==================================
Star Trek:  The Crouton Generation
Season 4, pack #11
==================================

Date: Tue, 09 Jul 91 13:27:21 EDT
From: Knight of the Woeful Countenance 
Subject: Episode preview

Next time, on an all-new, exciting episode of
            STAAAAAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION

The Hidden Valley Ranch Empire encounters a deadly foe:

   Q. Kumbir: Set collision course, space 8.5.

And a high-pitched battle for survival begins:

   Bakyn: Fire stasers!

It's a fight to the death on the next episode of
    Star Trek: The Crouton Generation, as the Ranchers
    fight to survive.

   There is a terrific explosion which overloads the viewer's TV set,
   which also blows up.


Lieutenant (j.g.) Dave Quixote             "Too much sanity is madness."
Crouton Tube Maintenance Man, 3rd class             dl20@lafayacs.bitnet

--------------------------------------

Date: Tue, 09 Jul 91 14:17:03 EDT
From: Knight of the Woeful Countenance 
Subject: TCG: Invasion! (long)

[Bloocheez is in Tomalok's room, just staggering to his feet
as Torbog and a bunch of Romulans burst into the room.
Bloocheez reaches up and touches his hat visor.  He
disappears in a swirl of croutons.  Stock footage from "A
Very Modest Proposal."  We follow him onto the C_Sick.  He
strides to the bridge.]

Bloocheez: Helmsman, what is the status of our forces?

Shefcelyd: We're being routed, commander.  The Romulans are
     siding with the Federation.  Two-thirds of the crew
     complement has croutonized aboard.

Bloocheez: Blast.  (pause)  Set course for Imperial
     Territory.

Shefcelyd: Commander?

Bloocheez: You heard me, helmsman.  Do it!

Shefcelyd: Course laid in, commander.

Bloocheez: Go.

[As the HVR C_Sick disappears from orbit around ch'Hiran
(Remus), we see the USS Heisenberg, still in orbit.]

Bloocheez: Is she following us?

Shefcelyd: No, commander.  The Heisenberg is staying in
     position around the planet.

[Bloocheez's first officer approaches him.]

Bloocheez: What is it, sub-commander?

French: Commander, I'm curious as to why you left behind a
     third of our crew.  This is not going to help your
     career any.

Bloocheez: I didn't have a choice, you idiot.  If we had
     waited for them to croutonize on board, Kabeta could
     have attacked the C_Sick.

French: Do you really think she would try to capture an
     Imperial vessel?

Bloocheez: Yes.  The Federation seems obsessed with this
     idea that everyone is equal, and that superiority can't
     be determined by conquest.  Believe me--she would have
     tried to seize this vessel if we hadn't left.

French: All the same, I don't think the Governor's going to
     like your having failed in another assignment.

[Bloocheez scowls, and French shuts up.]

Bloocheez: If anything happens, I'll be in my private
     quarters.

[Bloocheez leaves the bridge.  French walks over to Shefcelyd
and begins talking in hushed tones.]

French: Shefcelyd, I fear the time is coming when we may have
     to replace our commander.  His defeats are beginning to
     outnumber his victories by too long a stretch.

Shefcelyd: You can count on me, sir.  I think it's time we
     put someone capable in the command chair.

[French grins.]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Invasion!"
    by Dave Learn

Starring
    Ed Begely, Jr
    Charlie Sheen
    John Colicos
    Jose Canseco

Introducing
    Michael J. Fox as Commander Bitz Bakyn


Special Effects by: Lucasfilm Ltd
Music by: Michael W Smith
Directed by: Brent Spiner
Edited by:  Admiral Avenger and Crossfire
Makeup by: Marcell Marseau
Casting by: James Collins
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[Location: Bloocheez's personal quarters.  Hanging on one of
his walls is a picture of Kabeta, neatly framed and
unobstructed by anything.  It is hung next to the
viewscreen.  There are no other wall decorations, although a
Franklin Mint memorial Enterprise and Klingon Bird of Prey
set on the table nearby his bed.  Bloocheez tugs off his
uniform and trudges wearily to the bathroom, still upset
over his most recent in a string of defeats.  "Gotta be
careful," he mutters, and sits on the toilet.]

Eyelind: (ic) Commander Bloocheez to the bridge.  Emergency.

Bloocheez: Argh!

Eyelind: (ic) Commander?

Bloocheez: Why is it that whenever somebody else goes to the
     john, he's allowed to do his duty, but when I try, you
     have to have a freaking parade?

Eyelind: (ic) Sorry, commander.  We're receiving a priority
     ultimate transmission from the Homeworld.

Bloocheez: (pales) I'm on my way.  (to himself) Priority
     ultimate?  Oh no.

[Bloocheez very quickly gets up, his duty undone, dons his
uniform and races to the bridge.]

Bloocheez: Let me see it.

[On screen appears HVR Governor Tarkanian.]

Tarkanian: (ss) To any and all Imperial vessels which
     receive this message: you are hereby ordered to return
     to the Homeworld at once.  Cease whatever activities
     you are currently engaged in and return at once.
     Return at once.  To any and all Imperial vessels--

Eyelind: The message is a loop, commander.  It will keep
     repeating.

Bloocheez: (sitting down) Lay in a course for the homeworld.
     Space factor ten.

Shefcelyd: Course laid in, commander.  We will be at the
     homeworld in three hours.

Bloocheez: Go.

[The ship lurches on-screen as it enters warp space.]

Bloocheez: Sub-commander French, any ideas?

French: Well, since the governor used priority ultimate, I
     think we can narrow it down pretty swiftly.

Bloocheez: An invasion, then?

French: Most likely.

Bloocheez: But by whom?  The Federation?

French: Not very likely.  If you'll remember, the Federation
     has suffered a series of losses lately.  The Lucky
     Charms wiped out the T'kryllyk and the Melbourne, and
     the Croutonprize seems to have gone missing.

Shefcelyd: Maybe the Lucky Charms are attacking us, too?

Bloocheez: (pause, thoughtfully) Very possible, helmsman.
     The Lucky Charms could have phased past the border
     patrols easily. (suddenly) I want everyone armed with
     non-energy weapons in addition to their stasers.  If
     it's the Lucky Charms, we'll need them.  Science
     officer, retrieve information on the Lucky Charms.

Gordincelyd: Scanning library banks now.  The Lucky Charms
     first invaded the Federation about a year and a half
     ago.  They were repelled through the efforts of a Star
     Fleet officer named Crossedwires or something.

Bloocheez: Crossfire.  How did they do it?

Gordincelyd: He modified the crouton torpedoes into a sort
     of cannon which proved effective against them.

Bloocheez: Any chance that we could do the same thing?

French: I doubt it, commander.  We haven't the know-how.

Bloocheez: $#%+!

Gordincelyd: Commander?

Bloocheez: It's just like I've told the Governor dozens of
     times.  We can't afford to keep stealing technology
     from other races; we have to develop some of it on our
     own or we'll fall behind in the game.  We're little
     better than the pakleds, or the borg when it comes to
     that.

French: Commander, you're talking treason.

Bloocheez: It's the truth!  Our whole system is based on the
     premise that the weaker serve the stronger.  We don't
     make new discoveries of our own, we prefer to steal
     them from the Federation, so we're a step behind them
     in development and the whole race behind on
     understanding.

French: Commander--

Bloocheez: Sub-commander, go oversee the adapting of our
     torpedo banks.  Maybe you and our engineering
     maintenance crew can concoct something.

French: I--yes, commander.

[Subcommander French Dressinge leaves the bridge.  Time
passes.  The C_Sick reaches the Homeworld.]

Shefcelyd: We have arrived, commander.  Dropping to normal
     speed.

Chrimpcelyd: Subcommander French reports that the torpedo
     banks have not been successfully altered yet.

Shefcelyd: That's OK.  Sensors indicate no vessels in this
     area.

Bloocheez: Raise the governor.

Eyelind: No response, commander.

Bloocheez: Try again.

Eyelind: You don't understand, commander.  There's nothing.
     There's no communications activity at all from the
     planet.

Bloocheez: What?  On screen!

[The HVR homeworld appears on-screen.  It is pock-marked
with holes and huge rifts in the surface where there should
be cities and industrial sites.  It is a full minute before
anyone can speak.]

Bloocheez: By Kraft and all his minions, what happened?

Shefcelyd: Someone stole the cities . . .

Bloocheez: Life signs.  Is anybody alive down there,
     somehow?

Shefcelyd: No life, commander.  I'm detecting some magnetic
     resonances, though.  Some sort of pattern or signature.

Bloocheez: Can you identify it?

Shefcelyd: It . . . looks similar to readings the Federation
     detected from borg activity.

============================================================

COMMERCIAL BREAK

We see a man garbed in some sort of armor with cybernetic
implants all over him.

Bjorn Borg: Mike Tyson is irrelevant.  Larry Holmes is
     useless.  Boxing will adapt to service us.

============================================================

Bloocheez: Are you certain?  The borg?

Shefcelyd: I'm positive, commander.  This is borg handiwork.

Bloocheez: Which way did they go?

Shefcelyd: The borg ship seems to have headed back toward
     the rim of the galaxy, away from Federation space.

Bloocheez: But still within our space.

Shefcelyd: Yes, commander.

Bloocheez: Governor.

Shefcelyd: Commander?

Bloocheez: You are to address me as "Governor," from now on,
     helmsman.  Governor Tarkanian is dead.  I am taking his
     place.  Do you challenge my right?

[Bloocheez brandishes a staser from his gunbelt.]

Shefcelyd: (fearfully) No, your grace.  No one deserves that
     rank more than you.

Bloocheez: Good.  Remember that, and lay in a course to
     follow the borg vessel.

Gordincelyd: Comman--governor, an Imperial vessel is
     entering the sector.  It is the C_Flat.

Bloocheez: Patch me through.

Eyelind: At once.

Bloocheez: C_Flat, this is Governor Bloocheez, currently in
     command of the C_Sick.

Bakyn: (ss) Governor Bloocheez?  Since when?

Bloocheez: Commander Bakyn, Governor Tarkanian is dead.  I
     am now governor.

Bakyn: (ss) Over my dead body!

Bloocheez: If you so wish. (to Chrimpcelyd) Lock ship
     stasers.

Chrimpcelyd: Stasers locked.

[There is a long pause.]

Bakyn: (ss) No, I yield.  (pause) Long life to Governor
     Bloocheez.

Bloocheez: A wise decision, commander.  Follow me, we are
     about to avenge my predecessor.

[The two ships disappear in a flash of light as they enter
warp space and pursue the borg vessel at jolt warp 9.5.]

Eyelind: Governor, I'm picking up transmissions from the
     rest of the fleet and the Empire.

Bloocheez: What is it?

Eyelind: Word appears to have gone out about the Homeworld's
     destruction.  Senator Makronicheez of Galba IV has
     declared himself governor of the Empire, as has Senator
     Kareemcheez of Towsen IX.

Bloocheez: What about the fleet?

Eyelind: Commander Kumbir of the C_Throo has declared you
     the Governor and pledged his support to you--

Bloocheez: As he should.

Eyelind: And so has Commander Taco Salsa of the C_Dragon.

Bloocheez: Better and better.

Eyelind: (nervously) But Hugh Sane is also being hailed
     governor--

Bloocheez: WHAT?

Eyelind: --by at least seven commanders, with a few others
     declaring themselves Governor.

Bloocheez: NO!

Gordincelyd: Governor, we are now in visual range of the
     borg vessel.  Estimate weapons range in fifteen
     minutes.

Bloocheez: Officer Eyelind, signal the C_Dragon and the
     C_Throo.  Give them our coordinates and tell them to
     join us against the borg ship.

Eyelind: Working.

Bloocheez: Estimate arrival times for the C_Dragon and
     C_Throo.

Gordincelyd: Twenty and thirty minutes, respectively,
     Governor.

Bloocheez: Sub-commander French, restore torpedo banks and
     return to the bridge.

[Down in the torpedo bay, where French and the torpedo crews
have been monitoring--quite illegally--the bridge's
activities.]

French: You are with me, then?

Mayonaze: Absolutely, commander.  We don't like him any
     more than you do.  I've lost more than enough friends
     because of that maniac. (pause, then slyly) Of course,
     my boys and I will expect some sort of recompense from
     the new commander.  After all, what you're calling for
     is risky.

French: (grin) Oh, you'll get it.  I'll see to it that you
     receive the appropriate rewards once I am in power.

Lowcal: Though, commander, you'd better get back to the
     bridge now, before the "governor" gets suspicious.

[French leaves.]

Lowcal: Do you intend to support him?

Mayonaze: Only as long as it's necessary.  Once Bloocheez is
     out of the way, French Dressinge should be easy enough
     to dispose of.

[Back on the bridge.  Four borg ships dominate the
viewscreen.  French Dressinge walks onto the bridge.]

Bloocheez: Four borg ships.  Four.  Kraft!  Open a hailing
     frequency.

Eyelind: Frequency open.

Tarkanian: (ss) I am Sega of borg.  Your defenses are
     incapable of repelling us.  Any resistance will be met
     with punishment.

Chrimpcelyd: (shocked) Governor Tarkanian . . .

Gordincelyd: That explains why they attacked the Homeworld.
     They needed new soldiers.

Bloocheez: They got them, too.  Twenty-four billion of them.

Shefcelyd: A tractor beam has locked on to us, governor.
     They're pulling us in!

Gordincelyd: Shields failing.  Ninety percent.  Eighty
     percent.

Bloocheez: Centurion Chrimpcelyd, destroy that tractor beam!

Shefcelyd: C_Flat opening fire on borg vessel.

Chrimpcelyd: Stasers ineffective.

Bloocheez: Fire torpedoes!

Chrimpcelyd: Torpedoes doing minimal damage.

Gordincelyd: Shields at twenty percent.

Bloocheez: Try stasers at the upper E-M band.  That worked
     for the Enterprise.

Chrimpcelyd: No effect.  The borg have adapted to that.

Gordincelyd: Shields have failed.

[There is a horrible noise.]

Bloocheez: What is that?

Gordincelyd: The borg are cutting into primary engineering
     with a laser beam.

Computer: Hull breach in primary engineering.

[Exterior view.  The single borg ship is dragging the C_Sick
inside while the C_Flat ducks and weaves, trying to have
some effect.  Suddenly, two other vessels drop out of warp:
the C_Dragon and the C_Throo.  The C_Throo shoots in very
close to the borg ship and unleashes a powerful blast at
point blank range which wipes out the tractor beam and blow
away a fair chunk of the borg ship which now shuts down.]

Bloocheez: The cavalry has arrived.  Thank Kraft!

French: They haven't arrived for you, Bloocheez!

Bloocheez: Wha--oof!

[Bloocheez is thrown to the deck by French, and the two get
involved in a knock-down drag-out fight.  The bridge crew
join in and threaten to tear Bloocheez to pieces.
Gordincelyd and Shefcelyd pin Bloocheez's arms behind him
and French begins to punch Bloocheez in the belly, the chest,
the face, again and again until he is bleeding fiercely.
Eyelind tries to intervene, but Chrimpcelyd stasers him,
killing him instantly.  Gordincelyd and Shefcelyd let go and
he falls to the floor.  Throughout the ship, the Bloocheez
loyalists are savagely laid on by those who have gone over
to French, particularly those in engineering maintenance.]

Gordincelyd: Long life to Governor French Dressinge!

Bloocheez: (quietly, wheezing) Computer, escape program
     Bloocheez-1.

[Bloocheez disappears in a swirl of croutons to reappear on
his escape craft, which takes off on a preset course toward
a planet where Bloocheez can go into hiding.  It disappears
in a flash.]

French: Pull back from the borg fleet, maximum warp.  We're
     outgunned here.  We'll tackle the borg another day,
     once we've secured the Empire and adapted our ships to
     deal with the borg more effectively.

[The C_Sick vanishes.  On board the C_Flat.]

Helmsman: Commander, the C_Sick is retreating.

Bakyn: Good idea.  Follow them.

Helmsman: Commander, a borg tractor beam has locked on from
     the second borg ship.

Bakyn: Take us toward the borg ship.  Main engines.

Helmsman: Commander?

Bakyn: Do it!

[The C_Flat glides toward the source of the tractor beam on
impulse power.  They get very, very close and then . . .]

Bakyn: Fire stasers!

[The stasers knock out the tractor beam.]

Bakyn: Get us out of here!

[The C_Flat takes off at warp speed, pursued by the borg
vessel, which follows them effortlessly.  On board the
C_Throo, the bridge is filled with smoke and fires are
springing up everywhere.]

Q. Kumbir: Weapons status.

Weapons officer: Stasers down.  Torpedoes inoperative.

Science officer: Shields are inoperative, commander.  The
     borg are pulling us in.

[Commander Q. Kumbir looks up at the screen and sees the
borg vessel looming before him.]

Q. Kumbir: Set a collision course for the borg ship.  Space
     factor eight point five.

Navigator: Commander?

Q. Kumbir: You heard me!  Now do it!

Navigator: Course laid in.  It's been a pleasure serving
     under you, commander.

Q. Kumbir: Thank you.  Go.

[The C_Throo rams the borg ship at jolt-warp 8.3, completely
destroying both ships in an explosion so terrible that
Lucasfilm executives shakes their heads in wonder.  On board
the C_Dragon.]

Salsa: Disconnect him!

Security guard: I can't.  They've taken over the entire
     ship; we can't disconnect them or bypass them.

Salsa: Manual override, then.

Security guard: We can't!  They've got engineering,
     navigation, weapons, everything under their control.
     They're locked into the terminals.

Salsa: Computer: Commander Taco Salsa, HVR C_Dragon.  Begin
     self-destruct, override time delay.

Computer: Self-destruct is irrelevant.  Override is useless.
     You will become one with borg.

Salsa: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

[Later, on the borg ship.  Commander Salsa hears the cries
of his crew as they are adapted into the borg while he is
led past to speak to the borg collective.]

Borg: You have been chosen to become the speaker for the new
     borg collective being formed from your ship.

Salsa: I refuse to do it.

Borg: Refusal is irrelevant.  Your culture has begun to
     adapt to service us.

Salsa: The Fleet will resist you to the last man.  You can
     never win.

Borg: The Fleet is irrelevant.  Resistance is useless.
     Victory is inevitable.

Salsa: The Federation will notice the chaos your presence
     has caused.  They will send ships here to investigate.

[There is a long, long pause.]

Salsa: What's the matter?  Are you worried about the
     Federation?  You should be--they will destroy you.

Borg: The Federation is not irrelevant . . . yet.  They,
     too, will adapt to service us.

Salsa: (angry, spiteful) Not now?  Why are you afraid to
     attack them?  You can't meet them on their level, can
     you?  You know if you do they'll thrash you and
     completely destroy you this time.  That's why you're
     attacking the Empire--to rebuild, to gain time.  Isn't
     it?

Borg: The Empire is irrelevant.  Your technology is
     marginally inferior to the Federation's.  Your people
     will adapt to service us and when we are prepared, the
     Federation will adapt.

[As the borg collective speaks, a soldier approaches to
begin the implants into the new speaker for this
collective.  We hear a blood-chilling scream as we fade to
black.  The scream lingers.]


-------------------------------------

Date: Wed, 18 Sep 91 18:32:09 EDT
From: Knight of the Woeful Countenance 
Subject: Consolidation ST:TCG4 (long)

This is part two of the HVR Trilogy.  Part one appeared over the summer
under the title "Invasion!"  Part three will be released in a little
over a month.
 
[Deep within the heart of what used to be the Hidden Valley Ranch Empire,
a small group of warships gathers together outside a star system expected
to be the Borg's next stop.  The C_Gate.  The C_Programmer.  The
C_Monster.  The C_Shell.  The C_Spotrum.  The C_Weed.  The C_Dee.  This
entire opening scene is done in silence.
 
[A Borg ship suddenly appears from out of nowhere and a deadly game
begins as it attacks the "fleet."  A crouton torpedo flies free from the
Borg ship and wipes out the C_Gate's shields.  Badly wounded, the C_Gate
fires all stasers and torpedoes, but to no effect.  The torpedoes explode
harmlessly against the Borg shields.  The Borg laser lights up, and cuts
neatly through the C_Gate's hull.  The breach blows out personnel and
equipment from fifteen decks.  The laser swings around again, blasting
engineering.  The C_Gate scatters in a billion different directions as
the dilithium crystal chamber is hit.
 
[The C_Programmer disappears in a flash as Commander Haus Dressinge
realizes he hasn't a prayer of living through this uneven battle.  As he
retreats, the C_Monster, C_Shell, and C_Weed come at the Borg from three
different directions, hoping to take it out one way or another.
 
[The Borg, completely undaunted, fire a volley of their improved crouton
torpedoes.  The C_Shell's shields fail rapidly and it explodes as the
last of the torpedoes hit.  A tractor beam locks on to the C_Weed, and
begins to slowly pull it in.  Commander Freidough of the C_Monster comes
to the same conclusion as Haus Dressinge, and makes a strategic retreat,
vowing never to assist Governor Hugh Sane again.
 
[Meanwhile, the C_Spotrum has been attempting to deal with the Borg
themselves.  Unfortunately, they have discovered that the Borg have
developed an immunity to all parts of the E-M band that their stasers can
reach.  The Borg, displeased by this resistance, now turn their attention
to the C_Spotrum, and a laser lances out from the Borg cube and begins to
carve up the C_Spotrum like a Christmas ham.  The laser slices off the
space-distortion nacelles, and proceeds to cut holes in several parts of
the C_Spotrum's hull.  As the C_Spotrum's dismembered segments drift
through space, the C_Weed finally disappears within the Borg ship.  Only
the C_Dee is left, and its commander begins to question the wisdom of not
having left.
 
[The C_Dee takes off, and a relentless chase begins.  It is obvious who
will win.  A projectile fires from the Borg cube, and the C_Dee's shields
are scrambled.  The Borg fire a second one, and the C_Dee slows to a
halt, its engines shut off by the weapon.  A tractor beam locks on to the
C_Dee, and it suddenly self-destructs rather than face capture.
 
[Fade to black, begin opening credits.]
 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Consolidation" By Dave Learn
 
Starring
     Ed Begely, Jr.
     Michael J. Fox
 
Guest Starring
     Christopher Lloyd as Dr. Oswald Spitfire
     Tom Baker as Commander Ahab
 
Incidental Music: Delcara and the Many
Editing: Mad Bob the Avenger
Casting: Robin Williams
Lighting: Dawn Treader Music, Inc
Makeup: Gary Larson
Special Effects: Gene Roddenberry
Executive Producer: Michael Okuda
 
Teeth pulled: David Giovanetti, DDS
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
 
[Darkness.  As we continue to watch, however, the darkness finally begins
to shift to a gray haze.  Soon, this gives way further to a hazy view of
a room.  There is a person within the room, but the picture remains too
blurred to determine anything beyond that.  A voice speaks, rather
groggily.]
 
Voice: (weakly) W-where . . . am I?
 
Oswald: Take it easy, commander.  You were in bad shape when you arrived.
     You're lucky to be alive.
 
Voice: Can't remember . . . what happened?
 
Oswald: We were hoping you could tell us.  When you arrived, you had
     eight broken ribs and were on the verge of death.  Someone gave you
     a brutal beating.
 
[The picture has been steadily clearing throughout the conversation.
There are two people in the room.  One is Bloocheez, former commander of
the HVR C_Sick and self-acclaimed Governor of the Hidden Valley Ranch
Empire.  The other is a man with a shock of white hair, dressed in what
appears to be a medical outfit of some sort.]
 
Bloocheez: N-now I remember.  The Borg.  French Dressinge.  Governor
     Tarkanian.
 
Oswald: Easy, commander.  You've been slipping in and out of conscious-
     ness for the past ninety days.  Don't push your luck.
 
Bloocheez: (stronger) I'm all right.  What's the situation in the Empire?
 
Oswald: I don't think it's good to be worrying about politics in your
     shape.
 
Bloocheez: (insistent) I order you to tell me now.  What is the situation
     in the Empire?
 
Oswald: All right, I'll tell you.  The Borg are still moving unopposed
     through Imperial territory.  In addition to the Homeworld, some
     seventeen colonies and mining worlds have been destroyed.
 
Bloocheez: (shocked) Seventeen?  Kraft, how . . . ?
 
Oswald: No one dares fight them.  Every time a governor sends his fleet
     against them, the ships are all absorbed into the fleet.
 
Bloocheez: Kraft.  They must be rebuilding their fleet from the Empire's
     resources.  Our ships, people, our raw materials . . . they're
     rebuilding the Borg fleet.  Why?
 
Oswald: I have no clue.  I wouldn't worry about it, though.  You're safe
     here on Niseilat.  There aren't enough people or resources for the
     Borg to worry about us.  Now get some rest.
 
[Bloocheez suddenly bolts up and grabs Oswald by his collar, wincing in
pain at the sudden movement.]
 
Bloocheez: Not yet, Doctor.  I have a few questions first.
 
Oswald: You have me at a disadvantage, Commander.  What can I tell you?
 
Bloocheez: Who have the best claims at the Governorship?
 
Oswald: Hugh Sane has the strongest political support, but he lacks the
     military forces to cement that claim.
 
Bloocheez: Who does?
 
Oswald: No one.  A few senators have tried to get the War Fleet behind
     them, but no one has succeeded yet.  The Fleet itself is divided; no
     one can get them in line.  (pushing Bloocheez back into his sick
     bed) But don't worry about it, Commander.  You're safe here.  No one
     even knows you came to Niseilat for recovery.  I don't think most
     people even know about this installation's existence.  Now get some
     rest.
 
Bloocheez: (wincing) Not yet.  Get me a communications set.  I have to
     make some important contacts.
 
Oswald: If you get some more sleep, I will get the communications device
     immediately.
 
Bloocheez: A-all right . . .
 
[Bloocheez drifts off into sleep again.  Exterior, HVR C_Sick and the
planet Galba IV.  Galba IV is in ruins. Smoke rises from places where the
major cities and industrial complexes were, forming giant funeral wreaths
in the sky.  On board the C_Sick, the bridge crew are surveying the ruins
of the colony world.]
 
Mayonaze: Sensor scan?
 
Gordincelyd: Sensors reveal a few survivors.  Perhaps sixty-seven in all.
     The Borg appear to have been interested only in the major population
     centers, commander. (pause) That's odd . . .
 
Mayonaze: What is?
 
Gordincelyd: Sensors indicate staser damage to Galba IV as well, in the
     rural areas.  A battleship attacked this planet, too.
 
Mayonaze: What!?  Why?
 
Lowcal: It could be a renegade ship.  The commander may not have been
     pleased that Galba IV has supported Governor Sane.
 
Mayonaze: Madness.  We have to do something about these renegades.  The
     Governor hasn't a chance of keeping power if he can't consolidate
     the War Fleet.  And with each renegade, our own chances at getting
     power are seriously diminished.
 
Lowcal: Commander.  One of the Ranchers from the planet is hailing us.
     The temperature on the planet has dropped fifteen degrees since the
     Borg attacked, and they are requesting our assistance.
 
Mayonaze: Excellent.  Put him on screen.
 
[A Rancher appears on screen.  He is a small man, somewhat up in years.]
 
Rancher: C_Sick, this is Castellan Engin of Galba IV.
 
Mayonaze: We are receiving you, Castellan.  This is Commander Mayonaze of
     the C_Sick.
 
Engin: Commander, we're in dire straits down here.  The Borg took our
     cities and all our materials for building and our energy resources.
     The smoke and dust they threw up is keeping the sun's heat out--
     it's fifteen degrees cooler worldwide than it was a week ago.
 
Mayonaze: That's bad.
 
Engin: Commander, please help us out of here.
 
Mayonaze: I'm afraid that won't be possible because of your political
     leanings.
 
Engin: What?  We're Imperial loyalists.  We support Governor Sane.
 
Mayonaze: Oh, but that's just the problem.  If your first loyalty is to
     Sane, where does that leave me?
 
Engin: I . . . see.  And if we were to pledge our full support to you?
 
Mayonaze: I fail to see what less than seventy people can do to advance
     me in any political situations I may one day find myself in.  So
     sorry.
 
Engin: Wait!  I have a younger brother on the Seven_Cs.  If you transmat
     us aboard, I'll have him convince the commander to support you.
 
Mayonaze: Sorry.  Not good enough.  How many women are with you on the
     planet?
 
Engin: About twenty of our wives and fifteen . . . why do you want to
     know that?
 
Mayonaze: It's been a long mission, Castellan.  My men are bored, and
     could use a diversion.  Give us your women and the support of the
     Seven_Cs, and we'll transmat you aboard.
 
Engin: (outraged) What gives you the right to--?
 
Mayonaze: Quite simple.  I have a battleship.  You have a ruined planet
     where the temperature is rapidly decreasing.  Assuming you can
     survive the cold, what will you do about food?  Water?
 
Engin: I . . . I . . . you win.  I give in.
 
Mayonaze: A wise choice.
 
[Lowcal cuts communications.]
 
Mayonaze: Transmat them aboard.  Kill all the men except the Castellan,
     and use him as a hostage to get the Seven_Cs' allegiance.
 
Cumber: Yes commander.  There is one thing, though.
 
Mayonaze: Yes, what is it?
 
Cumber: What in Kraft's name would the Borg want with this area?
 
Lowcal: Recruits?  Raw materials?
 
Gordincelyd: That does seem to be what the Borg have been going for in
     the past ninety days.  But why?
 
Cumber: It doesn't make any sense.  They destroyed the Homeworld, and now
     they're tearing apart mining and farming colonies.
 
Lowcal: Do you suppose the Borg are rebuilding their fleet?
 
Cumber: What for?  Four Borg ships, even not fully equipped, were more
     than enough for us before.  We lost the C_Dragon and the C_Throo to
     them and destroyed only one ship of theirs.  Everything we've tried
     since then has been ineffective.  If they want to wipe out the
     Empire completely, they don't need any more ships.  It doesn't make
     sense.
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
[On the C_Flat, light years away.]
 
Radish: Governor Bakyn, we are being hailed.
 
Bakyn: By whom?
 
Radish: It . . . it's Bloocheez.
 
Bakyn: On screen.
 
[Bloocheez appears on screen.]
 
Bloocheez: Ah, Commander Bakyn.  It's so good to see you again.
 
Bakyn: What do you want, Bloocheez?
 
Bloocheez: My dear Commander, I suggest you take a kinder tone with me. I
     am Governor Bloocheez.
 
Bakyn: I recognize no Governor other than myself.  Especially you.
 
Bloocheez: Really?  Allow me to propose a trade-off.
 
Bakyn: Allow me to suggest you buzz off.
 
Bloocheez: Commander, I am a reasonable man.  You pledged your fealty to
     me ninety days ago and risked your life to assist me.  I appreciate
     that very deeply and wish to reward you for it in some small way.
 
Bakyn: How?  You don't even have a battleship anymore.  I'm more powerful
     than you are, "Governor."
 
Bloocheez: Perhaps that is so now.  But I still hold some degree of
     influence in the War Fleet.
 
Bakyn: Foma.  It's all foma.
 
Bloocheez: Not at all.  If I were lying about that, why would you be
     talking with me?
 
Bakyn: (eyes narrowed) Conceded.  What is it you want?
 
Bloocheez: I only want peace, to restore the Empire.  And, in return for
     your renewed fealty, I wish to make you my second-in-command.  A
     Lieutenant Governor, so to speak.  Much more powerful than a lowly
     battleship captain.
 
Bakyn: I am already Governor to some.
 
Bloocheez: To some perhaps, but not to the many.  With your support, I
     can pull the entire War Fleet behind me, and we will rise to real
     power.  You will not but a Governor only by name.  You will be a
     Lieutenant Governor with power, and authority.
 
Bakyn: And if I should oppose you?
 
Bloocheez: That would be a serious mistake, Commander.  I already have a
     sizeable portion of the Fleet behind me.  I could destroy you, and
     you would never amount to anything.
 
Bakyn: (motions for communications to be cut) Opinions?
 
Radish: He does have the standing to pull the Fleet behind him, even with
     his recent losses.  If he's bluffing, he can still pull it off.
 
Boilteg: Maybe half the fleet, if he's lucky.
 
Bakyn: Half the Fleet.  That's still impressive.  And once he was no
     longer necessary . . .
 
Radish: Sign on.  Agree to help him.  With the C_Sharp and the C_En_En
     already under your command, a takeover from Bloocheez would be even
     easier.
 
Bakyn: Put me back on. (clears throat) Governor Bloocheez, I happily
     pledge my support to you.  In addition to the C_Flat, I can also
     promise you the strength of the C_Sharp and the C_En_En.
 
Bloocheez: Excellent, Commander, excellent.  We shall be talking again
     quite soon, I should think.  Governor Bloocheez out.
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
[Meanwhile, many light years away again, in another section of the
remains of the Hidden Valley Ranch Empire, Governor Hugh Sane is about to
meet with some important associates for a crucial new policies.  He is
currently in conference with his head of military, Commander Ahab, of the
HVR White_Whale.]
 
Ahab: Governor, I take great exception to your decision to do this.
 
Sane: What would you have me do?  Unless I can get some military muscle,
     my claim on the Empire is finished.
 
Ahab: But still, the Oyster Crackers?
 
Sane: They're a mercenary fleet.  With the War Fleet fighting to take
     over different pockets of the Empire, I need some force to establish
     myself.  They were available, so I hired them.
 
Ahab: And what happens when they find a higher bidder?
 
Sane: The higher bidders will be the first to go.  Don't worry.  I have
     plans to keep the Crackers in line.  Look.  A third of the Empire
     has already hailed me Governor.  With the others who will accept me
     as Governor, I have perhaps half of the Old Empire.  But I am
     already losing support because of my inability to stop the Borg
     raids.  There are sixteen pretenders to the Governorship, all of
     whom must be dealt with.  But how?  Only four warships are still
     loyal to me, and I can't be certain that they aren't just waiting to
     take over what I establish.  The Crackers are the only way.
 
Ahab: Kraft help us.
 
Wawa: Governor, Chief Scollywag of the Oyster Crackers has arrived.
 
Sane: Send him in.
 
[The door slides open and in walks Chief Scollywag.  He is roughly six
foot five with broad shoulders and a dark brown flowing beard.  His is a
very imposing figure.  He is not the sort of man one says "no" to twice.
Ahab and Sane try not to show their distaste.]
 
Scollywag: Greetings, Governor.  This is an unexpected honor.
 
Sane: Sit.
 
[Scollywag sits.  Ahab and Sane join him.]
 
Scollywag: Right.  What can I do for you, Governor?
 
Sane: I wish to hire the Oyster Cracker fleet.
 
Scollywag: Hire us?  The Hidden Valley Ranch Empire?  What for?
 
Sane: A few reasons.  We wish to legitimize your renegade existence--
 
Scollywag: Ha!  That's the best part of it.
 
Sane: --and we wish to add you to the military forces we already have.
 
Scollywag: What sort of thing would we be doing?
 
Ahab: The Empire wishes to renew its offensive efforts.  We want the
     battle experience of the Oyster Crackers.  You were originally
     members of the War Fleet until you went renegade some years ago.
 
Scollywag: Aye, I remember.  You want to resume the offensive again, eh?
     Against the Federation?
 
Sane: Against many groups.
 
Scollywag: Are you sure this isn't just an attempt at consolidation,
     Governor?  I'm no fool.  I know the situation in the Empire, if you
     want to use the term that loosely.  Ever since the Borg wiped out
     your Homeworld, the Empire has been breaking into smaller and
     smaller pieces.  It seems to me that you just want to regroup. Maybe
     even replace your military.
 
Sane: You're perceptive, but you're not entirely right.  The Empire is in
     pieces, but I do not need your help.  I merely want it.
 
Scollywag: To drive out the Borg?  No thanks.  We aren't cannon fodder.
 
Sane: You'll be paid well.
 
Scollywag: Not well enough.  You can't enjoy the money if you're part of
     an undying nightmare.  If you want us, we name the price.
 
Sane: No deal.
 
Scollywag: Fine.  Suit yourself.
 
[Scollywag gets up and begins to leave.]
 
Sane: No--wait!
 
Scollywag: Now you're talking.
 
Sane: Name your price.
 
Scollywag: We want your new space-distortion drive.
 
Ahab: All right.  That can be done.
 
Scollywag: And the cloaking device.
 
Sane: What!?
 
Scollywag: You hear me.  And on top of that, we get unlimited access to
     Imperial bases and the plunder of any ships we defeat.
 
Sane: Absolutely not.  (Scollywag gets up to leave) All right!  All
     right, Kraft take you, all right.  But you will take orders from
     Commander Ahab.
 
Scollywag: We don't take orders from anyone.
 
Sane: You do or the deal's off.
 
[The two glare at one another.]
 
Scollywag: All right, Governor.  We'll start bringing our ships by for
     up-grades by starlog 20000.  And if you double-cross us in any way,
     you will regret it.
 
Sane: No tricks.  I swear.
 
Scollywag: For your sake, Governor, I hope not.
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
[Meanwhile, back on Niseilat, Bloocheez is up and about.]
 
Bloocheez: The transmat, the transmat!
 
Oswald: Governor, get back to your sick bed now.
 
Bloocheez: Silence!  Where is the transmat booth?
 
Oswald: It's down in the Cornwall Wing . . .
 
Bloocheez: Excellent.  I am going there at once.  I must meet with
     Governor Sane immediately.
 
Oswald: Are you out of your mind?  He'll kill you the minute he sees you.
 
Bloocheez: Perhaps.  That's a risk I'll take.
 
[Bloocheez enters the Cornwall Wing.]
 
Regan: Governor, what are you doing here?
 
Bloocheez: Can the transmat beam get me to Mativ?
 
Regan: Yes, but why do you--
 
Bloocheez: Transmat me directly to the office of Governor Sane.
 
Regan: Why do you--
 
Bloocheez: (pulls staser out) Do it now!
 
Regan: As you wish, Governor.
 
[Bloocheez shimmers and fades.  He reappears in Sane's office.]
 
Ahab: Someone's transmatting in.
 
Sane: Who . . . Bloocheez?
 
Bloocheez: In the flesh, Lord Governor.
 
Sane: I heard you were dead.
 
Bloocheez: I nearly was.  (turns to Ahab)  Commander Ahab, would you
     please excuse us?  The Governor and I have some important things to
     discuss.
 
Sane: Go ahead, Commander.  It's all right.
 
[Ahab leaves.]
 
Sane: You must be insane to come here, Bloocheez.  I could kill you now.
 
Bloocheez: I don't doubt it, Governor.  But then you wouldn't hear why I
     risked my life to come here.
 
Sane: I'm listening.
 
Bloocheez: I came here to offer my help, Governor.  The Empire needs a
     strong, talented leader such as yourself to hold it together in
     these trying times.
 
Sane: Cut the flattery, Bloocheez.  What do you want?
 
Bloocheez: You insult me, Governor.  I understand you are having
     difficulties in controlling the War Fleet.
 
Sane: Nothing major.  It is being worked out already.
 
Bloocheez: Indeed.  (pause, thoughtfully)  I had hoped I could offer you
     some military support to uphold your reign.
 
Sane: You?  How?  Your own crew tried to kill you.
 
Bloocheez: True, but the name of Bloocheez still carries weight in the
     War Fleet.
 
Sane: Whereas my name does not?
 
Bloocheez: Perhaps not, but that is through no fault of your own.  The
     game of politics is beyond me.
 
Sane: But not beyond me.
 
Bloocheez: Obviously not.  If only there were some way I could help you
     to control the War Fleet, to end their marauding and the civil wars
     they fight.
 
Sane: An alliance . . .
 
Bloocheez: How's that?
 
Sane: An alliance between you and me.
 
Bloocheez: That is an idea, Governor.  We would both gain from it.
 
Sane: A dual-Governorship.  I handle the politicians, you handle the
     military . . .
 
Bloocheez: It has much potential.  You see?  That is why I could never be
     a politician.  Such a thought would never occur to me.
 
Sane: No.  Out of the question.
 
Bloocheez: Why?
 
Sane: Quite simply, I don't trust you.
 
Bloocheez: I see.  That would make any alliance an uneasy one.  Still, if
     there were a way to neutralize any mistrust . . . maybe you could
     find a way to eliminate either of us from having the upper hand in
     an arrangement.
 
Sane: Yes.  A third leader.  A triumvirate.
 
Bloocheez: But who?
 
Sane: Another contender for the Governorship.  Someone who poses a threat
     to either of us, who can keep both of us in check.
 
Bloocheez: A mutual enemy?
 
Sane: Or ally.
 
Bloocheez: But, again, who?
 
Sane: Commander Ahab, perhaps.
 
Bloocheez: Ahab is a fool.  He could never handle politics or the
     military with the sense of a tribble.
 
Sane: I know just the man for the job.  Commander Mayonaze.
 
Bloocheez: (shocked) Mayonaze?
 
Sane: (pleased) Yes, a wonderful choice.  You've worked with him before.
     He's ambitious militaristically.  In fact, he led a rebellion
     against Commander French Dressigne, left pieces of him on several
     different worlds.  He's determined politically.
 
Bloocheez: A viper against both of our chests.  An interesting choice.
 
Sane: Well, Bloocheez, what do you say?
 
Bloocheez: I accept, Governor.  May the triumvirate bring stability and
     life to the Empire.
 
[Sane turns to summon Commander Ahab.  Bloocheez grins devilishly.
Everything is going exactly according to his plan . . . ]