Third Novel "Fiver": Here There Be Dragons

[NAHTMMM]

Um, hi! Er...wait a moment please...

*nudges publicist* Hey, this is where I plug the new page on my website, right? Right? Or is it? ...Hey, wake up, this isn't that boring! ...Phooey, now I've gone and missed my chance I'll bet.


Umm, aaaaanyway, yes, this is my third assault upon the literary side of Trek. "Literary" being used rather loosely in all three cases :twisted:. Read and enjoy!

Here There Be Dragons

Ro goes Captain's bride on Picard, who is disappointed to discover that the "t" in "tachyon" does not stand for "tea". LaForge learns the hard way that one should never go in against technobabble when death is on the line.


Captain's Log: After dealing with several malfunctioning-holodeck incidents, a few mostly-successful attempts by alien races to take over the ship, and the results of Spot getting into Engineering and running over every last control panel in the place, we're taking five and doing some sightseeing. There's a beautiful stellar cluster-thingy nearby that for some reason has no name, and we're going to go see it and hope it doesn't suck us in or turn out to be a dog or give us any of the other usual nasty surprises.

Picard: Data, put the cloud up on the viewscreen.
Everyone: Oooooh. Ahhhhhh.
LaForge: I feel sorry for all you others who can't see all the nifty wavelengths I can see.
Picard: Er, tell me, Geordi, how can you see the cluster by means of wavelengths well beyond what normal human vision can see when you're looking at a screen designed to emit only wavelengths within human vision's normal range?
LaForge: Oh hush, don't spoil the moment.

Riker: So, Data, this huge cloud is basically tachyon soup?
Data: An intriguing comparison, sir. Extending the analogy, the young stars in it could be likened to chunks of potato, the gas that makes up the cloud itself could be likened to water, the--
Picard: Thank you, Mr. Data, that's quite enough. So this cloud would be fatal to anyone in any known ship that tried to go in there?
Data: No known shields could sufficiently block the tachyon bombardment, ours included.
Old Beat-Up Pleasure Liner: Sez you. I manage just fine, see? HA! In your face! Oh, um, wait, actually you're not supposed to see me.
Enterprise: Too late.
Pleasure Liner: Rats.

Worf: The liner has opened fire on us! With BB guns! This is such a bad day to die...
Troi: What are you talking about?
Worf: This is so embarrassing. We're going to be taken out by a jalopy with a peashooter...
Riker: What? Surely the shields aren't failing already!
Worf: Well, not yet, but when was the last time the shields held up well under fire without some last-minute technobabble already in place?
Riker: I see your point.
Data: The "jalopy" has released an escape pod. Now the jalopy has stopped firing at us and is firing at the escape pod.
Picard: Hahaha! That's hilarious! "Um, uh, we were just fooling around before. Yeah. Just to show you we can hurt you, we're gonna eject a sitting duck and blow it up." Oh, I'm so frightened.
Worf: Sensors show a living being in the escape pod. Repeated misses by the liner. Direct hit by BB gun.
Pod: Fwissssssssss... (swoops around erratically as it deflates)
O'Brien: Sir, I got the person off that ship before it blew up.
Riker: What? A transporter controller paying attention to what's going on? That's a first...
Liner: I am soooo humiliated. Bye. (blows up)
O'Brien: Oops, sorry. Didn't get any of those.
Riker: Now that's more like it.

Nayfack: Hiya, guys. I'm a secret agent man, I work for the Fed Conservation people. If anyone tries to tell you that I'm really part of the gang I'm gonna tell you everything about, and that I escaped to save my own hide, don't believe 'em, OK?
Picard: Sure thing! So tell us about this gang you don't really work for.
LaForge: And how you managed to survive that tachyon soup out there. I am so jealous! Come on, out with it!
Nayfack: Gang: stupid imbeciles. Survival: a hidden tachyon tunnel that only the gang knows about, the coordinates of which I somehow managed to memorize.
LaForge: A tachyon tunnel? Inconceivable! (faints from shock and excitement)
Nayfack: A tunnel sustained by a device put there by the Preservers.
Picard: The Preservers? Inconceivable! (faints from shock and excitement)
Nayfack: Reason: to poach dragons on this medieval-Germany planet in a huge void in the nebula's center.
(Silence.)
Crusher: You know, that entire sentence deserves to have someone faint from hearing it, and since no one else seems to want to do the honors, I will. (faints)
Nayfack: So, have I convinced you all to take me back in there so I can get killed by the gangleader for my stupidity?
Worf: Well, when you put it that way...

Nayfack: Okay, here we are on the planet. I'll lead you all to the gang's local contact, then give you the slip so you can be captured in privacy. Howzat?
Picard: Sounds like a plan to me. And Data, don't go acting like an android. Remember the Prime Directive, okay?

Picard: Ah, I see the locals are selling their wares in the marketplace today. Good thing we have such a trusty guide with us.
Data: Ooo, shiny stuff. ...Hey, where did everybody go?

Riker: Hey, where did Nayfack go?
Picard: Erm...fortunately, I had all of this figured out long ago. Obviously Nayfack is with the gang. Never trusted him, ever!
Everyone else: Wow, we believe you even though you showed absolutely no sign of doubting Nayfack until now. You're a genius! You must have had Doctor Crusher implant a tracking device in him so he'd lead us to the rest of the gang, right?
Picard: Uh, tracking device, yes. Yes, of course...

Graebel: I will now demonstrate that there is nothing wrong with the wine in my goblet by drinking it.
Picard: I'm convinced. We're safe. Just an innocent guy. Bottoms up, people! (They all drink)
Graebel: (snigger) Of course, that says nothing for the wine in your dented goblets.
Picard, Redshirt, Ro: Ack! Zzzzzzz...
(Graebel's henchmen come in and tie away team up and drag them out to be sold as slaves.)

Graebel: Well, before we discuss your missing pals, whom I know absolutely nothing about, let's relax by (snigger) drinking some wine. (wink)
Butler: Here you go, Herrs. (wink)
Data: Hmm. Herr Graebel, before we drink, you might want to look over THERE QUICK!
Graebel: (turning) What? Where?
Data: (switches goblets) A suspicious-looking shadow. Didn't you see it?
Graebel: No, but don't worry, it's likely just my henchm--I mean, just my maid. She's, uh, somewhere around here. ...You know, I could have sworn that the dented goblet was in front of you a moment ago.
Data: Heh heh, strange how the senses can fool one, eh?
Graebel: Hmm. Yes, indeed. --HEY! Are those your companions in the hall?
Data: (turning) Who? Where?
Graebel: (switches goblets) Oh, never mind, it was my mai--er, hench--no, my horseman. C'mon, let's drink.
Data: Sure. (They drink. Graebel stares intently at Data for some time. Data stares back, unaffected.)
Data: Give it up. I switched goblets on you. Sucker!
Graebel: B-but then I switched them back!
Data: (looks at dent in his goblet) Aw, nuts. I'm exposed.
Graebel: H-how d-d-did you do that?
Data: Um, I...spent the last few years building up immunity to iocaine powder?
Graebel: B-but I used gorklechin.
Data: Whatever. Don't ruin the quote.

Boss: You idiot, lame-brained, worthless poltroon! *ZAP*
Nayfack: GAK!

Scholar: ...and so we're being marched off to the mines to slave away until the sheer drudgery kills us.
Picard: Or until the dragons get us?
Scholar: You mean the "Reptiles Of Unusual Size"? I don't think they exist.
Dragon: ROOARRR!
Guards and Redshirt: GAK!
Everyone Else: AAARRRRGGH!
Scholar: My bad.

Data: Hello, Captain, Captain's Friend, Stinky Dragon, Dead Redshirt...
Dead Redshirt: Hey! I'm only mostly dead.
Data: Fine, whatever. There! You're free, and you're free, and you're free, and...
(All the freed captives, except Picard and the Scholar, run for their lives without stopping to help each other.)
Picard: Hmmph. Oh, well, what else can one expect from a bunch of unenlightened primitive humans?
Scholar: May I enlighten you concerning our utter lack of weaponry to use against this huge carnivorous hostile creature?
Picard: You do have a point, friend. Let's leave this place.
Data: Sir, you'll have to get some combat in soon, or you'll violate the minimum terms of the "Acting Macho" clause in your contract.
Picard: Oh, very well. Here we go.
(Whack. Bonk.)
Stinky Dragon: GAK!
Picard: Yawn. There, that's taken care of. Let's go see what we're missing out on.

Boss: Deploy the Menacing Technobabble of the Week! Muahahaha!

Enterprise: Ack!
Worf: The Enterprise has been mysteriously damaged! I suspect technobabble.
LaForge: Based on sensor readings, I think we were attacked by phased gravity technobabbles. They're orbiting the planet, doing drive-by, um, graviton phasings. So basically we're going to be subjected to erratically timed attacks, coming whenever the overall situation isn't immediately threatening enough.
Barclay: S-s-so, c-could-dn't w-we move out of, of orbit?
LaForge: No way! Communications could be conveniently restored at any moment, and I don't want to tell the Captain that I backed down from a bunch of technobabble!

Scholar: Who are you? I know you aren't from around here. You're so alien...
Picard: "Alien"? Rats! What gave me away?
Scholar: Your accent, for one thing.
Picard: Blast that dratted French accent!

Ro: ...So I did a "kiddies' movie" kick on the duke, and that's how I landed in the dungeons.
Prisoner: Ah. I don't know what "kiddees muvy" is, but that beats my reason for being down here.
Ro: Which is...?
Prisoner: I made a neutral comment concerning J/C. The duke's a violently diehard C/7 'shipper. ...Isn't it just awful down here? We'll be stuck down here forever, and that's if we're lucky!
Ro: I'm not worried. My friends will save me. Meanwhile I'll get to work on saving myself. Here's my good ol' hairpin. Just a bit of twisting, aaand...there! I'm free of that cell.
Prisoner: Oooh! Oooh! Please let us out too!
Ro: As you wish.
(The prisoners are freed, and attack the guards upstairs in an attempt to escape. The guards defeat them easily, killing most of them in short order.)
Prisoner: Oookay, just exactly what did all that accomplish?
Ro: Now when I'm rescued, I can claim that I was just about to overwhelm the enemy. That Riker is so insufferable when you're indebted to him...
Prisoner: Oh, I see. Not that it matters now. GAK!

Ro: Oo, a secret exit!
Riker: How do you know it's not just a secret entrance to a deeper part of the dungeons?
Ro: Well, you see...um...anyway, good to see you two. I was just about to overwhelm the enemy forces, but it'll be easier with help.
Riker: No, let's find out where this secret passage goes. I think the Enterprise is in trouble. We might need to find something.
Troi: How do you know? Have you somehow received a message through the interference?
Riker: Come on, Deanna. Have you ever known the Enterprise to sit peacefully in orbit for an entire story?
Ro: You know, he's got a good point.

Riker: Ooo, a secret Preservers base. ...You know, it isn't like I thought it would be.
Ro: Heh, what were you expecting, a room filled with balls of light meant to contain the spirits of Preservers, only three of whom have survived?
Riker: No, of course not. That would be just weird. I was hoping for a souvenir shop with monolith paperweights, though.
Troi: Speaking of spirits, excuse me while I go possessed on you. La la lala, I hear voices in my head, la lala, none of them hear me...

Various Redshirts, Plus a Yellowshirt Just For Variety: GAK!
Barclay: P-p-please c-can we l-l-leave o-or-b-bit n-n-noww?
LaForge: N-n-no! J-jusst g-get the d-dang sh-shi-p to sstop-p b-b-bouuncing arrround-d!

Picard: Picard to Enterprise. What's up?
LaForge: W-we're b-b-beeing attac-c-ked b-b-y a b-bunch of P-preserverr grravity mines!
Enterprise: Ack! ACK-K-K! AA-C-K!

Picard: Picard to Number One. What's up?
Riker: We found this nifty Preservers base. It's got lots of buttons to push, and directions on how to build an engine capable of Warp 78, and a baseball autographed by God, and oh yeah, there's a map of the galaxy showing all the worlds the Preservers messed with. What's up with you?
Picard: Not much, just rationalizing repeated breakage of the Prime Directive. Blow it up.
Riker: What, the Prime Directive?
Picard: No, fool, the Preserver base. Do I sound like Captain Kirk? Blow it up, then the gravity mines ripping the Enterprise apart will deactivate for no reason in particular, and we'll leave.
Riker: Well, sir, it's kinda sorta under the castle. That might sorta bend the Prime Directive just a little bit. Couldn't the Enterprise outrun the mines, repair, then come back for us?
Picard: You're forgetting that that base you've found is merely an inanimate object, while there are a thousand souls on the Enterprise. Lives are more important than things, Number One. Always remember that.
Troi: I'm sensing a great deal of rationalization, deliberate denial of reality, and hypocrisy.
Ro: From the Captain?
Troi: Well, yes, but mostly from the author.
Author: Hey, continuity is the most important thing of all! I can write another story about finding a Preserver base if you really want--although I?d have to blow it up, too.

Picard: So, that's that. ...Where is Counselor Troi?
Riker: She's off sulking in her room. She's upset that none of the voices in her head would talk with her.
Crusher: Oh, is that why she was stomping along the corridor, whining about people ignoring her because they found her too boring?
Riker: That was the immediate cause of it, yes. The operating word here being "immediate".
Picard: Now where is Worf? He isn't still mad because he had to wear that goofy costume, is he?
Crusher: No, he's sulking because both of his subplots were left out of the fiver.
Worf: (over the comm) They were glorious I tell you! Glorious! I used the holodeck twice and it didn't malfunction either time!

(The Enterprise warps off at Inconceivable Speed.)
THE END