 |
||||
"Dave, what did you do to my computer?!?!?" Captain half japanese stood
before the knight with her hands firmly on her hips, glaring up at him. Jim
Palmer chuckled in the background at the thought of the crick hj was developing
in her neck.
"I'm...I'm sorry, my Queen. We must have overloaded mighty Heian's fire
control computers when we last fired our cannons at the Borg." hj noticed
his use of modern terms like "fire control computers" and tensed, suddenly
worried about the state of Dave Quixote's brain. While most would find this
all to mean that bits of his sanity were slowly returning, it wasn't like Dave
and it was yet another thing hj didn't feel like worrying about right now.
"Missy!!!!" screamed hj.
A com panel chirped. "I didn't touch the lights!!!" yelled back Missy.
"That's not it," said hj. "Did you notice that Heian's fried?"
"No, sorry," said Missy from behind a panel deep in main engineering.
"We're still trying to pick up the pieces down here ourselves."
"I think we're going to have to stop over somewhere for repairs. Where
would you suggest?"
"Yoyoboq is only a few parsecs away, Captain," suggested the _Subaru_'s
new science officer, Lt. Jason Maron. "Why not go there?"
"Um, yeah," Palmer reluctantly agreed, afraid he'd be hit for doing so.
"Why not have Heian repaired by the pros?"
"Hmm, good idea," said hj. "Twenty-five."
Well-trained, Palmer dropped to the floor and began his first push-up.
"Why are you making me do push-ups? You liked the idea!"
"Can't let you think I'm getting soft, though," replied hj. She turned
and strode back to the command chair, leaving Palmer to his push-ups near the
tactical station. Her back turned, Palmer whipped his head around and stuck
out his tongue quickly.
"That's worth 50 more," said hj as she tapped a comm panel. "hj to
_Chivalier_. hj to _Chivalier_. Over."
"This is _Chivalier_, Captain," replied Euge. "Whatcha need?"
"Studmuffin!" shouted hj. "How are *you* doing?"
"Captain half japanese," interjected Data, "due to our current situa-
tion with the Borg, it would be wise if you if restricted your communications
to serious business."
"Well, I did actually have something I needed to talk to *you* about,
Admiral," said hj. "Our computer core is looking like something out of a
cracker jack box, and Missy really needs some time to make engine repairs.
I don't suppose we could break off from the task force for a couple of days
and lay over for repairs at Yoyoboq?"
"Star Fleet does not think it wise for ships to travel alone right now,
Captain. On that basis, I would not be able to support your request."
"Yes, but it's not that far away and that way, you and the _Comatose_
can keep busy without us getting in your way. Besides, we'll be able to
keep an eye on Yoyoboq and act as a forward listening post for you on that
end of the sector."
"True," replied Data. He paused a moment, then returned with his
decision. "You may proceed, Captain. Please report in every four hours
unless you run into trouble or receive new orders from me. Data out."
"Well, you heard 'im," said hj. "Plot a course for Yoyoboq, Miss
Pointy Ears."
"Course plotted," said Practor. 'Captain Loudmouth,' she thought,
finishing the sentence in her head.
"That one's worth 100 push-ups, Jimbo," said hj happily as she exited
to her Ready Room.
"What did I do NOW?" whined Palmer.
FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
"The Perfect Game"
Part 15: "Froop Loops"
Written by The Admiral with Dave Learn
and Yoyoboq cultural advice from Chris Hassell
Guest stars
John Hurt as Nortylutilz
Charles Fleischer as Zhaanwankoidwankoid
Matt Frewer as H-H-Heian
Alyssa Milano as Practor
Brian Tochi as Yi
Special guest stars
Brent Spiner
Diana Muldaur as Elucidator
John Colicos as Sega
Directed by John Cleese
Music by The Art of Noise
"Rocketman" performed by William Shatner
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Oh, dear, we are going to have our troubles today, aren't we?" said
the elder Yoyoboqian to no one in particular. He was a thin man, older than
the well-known Zortylwankoid by several years, and he spoke with an accent
that sounded vaguely British. A member of the utilz subculture of Yoyoboq,
he did not respond as frantically as the wankoid-inflicted Zortyl, but to
say he wasn't eccentric in human terms was a lie.
Nortylutilz stood up from his terminal array, dressed in a plastic-like
flightsuit colored variously in day-glo and pastel. About his eyes he wore
an oddly shaped set of reflecting sunshades, looking like they were stolen
off the set of one of the _Back to the Future_ films. He stretched his arms
and legs for a moment and let out a broad yawn, then returned to the floor
with his legs crossed underneath him. He began to type at a different key-
board with each hand while speaking verbal commands into a small microphone
hanging down from his sun shades. Three different CPUs hummed in unison as
they transcended levels of the Net, moving quickly through the network toward
their goal a halfway across the planet Yoyoboq.
Waiting for the connection to open, Nortyl entered another command by
left hand keyboard and the soft rhythms of music began to waft from speakers
hidden amongst the varied technology in the room. Obviously not enjoying the
Muzak selection, Nortyl pulled an .88 Magnum from a large pouch in his
jumpsuit and blasted a large hole in one of the speakers. "Oops," he said
as he blew the smoke out of the large revolver and put it away. He then
keyed in another command to bring up the beat of Oingo Boingo's "Perfect
System" on the remaining speakers.
One of the many monitors in the room came to life and a computer chirped
as a Max Headroom-ish image of Zhaanwankoidwankoid formed. Zhaan was a
distant cousin of our familiar Zortylwankoid. He was also an oddity, even
amongst Yoyoboq society. Doubly inflicted with Wankoidity, even other
Yoyoboqians couldn't stand to live in close proximity to him. Unlike his
cousin, who was banned from the planet so many years before, the elders of
Yoyoboq found Zhaan to be too useful to the continued Yoyoboqian computer
superiority in the galaxy, so he was simply forced to live on a deserted
island on the far side of the planet, complete with replicators, a small
fusion reactor and enough computer circuitry to keep him alive and busy.
While others couldn't stand to be in direct contact with him, they did
value his net-hacking abilities and he was often employed as a computer
security consultant by corporations throughout the Federation. Rumor had it
that he may have even been responsible for the newest series of Star Fleet
computers, found primarily on _Salad_ class starships. Nevertheless, he had
never actually left his isolation.
"HeywowzersNortylutilzmyoldgoofyfriend?Howareyouyounutzoid?Shutup,
TeezwacZ-1--I'mtryingtolistentomyfriend.No,Idon'twannaplayPongrightnow!"
Nortyl took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Zhaan, I am in need of
your assistance."
"WellwhatelseamIhereforbuttohelpoutgoofyguyslikeyouwhenyouneedit?
Sowhat'sthepproblem--security,design,ArtificialIntelligence,Artificial
Personality,datastructure,debugging--?"
"There is a strange presence in local cyberspace and it has been
attempting to fiddle with some of our more distant connections. It may be
nothing, but I fear that the Borg may be looking for us."
"I'dbuythatforadollar!Soyouwantmetoseewhatthey'redoingandstop'em
iftheyare,right?Noprobarewsky."
"There is an additional problem. A Federation starship is en route for
computer core repairs. My attentions will be diverted for a while, so I
won't be able to protect you..."
"Ahhdon'tworryaboutprotectingmeIcanhandlemyselfjustfine.Idon'tcarehow
powerfulhumansthinktheBorgare--theycan'tmatchwithdualwankoidnessinaoneonone
cspacebattle.NortylcanIaskuafavor?Thereplicatorscan'tproduceJoltandIreally
beencravingsomebadmanifyoudigit."
"I'll see what I can do, my friend." Nortyl closed the talk mode
connection and took another deep breath, wiping his brow clean. Any
conversation with Zhaanwankoidwankoid took a lot out of him. And this
one had only lasted 25 seconds!
* * * * *
"Captain's Log, Stardate 104298.4," hj began. "We have made standard
orbit at Yoyoboq and the repair team is due aboard any minute. I have not
made arrangements for shore leave nor do I intend to. For one thing, this
crew won't learn discipline if I cut them that sort of slack. For another,
Yoyoboq is not my idea of a good time for anyone but another Yoyo." hj was
one of many people in the Federation that still referred to Yoyoboqians by
their rather derogatory nickname. Unfortunately for the school of political
correctness, the Yoyoboqians didn't seem to mind too much. "And, of course,
we never know if the Borg might show up and I don't want to be wasting time
getting my people off the planet while my ship gets torn apart."
Captain half japanese and her trusty sidekick Skywise walked down the
long hallway toward the Croutonizer room. Skywise had grown quite a bit
since hj first adopted him and he was now nearly full grown, nearly large
enough for hj, who was not exactly one of dominating stature, to ride to
the transporter room. Dave would probably try if he got the idea in his
head to, she thought.
"What genius put the Croutonizer so far from the damn bridge?!?" she
complained to no one in general. Maybe that's why Picard was always beaming
people directly to the bridge, she thought -- he didn't feel like walking
all that way just to see them.
The doors to the Croutonizer room opened to allow their passage just as
the shape on the Croutonizer pad took form. hj noticed with disinterest that
Missy and Lt. Maron were already waiting near the Croutonizer console, and
that the lights in the room were flickering unnervingly. The only person that
seemed to notice the problem with the lights was the Croutonizer chief, Lt.
JG Yi. hj was more than happy to promote him into the position when the job
had opened up. (The former chief retired and went into hiding after the
_Subaru_'s return to Earth a few weeks before. No one knew if the reason was
hj or the Borg.)
hj's thoughts were interrupted by the psychadelic-looking being standing
on her Croutonizer.
"Mondai [trouble]," muttered Missy.
Looking at his ultrasonic psychadelic wrist chronometer, Nortylutilz
corrected her haughtily. "No, I believe it's Wednesday."
"Yi, did I ask you to beam up Frank Zappa?" hj asked. "Or one fourth
of Devo? No, I don't believe I did. Give me six--"
"Captain half japanese, I take it," said Nortylutilz, removing his sun
shades and stepping down from the Croutonizer. While Nortyl was not a tall
man (Avenger or Crossfire would have easily dwarfed him), he cast a long
shadow across the small Captain and her not-much-taller Chief Engineer.
"Ah, and you have a great deal of trouble dealing with we Yoyoboqians,
don't you?" He glanced curiously at Lt. Maron, then looked back to Missy.
"Is he a graduate student?"
"AAAAARRRGGHHHH!!!!!!!" screamed Missy.
"Tsk tsk tsk. No need to get so worked up," Nortyl said. "You know,"
he added with an extremely vile grin, "I eat little girls like you for
breakfast." He turned back to hj with his *pleasant* grin back in place.
"Take me to your central computer core, please. Heian and I have a lot to
discuss."
hj stood silent for a moment, more shocked by his appearance than by
his abruptness. Missy glared at the man, and hj noticed Missy's developing
dislike for him. Maybe it's just Missy, she thought. He is pretty strange
though, thought hj, but then, aren't all Yoyos?
Impatient with the delay, Nortyl picked up his suitcase and headed out
into the hallway. "Now where did they put the core on this _James T. Kirk_
class?" he wondered aloud.
"Um, excuse me," said hj rather impatiently as she followed him out and
down the hallway. "I didn't catch your name."
"Oh, it's not really important or any of your business," he said. "But
if you really must know, it's Nortylutilz." Nortyl moved quickly down the
hallway and hj was really in no mood to keep the pace, so she gave up trying.
Skywise looked up at her as if he were asking permission to follow just as
Missy caught up to them.
"BACA NEH!" swore Missy (in Japanese) at the long-gone Yoyo. "Are they
ALL that way?"
"I hear some are worse," said Jason, not as surprised as hj that Missy
had uttered something so notoriously foul. "Yoyoboqians are supposed to have
a vile sense of humor...something that your old friend Zortyl fortunately
lacks."
"Why does Star Fleet even deal with them then?" an exasperated Missy
wondered aloud.
"Because, like it or not, they're the best at what they do."
* * * * *
"Uhohwhat'sthatlittlesignalIhearoverthere. Heynowdon'tyougopokingaround
inMYfilebankyounosylittlebuggerI--hey,thattickles! Ohnoyoudon't. HahaI've
gotyounow!" Zhaanwankoidwankoid babbled to himself as he worked through the
Federation computer net and through local Cyberspace.
"Thesehumanteenagersthinktheyreallyknowhowtohackanetworkbutthey'rereally
whackedouttothinksuchathingyouknow. AnybodyknowsaYoyoboq'stentimesyourbest
nonYoyohackerandawankoidgivesyouanothertenspotnoprob. TheseBorgguysseemto
knowwhatthey'redoingthough."
Zhaanwankoidwankoid reached out through the Net and established contact
with a weak local link orbiting several hundred miles above the planet.
"Heianwakeywakey! Gottatalktomeol'friendNortyandgetthisBorgbusiness
warnedabout."
"I-I-I..." responded Heian.
"ComeonnowHeian. Lemmemehearsomeofyo'favoritehaikuthingies. Yaknow
whatImean. IwannahearHeian'sgreatestbits!"
"Monkeyboy green Ted, fifty eleven twenty, error analyze," said Heian
through its weak connection.
"Nobabyalmost. Rightformbutnomeaning. Gimmerhythmgimmesomethingto
telltheworldabout. Blowmeawaywithyourpoetryeptitude!"
"Zhaanwankoidwankoid, what's wrong?" said a digitzed Nortyl through his
interface to Heian. "Did you find something?"
"ThoseBorgiesarebouncingalloverlocalCspacetryingtofindawayinbutI'm
readyforthem. Ilaidatraptheywon'twaittotripouton'causeit'sreallywelllaid
out. Greatbaitandthey'llwalkrightinforit'causethey'remechanoiddumdumsand
don'thaveaclue. Nooffense,Heian."
"Fred Flintstone," responded Heian.
"Keep me informed about the Borg," said Nortyl, "but if you wouldn't
mind, could you leave Heian to me? He's having enough problems as it is.
I don't think he's ready to cope with even single-wankoidism right now."
"Oksorryfolksgottarun. Borgiesconnectionsaremultiplying. 'slikethey're
somesortofreplicatingvirusinlocalCspaceickyickyicky. Gottagoputupmoreshields
man. Byesers."
* * * * *
"Commander," said Practor from the con station. "I'm picking up a minor
gravitational flux on one dyno-scanner."
"Why is she looking around for dinosaurs?" wondered Sancho.
"Mr. Panza," said Palmer confidently (since hj was nowhere to be seen)
from the first officer's chair. (Palmer didn't dare sit in the captain's
chair, even when in command of the bridge. He feared the reprisals upon her
return.) "Can you get any more information out of your station?"
Sancho ran an improved scan from the tactical station and drew a new
conclusion. "There's definitely some kind of odd disturbance near the fifth
planet of this system."
"It could be a comet or asteroidal body," said Palmer. "I'm not willing
to risk our necks on that assumption though. Yellow alert."
Practor activated the yellow alert.
"Y-y-y-" spit out Heian.
"Doesn't he have that thing fixed YET?" asked hj, entering the bridge.
"Y-y-yellow alert, C-c-captain!" shouted Heian suddenly, surprising
Palmer right out of his chair.
"What the--?" hj was too surprised to dole out push-ups.
"Hey, Captain-baby, we've got a yellow alert," said Heian. "So you
better not shout, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you
why--"
"Please don't!" shouted hj. She looked around the bridge frantically.
Finally, she spotted Palmer, who was trying to hide underneath the tactical
console.
"75,000!!!" she finally exclaimed.
"Wh-wh-whoa, Captain! No need to get t-t-testy!" said Heian. "B'sides,
we've got other pr-pr-pr-problems."
Heian switched the view to a heavily magnified view of the fifth planet of
the Yoyoboq system. A large object was moving out from behind the planet...
"That looks like a Federation starbase!" exclaimed Palmer.
"It *is* a Federation starbase..." said Practor.
I wonder if it tastes like a Federation starbase, thought Skywise.
"It *was* a Federation starbase," Sancho corrected.
* * * * *
Nortyl clicked his suitcase back together and set it aside.
"Are you sure I can not be of some assistance, my lord?" Dave Quixote
asked for the umpteenth-and-a-half time. "The Queen's Servant always stands
ready to assist those who work for her cause."
Nortyl rolled his eyes and considered how much damage an .88 Magnum
would do, despite Quixote's armor. He decided against it. "Humans have no
sense of humor," he whispered silently.
"My lord, perhaps I can fetch fresh water for mighty Heian? A hover-
mule to carry the magic herbs and tools you will need to make him well
again?"
"Heian is coming around just fine, Lieutenant," said Nortyl through
clenched teeth. He brought up the results of the final diagnostic program
on his screen, smiled to himself in honor of the speed of the repair and
personality transplant, and finally brought up a video display of Heian's
new personality.
The new Heian was nothing like his predecessor, much to Captain half
japanese's dismay. His neon-green hair a tousled mess, Heian had the
appearance of a mad scientist crossed with a stand-up comic.
On the display, Heian turned to an imaginary mirror and admired his new
image. "This is ma-ma-magnificent, Doc. I love the new 'do 'specially!"
"I did so hope you'd like it."
Dave bowed down in reverance before the monitor. "My lord Heian, this
humble servant had no idea you were a Holy father."
"Wh-wh-whoa, Nellie! I'm a hip computer, not a m-m-m-medicine man!"
Dave stood before Heian in awe, amazed at what he was seeing before him.
"Lieutenant," said Nortyl as he turned to Quixote and pushed him to
the floor. As Dave lost his balance, he flailed his arms futilely in all
directions before crashing to the ground in the cacophony of a million
tin cans impacting on tile floor. With an evil-looking grin, Nortylutilz
added an insincere "Sorry about that," picked up his suitcase and walked
out of the central computer core.
Dave, in the meantime, found himself quite trapped on his back, his
heavy armor preventing him from righting himself. After several unsuccess-
ful attempts at righting himself, he finally slumped and resigned himself to
the help that only technology could give him now. He tapped the face of
the shiny, seldom-used communicator pin that rested on the outside of his
bulky armor.
"My Queen," he spoke sadly into the communicator. "This is your
faithful servant, Dave Quixote." He sighed, well aware of the sharp dressing
down he would receive later...and at the number of push-ups that would most
likely follow. "I've fallen...and I can't get up!!!"
* * * * *
The object that until recently was the heart of Federation operations
in the Small Magellanic Cloud now lumbered toward the _USS Subaru_...and
the planet Yoyoboq...like Godzilla unto Tokyo.
"Shields up," said Sancho. "Crouton torpedoes arming. Phasers are
charged."
"At least somebody's on the ball around here," muttered Practor.
"Um..Captain," Palmer interrupted, before hj could pronounce sentence
on her insubordinate con officer. "There are two Borg cubes approaching
from the *third* planet."
"This is not good," stated Nortylutilz matter-of-factly from the
back of the bridge.
"Sancho, remove this idiot from my bridge," fumed half japanese.
Before Sancho had a chance to act, Nortyl put up a hand. "That really
would NOT be a good idea, cappy." Moving to the computer officer's main
systems link, he sat down. "If you want to beat these Borg, you're going
to need our help."
"OUR help?" Palmer exclaimed.
"Fifty, Jimbo." hj contemplated Nortyl's offer and the viewscreen
for a moment as her first officer assumed the position. "How exactly can
you help us?"
"We can defeat the Borg at their own game," began Nortyl. "We merely
need to attack their Collective unity via their own Cyberspace connections."
Recognizing her continuing disbelief, he finally added "I have a friend on
the planet's surface who is a master at these games."
"You wouldn't by chance be interested in a game of Go?" asked Lt. Maron.
"Forgo the Go," ordered hj. "Hai, Nortylutilz. Go to it."
Palmer's eyebrow shot up as he continued his push-ups.
"All right, Jimbo, that's enough," she said. "We've got work to do."
Palmer paused in mid-push-up and looked to her curiously.
She actually smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. "Come on,
O-ba-san. I said we've got work to do."
He carefully stood up, brushing himself off, then returned to his
chair, watching her distrustingly the entire time.
"The Borg ships are nearly in firing range, Captain," noted Practor.
"Hang on, kids," said hj. "It's going to get a bit rough now." She
slammed down her comm button. "Missy!"
"I didn't touch the damn--"
"I don't care if the lights DO go out, just make sure the engines are
running. The Borg are almost here."
"Oh, lovely," complained Missy. "And Jason and I just realigned the
plasma injectors!"
The _Subaru_ shuddered as the former Starbase SMC reached out with a
tractor beam and grabbed hold. The cubes passed by on either side, taking
up station above the planet.
"Damn," muttered Panza. "We can't let them tear up Yoyoboq."
"They won't," said Nortylutilz, very reassuringly.
"Fire at will," ordered Palmer.
"Firing at will, sir," responded Panza, opening up with a massive phaser,
Crouton and PPR barrage.
"Will's not here, Commander," noted Practor.
Palmer now got up and walked over to Practor, whapping her across the
top of the head in a very hj-istic fashion. "You know what I mean, Ensign
Pointy Ears. While you try to figure it out, how about getting us out of
that tractor beam???"
"You've almost got it down, Jimbo," smiled hj. He smiled back.
The ship shook again as SMC lanced out with its famous turkey carving
device.
"Incoming message, Captain," Nortyl commented as his fingers flew across
the keyboard. "By the way, Zhaan is setting up his attack plan as we speak."
"Lovely. How about he uses it?"
"When the time is right, my dear."
hj shuddered at Nortyl's sliminess. "Let's hear the message, Practor."
The viewscreen switched to a visual from inside SMC. Elucidator of Borg,
once known as Admiral Betty Talbot, commander of Starbase SMC, looked right
at hj. "Captain half japanese. Your attempts at resistance will not
succeed. You do not have the power to stop us. We will have our prize."
"Prize? I don't see a Cracker Jack box around here."
"We are not amused, Captain."
"Yeah, well neither are we, ADMIRAL," said hj. She hadn't forgotten
who Talbot had once been.
"Military rank and its nearest Star Fleet equivalent are irrelevant in
the new order, young lady," scolded Elucidator. The captain of the _Subaru_
fumed openly at the "young lady" comment. "They are another example of the
outdated elements of your culture -- the kind which we will NOT incorporate
into the Collective when you are all assimilated."
"Oh," muttered Palmer, rolling his eyes. "Joy."
"The Collective offers many benefits to the Federation, Captain."
"Like?" hj snapped.
"True equality. Of gender. Of race. Of species. There is nothing
like it in your Federation."
"La de dah de dah," muttered Palmer. "We are NOT going to be
assimilated."
"In time, you will be," assured Elucidator. "However, we have our
priorities." She hesitated for a dose of dramatic effect that was once
unthinkable from a Borg. "Yoyoboq will serve the Borg well."
"Over my dead body," muttered Nortylutilz.
"If it comes to that, Nortylutilz."
Nortylutilz stopped typing and turned slowly toward the screen. How
had she known--?
"All is known to us, Nortylutilz. We have touched you in Cyberspace
before. You will become one with the Borg. All of Yoyoboq will become one
with the Borg."
"The hell, you say," said hj, closing the channel.
"YoNortylmypsychadelicfriend!" exclaimed Zhaan from Nortyl's station.
"Don'tgotosleeponmenow,dude! Ican'tquitepullthisoffalone."
Nortyl's head snapped back to the station. He was now looking at a
digitized view of Zhaanwankoidwankoid. Strings of something flew around
him wildly. So did little crouton-like objects, obviously representing the
Borg net connections.
"How did she--?" began Nortyl, still shaking his head incredulously.
"Easydude. YouandIhavebeenscrewingaroundwiththeirnetconnections. They
mustafiguredoutwhatwebeenupto. That'sgonnamakeittrickiermustadmit."
"Zhaan, I have an idea."
"I'mabitbusy,dude. Thisisgettingreallyfroopintough."
"I know. The two of us can not defeat them alone. The Borg are using
all of their people against us...why can't we do the same to them?"
"Ooooohbaby,Iloveit! Berightback."
The graphics on the screen multiplied exponentially, adding a new group
of Yoyoboqian connections every second. Suddenly, the monitor burned out in
a shower of sparks as the screen filled just a bit too full.
In the meantime, the _Subaru_ continued to shudder. Panza's weaponry
was useless and hj could do little but sit and watch her ship fall apart
around her. The turkey carver now reached out for Engineering.
"Missy!" yelled Jim into his com panel.
"I didn't touch the damn--wait a minute! Who the hell is this?" Missy
was too used to being yelled at by hj to recognize another voice.
"It's Palmer. Evacuate Engineering."
Things began exploding around Missy. "Sh--! Get out, everybody!
Store's closed! Heian, evacuation sequence!"
"You got it, your M-M-M-Missyship."
"Chuk'sho," complained hj. "This is too much for us to take."
"Captain," said Panza. "I'm calling for a security squad. We may need
them up here, you know. As the proverb says, 'Hungry is the best gravy in the
world, and as the poor are always hungry, I--'"
hj glowered.
"I think I'll go see how Dave's doing in the torpedo room. He might
need some help..."
"Yeah," muttered Palmer as Panza sneaked off the bridge. "I wonder
how he'll manage 500 push-ups in all that armor."
"Heian," hj said. Getting no response, she tried again. "Konnichi
waaaa...Heian!!"
"S-s-s-sorry, Capo. We're a bit b-b-b-busy..."
"Stuff it. Set the auto-destruct, minimum delay. Activate on the
command 'yudetako.'"
The bridge crew, including the newly arrived security team and tactical
officer, stare at half japanese, shocked.
"First Officer James Palmer," said Heian. "Do you con-c-c-c-cur?"
Palmer quietly confirmed, adding a resigned nod for the crew's benefit.
"I really hope we don't have to use that," said Missy, just now entering
the bridge and booting up the engineering station. She carefully examined the
nearby Nortylutilz, who ignored her, deeply immersed in Cspace tasks.
"I agree," said Practor. "But it is wise to be prepared."
"That's the idea, Pointy Ears," said hj.
With the _Subaru_ still locked in SMC's tractor beam, the two Borg cubes
began their own work. On the planet below, two cities began to shudder...
Torpedo room two was dark, damp and smelled of ozone and sweat. A red
glow crept in around the edges from the emergency lighting and smoke filled
parts of the room. In the background, a white blur known by many as the
anti-Jez zoomed back and forth in his usual chaotic manner. Something in
his demeanor, however, showed that he still missed Sancho (the dog).
As Sancho Panza entered the torpedo room, he found his old Academy
roommate Dave Quixote struggling to lift himself from the ground.
"One hundred fifty-seven," gasped Dave before collapsing into a heap.
"Dave, what the hell are you doing???"
His head lowered in shame, Dave explained. "I have failed our Queen,
but she was merciful. Five hundred push-ups are my penance."
"Forget the push-ups, Dave," said Sancho, struggling to lift Dave to
his feet. "And lose the armor, will you? I need your help to make some
alterations to the torpedoes."
"Are we still at war with the French knights?" asked Dave, wondering
whether God would forgive him for postponing his push-ups.
"The Borg are still busting us up, yes."
"Have they not already sunk thirty-two of the Emperor's most capable
sailing vessels?" asked Dave again, now removing elements of his armor to
lighten his load.
"Yes, Dave. Their defenses are very formidable. If we could only
find a way to hit them where it will count."
"Lady Missy has often told me of their weakness in the upper end of
the Electromagnetic Spectrum, although they have made adjustments of late."
"How did Missy--?"
"This war...it has brought back many unpleasant memories for her."
"So that's why she was crying at breakfast..." thought Sancho aloud.
The ship shuddered again. The ship's superstructure complained around
them and Sancho looked up to make sure there were no pieces ready to come
crashing down upon them.
"It is perhaps possible," continued Dave, "that these frequencies
represent holes in their electromagnetic armor. We need simply to ensure
that our torpedo emits energy primarily from its Crouton-Tauon interactions."
Dave paused thoughtfully. "I was going to begin those modifications
immediately I completed my Queen's task."
"Dave, she'll like this a lot better than the push-ups..."
"Captain, we're coming apart at the seams!" yelled Palmer.
"They're tearing those cities apart," Jason reported.
Meanwhile, in Cyberspace, links were continuing to multiply. The
tide was turning and the Borg were beginning to lose ground as the entire
population of the planet Yoyoboq worked frantically against the Uni-mind.
Allowing his fellows to do the primary dirty work, Zhaanwankoidwankoid
looked for the right connections and began making elaborate chess moves
that he hoped would pay off.
Missy's communicator bleeped. She tapped it. "Panza to Midzor. I'm
helping Dave with some Crouton torpedo modifications he cooked up. Tell the
captain--"
"Dave came up with something useful???" Missy sounded quite surprised.
"I've never heard him talk like this before. He may be a lunatic, but
he has a grasp of sub-lepton mechanics like I've never seen."
"Acknowledged. Midzor out." She turned to hj just long enough. "Did
you get that, Captain?"
"Hai. See what you can do about keeping us together until then!"
Missy did her best to keep the Borg from tearing up her ship too quickly.
She rotated shield frequencies as often as possible, trying to attack the
problem as best she could. She looked over at the science station next to
her, where another horrible scene played itself out. A face filled the view-
screen, speaking to the citizens of planet Yoyoboq. It was that of a man who
had not long ago ruled a vast Empire on the borders of Federation space. He
once wore a dark Stetson where there were now dark metal plates attached to
his skull. His grizzled appearance was not complimented by the vast array of
electronics he now carried.
Missy shuddered. She had heard Kabeta's report about the Borg attack
on the Hidden Valley Ranch Empire. She hadn't really believed it until she
saw Governor Tarkanian step forth to intimidate Yoyoboq.
"I am Sega of Borg," he said. "Your culture and technology will adapt
to serve the Borg Collective. In the Collective, you will find the electronic
unity you have so often sought in your own worldly network connections. We
will bring your understanding to a higher level as you will bring us yours."
He smiled that famous Tarkanian smile, evil in all its intent, and continued.
"We all want the same thing. Do not resist us or you will face...undue
hardships en route to your assimilation."
The memories rushed in now...Lucky Lecter, the Borg...all the blood of
her victims, her meals...how her mind was probed in order for the Borg to
understand all aspects of Federation technology...how her own knowledge had
been turned and used to try to destroy her closest friends. As she now
remembered EVERYTHING, it overwhelmed her...it was too much to take.
She screamed.
All those on the bridge whirled to look at her. The screams lingered.
Her mind and her body seemed light-years apart.
Her shipmates were so concerned for her well-being that they did not
see the Borg soldiers whisper into existence around the perimeter of the
bridge.
Crossfire, she thought. What have I done? Will you ever forgive me?
Something gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her away from the station.
She opened her eyes to find herself staring into the dispassionate face of
a Borg drone.
Something inside snapped.
She reached forward and yanked the cables from the Borg's face and
chest. It lurched backwards, jerking spasmodically, blood and nutrients
spurting from the loose tubes. Another Borg stepped up to take its place.
With a brute strength that could only have come from a massive adrenal rush,
she ripped a swivel chair from its place and demolished the Borg's face
plate...and its face.
Around the bridge, other Borg pushed their way toward control stations.
hj tried her best Bruce Lee moves on one of them, but to no avail. It turned
to look at her. Where had she seen that face before?
"We were once quite fond of 'Bruce Lee' movies, Captain," said the former
Yuri Hiroshi. A one-time classmate of half japanese, he had last been posted
as Chief of Security on Starbase SMC. Yuri stepped forward and she soon found
herself lying in a heap on top of Jim Palmer against a wall somewhere across
the bridge.
The Borg continued their advance toward a common goal, but one thing--
one person--blocked their path.
Melissa Midzor, who despised Yoyoboqians, defended Nortylutilz...and
the future of the planet Yoyoboq.
"Dave, how's it coming?"
"The Queen should be quite pleased now."
"Great! Load them up." Sancho punched his communicator. "Bridge, this
is Panza." He punched it again. "Bridge, this is Panza."
"Perhaps the Queen does not wish to be disturbed, Sancho."
"Not bloody likely. I'd better go see what's going on."
Dave stopped Sancho suddenly, grasping him firmly by the shoulders and
looking him squarely in the eyes. "Be careful, Sancho," he said.
Sancho blinked twice, wondered several things to himself, then nodded
and dashed to the nearest turbolift.
"Come, friend dragon!" Dave caled to Shenandoh, who was now hiding amidst
a myriad of tool kits. "We must make ready the cannons!"
Sancho ran onto the bridge -- straight into a Borg.
"Wha--oh &#%&*$! Borg on board!"
The security guards had by now given up on their phasers and were doing
their best to serve as human shields for the crazy computer scientist from
Yoyoboq. Her adrenalin spent, her berserk rage abated, Missy lay curled in
a fetal position on the floor beneath Science Station 1, whimpering softly
to herself.
Nortyutilz seemed to strain at something, the veins in his forehead
bulging, his face turning bright red, his brow sweating profusely. He
continued his frenzied work, blood puddling around one hand where he had
broken a finger in his frantic typing. Ignoring the pain, he pushed on.
A Borg finally reached the Engineering station, linking with it and
beginning to shut down crucial ship's systems. Sancho reached the tactical
station to fire the torpedoes...but found that the tactical station was no
longer his to control.
"Damn it!"
He turned to leave again, but found his way blocked by a Borg. He
struggled, trying to break past, but to no avail. Finally, the Borg aided
his cause by picking him up with and throwing him into the waiting turbolift.
'Ow,' Sancho thought. 'That hurt.' Calling out again for the torpedo
tube deck, he felt around to discover he had broken two ribs and had perhaps
fractured his left wrist in that fall. As he tried to right himself, he
found that his right ankle was sprained...perhaps even broken.
In Cyberspace, Zhaanwankoidwankoid thrust forth, breaking down walls at
various levels of the Borg subcommand structure. His fellow Yoyoboqians did
their best to hold their ground, but they were beginning to lose their battle,
data-walls being torn down as their cities were being torn up around them.
Zhaan continued forward, not looking back. Had he, he might have noticed the
added support from a dying Nortylutilz...
"Dave!" Sancho called from the turbolift, limping slowly forward. A
moment and then the young knight appeared, the Anti-Jez hanging near his
heels at every step.
"Good Sancho, you are injured! What dastardly foe--?"
"No time. Just get me to the torpedo room."
Sancho put an arm around the knight and hobbled toward the torpedo
room. Once there, Dave helped him to the tube itself.
"I have to go inside. When I give the word, fire the torpedoes."
"But what--?"
"No time, Dave. Just do it."
Sancho did his best to crawl forward through the tube to his goal.
Removing the panel, he began to cross circuits and remove wires.
"This hot-wire job had better work."
"Practor!" screamed hj, having somehow now ended up underneath Palmer's
unconscious form. "Take us as close to one of those other Borg ships as you
can and then pump up the jolt-warp drive."
"That is insane," complained Practor, plotting the course. "Our warp
field will likely rip that other Borg ship in half...and quite possibly us
with it."
"Well, that's just a chance we're going to have to take."
A moment passed, then Practor slammed her fists down on her console.
"They have helm control!"
"Oh hell," cried hj. "YUDETAKO!"
Nothing happened.
"YUDETAKO!!!"
Sancho put the finishing touches on his hot-wire job and then moved
to the torpedo itself. Reprogramming the arming sequence, he started it
manually then grabbed tight hold of the ladder to a nearby Jeffries tube.
He said a silent prayer, then tapped his communicator.
"Dave, the torpedo will finish arming in twelve seconds. When that
happens, give me a three count and then fire the torpedoes."
"Sancho, the cannons are a dangerous place to be when fired."
Sancho took a deep breath and then did his best to sound like half
japanese. It was a very poor attempt. "Dave, do what Sancho said!"
Dave responded sharply. "Yes, my Queen!"
"The arming sequence is complete," Sancho said, snapping his head
quickly away from the glowing form. Already it was beginning to give off
potentially lethal radiation.
"One!" Sancho gripped the ladder more tightly.
"Two!" He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and hoped this would
work.
"Three! Firing cannons!" The end of the tube opened and all of the
air inside the compartment rushed out into space. Sancho fought to hold
that last breath, but lost the fight and began gasping and wheezing for air
that was not there. The nearest torpedo flared to life and burst forth,
rocketing down and out the opening, leaving behind a trail of radioactives,
anti-croutons, delta rays and other miracles of modern particle physics
that modern medicine bemoaned.
The two modified Crouton torpedoes dashed forward and impacted with
Starbase SMC, taking down the tractor beam and making several large holes
in the infrastructure.
On the _Subaru_ bridge, Nortyutilz slumped forward. The Borg soldiers
suddenly froze in their steps, looking much like multiple reproductions of
the Tin Man when Dorothy first found him beside the Yellow Brick Road.
A voice erupted from all around the bridge.
"You do not want to self-destruct your vessel, Captain half japanese."
hj finally found her way out from under Palmer and stood up to face
the disembodied voice.
"Captain!" Jason called from the back of the bridge. "The Yoyoboqian
is dead."
"Only my body is dead, Captain," said Nortylutilz, speaking through
Heian and the mouths of each Borg on the bridge. "I live on as the spirit
of our collective mind."
"Oh no..." began hj.
"All is not as it appears, Captain. Observe..."
The viewscreen of the _Subaru_ switched to an exterior view. The Borg
vessel that was once known as Starbase SMC limped away. Sega's ship followed,
neither understanding what had just happened, but not wishing to suffer the
same fate. Unlike the Borg of old, the Collective now knew when to cut its
losses and run.
But the third ship stayed put. In fact, it moved to block the _Subaru_
from further damage from the retreating pair.
"Mr. Utilz, we don't understand," half japanese finally admitted.
"I am Nortylutilz, Speaker for this Borg vessel. What was once Borg is
now Yoyoboq. We have assimilated this vessel and all those who inhabit it."
"What?!?"
"The planet Yoyoboq," Nortyl explained, "now has its own Borg ship to
play with."
Nortyl signed off, allowing the _Subaru_ crew to begin to pick up the
pieces. Practor did what she could to recover computer control of the main
bridge. The security team began hauling the stiffened Borg soldiers away
to the nearest Croutonizer room, while others attended to the body of the
fallen computer scientist. Palmer struggled groggily with consciousness in
the far corner as half japanese knelt down next to Science Station 1.
Melissa shivered, still cowering in shock and fear. Jason pulled a
thermal blanket from an emergency survival kit and wrapped it about her.
hj knelt down beside her.
"Urusai," mumbled Missy. Noisy, obnoxious, irritating. "Urusai."
"It's going to be all right, Missy," whispered hj. "We'll take good
care of you."
"Ko-wai-ii..." she muttered. Frightened.
"I know. But you're brave and we'll all help you through this."
Quiet. Dave Quixote stumbled forward toward the locked torpedo tube.
"Sancho!!!" he cried.
Shenandoh mewed softly.
"Sancho!!!" For the second time in a day, Quixote activated his
communicator. "Dr. Routh to Torpedo Room."
Commander Jim Palmer found his way into the Torpedo Room first.
"Dave, what's wrong?"
"Help me open it!" It was not a request.
The door circuits jammed, Dave and Jim used brute strength to force
open the hatchway. On the other side lay Sancho Panza, his strength spent,
his energy abating. He stared vacantly at Dave Quixote, mumbling nonsense
to himself, still trying to crawl forward. His broken fingernails bled
openly and the radiation have burned away large sections of skin. His
uniform in pieces, his breaths began to come in gasps. His arms stretched
out emptily, his face conrtorted as he flipped onto his back. His chest
lay ripped open before them.
Dave moved forward and held his old friend in his lap, as angry, bitter
tears streaked down his face and into his beard. Palmer fidgeted nervously
just outside the tube, waiting for the medics.
Shaking, his voice wavering, Quixote cried out. "Oh, noblest companion!
How unjustly thou art slain! The French minions of Satan have neither mercy
nor honor, to slay one such as you. The hounds of Freston take them!"
Dr. Routh and her paramedics come bounding around the corner, stretcher
and medical supplies in hand.
"Holy--" Jen-L was horrified at the sight of Sancho Panza's torn and
bloodied frame. She reached around Quixote's weary form and checked the
pulse.
"Weak and going. We're losing him! Let's get a move on!"
CPR began as she and the medics struggled to retain what life was left
in the body of Sancho Panza.
"Captain's Log, Stardate 104299.0. I still don't know what to make
of these past few hours. Somehow, these Yoyos figured out not only how
to save our skins, but also how to take control of a Borg vessel. All I
can think is that without them we may well be beaten in this war.
"My crew is much smaller than it was just days ago. While they have
not suffered similar fates, two of my crew members may never be the same.
Sancho Panza is barely clinging to life in our Sickbay and Dr. Routh may be
having second thoughts about her Star Fleet career. Melissa Midzor, best
damn chief engineer in the Fleet and _you can quote me on that_, is trying
to come to terms with the mind rape she suffered from these creatures over
a year ago. I know of nothing we can do to help Sancho, but perhaps by
giving her our strength, we can together make Missy strong again.
"When this is all over, we are all going to need a LONG vacation."
half japanese looked over at the chronometer beside her bed again.
0342. Still no sleep.
Her door chimed.
"It's a bit late, isn't it?" she called out.
"Captain, are you awake?" asked Palmer from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, hang on." Pausing to dig around in her closet, she mumbled,
"What a stupid question." Finding a black kimono, she wrapped it about
herself and padded toward the door.
"Captain...um, hj..."
"It's okay, Jim." Jim still could not believe the recent changes in
her personality.
She offered him a chair and sat opposite him. She knew what was wrong.
"Whatever you need to say, Jim...I feel the same way. It's terrible
what's happened."
"Do you think he'll ever...you know...walk, feel, anything again?"
"I honestly don't know, Jim."
He nodded. They were both incredibly tired.
"Thanks, Captain."
"Any time, Jim...as long as it's in private. Can't let everyone think
I'm going soft."
He nodded, understanding. He stood and slowly headed toward the door.
"When do we rejoin the fleet?" he asked finally.
"A few days," she said. "No rush. We've got a lot of repairs to do."
Inside and out.
"I understand, Captain." He paused again, an afterthought surfacing.
"By the way, Jason said Melissa sends her thanks."
hj looked up at that. "Is she all right?"
"She's broken the catatonia...but she's far from all right."
"I understand." hj lowered her head sadly. "Jason'll take good care
of her. Thanks, Jim."
He nodded again as the door opened for him.
"Oh, Jimbo?"
"Yes, Captain?" Palmer asked nervously, not sure whether she might
suddenly return to her former state.
"Get somebody to fix Heian, will you?" And at that, she crawled back
into bed and closed her eyes.
QUICK FADE TO BLACK
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Next time on
STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
"The Perfect Game"
Part 16: "Rendezvous"
Kabeta's seeks advice for her growing suspicions...
Boothby: There was always something about him I could never quite trust.
And the crew's getting tired of the length of this war...
Crossfire: Annoying was the word I was thinking of. Sir.
But how will Kabeta react as her worst fear is realized?
Kabeta: The Borg have taken Anthony Morgan.
FRIEND vs. FRIEND on STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION!
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