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"Acting Captain's Log: As of 1921 hours I, Comm. Lance Armstrong, am assuming command of the USS Arr. I do so under less than ideal circumstances, as it seems that our captain, along with most of the crew, has been abducted by an apparently omnipotent alien being known as Tilde, who has chosen to mock us by stealing the form of history's great humanitarian, John Ritter. While I must admit I've looked forward to an opportunity to apply a more conventional approach to our missions, I must also admit that the arrival of this strange new vessel that clearly is more advanced than our own has made me wonder whether this is the best time to demonstrate my command skills. But until Captain Random is returned to us, I'll have no choice but to accept what destiny has given me. End exposition."
"I'm goosepimply," Bambi said with a cigarette dangling between her lips. "A message for the ages. Should I turn us around now?"
"No," Armstrong said. "No matter what the situation, this is a first contact mission, and we have an obligation to see it through."
"Commander," Sonja said with the kind of diplomacy only a ship's councilor could employ, "we are operating without a bridge crew, never mind a fully functioning vessel. Under the circumstances, withdrawing would be the best choice until we know more about what's going on."
"I understand your concern," Armstrong said, tugging on his uniform front as he sat down in the captain's chair, "but we know this is a test by Tilde. If we turn tail now, we could fail that test."
"And if we stay, we could fail as well," Sonja said.
"Which is why we can't second guess ourselves," Armstrong said. "Like it or not, our mission is black-letter policy. Regardless of the situation, we have to try to establish friendly contact with these aliens." Armstrong quickly cross-referenced the personnel files with the list of crewmembers still on board. He activated the comm. "I need Chet Hardslab and Jet Beefcake to report to the bridge. Nurse Cherry Granite, I need you to take over medical while the doctors are away." He caught the look on Sonja's face and shrugged. "Weird names?" She nodded. "Don't ask." Chet and Jet took over their stations as Armstrong mulled over the situation. "Bambi," he finally said.
"What, craphead," she replied into her coffee.
"Send a standard hail to the ship."
"Confederation standard or our standard? Because our standard is lower your shields and surrender."
"Confederation standard," Armstrong replied with a sigh. If he stayed in this position, there would definitely be some changes around here.
"No response," Bambi informed him, following it up with a smoke ring.
Armstrong tapped the arm of the chair in thought. "Open a channel to the ship," he said. He cleared his throat. "Alien vessel," he said in a loud, clear voice, "this is the Confederation Starship USS Arr." He floundered. "We.. would like to. open a dialogue with your ra-species. about relations with us and you. and us. Close channel," he said with defeat.
Bambi didn't move, glaring at him like a kindergarten teacher. "Done this before sir?" she asked without pity.
"Any response?" he asked weakly.
"They might still be laughing, sir," she replied, refilling her mug. "We can send it again in a few minutes. that'll give you time to come up with something even less coherent."
"Ens. Beefcake," he said, then stopped and silently cursed Random, wherever he might be, "scan the vessel."
"SIR YES SIR!" he screamed in excitement. Armstrong took one look at the overeager, to seriously downplay his reaction, young officer and slunk into his chair.
"It's not quite what you pictured, is it?" Sonja asked. Armstrong shook his head weakly.
"Perhaps you can give us a great motivational speech," Bambi suggested. "Your command of language is inspirational in and of itself."
"SIR! SCAN COMPLETE SIR! NOTHING DETECTED SIR!"
"What do you mean, nothing?" Sonja asked. "It's a ship out there."
"YES SIR! THANK YOU SIR! SENSORS CAN'T PENETRATE THE FIELD SIR!"
Before anyone else could comment, there was the quiet hum of a teleporter. They looked up in shock, every last person on the bridge. Those with weapons had their hands on them as they stared at the new arrival at the science station. Teleporting through shields was impossible, but the new arrival seemed disinterested in such trivia.
It was definitely humanoid, but so much more. From head to toe artificial enhancements were evident, from cybernetic sensors to prosthetic aids. At the moment its back was to them, but that didn't put anyone at ease.
"Hold your fire," Armstrong ordered, but still held his weapon at the ready. Regardless of the situation, he still had an obligation. He wasn't Buck Random; he wasn't going to shoot first and ask questions if he got around to it. First Contact needed to be handled by the book. "Greetings," he said to the new arrival. He floundered again. "This is the Confederation Starship USS Arr," he added.
"The man has a gift," Bambi mumbled.
"I'm sure that through open communication," he pressed on, "we can find a way to peacefully co-exist. There's so.. much.. whoa." Much like the rest of the crew, he was unprepared for when it, or rather, she, turned around. Her face was radiant, her hair long and full, and she curved sensuously. Somehow her implants, rather than detracting from her beauty, actually seemed to enhance her sexuality. But in contrast to her appearance her expression was vacant of emotion; it was as if they were just part of the scenery.
Sonja cleared her voice loudly. A few seconds later she cleared it again even more violently, punctuating it with a few jabs to Armstrong's shoulder. "Commander," she said through her teeth, "the intruder?"
"Yes, commander, I see her," he replied.
"Bloody hell," she said as she grabbed his laser away and stepped towards the cyborg. "You've entered this ship without permission," she said, "please identify yourself and your people. If you do not reply you'll be taken into custody."
She looked at Sonja, then at the laser in her hand, then back around the bridge again. Before another word was said, she vanished again, followed by a groan from the crew. "Bring her back," Chet said, a pitiful tone in his voice.
"I'd like to," Sonja said sharply. "I'd like to know what the hell is going on." Even as she finished speaking they saw a shape begin to emerge, and Sonja stepped closer, laser at the ready in case the cyborg brought a weapon.
"AHHHH!!!!" Nonek screamed as he reappeared behind his science station and flushed. He looked at Sonja's laser. "AHHHHHHH!!!!" he screamed again. This time he dropped out the bottom of his jar, a tiny parachute opening and cushioning his landing, where he began to slither across the room towards his back-up jar.
"Nonek!" Armstrong said, surprised at his own relief to see his science officer's return. "Was anyone else with you? Is the test over?"
"Of course it's over," Nonek snapped as his jar rolled up and scooped him up. The front opened like a compact disk tray and he was dropped inside. "~ wouldn't have brought me back if it wasn't complete."
"And you passed?"
"Of course I passed," Nonek said sharply. "Passed amazingly well. Can't believe how much I." he glowered at Sonja. "Okay, I've never had to lie before, all right? Happy now? I'm a failure. Now I know what it's like to be like the rest of you every day." The jar filled with fluid as he grumbled to himself. "I don't know how you people live with yourselves. Why don't you all just teleport yourselves into empty space and just end it?"
"Commander," Sonja said, "regardless of what Tilde might or might not do, these cyborgs are obviously a threat."
"Let's not be hasty," Armstrong said.
"Sir, they can teleport through our shields."
"Who can?" Nonek asked. "What are you talking about?"
"The alien with the nice software and all the right implants," Chet remarked.
"SIR YES SIR!" Jet added.
"Ah, you goofy mono-sexual beings," Nonek remarked with a condescending laugh. "I can't tell you how entertaining it is watching you all preen and posture in the hopes of mating with the opposite sex. All except for Lieutenant Jax, of course, who prefers self-stimulation."
"Nonek-" Armstrong began.
"But being a plant-based organism kind of requires it," Nonek continued. "That's why he's often caught touching himself in inappropriate places."
"Like where?" Chet asked.
"Oh, the bridge, the shuttlebay, engineering."
"Commander," he said to Sonja, "I do have to agree with you that, even though we're going to try to find diplomatic solutions, we need to be prepared if they turn hostile. Fortunately we have just the men in place for this kind of problem." He tapped his armchair controls. "Zero, we may need some magic from you. How's engineering?"
"Fine sir," Zero replied like the rock he was. "Anything you need, just holler."
"You're not missing anyone?"
"No, in fact we seem to have picked up an extra."
Armstrong blanched. "John Ritter?"
"Nope."
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "On screen." He was shocked as he saw, standing next to his chief engineer, the most famous engineer in the fleet. The miracle worker of the USS Entrepreneur himself. "Anvil LaKunta," he whispered.
"Commander," he responded with a nod. He was unreadable behind his specially designed instrument that allowed even the blind to see, the Programmed Retinal-Optical Prosthesis. "I assume you've already met Tilde."
"We've had that displeasure," Armstrong replied. "Do you know what happened to them, or to your own crew?"
"I assume that they've been facing their own version of Tilde's sick tests," LaKunta replied. "Mine seems to have come to some kind of draw for the moment."
Armstrong sunk at the news. If the finest crew in the fleet could only manage one crewmember to even break even, what chance did they have? But still, they had other problems for the moment. "Commander, do you know anything about any cybernetic aliens?"
There was an obvious flash off his PROP at the mentioning. "Female cyborgs in prismatic ships?" he asked.
"That's the one," Armstrong said.
"Yes, the Entrepreneur encountered them; it was why we were in this part of space when Tilde arrived." Despite the aura of confidence he tried to project his hands were clearly shaking, and he seemed to brace himself on Zero. "They're called the Sorority. Prepare yourself, commander, or they'll destroy you."
"BRING IT ONNNNN!!!!" Riprock screamed.
Words came from out of the empty air as Riprock brandished his gatling lasers, one on each arm. They seemed far too chipper (the voices, not the lasers, which in Riprock's hands weren't necessarily chipper, but definitely talkative) for the desolate wasteland that dominated his view as a cloud of dust in the distance signified approaching enemy forces.
"And the next competition is the Battle Royale, where one of our contestants takes on an entire army of angry soldiers. Who are our lucky soldiers today, Vic?"
"They're a lost division of Klinkon soldiers who disappeared after their commander mistook a black hole for. what did he mistake it for?"
"A very dark gray hole?"
"And speaking of gray holes, they don't come any grayer than our first contestant, Johnny Riprock!"
"YEAH!" he screamed. At the mention of his names his fingers tightened, sending several blasts towards the approaching Klinkons.
"Whoops, seems like he released himself a little prematurely."
"Some guys have that problem, Ken. So what team is Johnny on?"
"He's the chief security officer on the USS Arr, specializing in making small rocks out of large ones."
"Indeed, and I see the Klinkons are clearing the first hill."
Riprock screamed and let both barrels fly at the advancing soldiers. Energy flooded the space around him, heating the air to temperatures most people would pass out under. Instead, tears of joy ran down his face as wave after wave of Klinkons fell before him. Thousands piled up before him so that the next attacker force had to climb over the bodies of their comrades. And then, the sickening click of dry fire filled the air.
"Uh oh, looks like he's spent, Vic."
"That happens to a lot of guys who've gone this long, Kenny. Oh look, he seems to have a grip on things, however."
"He's going to finish the job manually?"
"I think he is!"
Riprock ran forward and proceeded to beat the advancing Klinkons to death with the empty lasers, teeth hitting the ground like spilled tic-tacs. Within minutes he stood on a pile of bodies, one broken laser held over his head as he screamed in victory.
It took a few seconds for Capt. Buck Random's mind to catch up with his body. It was a bit like watching you lock your keys in a car... there was simply no stopping the body from doing what the brain was just figuring out was a mistake. The more he became aware of, the more true that statement became. The blue powder leisure suit was the first thing, followed closely by the corsage in his right hand. He noticed a bouquet of flowers in his other hand at exactly the moment he finished ringing the doorbell. Random looked at the situation in much the same way as a mermaid who suddenly found himself in the cockpit of Apollo 11.
Random never felt off balance in his life, but finding himself in this position was a start. The finish was when the door opened. Most doors actually limited themselves to simple opening and closing, but in the hands of the alien who was behind it, it managed to offer a mixture of energy, foreboding, and for some reason, a hint of lavender. The alien regarded him with a wide grin on an even wider face. "Hi!" he said with a voice that made crazy appliance salesmen seem like Emily Dickinson. "You must be Robert! Come on in!" He grabbed Random and pulled him inside, his legs staying under him only out of habit. "Honey, Robert's here!" he called.
Random was dropped onto a couch. His posture was stiff, a reflection of how on edge he was. The alien plunked down onto the sofa next to Random. He slapped Random on the shoulder to reassure him, much the same way you might calm a frightened rattlesnake. "Nervous huh?" he half asked, half shouted. Somehow Random managed to stiffen even more. "Yeah, I was nervous my first tame. On a date, I mean, which is what this is. It's definitely not your other first time, if I make myself clear." He gave him a slap on the back that would have dislocated a shoulder on most men. "Want a drink?" he asked, holding out some amber liquid. With inner gratitude, Random reached for it; the alien snatched it away. "Hah! Only kidding, I know you're underage." He downed the glass in one gulp and set it on the coffee table. "Now, just so you know, there are some rules." Random's mind finally caught up far enough to lower his hand again. "First, be back by eleven. Second, no drugs, alcohol, or smoking, and that includes sticking those cactus needles up your nose like those kids on the sunny side of the moon are doing. Hooligans. Promise me?" Random nodded hollowly. "Good. Now, third, no touching. I know what you're thinking, 'cause, heh heh, I was a toucher myself when I was your age. Ha ha... boy, did a lot of touching in those days, come to think of it. Probably those cactus needles, they just go right to your head..." He seemed lost in his personal reminiscing. "Yeah, young people, hah, so full of life! But, listen," his voice finally dropped somewhere below bombastic and took a sharp edge, "you touch my daughter and I swear I'll kick your ass."
And suddenly, the world made sense again. Random perked up. Everything since ~ had whisked him away had been beyond his every experience, but... being threatened. Now that put Random back into his element.
There was a quiet pitter-patter as a pair of green feet came down the stairs. The girl reached the bottom and swept her hair aside in a manner she hoped was seductive. "Sorry I'm - Daddy!"
Random was repeatedly beating the father's head on the coffee table. On the third try the wood splintered and he landed on the floor in a heap. Random looked quite pleased with himself.
"Are you insane?!" she demanded. Random turned to look at her, and the confusion returned. He could hit her too... but for some reason a voice in his head said that wasn't an option. He reconsidered it, then rejected it again, much to his disappointment, since eliminating that had pretty much exhausted his options. He held up the broken bouquet for her, hoping that might help. "I'm not interested in your stupid flowers!" His face fell, then he looked about for the remains of the corsage.
The bell rang just as he realized what had happened to it. The girl stormed over to the door and threw it open. Capt. John Frenchy was standing behind the door. He was dressed in a full James Bond-style tuxedo. He held out a single rose and bowed slightly. "For you, mademoiselle," he said with a voice like honey. "Though the sun is out, it is as pale light t o the glow that what the devil!!!"
Random jerked up. He had extracted most of the corsage from the father's mouth and was pulling the last few bits out of his gill strips. His eyes bugged out.
"Random?" Captain Frenchy said in shock.
"Frenchy!" Random said, dropping the corsage. "It really is hell!"
Capt. Frenchy's glance flicked between Random and the woman, then gritted his teeth. "Buck," he said, "if you would be so kind..."
"You know him?" the woman said with contempt.
"I..." Random stepped forward, several steps behind as far as the uptake was concerned. Frenchy's arm shot out, grabbed his shirtfront, and dragged him out, slamming the door.
"What the deuce is going on?" Frenchy demanded. "What just happened? And what of my ship?"
"There was... I was there... then I was here... and there was flowers and no touching and, and, and there was John Ritter, JOHN RITTER! And, and then I beat her father up."
"Yes, I saw." His brow furrowed as he thought; it took a moment, since there was a lot of brow. "Wait a moment, what are you doing here? This is my test, why would Tilde drop you in here?"
"Test?" Random said. "What the hell kind of test was that; I got out of there alive, I pass." He walked a little ways away, calling to the sky. "Hello? Mr. Ritter? I passed. I know I haven't been to temple much lately, but I'd appreciate it if you cut me some slack."
"I'm quite certain, Buck," said Frenchy haughtily, "that Tilde is not a god."
"Yeah, sure," Random said under his breath to him before turning back to the sky. "Pay no attention to the blasphemer! Better yet, smite him! Just look for the shiniest, baldest head... that'll be him!"
John Frenchy looked back at the house; if he could only do this night over again, he thought. He sighed, then put a hand on Random's shoulder. "Come on; let me fill you in."
Random shrugged the hand off. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you're about to get smitten. Don't stand near the smite-ee, that's what I say."
As Frenchy turned back to rebuke Random, he suddenly saw him in a different light. A thought crossed his mind, and then, because it was so ridiculous, a second, similar one, joined it for the company. "Smitten," he said slowly. "Interesting choice of words."
On board the Arr, the tension had reached a near critical breaking point. In the face of this grim opposition, Comm. Armstrong did the only thing he could: he called a staff meeting. In the meantime, Chet Hardslab moved his controls to the captain's chair and stood fast, ready to act in the face of danger. "Ensign, report?" he asked.
"All systems functioning normally, sir," she replied.
"Mr. Beefcake, have you run those battle simulations?"
"SIR YES SIR! ALL WEAPONS ARE PRIMED AND READY, SIR!"
As the status of the ship was checked, it seemed clear that, with the exception of Ens. Beefcake's occasional reports, the bridge was serene and under control. This hadn't happened since it had been christened.
Armstrong sat in the captain's position in the briefing room. He'd called in the senior-most officers, which at the moment consisted of Sonya, Bambi, Nonek, Zero, and, as a gesture of camaraderie, Anvil LaKunta. The mood was grave.
"I'm sure we're all aware of why we're here," Armstrong said.
"Um, I'm not," Nonek said. "I thought we should be on the bridge, flying back towards Confederation space. You can't do that when you 're in the briefing room."
"I understand," Armstrong said. "We are in a difficult position, having to balance our duty to our missing shipmates against our duty towards those who remain on board. We have to weigh both."
"Agreed. I suggest we go home and throw them a heroes funeral," Nonek said.
"I'm afraid I couldn't, in good conscience, do that," Sonya said.
"Fine, we'll throw them the funeral, then go home," Nonek snapped. "I'll do it now. Ahem. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."
"No no no," Zero said in a low voice, "it's the other one."
"Is it?"
"I thought you knew everything?" Armstrong remarked.
"Hey, why would I know your funeral customs? Okay, um..."
"If I may, sir," Sonya interrupted, "while I don't condone abandonment, I would like to reiterate my opinion that we withdraw until we have the strength to face a potential adversary."
"So, you believe we should leave as well?" Armstrong said.
"Yes," Nonek said. "That's two votes for going, and one for never coming back."
"Commander," LaKunta said, "my entire crew is missing, but I have to agree that facing the Sorority without the most heavily armed ship available would be a fatal mistake."
"I understand, but we must think about the responsibilities of first contact." They were interrupted when a voice from the bridge door yelled "crap!" "What was that?"
"I think they asked for another speech," Bambi remarked, lighting up a Camel.
"I think that's another vote for leaving," Nonek said. "That makes four."
"We're not taking votes," Armstrong said sharply. "I'm trying to get your opinions on how we should proceed."
"Crap!"
"I find that argument succinct and crystal clear," Nonek said.
"First contact is a pivotal moment for the Confederation," Armstrong said. "It's not something we can afford to simply toss aside when-" The ship shook violently, accompanied by the word "CRAP!"
"I think that's another vote," Nonek said.
"Looks like a field's been set up," Bambi said.
"What?" Armstrong said. "How can you possibly know that?"
"Because the ship shook, craphead." Bambi drank some coffee. "The sensors do that whenever a field is set up."
"Yeah," Zero said, closing his eyes and concentrating. "Judging from the duration between shimmies, I'd say... a heavily bent gravimetric particle field."
The six exited the briefing room to the bridge. "Report," Armstrong said sharply.
"Sir," Chet said, jumping to his feet, "the Sorority has set up a field around this portion of space."
"Zero was right," Nonek remarked from his station, "it's more powerful than anything I've ever seen."
"What does it mean? Are we in danger?"
"You could say that," Nonek said. "We're trapped. We can't go to hyperspace."
The group slowly turned and looked at the Sorority ship looming on the display.
The Motion Picture
The Final Frontier
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