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---- [Door sequence: 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...] ---- [SOL bridge interior] [DOUG, DIANE, HELEN, and NYSSA are gathered at the console, talking, while NUMBER ONE mopes in the background.] NYSSA: (to DOUG) So, did you ever detect this meteor Adric's been on about? DOUG: Not a blip. Mind you, the Satellite's scanners aren't especially powerful, so we could've missed it. But then, you'd think that if it were all that large, we'd have still picked it up. NYSSA: Typical Swamprat, going on about nothing. Well, at least there's an upside to this. HELEN: And that is...? NYSSA: Whether there's a meteor or not, as long as Adric thinks there's one, he'll stay in his little shelter and not harass us. Until he wises up, we're free to do as we please! DIANE: Yeah, that's right! We can do whatever-- [A light on the console begins to flash.] DIANE: --or not. [presses light] ---- [Interior, Tegan World Order Headquarters] [The room's wall have been covered with sheets to prevent possible identification. Complex-looking electronic devices stand in th eforeground, while in th eback hangs a large banner that reads, 'TEGAN WORLD ORDER HEADQUARTERS'. Behind the console stand TEGAN (a pretty, short-haired brunette in a black trenchcoat) and VARNE (a tall, muscular, Fabio-esque man with long black hair, wearing only a pair of skin-tight trousers). BOTH are smirking in an irritatingly smug fashion.] TEGAN: G'day, running-dog class traitors. VARNE: Good evening, especially to the ladies out there. [adopts 'muscleman' pose, flexing arms and pecs] ---- [SOL] DIANE: It's the Olsen Twins. Joy. DOUG: Hello, Chick Guevara. Who's the meatball and what happened to what's-her-face? ---- [TWO HQ] TEGAN: To answer your sexist questions, this 'meatball', as you call him, _is_ Varne. VARNE: (to self) 'What's-her-face'? [sighs] I have _got_ to look into getting more speaking roles... ---- [SOL] ALL: (in chorus) Suuuuuuure... ---- [TWO HQ] TEGAN: Well it really _is_ Varne! She's a shapeshifter, after all, and so we decided-- ---- [SOL] HELEN: ...to get together for some 'Hide the Salami'? ---- [TWO HQ] TEGAN: NO, we did NOT, thank you very much. We just decided that, since you've taken it on yourselves to add that much more female exploitation to your aspect of this program, that we should try and balance it out with some appeal to the women in our audience. But we didn't have any men handy, so for the sake of the Revolution, Varne selflessly volunteered... [VARNE holds up a small sign that says, 'I'm getting an extra two hundred for this.' He puts it away before TEGAN spots it.] TEGAN: ...to take on the role of gratuitous male eye-candy. ---- [SOL] DOUG: Doesn't that make you just as exploitative as Adric? ---- [TWO HQ] TEGAN: Er... No. There are subtle dialectical differences that I wouldn't expect a counter-revolutionary like yourself to understand. [VARNE holds up a small sign that says, 'We had to. The ratings for our segment have been falling off.' He puts it away before TEGAN spots it.] ---- [SOL] DOUG: Whatever. By the way, have you heard anything about a meteor strike down there? ---- [SOL] TEGAN: [laughs] You mean Adric's silly ramblings? I've heard him babbling about that and it's pure and utter crap. [holds up newspapers] If there was anything to this meteor strike nonsense, the 'Guardian' or 'Mother Jones' would have said. However, I will say that I find his idea of an overarching theme of doom and destruction for the day's sessions to be a good one and I've decided to continue it. I was planning on sending you lot a nice, lengthy conspiracy rant, but I think this next fanfic will fit the mood better. Varne? VARNE: [flexing muscles] It's an oldie but baddie from the early days of alt.drwho.creative and by the time it is over, you will be envying the fate of its protagonist. It's called 'Death of a Soldier' and it proves that old fanfics never die, they just get dredged up and sent to you. TEGAN: Stop milking your lines and send them the fanfic, Varne! [VARNE flexes and poses his way to the console, then presses a large and conspicuous button on it.] ---- [SOL] [Various alarms, lights, and sirens go off as general chaos ensues.] ALL: Aaaaah! We've got fanfic sign! [ALL run off.] ---- [Door sequence: 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...] ---- [SOL, Theater interior] [All five enter the theater as usual and take their accustomed seats.] NUMBER ONE: (muttering to self) Great, Varne. Just rub my nose in it... NYSSA: I'm rather wishing there _was_ a meteor now. DOUG: I'm just dreading the thought of what all those perv authors on alt.mpt3k.creative will do with Tegan's latest plot development... [A screen in front of the five lights up and words begin to appear on it.] >----------------------------------------------------------------------------- HELEN: (singing) You just keep on pushing my love/Over the borderline! DIANE: It's Madonna's sister, Primadonna. > > _Death of a Soldier_ >by Richard Eberhardt HELEN: Hmmm... 'Everhard'? DOUG: I think I have one of his pencils... > >~START RECORDING > NYSSA: Gimme a beat! NUMBER ONE: (sourly) How about we put the quietus on the crap '80s music references? >~DATE (Earth Standard) : 3.March.2528 >~TIME (Ship's, 24-hour) : 12:00 DIANE: Even in the 26th Century, no one can set a VCR clock. > ><< Forward by *Michael*'s AI, Thoreau: NUMBER ONE: How clever. Name a super-advanced computer after a guy who sneered at the very idea of technological progress. DOUG: Thoreau is part of the Ned Ludd series of artificial intelligences. > The following is a series of recordings made by Captain Rick >Hunter DIANE: Hmmm... 'Robotech' crossover? That might be kind of interesting. NUMBER ONE: No, it wouldn't. 'Cause if it's a 'Robotech: Macross Saga' crossover, it'll have the Evil One in it. DOUG: (confused) You mean Khyron? NUMBER ONE: No, I mean Minmay. HELEN: What are you lot talking about? Who's Minmay? DIANE: (singing off-key) Stage lights! Flashing!/The feeling's smashing!/My heart and soul belong to yoooou... NUMBER ONE: [curls into fetal position] Make it stop, Mommy! Minmay's come to get me! DIANE: (singing off-key) And I'm here now! Sing-ing!/All bells are ring-ing! NYSSA: [grits teeth] That's quite enough, Diane. DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE, evilly) Your weakness is revealed, puny mortal... >after his escape from the Cybermen. Per his request, I am adding >personal commentary on his mental condition when I feel it is >neccessary. DOUG: (Thoreau) In my opinion, Rick Hunter is an indecisive wiener who can't make up his mind between a real woman or a snivelling teenaged bimbo twit who can't sing. DIANE: (to DOUG) A Lisa Hayes fan, are you? DOUG: Not so much that, as just someone who wishes Minmay would have an up-close and personal encounter with the afterburners on a Veritech Valkyrie. NYSSA: You two do realize that there are maybe three viewers who will actually get all these 'Robotech' references? >His instructions were to compile all his logs NUMBER ONE: ...and flush. NYSSA: [whaps NUMBER ONE on the head] Gross! >and jettison them in a emergency beacon at the time of his death >or his personal command. >> > >"It has been one month since I escaped from those mechanized >monstrosities, the Cybermen. DIANE: (announcer) The part of Rick Hunter will now be played by Doctor Smith from 'Lost in Space'. DOUG: (Dr. Smith) You cybernetic simpletons! You cacaphonous computerized clods! You malignant mechanical madmen! >::he studders as he tries to say the word:: NYSSA: 'Studders'? HELEN: That's a type of really, really macho speech impediment. >I have only a few hundred in scrip and these horrendous artefacts NYSSA: A velvet Elvis painting, two pink plastic flamingoes, and a ceramic rabbit. >::he lifts his cybernetic arm & leg up:: NUMBER ONE: Boy, those Mondas vacations really cost an arm and a leg! OTHERS: [throw popcorn at NUMBER ONE] Boo! Hiss! Get off the stage! >the doctors call 'enhancements.' My only companion is the ship's >AI, Thoreau. DOUG: ...and my volleyball, Wilson. >"I've just been dummed out of the Navy, DIANE: Too dumb for the Navy. That's like being too snotty for Harvard or too violent for the PLO. >they said I have gone through to much to have kept my sanity. NUMBER ONE: ...so they're promoting me to Congress. >I'd like to see them stiffs try to take out a group of armed >Cybermen with *their* bare hands!! NYSSA: And, we have angsty badass sign! HELEN: (Rick Hunter) Then, after disposing of the Cybermen, I encountered a squad of Daleks and bit them all to death! Then I shot down a Rutan cruiser with just my mean sneer! >::he grasps his head and moans softly:: HELEN: Saaaay... >Geez, I have a headache, Thoreau says I should rest, let him >control the ship. But I CAN'T!! No, I can't sleep. The >nightmares..." DIANE and NUMBER ONE: (chanting) One-two, Freddy's coming for you... ><<I should break in about here. Background check: > To days after escape, ALL: [shrug and raises their cups in a toast] To days after escape! >Capt. Hunter was found by a Earth Navy cruiser. He was then >transported to secotr HQ. The Navy interrogated him extensively, >attempting to find out what, if anything, he knew about the >Cybermen's base. DOUG: (interrogator) What's the frequency, Kenneth?! >His answers, however, were limited to incoherent babble, NUMBER ONE: ...so they gave him his own talk show on NPR. >he had experienced to much stress and was about to crack up. >The psychiatrist told the interrogation team that if they >countinued he would suffer a neural breakdown. NYSSA: His nerve cells would break down from stress? Do all humans share this debility? DIANE: (to NYSSA) I'm pretty sure he means _nervous_ breakdown. >They ignored her requests and went on with the questioning. DOUG: (interrogator) How many roads must a man walk down?! Who wrote the Book of Love?! Who put the whomp in the whomp-she-bomp-she-bomp?! >When they were finished with him, he was very instable and >was on the brink of losing his sanity, permenantly. In order to >cover it all up, the Navy "transfered" HELEN: ...him up to an isolated satellite, where he was forced to read crappy fan fiction for the rest of his life. >the psychiatrist and charged Capt. Hunter with treason. He was >aquited but still given NYSSA: ...spelling lessons, I hope. >a dishonourable discharge. DOUG: (announcer) Join the Earth Navy, where we've heard of this concept called 'morale', but have no truck with it! >This took place two weeks ago. He is not fully recovered but is >still capable of functioning without endangering himself too >much. HELEN: (Thoreau) However, he did nearly neuter himself when he attempted to 'manhandle his mango' using his cybernetic hand. DOUG and NUMBER ONE: [wince] >He has been experiencing flashbacks to his time in captivity >during sleep. I have monitored his brainwaves and constructed a >series of audio/visual simulations of his nightmares. NYSSA: [leans forward] Hey, now... This sounds promising! >He has instructed me not include them in this log unless he >specifically orders me to.>> NYSSA: Hmmph! No fair! >"I have finally found a purpose for my life, NUMBER ONE: (Rick Hunter) I'm going to take up professional monkey-throwing! >to eliminate each and every Cyberman I find. I am plotting a >course for Nigel II, DIANE: ...by way of Fred III and Jim-Bob VII. >the site of the last Cyberman invasion. Occording to NYSSA: ...Accam's Razor... >various rumourmills, the Cybermen have left a small force behind >to steal the system's resources and transport them back to their >homeworld. DOUG: What, _all_ of their resources? With a small force? DIANE: No, just specific resources, I suspect. DOUG: Such as...? DIANE: Y'know... stuff. Resources. >I will attempt to destroy them before they have a chance to leave >the system. > >"My ship, *Michael*, has been outfitted with some of the most >advanced weaponry Earth Alliance has developed. NUMBER ONE: Bought and paid for with the vast funds typically available to dishonored ex-Navy officers, no doubt. >As primary offense, I have HELEN: ...severe body-odor. >a forward-firing quad of laser guns and secondary is a top- >mounted dual turret particle beam cannon, NYSSA: One cannon in two turrets? >and a belly-mounted proton torpedo tube. DOUG: Sounds like you're loaded for bear, Ricky. But what kind of weapons does your _ship_ have? DIANE: A fully-automatic dual-mount radar-guided slingshot and a pointed stick. >Thoreau says that probability of defeating a predicted group of 3 >Cyberman cruisers, each with a small fighter contigent, and a >number of transports to be 1 in 2,000,000 by myself. DOUG: (Harrison Ford) Never tell me the odds! >A gamble, yes, NYSSA: No. A bloody idiotic gamble. >but not if I have help. HELEN: Of course, this being 'Doctor Who', there are always bands of generic freedom-fighters who may be easily contacted and are just waiting for a protagonist to come along and lead them to victory. NYSSA: (to HELEN, offended) Not necessarily! HELEN: (to NYSSA) Bet? NYSSA: [pause] ...no. >Rumourmill also has it that there is a small resistance force >composed of privateers, pirates, and smugglers in the area. HELEN: Told you. >If I could somehow gather them together, he says the odds >should be brought up to at least 1 in 3,000. NUMBER ONE: And of course, pirates and smugglers are usually the sorts of people who are just itching to submit themselves to outside authority in order to throw their lives away for some idealistic cause. DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) Captain Harlock. NUMBER ONE: Well, yeah, but aside from him, I mean. > >"Okay, spatial coordinates set, engines at full, general quarters >readiness. Let's go get 'em. Thoreau, start warp sequence on my >mark, 3...2...1...Mark! ALL: (shouting) SPOOOOOON! >::A high-piched whine eminates from the engines. DOUG: Somebody had put on a Mariah Carey CD. >Light engulfs the ship as it speeds its way to its destination:: > >"ETA is 2 days, 3 hours. DIANE: Unless he gets put in a holding pattern over Atlanta. >Until then, Thoreau, end log." > >~END RECORDING > >~START RECORDING > >~DATE (Earth Standard) : 5.March.2528 >~TIME (Ship's, 24-hour) : 03:35 > >"Okay. I've just arrived in the Nigel II system. NYSSA: Hold on. I thought it was going to take two days and some change to get there. It's only been one day, fifteen-and-a- half hours. DOUG: Maybe he caught all the lights just right. >I am orbiting a small moon of the 5th planet, just outside of the >asteroid belt that seperates the 5th and 4th planets. My plan is as >follows: HELEN: (Rick Hunter) Step One: Kick ass. Step Two: Take names. >use the coordinates provided me by my fairly reputable contacts >and locate the small band of privateers who are meeting to >discuss taking a stand against the Cybermen. NUMBER ONE: (Rick Hunter) I'll overawe them with my Aura of Angst. DIANE: Of course, angst-boy better hope that the generic freedom fighters don't decide he's a spy, since he's partially Cyber- converted. DOUG: (Rick Hunter, nervously) What, my arm? Why that's just a, uh... severe skin rash! Yeah, that's the ticket. Venusian Psoriasis, yeah... >From then on, I wing it. I hope to persuade them to attempt to >destroy the intruding forces, or at least make life pretty >uncomfortable for them." NUMBER ONE: Meanwhile, back on Earth, the _Neo-York Times_ editorial staff angrily denounces them all for 'disrupting the peace process with the Cyber Race'. DOUG: And in Europe, university students begin wearing metal pipes on their heads as an expression of solidarity with the Cybermen's valid cultural aspirations. ><Captain, incoming message: freighter *Pelago* is requesting a >visual link.> > >"Put it on screen Thoreau." > >::immediately, the visual representation of the immediate space >surrounding *Michael* is replaced with the image of a staunt, NYSSA: 'Staunt'? [looks at OTHERS] Any ideas? HELEN: It's a really silly taunt, along the lines of, 'Your mother has a wooden leg with a kickstand!' >black figure. He is wearing the obsolete uniform used by the rebel >forces in the Nagano Revolution of 2490 on the New Tokyo >colony. DIANE: ...a French tickler, snowshoes, and a leopard-skin fedora. >Bothe uniform and wearer look very worn-out and tired, as if >they've seen a lot of action in their time.:: DIANE: Rather like Helen, then. HELEN: (to DIANE) Meow meow, darling. But you need not try and hurt my feelings to get me to pay attention to you... >::the man begins to speak:: "I am Captain Jonas Dreklar of the >freighter *Pelago*. State your purpose and affiliation." > >"*I* am Captain Rick Hunter. My affiliation, DOUG: ...Robotech Defense Force, Skull Squadron, based aboard the SDF-1. NYSSA: (to DOUG) I think we've already established that it isn't the same Rick Hunter. NUMBER ONE: Which means no Minmay! Although, it also means no SDF-1 Bridge Bunnies, either... DIANE: (to NUMBER ONE) Being a woman hasn't made you any less of a sexist horndog, has it? NUMBER ONE: (to DIANE) It sucks, but at least if I want to see a gratuitous panty-shot, all I have to do is find a mirror. DOUG: (to NUMBER ONE) You worry me sometimes... No, scratch that. You worry me _all_ the time. >the enemies of the Cybermen. My purpose: total destruction of >the Cyberman race. Good enough?" DOUG: Oh dear. _Somebody_ didn't attend the Diversity Seminar. > ><<I thought this would be considered rude and quite hostile to >Capt. Dreklar. Evidently I've much to learn about human >behaviour.>> DIANE: No biggie. So do most of the humans I know. > >::Capt. Dreklar is rather taken aback by Huner's directness. His >face suggests that he is pleased with the passion Hunter put into >his purpose.:: HELEN: (Dreklar, simpering) Your passion pleases me. I have an opening for a new cabin boy, you know... > >"So, another victim of this wretched race, eh? DOUG: (announcer) The part of the _Pelago_ crew will now be played by the Mackenzie Brothers. NUMBER ONE: (Doug Mackenzie) Cyber-hosers at six o'clock, eh! Put on your tukes, pop some brewskis, and let's show these hosers what happens when you mess with the Great White North, eh! >We could use some more men at the 'conference' we are holding. >We will discuss NYSSA: ...reorganizing the Accounting Department, forming a new 'Quality' task force, our ISO 46000 certification status, and whether we can actually reduce the training budget to a negative number. We'll also meet our mysterious leader, known only as 'The Pointy-Haired Admiral'. >whether or not we should fight back before Earth forces find the >time to get here." > >"Yes, I know. I would gladly attend the conference." HELEN: He knows they'll have doughnuts there. > >"Good. Be on my ship in one hour. I see you have an old Earth >Navy *Scorpio* class interceptor. Retrofitted with some pretty >modern weaponry I'd think. DOUG: (Rick Hunter) That's right. Don't you just love e-Bay? >Use docking port 3B, located near my port cago pod. We await >your arrival. Good day, Captain Hunter." NUMBER ONE: (Dreklar) I've only known you for two minutes and you have some kind of Cyber-augmentation and are armed to the teeth, so naturally you can come right aboard. DOUG: (announcer) Join the Nigel II freedom fighters, where we've heard of this concept called 'security', but have no truck with it! > >"Good day, Captain Dreklar." > >::the screen then flips back to it's previous display.:: DIANE: (Rick Hunter) Argh! Stupid screensaver! > >"Thoreau, let's see what kind of ships we have here." > >::The display then switches to show scans taken of each ship. >Each readout shows the class, designation, and function of the >scanned ship. DOUG: (Rick Hunter) Let's see... There's the _SS Minnow_, the _SS Monkey Business_, and the _SS Pequod_. This sounds promising! >It also gives a predicted armament of each ship given radiation >readings and layout of various objects on the ship's surface. HELEN: (Thoreau) Either the _Pelago_ has a large-bore nuclear cannon in a ventral mount or it is very glad to see us, sir. >The display first shows the *Pelago*, a Merchant Marine antique, >dated Earth year 2475. NYSSA: Ironically, that's about the same time Diane can expect to be dated. HELEN: (to NYSSA) Not so, you meanie! All she has to do is say, 'Yes, Helen!' at any time. DIANE: I'd rather be dipped in Alpo and thrown to a pack of starving basset hounds. >It is outfitted with an outdated worm drive, a very efficient >sublight drive, and two large cargo pods. It measures about 800m >in length and 200m in width aftward, where the cargo pods are >attached, and 75m in width forward, where the cockpit is located. DOUG: The Jupiter Mining Corporation classifies it as a 'light runabout'. >The radiation readings suggest two large ICBM-sized EMP >missles as well as various types of beam weapons. NYSSA: ...including several Huge Phallic Weapons of Doom (tm). >Capt. Hunter quickly scrolls through the rest of the scans.:: > >"All right, I've got about 20 minutes left, we might as well dock >with the *Pelago*. Initiate docking routines, Thoreau. NUMBER ONE: (Thoreau) Sorry, sir, could you repeat that? I was busy thinking about how the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. DIANE: But not Hunter. His desperation is plenty gabby. > >"I'm going to stop the log and report back after the conference. >End log Thoreau." > ><<So far, Capt. Hunter has kept his emotions in control. He has >come a long way since he first set off from Earth 2 weeks ago.>> NYSSA: (Thoreau) At that time, his emotions were swinging about as if he were a character in a Keith Topping prequel, to coin a phrase. > >~END RECORDING > >~START RECORDING > >~DATE (Earth Standard) : 5.March.2528 >~TIME (Ship's, 24-hour) : 04:55 > >"I've just undocked from the *Pelago*. NYSSA: All right, hold on! He arrived in-system at 3:35. The conference aboard the _Pelago_ started an hour after that. And now he's heading out again twenty minutes after the conference began! That must have been one seriously concise meeting. DOUG: (Dreklar) I say we fight the Cybermen. What do you other Captains think? HELEN: (other captain) Well, I think-- DOUG: (Dreklar) It doesn't matter what you think! Notes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Six
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