_____________ ____________ ____________ * / R \ */ \ */ \ * | E ______ | *\____ ____/ *| ________/ * | S |******| | ****| |*** *| F |******** * | I | *| | *| | *| U |____ * | S ~~~~~~~ / *| I | *| T \ * | T ____ \ *| S | *| I ____/ * | A |*** \ \ *| | *| L |*** * | N | * \ \ ___*| |____ *| E | * | C | * \ \/ \ *| | * \__E_/ * \___/______________/ *\____/ ***** **** ************** ***** RIF BBS (805) 588-9349 P.O. Box 81181 Bakersfield, CA 93308 subscriptions: 202-1240@mcimail.com http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/ borgpage/index.htm http://www.marshall.edu/~swann1/cborg2.html ftp://fvkma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif THE OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE GALACTIC BORG CONSCIOUSNESS ISSUE NUMBER 51 Mulk 152 B.E. 7 Feb - 25 Feb 1996 ========= CONTENTS ========= FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Door Repair Guy YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED NOT: More Random Musings WORKS IN PROGRESS: STAR TREK: CONSPIRACY RESISTANCE: A TNG Serial: Chapter 9: Feeling All Alone Chapter 10: Into the Neutral Zone STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 1. The Pilot, Part 1 The Fine Print =============================== FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF =============================== How I love holidays. How I love to radically change patterns. I have decided to issue RIF every Baha'i month instead of every other month. This means a NEW RIF every 19 days. Can we stand the excitement???? I doubt it. However, since I am somewhat insensitive, I have decided TO MAKE MORE CHANGES! Excuse me while I laugh uncontrollably: Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha. Because the intercalary days of the Baha'i Calendar (aka Ayyam-i-Ha) are coming up (Feb 26 - Mar 1) and it's a great time for sharing and fellowship, I have decided (uh-oh, that word again) to convert the theme of this newsletter to Xena: Warrior Princess. Hahahahha. Just kidding. What I am going to do is issue RIF #52 as a special Ayyam-i-Ha issue where I can do some housecleaning and release a parody which would not be otherwise released due to space or time constraints. The regular series, such as "Resistance" and the next "Star Trek: Door Repair Guy" (explained more below in it's OWN paragraph - oooo), will be released approximately six days after RIF #52! Then, after that, there will be a new RIF released every 19 days until I get a hankering to change again. Will these changes ever stop? Not quite yet! I have also decided (it was a very momentous week) to allow the newsletter to expand as the material dictates. You may ask, what the sam hill is she talking about? Since I am using a new provider for my internet connection, I am no longer limited by the dreaded 1,000 line barrier. DO NOT PANIC. This does not mean I will be sending out 15,000 line monsters. It does mean that instead of offering each Door Repair Guy episodes in TWO PARTS, I can run the entire episode in one issue and also allow other articles or notices. Life has suddenly gotten better! It would, of course, reach nirvana if we could only find a Borg/Xena crossover. Anyone still reading??? Now to the usual editorial notices: This issue we begin a new series and a new column. The new series is Star Trek: Door Repair Guy (ST:DRG). Written by a Canadian by the name of Douglas A. McLeod, ST:DRG is jammed packed with all sorts of bizarre situations, in jokes, twists, and turns, and arcane references (just how the average RIF reader demands it). Mr. McLeod began writing these episodes just before the Christmas of 1993 and has been continuing them up to the present. ST:DRG metes out the adventures of Door Repair Guy, the lowest ranked Star Fleet guy (ever wonder what it's like being at the low end of the food chain in Star Fleet? Well, yer gonna find out now!). And what does this have to do with Da Borg? Tons. If you need Borg humor, this series delivers. We hope you enjoy these "tales of swashbuckling adventure and proximity-activated door repair set against the sweeping panorama of the Star Trek universe." The new column is actually new packaging for a semi-regular feature. Periodically we get submissions of "scenes" or short- subject parodies. They are not full-blown but they contain just enough ooomph to get them published here. These articles will now appear under the "Works In Progress" section. This month's Work in Progress is a rather paranoid little study on Rick Berman's true purpose in helming The Franchise by Mitch Holzman. For reasons beyond my ken (my MORTAL ken, BTW), Bernhard Rosenkraenzer's name has been left off at the end of his cliff- hanger old-style serial "Resistance". I apologize greatly for that, Bernhard. AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, we have a new web site where ALL back issues of RIF will be available for downloading in zipped format. The address is: http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/ adds/borgpage/index.htm And now, back to the show! ---Oxnardus =========================== YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED NOT =========================== More Random Musings ---------- Did you hear that the Enterprise is getting married? They have engaged the Borg. -=- A Borg was walking down a country road when he saw a donkey in a field nearby. Climbing over the fence, he pulled out his hand weapon, prayed loudly and disintegrated the creature. The farmer who lived there ran out the door. "What in the world was that?" "Why," said the Borg, "What else? Assimmolation." -=- When the Borg first entered the Blggggrhrhrh galaxy, they were forced to battle against the reknowned space warrior, Eustace Nxgh of Barberpole V. Nxgh battled them so often and so doggedly that they immortalized him in what became one of their favorite aphorisms: "Resistance is Eustace" FAMOUS BORG QUOTES I am Jagger of Borg. I can't get no assimilation. I am Homer of Borg. Prepare to be assi... OOOHH!... Donuts! I am Burns of Borg. Smithers, assimilate them! I'm Bubba of Borg. Y'all fixin' to be assimilated. What we have here is failure to ass'mlate - Cool Hand Borg I am Shirley McLain of Borg. I was futile the last time too. I love it when assimilation comes together - The Borg Team I am Bart of Borg. Assimilate my shorts, dude! I'm Ronald Reagan... of Borg. Prepare to be..uh, I don't recall. Ensign Ro assimilated=Bajoran Borg! I'd rather assimilate a Wookie! - Leia of Borg, to Solo. We are Daleks of Borg. ASSIMILATE! ASSI-MIL-ATE! "I am Fudd of Borg. Pwepare to be assimiwated." I'm Homer of Borg. You won't be assimilated... DOH! I am Geraldo of Borg, Next, brothers who assimilate sisters. I am Epimenides of Borg. All Borg are irrelevant. It ain't over till the fat lady's assimilated. I'm Curly of Borg - Assimilate this Moe! I am Boris of Borg. We will assimilate moose and squirrel! I am Lennon of Borg. Imagine there's no assimilation. I am Gilligan of Borg. Escape from the island is futile. I am Oliver North of Borg, I have no recollection of Assimilation I am Robin of Borg, Holy futility, Borgman! We're assimilated! (And what a utility belt Borgman would have!) We are Lucy of the Borg, Rickie will be assimilated. Waaaa!! I am George Bush of Borg. Read my lips, No New Assimilations! I am Bogart of Borg. You will be ashimilated, shweethaht. I'm Schwarzennegger of Borg, Resistance is futile, I'll be back! I'm Borg. James Borg. I am Blofeld of Borg. You will be assimilated, Mr. Bond. I am Hamlet of Borg. To be or not to be is irrelevant. THEY WEAR T-SHIRTS TOO! T-Shirt slogan - The borg assimilated my race and all they left me was this tshirt! T-Shirt slogan - I was assimilated without my permission, that's unlawful Borging and entering, charges are pending! --Anonymous ===================== WORKS IN PROGRESS ===================== STAR TREK: CONSPIRACY --------------------- Berman: Now Kids (referring to his own.) I would be running through the ship in the separation sequence, however I have to be at all the parties today! Son: Awe Dad. You never get to do anything! Daughter: Dad, you promised you would be in a uniform running in the saucer section scene. Berman: Both of you stop it! Son: Why destroy the Enterprise? Berman: Because it is the last thing Gene ever had his hands on. Once I get the Enterprise-D out of the way, Star Trek and it's legacy will be mine. Mine. Mine I tell you. (In a Daffy Duck Voice.) Daughter: Cool. Son: I don't know. [Years later after Berman dies and another takes his place to keep Trek alive.] Mr. X: According to Berman private journals he conspired like a cold blooded Romulan to destroy Gene's orginal dream. Siddig El: Yeah I remember those days. When I would play the young Dr. Bashir on Deep Space 9. After a six year successful showing, Berman snapped and decided to kill us all on the station. Luckily I was away on Risa. Mr. X: What about you Kate? Kate Mulgrew: Me? Oh, after the third season Berman went crazy and had the Voyager explode. Mr. X: Indeed that was a crazy move. Kate Mulgrew: Yes it was. Berman said that it was Paramount, however Paramount said they knew nothing at all. It was sort of like watching the still popular X-Files. You know. Deny everything. Deny the big cover-up. Mr. X: Well thank you for your time. Kate, Siddig, you two have done very well considering all which has happened to you. THE END? --- MITCHELL HOLZMAN (A013735T@BCFREENET.SEFLIN.LIB.FL.US) ============================= RESISTANCE: Chapters 9 and 10 ============================= Part 5 of 12 A Star Trek: Next Generation Serial Chapter Nine: Feeling All Alone Dr. Crusher was shocked about the news form Lieutenant Talas. Hoping there would be survivors, she tapped her communicator. "Crusher to Picard. Come in." No response. "Crusher to Riker. Please respond!" No reply. "Crusher to Data." No answer. She started believing that the Borg had completely destroyed the Enterprise - and killed all remaining crew members. The loss of the ship was bad enough - but the loss of the lives of her closest friends... She could barely remain control. She told the others to go to the cave Talas and his team had found. She had to take care of the survival of the evacuated crew members and their families. If there was a solution to the situation, then the individual Borg would know it. Chapter Ten: Into the Neutral Zone The Enterprise speeded towards the Romulan Neutral Zone, expanding the distance between them and the Borg ship. Worf had sent the distress call to the Romulans several times - but without getting a response. Picard told him to keep trying. When the Enterprise was not too far away from the Neutral Zone, Seron detected a change in the sensor readings. "Captain," he said, "the Borg are following us." "Increase speed to warp 9.9. Inform the Romulans of the change." "Aye, Sir." The Enterprise increased its speed to maximum, but the Borg ship was faster. The Enterprise entered the Neutral Zone. "Romulan Warbird is decloaking, Captain. They are hailing us." "On screen." "Welcome, Enterprise." The Romulan Commander said. "We have received your distress calls, and did not respond because we don't want the Borg to know our coordinates. We are prepared to help you. If you lower your shields, we will beam two of our engineers over to your ship so they can install one of our cloaking devices. And, in addition, we will follow you and help you fight the Borg." "Thank you for your willingness to cooperate, Commander. Mr. Worf, lower the shields." Though Worf thought the Romulans were trying to deceive the Enterprise crew, he followed Picard's orders. He, too, saw no other chance to win the battle against the Borg. He expressed his doubts. "Captain, I do not believe the Romulans want to help us. They must be trying to trick us. They would never give their cloaking devices to an enemy." "Maybe they would, Mr. Worf. They have intercepted our messages about the Borg encounter at Wolf 359, and they know how powerful the Borg are. Maybe they are not willing to establish peace with us, but they are willing to keep the Borg out of their territory at any cost. And, they have an opportunity for two of their engineers to see the latest Federation technology." Riker left the bridge to receive the engineers. They went to work immediately. With Geordie's help, they redirected power from the main energy source to the cloaking device. "The Borg ship is coming in visual range!" Worf announced. Picard tapped his communicator. "Mr. LaForge, are you ready?" "Not yet, Sir. We need more power for the graviton- neutralizator in the ..." "No time for technical explanations now, Mr. LaForge. How long will it take you?" "We should be ready in ten minutes." "Then we'll have to keep the Borg occupied for that period of time. Inform the Romulans of our situation." Worf submitted the information to the Romulans. The Enterprise accelerated to Warp 9, trying to expand the distance between them and the Borg ship until the cloaking device was ready. The Romulan Warbird set a course directly for the Borg ship, trying to distract the Borg from the Enterprise. The Borg sent a message to the Romulans. "Intercept it, and put it on screen." Picard ordered. "We are Borg. A sensor analysis of your ship told us that you are inferior. We will improve your quality of life. You will be assimilated. If you resist, we will destroy your ship." "Well, straight to the point, like always." Riker commented. The Romulan ship fired a disruptor. The Borg were prepared for phaser fire, but they had never been in contact with a disruptor before. A part of their ship exploded, but they started to repair it immediately at a very high speed. The Romulans fired again. This time, the effect was reduced by more than 50%. The Romulan Commander noticed, and increased power to the disruptors, firing again. This time, the Borg ship showed no effect other than firing a high-energy weapon at the Romulan ship. TO BE CONTINUED... ---Bernard Rosenkrantz: bero@rage.fido.de ========================== STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY ========================== Season One. Episode One. "The Pilot, Part One" A shot of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701D in orbit around an unidentified planet. Cut to a foyer in a building on the planet's surface. A middle-aged man is berating a uniformed security guard: "Blast that repairman! He's eleven minutes late!" "Security reports he cleared Checkpoint Two five minutes ago. He shouldn't be much longer." "Ah! They're all alike. Idiots! They think they can just beam down and spread a picnic lunch in the middle of the Great Auditorium. Do they think I became Director of this Institute to spend my days chaperoning maintenance men around the site?" "I'm sure they don't, sir. Security Checkpoint Three is requesting clearance to admit the visitor. Password Smilie Smilie Smilie Omega Smilie." "Acknowledge. Clearance granted. Tell them to make it snappy! I haven't got time for this!" Pressure doors release. A repairman in orange overalls, wearing a laden utility belt and toting an oversized toolbox steps through and looks around him, frowning and muttering darkly to himself: "Darned security scans. Tachyon sweeps. Body cavity muon probes. Now I'll never have kids." "You there! Get a move on! I don't have all day! We have a full service contract with Starfleet and that's what I expect: full service! Follow me and quit your slouching!" He heads off down a corridor. The repairman follows, muttering. Partway down the corridor a man sticks his head out an office door, breaks into a grin and says: "So, Smedley, come to see my hypothesis proved." The Director snorts: "Don't be absurd, Witherspoon. Your cretinous theories couldn't be made to hold water in this or any other age. I only hope this moronic grease monkey and his tardy behaviour haven't ruined my final vindication." The two carry on down the corridor, with the repairman following behind. He is obviously thinking up a smart remark, and is just about to deliver it when, at the end of the corridor, the two historians, instead of carrying on around the corner, walk right on ahead and disappear through a bulletin-boarded wall. Camera moves in on repairman's startled, confused face. Fade-out. "Crawlspace. The final frontier. These are the voyages of The Door Repair Guy. His mission: to install and maintain proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has gone before." [Music] Star Trek: Door Repair Guy Whoosh! Starring Door Repair Guy as Himself Whoosh! Also Starring Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard Whoosh! Jonathan Frakes as Cmdr. William Riker Marina Sirtis as Counsellor Deanna Troi Michael Dorn as Lt. Worf LeVar Burton as Lt. Cmdr. Geordi LaForge Gates McFadden as Doctor Beverly Crusher Ross Perot as Lt. Cmdr. Data and Whoopi Goldberg as Guinan Enterprise looms into view and warps off in a burst. [Commercial: Charlie Chan Egg Rolls] ++++++++++++++++++++ Scene of the Enterprise orbiting. Credits superimposed: "The Pilot, Part I". Jean-Luc Picard's voice: "Captain's log, 49567.2. We have been called prematurely from our previous assignment to the location of a top secret Federation installation on business so highly sensitive that I myself have not been informed of its nature. This sort of bureaucratic high-handedness is beginning to wear thin and I am at last resolved to inform Starfleet of my intention to retire. Tending vines and playing the flute has never seemed so attractive. My only delay now will be in deciding whom among my officers I would recommend to replace me. The obvious choice for so many years has been Cmdr. Riker, but in recent weeks and months I have begun to notice him pulling at his hair more and more. I am beginning to wonder if he isn't losing it. I shall think more of this. In the mean time I wonder about the progress of our technician on the surface, the only member of the crew the authorities would allow to beam down." Shot of the stupefied repairman in the corridor. The Director walks back through the wall. "Come along, you epsilon. Haven't you ever seen a security cloaking field before?" "Ah. Yeah. Sure. I've even got one in my own place." "Yes. Yes. I'm completely fooled. Come along." The Director drags him through the wall. On the other side is another wall, designed to look like a construction site hoarding. Someone has posted a Moxy Fruvous concert ad, and there's a really great poster for the new Crash Test Dummies album. The Director says: "This of course is another red herring. But before we step through I want to make sure your dim little mind absorbs a few important facts. You are about to see the doorway to the Great Auditorium, a very large room containing an artifact and some extraordinarily precise measuring and recording devices. Your job is to fix the doorway, which is stuck, and not to rubberneck inside the Auditorium, which is none of your business. I have an authorization direct from Starfleet via subspace for you to read." The Director hands the repairman a pad containing the message. "Read it out loud, please." "`I promise not to look inside the door.' Hey, no fair, you tricked me. You must think I'm some kind of ignoramus." The Director and Witherspoon both make faces. The repairman glowers. "Well, ya made me promise. Let's go." They step through the wall. The camera moves up suddenly on the astonished repairman. He suddenly looks at his feet. The two historians nod with satisfaction toward the door. Cut to the door. It's a standard proximity-activated sliding door, jammed partway open. Beyond the door is a huge auditorium scattered with ancient ruins. At the centre of the ruins, pouring and cascading in a torrent of Time, stands . . . the Guardian of Forever. [Dramatic playout music.] [Commercial: Nurse Ogawa buys some lawn ornaments.] ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Enterprise in orbit. Riker's quarters. He's seated at his desk, pushing his mouth around with his hand and staring off into the distance. He stabs a button on the desktop and says: "First Officer's personal log. Another bad hair day. Received a message from Dad saying what a great son Tom turns out to be. They're going fishing. Message from Tom said he's dating several of my old girlfriends -- at the same time -- and even with his obvious two-timing (or should I say duplicity) they all say he's twice the man I was. Received messages from several of my old girlfriends confirming this. Ran into Deanna today and asked her if she'd like to go out for supper for old time's sake. She said she already has a date. Worf has been making inexplicable references to my beard. And Data I just don't understand anymore. Every time he talks I just want to push my face around and pull my hair." ^Bridge to Commander Riker. Data here. Come in, willya. I haven't got all day. Look, while the sun's shinin', make hay. Lead, follow or get the heck out of the way, that's what we need around here. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred^ "Riker here. What is it, Mr Data?" ^Well, we're up here orbitin away waitin for one little technician to do his work and the rest of us are just coolin our heels for hours on end. Back where I come from we call that a production bottleneck. Bad management by ours, theirs, or anybody else's standards. Lookit, if you come up to the bridge, I've got charts that'll lay this whole thing out clear and--^ "I'll be in Ten Forward, Mr Data." Time is slicing through the portal of the Guardian of Forever. It is a blizzard, the earth thrown up by mighty explosives, the churning wake of a great seagoing vessel. The expressions of faces, the postures of bodies, the motions of cities and nations across landscapes, all come to the surface and flow by in a moment's notice. Generations pass like gusts of rain. The door repair guy works his dustbuster back and forth beneath the jammed door. Smedley and Witherspoon are arguing. "I tell you, two planets geologically, ecologically and historically identical in the same quadrant can mean only one thing: an interdimensional quantum rift perhaps even a light-year across must have opened and closed at some point in the past in this sector." "You're telling me that there is no possibility of a parallel development within the same universe!?" "Of course not! The possibility is virtually infinity to one!" "If random chance is the agent!" "There is no evidence of intentionality in any of this!" "Oh ye of little faith!" "I can't talk to you!" The door repair guy gives the stuck door a few experimental jolts. "Hey, you be careful! You'll skew the results." "Do you want it fixed or don't you?" "Grrrrrrrr!" Two six-year-olds are running pell-mell along one of the curving corridors of the Enterprise's saucer section. They dash past various officers and crewmembers, some of whom laugh, others of whom show strong annoyance and a distinct inclination to interfere. Captain Picard, advancing toward them along the corridor, hears their approaching shrieks and giggles. When they stampede into view he addresses them in a loud Captain's voice: "Children! Who are you? Where are you going?" The first one squeaks, "We don't know!" "We're new characters!" announces the second, and they scamper on their way around the curve of the corridor. Riker strides into Ten Forward at a five degree angle. He steps over to the bar and scans the room. Suddenly his eyebrows leap and he grabs the bar with both hands, but not before lurching five more degrees out of the perpendicular. Troi and Worf are in the corner making kissyface. [Commercial: hypercaritosis.] [Bob. "W-e-l-l-l! Exciting episode! And how about that new Data, eh? I've got ... ah, Natalie Bartlett..." "Natalie Bartlett." "..and..." "Andrew Jeanes." "...Andrew Jeanes here on the couch with me tonight. Thanks, guys, for coming down. Now I understand you're both members of the National Capital FreeNet Star Trek Special Interest Group. That's like some kind of lobbying organization up there on Parliament Hill? Trying to get more Star Trek on the air? No. Well, tell me, how do you like the new series so far? Natalie. You're shaking your head, but is that a yes or a no?" "The new characters are going to have to grow a bit." "Andrew." "It's just another example of those profiteering Cardassians Berman and Piller further diluting Roddenberry's original conception. I guess now we're going to see Riker lose it and go renegade with the battle section of the Enterprise while the saucer section is left under the command of that nutty door repair guy, who'll probably join forces with a band of hapless individualized Borg and chase after him into some vast uncharted Bermuda Triangle in space." Bob looks from Andrew to the video cassette case in his hand to Andrew to the video cassette case to the camera.] +++++++++++++++++++++++++ Riker angles into Engineering and confronts the Chief Engineer. "Geordi, would you say I'm a pretty good looking guy?" "Ah, yeah, Commander. Not exactly my type, but pretty successful with the ladies from what I've heard." "Heard? What have you heard?" "Well, nothing really. It's just the sort of looks you catch every once in a while." "Looks? Like what? Speak, d****t!" "Hey, Commander! There's nothing to get uptight about. Everybody has their dry spells. You've been working pretty hard lately. Why don't you go up to the holodeck, program a nice jazz club, and relax. Everything is going to work out fine." Riker draws a deep breath, looks from person to person in the room, and leaves. Data comes up behind Geordi. "It's no good tryin to deal with a fella when he's in a state like that. You may as well just fire him and be done with the trouble. Better yet, just take him out behind the barn and shoot him. Save everybody a pile of grief. Why, I had a fella workin for me..." "You godless positivist!" "You goateed anachronism! Why the Federation put you in charge of this Institute I'll never know!" "Perhaps because of my eminent qualifications. I didn't get in as Smithwick's pet student." "Smithwick was a better man than you. And he published more than once a decade." "Smithwick's student, Smithwick's student." All the time the door repair guy is staring open-mouthed at the Guardian of Forever while absentmindedly scraping at the door track with his pocket knife. He is watching the Roman conquest of Gaul. Now Julius Caesar is getting it in the atrium. Ouch! All around the Guardian of Forever instruments on tripods are recording the passage of Time. An attendant is painstakingly adjusting the harmonics of one instrument. The door repair guy recognizes him. "Hey! Al Stewart!" Smedley and Witherspoon cut short their arguing and come over and grab the repair guy and shake him. Screwdrivers and various ball bearings roll away in different directions. "What did I tell you! Back to work! We're almost upon the Event!" "`Event', eh?" says the door repair guy. "So you believe he saw us." "I sensed a sudden wave of emotion. Surprise, an intense feeling of betrayal, nausea, physical pain . . . combined with an odd sensation of relief." "But all in all you'd say he is unhappy." "Yes." "This is very troubling. Under normal circumstances I would have already set matters straight with him through the appropriate ritual." "Normal circumstances?" "Klingon." "Worf, I hope that I would have a part in this ritual." "The contested love object often provides valuable first aid on such occasions." "Worf!" "Have I displeased you, snuggle-puppy? Strange. This affair seems to be triggering many human behavioural responses I did not know I had absorbed. I feel so . . . so . . .obsequious." "Excellent." Captain Picard presses the door signal outside Doctor Crusher's quarters. "Come in, Jean-Luc." He enters. "What is it, Doctor? Your message sounded urgent." "Jean-Luc, there's something I have to tell you." He blinks. He tries to think of something to say. "It's about us, isn't it." "Yes, Jean-Luc, it's about us. I've been trying for years to tell you this. I just couldn't think of the right way." "And now you've thought of the way." "Yes. Jean-Luc . . . I'm your first cousin." "What? My first cousin? How can that be?" "Your Aunt Manon was my mother!" "That's extraordinary! Dear old Tante Manon! What a small world! Oh, Beverly, I'm so glad you told me!" "Isn't it wonderful?" "I'm just . . . just delighted!" "You can't believe what a relief it is to get it off my chest." "Oh, I can believe it. Do you know, for years I've felt there was something you wanted to tell me, and . . . I was always too shy to ask you what it was." "And now I've told you." "And now you've told me. You know, it's funny. Deep, deep in the back of my mind I always felt . . . that you were going to tell me something about Wesley." "Ah, yes, Jean-Luc. That's the other thing . . ." Fats Waller has been pattin the piano keys for twenty minutes, just leanin down and kissin them every once in a while, tellin them jokes and snugglin up and pourin them drinks, while Louis Armstrong stands there with a pocket handkerchief hooked over his pinky finger and the golden cornet in his two hands, just listening and laughing and ready for that entry, and the drummer, Chick Webb, lord, is keepin time in the air, playin his snares and that high-hat, just playin away with his sticks in the air for that entry to come, and the holodeck doors open and a trombonist arrives, and he saunters up to the stage, and the three play him in, and the entry comes around, he limbers up the slide and wets his lips and there's Louis stating the theme and rippin out those variations and the trombonist hears the entry come around, he leans into the riff, he plays BoWWwowbobowbobaaaaptph..... and slaps his face with his hand while the music crumbles away around him and the customers express their rancour and disgust and begin to feel for guns and knives. He lurches from the holodeck with obvious symptoms of back pain, not even bothering to end the program. Louis Armstrong shakes his head at Fats Waller and says, "There's nothing for that boy now but drink." [Commercial: Labatt's Maximum Ice.] "Haven't you got that door fixed yet?" "It's a delicate instrument. No different from any of the others in this room. Stop and consider the means you use to gain your desired ends." The two historians gawk at the repairman. "A philosopher!" "No, sir, just an honest craftsman who strives to better understand his materials." "And what, pray tell, are the qualities of a good door?" "The same as those of a good beer: strength and smoothness." The historians burst out laughing. They laugh and laugh. Finally, the Director wipes his eyes and says, "Perhaps you can settle a dispute for us, being such a wise fellow. We are all aware that although, in the history of Earth, the Roman Empire began with its own indigenous, polytheistic religion which was subsequently challenged and displaced by a monotheistic cult originating in one of the empire's more unruly provinces, that monotheistic religion, on the otherwise identical planet of 892 IV, although it came into being on schedule, failed to displace the Roman pantheon for nineteen centuries. Why? Was it because of a single supernatural intervention, as I argue, or is it the result of a cumulative sociopolitical effect, as posited by Witherspoon? What do you say?" "Hey, I'm just a door guy." "THEN FIX THE DOOR, YOU IMBECILE!" The door repair guy, now royally cheesed off, boots the door. A pebble pops out from underneath and the door hisses shut. The door repair guy bends over, picks up the pebble, and holds it up for everyone to see. The Director bows sarcastically and turns to go. Witherspoon jerks his thumb in the same direction. The door repair guy rolls the pebble around in his hand and then, as the two historians step through the security cloaking field, he activates the door and whips the pebble into the Great Auditorium. The pebble travels in a long arc across the room and enters the time portal with a soft "plop". On the Mount of Olives James and John are standing to one side, viewing the crowd gathered to hear Jesus, and frowning. "He really has no concept of security, you know." "You're telling me. Look at these characters. Criminals, orphans, people who haven't darkened the door of a synagogue in years. Look at that guy! He's a leper!" "And here come the pharisees, just dying to stir something up." "Oh great, they've got a woman taken in adultery." The crowd surges around them, everyone trying to see how Jesus will handle this. "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone hey ouch!" "Look out! They're getting ugly!" "Apostles, surround the messiah! We're outta here!" The crowd pushes and pulls as Jesus' handlers get him clear and whisk him away. The Captain's doorbell chimes. "Come." The door opens smoothly, but sticks a little for the last few centimetres. Guinan enters. "You should get that fixed." Picard comes around his desk and considers the door. "By coincidence, the only qualified repairman is down on the planet." He taps his commbadge. "Captain to Transporter Chief." *Transporter Chief here, Captain* "As soon as the door-repair technician beams up have him report to my ready room." *Aye, sir* "Jean-Luc." "What is it, Guinan?" "Word has it you've chosen to retire." He takes a deep breath. "Yes, Guinan, I have." "So who gets the big chair?" He laughs. "Perhaps I've finally begun to see through you, Guinan. You're trying to make me regret my decision." "No. Not at all. I was just wondering if you'd put in a good word for me." "You want the job?" "Sure! I've watched you in action. It's just a matter of asking the staff for their educated opinions and choosing the most sensible alternative." "I think there's more to it than that!" "Oh, yeah? Like what?" "Well, there's years of training involved. And then there's that indefinable something." "Indefinable something." "Yes. In every Starfleet Captain it's a different quality." "What quality would you say you bring to the job?" "Well . . . archaeological knowledge." "Oh, excuse me. And I suppose someone who's as old as the hills and who's been all over hell's half-acre would have none of that." "It's entirely different!" "Well, thank you for explaining that." She leaves. Captain Picard exhales and paces up and down the room. The door chimes. "Come!" "Door Repair Guy reporting as ordered." "How was your mission on the surface?" "Uneventful, Captain. Is there something I can do for you, sir?" "Yes. Have a look at that door, would you?" "Yes, sir." The door repair guy opens his toolbox and gets to work. "I say." "Captain?" "What is that round, yellowish object in your toolbox?" "A doorknob, sir. One hundred percent brass. I got it from a demolition site on Beta III. I'm saving it up for a door that needs a brass doorknob just like that." "It's extraordinary. I didn't know there were cultures that still used doorknobs." "You find them here and there." "Tell me something, would you. `Door Repair Guy'. Is that your official technical designation?" "No, sir, it's my name. Everyone on my planet is named after the job they do." "What did they call you as a child, then?" "Bratty Kid, mainly." "So if you were to, say, become Captain, you would be called just Captain?" "Just Captain, sir." The deck lurches. Red Alert sirens begin to go off. "Picard here! What's going on?" *Someone has initiated saucer separation, sir!* "Override!" *I'm sorry, sir! All controls are down!* Picard charges out of his ready room, pausing only to struggle through the half-opened door, which is now stuck worse than before. He arrives on the bridge in time to see Riker's huge image on the viewscreen. Riker is seated in the command chair of the battle bridge. His hair is sticking out in all directions and his eyes are wide and radiate irrational desperation. Riker is shouting, ". . . and you'll never be able to find me. Never! N-e-e-e-v-v-v-e-e-e-r-r-r- . . ." "He's warping away at maximum speed. He's already out of communications range." Close-up of Picard's clenched jaw. Over his shoulder you can make out the ready room door opening and closing. [Overlay: "To be continued . . ."] ---Douglas A. McLeod (ai919@freenet.carleton.ca) =============== UPCOMING IN RIF =============== #52: Special Ayyam-i-Ha Issue (02/26/96) FROM THAT PESKY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: TNG/B5 Crossover IT CAME FROM THE BLACK SPACE LAGOON #53: Mundane Regular issue (03/02/96) STAR TREK COMPARATIVE COMANDER ANALYSIS: Question 1 STAR TREK: DOOR REPAIR GUY: 2. The Pilot, Part 2 RESISTANCE: A TNG Serial: Chapter 11: Undercover Chapter 12: A Gift from a Borg ============== THE FINE PRINT ============== TRYING TO LOCATE A COPY OF RIF???? WORLD WIDE WEB/FTP: http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/ htmlpages/adds/borgpage/index.htm; http://www.marshall.edu/ ~swann1/cborg2.html; ftp://fvkma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif INTERNET EMAIL:Request free subscription: 202-1240@mcimail.com LOCAL BBS: There are various BBS distribution centers (when you call, tell them you heard about their BBS from RIF!): RESISTANCE IS FUTILE, Bakersfield, CA (805) 588-9349; AMITREK BBS: Kissimmee, FL (407) 348-3365; WARPCORE: Long Island, NY (516) 243-1698; U.S.S. 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Send submissions to Oxnardus at the addresses notated below for consideration for a future issue. "RIF" is a non-profit fan publication. The editors retain editorial control and reprint privileges over the submitted materials and reserve the right to use the material in whatever way they deem appropriate. Submitted materials will not be returned to the sender. Copyright (c) 1996 by Kym Masera Taborn. Editor-in-Chief: Oxnardus of Borg Resistance is Futile BBS (805) 588-9349: Oxnardus Internet: 202-1240@mcimail.com ktaborn@bak2.lightspeed.net WEB SITE: http://www.tamnet.interbusiness.it/htmlpages/adds/ borgpage/index.htm; http://www.marshall.edu/~swann1/cborg2.html ftp site: ftp://fvkma.tu-graz.ac.at/pub/star-trek/rif Genie: K.Taborn (to be discontinued February 1996) Prodigy: HCMH17A (monitored monthly) US Mail: RIF BBS, P.O. Box 81181, Bakersfield, CA 93308