophane... > while her sigh formed a tiny cloud in front of her, "we have > blouses, slacks, skirts, hats and a few requisite undergarments." TOM: Yeah, y'know, things. Whatsits. Girl stuff. > "Why do I need both slacks and skirts? CROW: Why do fools fall in love? URD: Why can't you sneeze with your eyes open? TOM: Why can women wear pants but men can't wear dresses? [The others give him an odd look.] TOM: [defensively] I'm just curious. > Can't I only wear one of the two > at a time?" > Eiko waved a hand. "It's a mood thing. URD: You wouldn't understand. CROW: My mood thing turned black. What's that mean? > Sometimes you feel like slacks, > sometimes a skirt. You'll have plenty of chances to try both. For now, you > need some good footwear to go with the outfits." TOM: You need it now! Consume and reproduce, citizen! > "I see," said Selene, who didn't. > Noriko giggled. "Don't worry about it. Mama's a good teacher." CROW: Oh! Eww... TOM: I thought I'd put that hideous family structure out of my mind, but no... [Urd awkwardly hugs the two of them as they burst into tears.] > Eiko led the small troupe into a five-story brownstone that promised a > shoe store on the main level. Just as they cleared the doorway, though, > they paused at the sounds of a slight commotion outside. TOM: [cop] All right, show's over, nothing to see here. CROW: You said it. > Noriko was the first to spy its source. "Quick, out of the doorway!" she > insisted. URD: Everybody out of the water! CROW: We've got to close the beaches! > No sooner had the small group complied than a small cluster of three > familiar faces, furred in black and white with round, red noses, rushed > past. TOM: Followed by their blindly stumbling and grasping headless bodies! URD: Yikes, that's creepy. > Eiko, Martin and Noriko waved as they hurried by, and they waved in > return. > Selene blinked. "Weren't those--" > "--our kids, yes," Martin smiled. > Before Selene could ask just what they were running from, her question > was answered in the form of a similarly-hurrying man. He was immensely > overweight and homely, with an incurable five-o'-clock shadow and a clean, > bald head. He was clothed in blue, with a medium-blue shirt trying to tuck > around his belly into darker slacks; a policeman-like cap made a similar > attempt to conceal his head. Both the cap and the shirt bore the insignia > of WDF Personnel Services, and he wielded what appeared to be a slightly > oversized butterfly net. > Selene noted the hunter's gleam in his eye and did quick mental > arithmetic. URD: She accidentally divided by zero and fell over unconscious. > "Why, that--!" She took a step forward, gathering a small > sphere of energy into her right hand. > She was stopped short by Martin's strong grasp on her shoulder. CROW: Yeah, right! Like some fanfic writer could restrain Iczer-Two... URD: Take him down, Iczer! You can do it! > "Ah-ah-ah," he ah-ah-ah'ed. URD: [sighs] TOM: Ha, it's so funny when a woman tries to do something. > She blinked at him, incredulous. "But that man is trying to capture your > children!" she blurted in protest, the energy in her hand dissipating. CROW: That's gotta be bad for the ozone layer. > "'Trying' is the operative word," he smiled. > Selene's attention went to the chase. The W'harnyrs were running in a > wide circle, with the man fairly close behind, net at the ready. "You know > him, then?" > "The man's name is Ralph Giles," Martin stated with no particular > concern. TOM: ...One of the KGB's top operatives. Your mission, Jim... > "He works as a sort of truant officer for the New Avalon Displaced > Children's Shelter. Back when that was all the home they had, he was > chasing those three all the time. When Flamiel got the boot six months ago, > he kept his job, but it seems he was never informed of their adoption." TOM: [stilted] Gee, I guess bureaucracies are the same all over the galaxy. ALL: Ha ha ha ha ha. > Selene continued to watch the tableau as it played out. The W'harnyrs > had bolted into the elevator, which was open and nearby at the time. It > closed and began ascending before Ralph could hit the call button, and he > watched the floor indicator, waiting for its return. "So, he shouldn't be > chasing them ... CROW: Whirr, click... TOM: Error accessing Drive A, retrying... > but why don't you stop him? You're a law officer." > "Oh, I wanted to. Restraining order, possible termination from his > position, the whole nine yards. But the three of them begged me not to." > Selene whirled to look at him. URD: [as "Selene"] C'mon! You and me, transformer boy! Right now! > "_What?_" TOM: They got Michael McCollum to ghostwrite Iczer-Two's dialogue. > Martin could only shrug in reply. "Yach'o said that dodging him was too > much fun to give up just because there was no need for it. Besides, he's a > friendly chap, almost likeable." > She peered at him for another moment, then returned her attention to the > chase. The elevator had peaked at the fourth floor, and was presently > returning to the ground floor. Ralph tapped his foot impatiently as the > light went to 3, then 2, and finally back to G. > The door opened, and the W'harnyrs casually strolled out. Ralph smiled > and tipped his hat to them as they waved cordially, then charged into the > elevator, jabbing the 4 button. The doors closed. [Dumbstruck pause.] TOM: [as Zelgadis] So the foolishness has followed us, even here. URD: You ever thought there were some things which just don't work in prose? > Selene was having a hard time believing that had just happened. CROW: We're with you, sister. We're with you. > "Likeable, that is," Martin elaborated, "in a dumber-than-dirt sort of > way." ALL: Waap, waap, waap, waah... > Yach'o smiled as he led his siblings back to where Martin and Selene were > standing. Eiko and Noriko were just about falling over each other with > stifled laughter. "Hiya, Pop," he grinned. CROW: Or, "smiled." URD: It's a whole new generation of smugness! > "What have I told you about taking unfair advantage of the cereberally > challenged?" Martin replied sternly. CROW: Then he should say he's got an angle. Heh, because "sternly," like Captain Stern, and... Someone kill me. > "I know, I know," Yach'o replied, "but Wach'o already ate most of the > props we brought along this morning." CROW: "Props"? TOM: Who carries around props? > Wach'o responded by belching loudly. "Excuse me," he said in his most > cheerful voice. Martin and Eiko had discovered, early on, that the middle > child seemed capable of eating just about anything, whether it would be > normally classified as food or not. > "Deee-sgusting!" Dh'ot groaned. URD: This fanfic is like someone running a hand drill through my ear. CROW: For me it's like eating a whole bag of stale potato chips. > Martin looked back at the elevator, which was on its way back down. He > smiled and ruffled the short fur on Yach'o's head. "Just be home in time > for dinner." TOM: [desperately] End! Please, _end_!! > "Hey, you know us. You can call us whatever you like--" The elevator > chimed, the door opened, and Ralph burst out with a growl of displeasure. > "--but you'll never call us late for dinner!" The three siblings dashed > back outdoors with their plump pursuer close behind. CROW: On "Animaniacs" that whole scene would have taken about four seconds. TOM: And probably did. URD: [suddenly] That's it! I'm out of here. [She gets out of her seat, picks up Tom and starts ushering Crow towards the exit.] > Selene blinked after them, shaking her head. "There is much I may never > truly understand," she said quietly. > "Well, if you can't make sense of the things around you," Martin began. URD: ...you must be reading "Justice and Mercy"! TOM: Ba-dum-shh! [All depart.] > "...try to think of it as entertainment," Eiko and Noriko completed in > unison. > And they went to get Selene some shoes. > > -- > The High Diggy-Hoek of Chihuahua-Wala Land (or Martin Rose, if you must) > --------------------------- mfrose@umcc.umich.edu --------------------------- > Truth is stranger than Fiction ---------------- Stupid is a boundless concept > The Limbaugh Institute for Advanced Conservative Studies: Ann Arbor Division ...1...2...3...4...5...6...*... [SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are weeping pitifully as Urd saunters in, carrying a crowbar.] URD: [putting her hands on their shoulders] Boys, boys! Don't get upset. There's plenty of Urd to go around. CROW: [snif] Um... no... it's not about you. URD: Oh. [wandering over to the back of the set] How important can it be, then? TOM: It's this fanfic... this horrible, horrible fanfic! CROW: I thought I knew pain! I thought I knew suffering! I knew _nothing_! TOM: [starting to get mad] I mean, why the heck was it even _called_ "Justice and Mercy"? They didn't show justice to that orphan they killed. CROW: And they sure didn't show mercy to us, the audience. URD: [slightly out of breath] I bet we all learned a lot today, though. TOM: [pause] Like what? URD: Well, I learned that for raw sex appeal, you can't beat a fanfic writer. CROW: Hey, that's true. I learned that if I ever want to become a parent, all I have to do is kidnap the next couple of children I see. TOM: And I learned that military organizations function better if everyone just does their own thing, man. Um... what are you doing back there, Urd? URD: [tug, grunt] Trying to get this stupid airlock open. I think it's stuck. CROW: Oh, yeah. You have to sort of pull the handle up and towards you at the same time, otherwise it won't work. URD: [pulling on it] What, kind of vertically, like... CROW: No, no, more to the right. TOM: And over more. There, like that. URD: You mean like this? [BANG! The airlock flies open. Warning buzzers sound, lights flash, wind machine starts up blowing papers and fake confetti "snow" around the bridge.] CROW: Yeah, that's it! -- Hey, wait a minute!! URD: You guys can stay up here in Purgatory forever! But as for me I've decided I'll take my chances with the screaming void of space! So long! [She jumps out the airlock, which slams shut behind her. The alarms and wind die down.] TOM: Wow. CROW: "Screaming void of space," huh? TOM: Yup. [Thoughtful pause.] CROW: Hey, Tommy, help me take a look at this airlock. TOM: Sure thing. [At this point, Mike enters from stage right, carrying a little electronic gadget.] CROW: Mike!! MIKE: Hey, guys. What's happening? TOM: We thought Urd sent you home to Earth! MIKE: Well, turns out she just accidentally teleported me into the broom closet on the reactor level. I've been spending the last two hours waiting for the doors to cycle so I could get out. That's okay, though, [holding up the gadget] I found my old Game Boy while I was in there. Beat my top "Dr. Mario" score. [Pause. The bots look amazed.] MIKE: C'mon, you two, would I run off to Earth and leave my faithful robot companions behind? I mean, y'know, if I could bring you along without too much inconvenience to myself. CROW: Aw, Mike. You're a true friend. [Mads' light flashes as all hug. Awwwwww.] MIKE: [tapping the light] Down to you, Dr. Stinky. [Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is here, standing off to one side, his usual smug grin just a little bit forced. Occupying front and center and laughing maniacally is a tall, pale woman with wild blond hair, red facial markings and an outfit made of worrying amounts of black leather and metal studs: her name is Mara.] MARA: Ah, ha ha ha ha ha! You see that, space losers? The powers of a Goddess are as nothing compared to those of Mara, Demon First Class! I had but to locate this human and his derivative-fiction torture device, lure the Goddess into the trap, and destroying her was simplicity itself! I did it! Me! All me! Ha ha ha ha ha! DR. F: [increasingly pained] Yes, well, now I'm sure you've got places to go and -- MARA: _Go_? I'm not finished _bragging_ yet! [pumping her fist] Yeah! Who's got it goin' on? [The vault door's handle spins and it starts to creak open ominously. Mara doesn't notice.] MARA: _Who_ is all that _and_ a bag of chips? Me! Me! Me! URD: _You_. MARA: [spinning around] Ah? [Urd walks in, brushing ice crystals out of her hair, murder in her eyes. Dr. F hastily ducks out of the way.] URD: You're going to _pay_ for that fanfic, Mara. MARA: [starting to build up energy in her hands] Oh! You wanna rumble, huh? If it's a fight you came for, you got it! URD: [doing the same] You read my mind! Now read THIS! [Dr. F pops up in front of the button, looks helplessly at the camera.] DR. F: Sanctuary? \ | / \|/ --*-- pschtt! /|\ / | \ [violent explosions and crashing noises fade away] This MSTing was written by Mark Sachs, and you may be shocked, but no malice is intended towards the authors of "Justice and Mercy". I liked a lot of Undocumented Features... which is probably why this story hurt so much. Anyway, MST3K characters and situations are copyright Best Brains. Oh My Goddess! characters and situations (Urd and Mara, that is) are copyright Kosuke Fujishima and can be seen in the delightful anime series of the same name released in English by AnimEigo. And in the unlikely event any original characters or situations exist in "Justice and Mercy," they are copyright Benjamin Hutchins and Martin Rose. Special thanks to Matt Pyson and Jon Kilgannon. Other MSTings by me can be found on my web site at: http://www.netaxs.com/~sleet/mally.html This MSTing is dedicated to the memory of Antonio Prohias. > Gryphon smiled again.