[The bots and Mike are surrounded by several placards, posters, and piles of paper. Tom is wearing a stormtooper helmet on his head] MIKE: Well, guys. Now that I've given you an arts & craft thingie, let's see what you've come up with. TOM: [voice muffled by the helmet] Well, Mike, we've wondered what the heck is the big deal with the Special Edition of Star Wars! If you ask me, a bunch of special effects isn't going to add much to an already fabulous movie except create a large wad in George Lucas' wallet! CROW: Or rip OUR wallets a new one. TOM: Exactly! HOWEVER, since today's experiment is BOTH Star Wars AND Bubblegum Crisis, we created our OWN special editions of "A NEW LOOP"! MIKE: Uhh, how can you do Special Editions of something in TEXT? TOM: Artistic License. MIKE: [chuckles] Ah, I see. [motions to their projects] Please, show us what you've got. CROW: Ok, now in THIS Special Edition of "A New Loop", much like Jabba the Hut's reappearance in the first movie as a slug... TOM: [cutting in]...Which, was originally, a fat Irishman... We weren't quite sure what exactly George was trying to cover up with ol' Jabba. CROW: Anyway, we thought, why not make Rick, the author's alter-ego, take off the make-up, and have the description portray him as real life would! TOM: [motions toward a placard with a description in quotes; reads from it] Now, THIS is the original paragraph: "It was a man, to Linna's relief, not some kind of weird alien monster. He looked to be in the early 20's, wore a orange-yellow jumpsuit with torn open holes, had short, spiky black hair and green eyes that were only half-awake." CROW: And OUR Special Edition version of the descriptor: "It wasn't a man, to Linna's hormonal relief, but a weird alien monster unlike any she'd ever seen. He looked to be in his early 20's, wore a pair of shredded-knee Levis' with torn open holes, and a beer-stained t-shirt that barely managed to conceal his hairy, rubber-like gut. He had long, greasy hair and dark circles under red, swollen eyes which resulted from too many nights worrying about a crossover which would never pan out." MIKE: Geez, guys. That's kind of mean... TOM: Hey, don't worry Mike. We've got lots more to make up for that! MIKE: Such as...? CROW: Well, much like the SE version of "Star Wars," besides the addition of Jabba, there will be many new things added to the background! TOM: Right! [motions to a another poster] Now, here is the original scene: "She took a look around: they were in the center of what appeared to be a giant hangar bay, littered with odd-looking crates, barrels, and various other items which did not look like anything on Earth." CROW: And, now, our "modernized" scene: "She took a look around: they were in the center of what appeared to be a giant hangar bay, and, was in fact, exactly that: a giant hangar bay. It was littered with odd-looking crates, barrels, two small containers labeled "T. Leary", and "G. Roddenberry." In the corner, a small suitcase was marked, "Z.B. H.O.G. On top of a large pole, was impaled the writer, having been killed by rogue, 'Fiction Troopers'." MIKE: I don't know about that, you two. Those were kind of obscure, and...well, frankly, pretty WEIRD. TOM: Well, be glad we didn't take the sissy way out and put in a MIR joke, Nelson. CROW: Yeah, unlike SOME writers, we like to challenge our readers a little! Look, if you're not interested, Tom and I will split the royalty and not leave a DIME for you! MIKE: Alright, go ahead...but, remember, I'm under protest. TOM: (annoyed) Well, I think we WILL proceed!! Here's an addition that is guaranteed to make people FLOCK to the Special Edition of "BGW: A New Loop!": BUBBLEGUM WARS The Knight Sabers adventure in Star Wars universe. -------------------------------------------------- THE END! MIKE: I must admit, that one is perfect! CROW: Pfeh! How the naysayer has crumbled! [ALARM goes off] ALL: STORY SIGN! [...1...] [...2...] [...3...] [...4...] [...5...] [...6...] TOM: And I'm thinking of digitally enhancing the Sabers' softsuits so that there's some ACTION in that jail scene... MIKE: That's enough, Tom. Thank you. [places Tom in his seat] ALL: [sit down] ...continued from part 2... CROW: Electric Boogaloo! [Inside the spaceborne Falcon] MIKE: Jane! Stop this crazy thing! "Think we gonna make it?" Rick said, CROW: No! TOM: We can only hope. holding on to the back of a seat for balance. The cockpit were obviously not intended for these many people, but taking a look around he discovered that the others had all settled in somehow. MIKE: Actually, they're used to the subway. TOM: That would explain the armor as well... Linna was right by him, standing uncomfortably (or is it comfortably?) close. He glanced up at her through the lifted visor, wishing now that she wasn't wearing the sleek but concealing armor. CROW: Hey, I wouldn't mind looking at Linna without her armor either! TOM: Hentai! MIKE: You know, I've seen that armor she wears. Exactly what is it Rick wants to look at that it's supposed to be concealing? CROW: And you get after me for comments like that? "Not a good sign if you ask me," Lando's words stopped his mind from wandering off on its own. CROW: "...at which point, Han stomped on it with his shoe." TOM: Yeah, who knows where would have ended up. "They didn't try to stop us then, which probably means that they want to blast us in space." "We'll be out of turbolaser range in a second...wait, we've got company." MIKE: Lando, your mother-in-law's here! Han said at the helm, calling to everyone's attention the three ominous yellow blips on the sensor grids, closing in fast. "Alright, hang on to your skins and suits--we are in for a bumpy ride." TOM: Skins and suits? What, is this a pick-up basketball game? Despite the warning, several of them still lost footing as the ship's rear deflector shield took a direct hit. Rick found himself face down on the floor. CROW: Obviously Linna has decided to take a more dominant role in their relationship. TOM: Hehehe. Coming to his knees, he saw out of the forward viewport one of the attackers who had overshot and swung into their path. ALL: The terrifying roar of the Twin Ion Engine coming out of the Falcon's sensor MIKE: Soooo... the TIE fighter's IFF code is an engine sound effect? betrayed the enemy's identity long before the squared-off solar panels and central pilot compartment became visible: it was a TIE fighter. CROW: Benedict Vader. "Damn, don't you have some weapon on board? Not even a frigging pea-shooter?" Priss swore, furiously picking herself up from the deck. TOM: [as Priss] I am SO furious with myself now! Han's eyes narrowed at that last word, but decided to let it pass. MIKE: [as Han] You're lucky my SHIP'S here, man! "Lando, start up the starboard laser. You go get the port one." He pointed to Rick who was already hurrying toward the gun well. CROW: But Rick fell down, and broke his crown... T&M: Huh? CROW: "Well." You know, "well"? The water well? (weak laugh) T&M: *Sigh* After strapping himself in, TOM: C'mon! You and Linna can play your little games later! Rick took a moment to reorient to the changed gravity inside the well, then he powered up the laser cannon. Two red, grid-lined panels appeared on the targeting computer, turning at parallel angles and keeping the digital representation of a TIE fighter between them. Yellow bolts of energy streaked across the viewport as the TIEs coordinated their attacks from three directions. TOM: Suppose someone should clue Rick into the fact that TIE fighters fire 'green' laser beams? CROW: Aren't they yellow? Rick tightened his grip around the firing lever, swinging the cannon barrels sideways to track the fast-moving opponent. He waited until the targeting cross showed dead center on the cockpit of the fighter, then fired. Han threw the Falcon into a tight turn at that exact moment, avoiding the TIE's returning fire but also made his shot go wide. MIKE: (announcer voice) Ooooo! And the shot goes wide! Rick tried again, letting out a short burst from the fully charged laser. But again the enemy managed to evade, having sensed his intention somehow. TOM: Call the Imperial Psychic Network now and get the latest moves of those Rebel Scum in your next battle absoutely FREE! "Ooh, almost." someone said behind his back. Rick peeked over his shoulder and saw Nene and Linna leaning over the edge of the gun well. "Thought you can use some help, no?" said Nene. CROW: No! TOM: Yes! MIKE: Maybe! CROW [Rick]: Well, from Linna yes, from Nene no. TOM: Of course... MIKE: (cuts him off) NO, Tom. "Nothing you can do here, sorry." he replied flatly, "Go back, you'd be safer in the cockpit." he added as the Falcon shook from another blast. "Hey, what is this? Big-man philosophy?" MIKE: [as Rick] I'm huge! Nene made a face. TOM: Nene, the new Mrs. Potato-head! "C'mon, just do what you need to." beside her Linna prompted. CROW: Aw geeze Nene, couldn't you have done that *before* we left! Nene shrugged and pulled down her visor. Her suit's All- dimensional Array singled out the silhouette of the TIE fighter and began tracking it. MIKE: Lo-Jack for Imperial Fighters. On her HUD, color-coded cones outlined its possible flight path as she utilized the same program used to trace boomers. TOM: Great, Nene has a 21st Century Etch-a-Sketch in her suit. "He's gonna turn left." she made the prediction with full confidence. CROW: Confident, secure and dry. TOM: [as Nene] I feel fresh! "What? How do you..." Rick swallowed the rest of the sentence as the TIE veered off sharply in the said direction. But his triggering finger hesitated slightly longer, making the laser bolt miss by a very narrow margin. "Okay, this time stay about one second ahead of him," Undaunted, Nene continued to track. "And fire when I tell you." MIKE: Don't fire until you see the dark, dull glow of their masks! Convinced, Rick kept quiet and concentrated on following the fighter's flight, centering it in the lower-left quadrant of the crosshairs so that the laser would stay ahead of it. CROW: Huh? TOM: How can you center something when it's not even in the center of your crosshairs?! MIKE: Don't even try to figure that out, guys. Alerted by the near-miss, the enemy pilot flew more cautiously, MIKE: "...and if you can't be good, be careful." TOM: Geez, Mike. That rates a 9.9 on the "Obscure-O-Meter"! pulled a series of steep evasive but staying more or less near the Falcon, still wanting to finish them off. "Now!" Rick squeezed the lever reflexively at Nene's call. CROW: I'd squeeze my lever at Nene's call, too. MIKE: CROW! As if programmed, the TIE fighter broke off a long dive at the last second--and ran right into the barrage of laser fire materializing in the space empty a split-second before. The wings flew apart as the unshielded hull burst into flames. TOM: Another disaster, brought to you by Valujet. CROW: Thank you for flying Northwest! An instant later the engine exploded, leaving behind nothing more than a cloud of heavy metal particles. "Yahoo, YES!" he let out a triumphant yell. Turning around, he thanked Nene heartily. TOM: [as Rick] Woo-hoo! We effectively ended human lives! Whoop whoop! "Good job, you two." Linna congratulated them both, but gave him an approving smile. MIKE: Hey! I thought it was Sylia who handed out the approving smiles! TOM: Wrong fanfic, Mike. "Got the other one." at the same moment, Lando shouted from his turret at the other end of the ship. "Nice shooting, kid." The two gunners gave each other a thumb-up across the access tube. CROW: Ow! How're you supposed to grip anything now? "Don't get cocky, guys, still one left to go." in the cockpit Han said as two of the three blips faded from the sensor screen. MIKE: Man, I'm getting sense of deja vu again... "Can't we outrun him?" Mackie spoke for the first time. TOM: Mackie's actually here? I forgot all about him! MIKE: Nice to know that Rick decided to endow him with some generic dialogue. "Nope. I've got to stay on course for the next minute to calculate the jump to hyperspace." MIKE: That's right, don't want to fly through a star or a black hole, that would end your trip real quick. TOM: Mike, can you give it a rest. CROW: Yeah, will you quit pointing out all the sequences the author has ripped off from "Star Wars"? MIKE : Yeah.. well I'm waiting for an original scene, okay? CROW: Keep waiting, Nelson. "Let's hope he'll go away then." Mackie said hopefully. TOM: I hope... CROW: ...hopefully. MIKE: Hey, ease up guys, this story DOES run on double redundancy, remember? But it was only wishful thinking, as Rick had known: oblivious to the lose of its two wingmates, the third TIE trailed behind at the Falcon's six doggedly, ALL: [barking noises] sticking to the strict order of total elimination. TOM: Eliminate with extreme strictness! >From his position in the gun well, the four sharp-edged wing tips were clearly visible, extending back into two bent solar panels, which were slightly longer than those of the TIE fighter--but a perfect fit with the schematics of the TIE interceptor he remembered so well from the rigorous training back at the Alliance War College. MIKE: Hmmm, 'Alliance War College'...is that in the Pack 10? It moved even more swiftly than the Falcon, thrusting in from a blind spot and edging closer. Rick let out short bursts of laser whenever it strayed into his field of fire, but he feared that despite it the pilot would soon be given a clear shot: when the ship's blasters power down for the jump to hyperspace. CROW: Oh, WAY to plan ahead, guys! Han knew just as well. There was no other choice: the jump point was fast approaching--but so was the TIE interceptor. TOM: And hopefully the END of the story... MIKE: NOT quite yet, Tom. TOM: Ohhh.... "We've gotta crank up the rear shield or else one more hit and we'd be sucking vacuum." having just returned from the gun well to take the co-pilot's position, Lando cautioned him of the diminishing red layer on the shields indicator. CROW: Look! Crest really DOES work on reddish, plaquey build-up! "Artoo, see if you can do something about the aft stabilizer." Han told the little droid whose real job was astromechanics. CROW: Really? I thought it was saving Luke's bacon. As he spoke, four laser bolts whizzed past the ship, streaking away into the great void spread out before the front viewport. "Better make it fast too...Will somebody pull that lever over there?" TOM: It's the one marked 'deus ex machina' too busy dodging the shots, he indicated with a simple sweep of his arm. "I'll get it." it was Priss who replied, to everyone's surprise. To avoid kissing the deck again, she had wedged herself in the doorway to the cockpit for most of the part, but since the thing was closest to her she decided giving a hand won't hurt-- especially when their collective skins are at the stake. She CROW: Wait... I thought Priss was suits? whirled around and stared down at the rows of switches. "The one on the left?" "Right." MIKE: Wrong. "You said it." Priss pulled it down hard. MIKE [reaches over and holds Crow's beak closed]. An instant later, the Falcon was rocked by a minor explosion under the hull, as if a chunk of it had flown off. Half the things in the cockpit bounced high enough to touch the overhead, living or not. "Oh great! You just jettisoned our only escape pod!" TOM: Humor inspired by Abbott & Costello. Han scowled, hanging on to the instrument board to keep his seat. - God help me. First there was Threepio, now...- "It's not my fault! MIKE: Didn't work for Han, didn't work for Lando, and it's not going to work for you! You said the right..." Priss glared back at him, but was interrupted by another loud boom over the sensor relay. It sounded somewhat distant. Barely recovered from the first blow, Lando wore a puzzled expression. "What was that?" TOM: Sound in space, a physical impossibility. CROW: You wanna explain the engine noises of the TIEs, then? As if to answer his question, a broken piece of solar panel, covered in crackles of surging energy and entangled together with a sizable chunk of the escape pod, drifted past the side viewport; at the same time, the last remaining yellow blip on the sensor grids shrank to nothingness. "Ha...guess, er...guess I knew what I was doing." said Priss ALL: [snickering] CROW: Yeah, right. Try another one Priss. after a moment of awkward quietness, looking both self-aware and complacent. -Don't know how I pulled this one off, "feminine intuition" maybe?- MIKE: Feminine? Priss? she thought amusingly while others gaped slack-jawed, not believing their blind luck. TOM: Neither are we. CROW: The 'Deux ex machina' lever was apparently mislabeled. "Well, we sure won't be needing that pod anymore." Nene pointed out for everyone's benefit. MIKE: While we would usually reserve this for Mackie, it somehow fits here. ALL: SHUT UP, NENE!!! By this time, the Star Destroyer was far out of range, a barely-visible, shadowy patch against the star-sprinkled blackness. TOM: Nice metaphor. No other pursuers registered on the sensor, leaving the Falcon to cruise at leisure. CROW: The LOVE BOAT! Exciting and new! -A close call, no worse than any others.- Sylia sighed wearily, overtaxed body sagging into the all-embracing comfort of the hardsuit. -At least we don't have to worry about boomers anymore.- But even as the notion came into mind a cold wave of uncertainty washed over her--the calling of past legacies and future challenges. MIKE : I'm going to star in *what* fanfic? CROW: GET MY AGENT! Engrossed in her own inner world, Sylia closed her eyes as the diamond sparkles alongside the ship flared into starlines... TOM: Well, that looks like the end! CROW: Wow, that seemed kind of long to me. [starts to leave] MIKE: [holding Crow back] Uhh, hold on Crow. (Scene: the Millennium Falcon enters hyperspace. The camera then gives a slow pan of the surrounding area, at last bringing into view a space platform: the seat of the High Command of the Imperial Navy. Swarms of fighters are on patrol around the base's perimeter. Further back, scores of capital ships lay breezily MIKE: Lay breezily? How do you do that? against a swirling, cloud-covered planetscape, ranging from pre- Clone War Dreadnoughts to monolithic Super Star Destroyers. CROW: Ooh! Mike, can we have one of those? TOM: Crow! Where would you put it? MIKE: Uh.. where did they get *more* SSDs? The only one the Empire had was blown up in "Jedi". TOM : Mike... stop trying to reality check this, you'll only hurt yourself. Streams of light were floating between the impossibly huge shapes and the equally enormous base itself--tugs, heavy lifters, and cargo ferries. A squadron of delta-winged TIE Defenders flies through the brimming traffic unperturbed, in a perfect "V" formation. CROW: Hmm....looks like them Imperial Fighters are headin' south a little early this year, Jethro. TOM: Looks that way, Pete. The lead craft soon homes in on the running lights of the hangar deck, which protruded like a tentacle from the base platform.) TOM: You were right, Crow. Tentacles DID figure into this! CROW: Well, it's anime. What did you expect? [Inside the Imperial base] Darya Lang strode into the Central Hall briskly, head erect and chain held high CROW: Exsqueeze me? TOM: Uh... I think that's supposed to be 'chin'. MIKE: Either that or this has turned into a lemon story behind our backs. CROW: Cool! despite the discomfort the sudden brilliance brought against her eyes. MIKE: She's holding drugs up to her eyes? What? TOM: Privateer junkie. The spacious chamber was lavishly embellished, looking more like a palace than a command center. CROW: Well, with Congress being the way it is, I'm not surprised. Reflective marble floor echoed under her footsteps while sunlight shone through the crystal dome at the apex of the vaulted ceiling, splitting into bands of rainbow colors as it went past the natural prism. TOM: [begins to tear-up] I've never seen a more beautiful run-on sentence. BELLDANDY: [lecturing] See what happens when you use up all your commas in the beginning of the fanfic? You don't have any left for the end. CROW: Hey... MIKE: Uh... did I miss something? -Those Sellirian crystals alone would cost a Star Destroyer.- Darya reflected bitterly and glanced around again at the resplendent surroundings--so different from the bleak, spartan quarters of a warship, or the dimly-lit, cramped cockpit she was in moments ago. -And that's where I'd rather be right now.- She averted her TOM: Uh... which one is it? CROW: A Star Destroyer? MIKE: The bleak, spartan quarters of a warship? TOM: Or a dimly-lit, cramped cockpit? CROW: Find out on the next episode of "Soap"! studying gaze and fixed it straight ahead as others began to turn their eyes onto her. It was not a pleasurable experience, as she had learned far earlier. She could almost feel the heat of those scrutinizing stares burning on the nape of her neck. -Maybe my flight suit's too tight.- she kidded herself, knowing better at heart that even though she did cut a striking figure in the formfitting outfit, all these unwarranted attentions were probably due to the fact that she was the only female squadron commander in the entire Imperial Navy. CROW: No, it's the suit. TOM: Bunch o' Imperial pervs. MIKE: Hey, it works for 7 of 9... -What a bunch of mindless fools: most of them have never seen frontline combat, yet they talk of the war as if it's merely a game of sabbac cards.- Darya thought disdainfully. She was right: most of the people present were not with the Fleet, but were instead bureaucrats, civilian officials, merchants, visiting dignitaries, and most annoyingly, lobbyists sent by discontent Imperial governors who quarreled greedily for the acquisition of new Imperial garrisons--a considerable drain on their forces that was yet to recover from the irreparable blow at Endor. MIKE: [chuckle] It IS Congress! CROW: Well, except for the Imperial and Endor parts. -But our chance to turn the tide on the rebels might have come at last, if half of what they say about this new Lord Commander is true.- TOM (NFL Announcer voice): But for Vince Lombardi and the Green Bay Packers, there would come another day! The news of his latest conquest came in just four days ago: a whole squadron of Calamari Star Cruisers wiped out in orbit around Sullust, at the cost of only two Nebulan-B Class Frigates. Darya herself had taken part in that battle, which brought the number of her kills up to ninety-five. MIKE: Wow, sounds like she's been playing Wing Commander. TOM: Well, the writing is right up to par then. CROW: If Mark Hamill IS in this, I'm leaving. MIKE: Well... technically, he is. Half a dozen more victories like that, then Corucsant itself maybe within reach. Darya paused briefly before the closed doors to the Lord Commander's office chamber, checking herself over. Giving the spotless flight suit an adjusting tug, CROW: Making sure plenty of cleavage was showing... TOM: Must be bucking for promotion. she cleared her mind and signaled her entrance. TOM: Really, the fireworks are a bit extreme. Can't you just walk in without a big to-do? The sudden darkness in the chamber forced her eyes to blink painfully again; for a second, she almost had the urge to back out. -C'mon girl, don't screw up now.- MIKE: Geez, she and her eyes. TOM: Time to see an opthamalogist about those floaties. Darya got hold of herself and went further inside, at last coming to a halt in the center of the room. "Flight Lieutenant Darya Lang report, Lord Commander." she announced in a loud and clear voice, bringing her right arm up smartly in salute. CROW: Sig heil! "Welcome, Lieutenant," the Lord Commander replied smoothly, gazing out of the elegantly-shaped, oval viewport behind his desk, back against her. "Right on time, too." He turned around. Although much of his upper body was obscured by the shadow, Darya could see that he was not wearing any Imperial uniform she knew, but rather a plain double-breasted jacket and matching trousers, both of which were very well suited to his imposing stature. "Thank you, sir." ALL: [gasp in shock] MIKE: He didn't... TOM: He wouldn't... CROW: He did. "No need to--that was not a compliment, merely a note, although you do indeed deserve many, for your part in that last battle." His face was vague in the dim starlight, still, Darya felt the penetrating gaze behind the mild words--only that it was somewhat different from the kind she endured outside. TOM: Different from what kind she endured outside? CROW: That's easy, the penetrating [mrmph]! MIKE : That's far enough! CROW: Gaze, Nelson! I was going to say 'gaze'! "You have the preliminary report from Captain Cobalt, I presume?" "Yes, sir." TOM: He says he's screwed up big time, sir. Reminded of the true nature of her visit, Darya produced a data cartridge from her pocket and inserted it into the hologram projector set into the desk. Various figures and diagrams materialized in the empty air, casting a colorful glow over the murky surroundings. MIKE: The faces of those she'd wronged floated up at her. "According to these data, the Malice has undergone 65 percent conversion following your specifications and guidelines. Overall operation efficiency is up 50 percent while staffing requirement dropped 89 percent." MIKE: Technical bullshit at 99.5% efficiency. TOM : See, I told them switching to System 8 was a good idea. CROW: You mean Windows NT 4.0. MIKE: I'm partial to AmigaDOS myself. BOTS: [cough, clear throats] as Darya presented the report she could not help but be impressed by the sharp improvements. - What he had done was absolutely amazing, given an ISD's standard crew of 50,000 plus.- "I can expect no better from their engineering section," if the Lord Commander was impressed in any way, his flat, nonchalant reply betrayed no trace. "But these will be sufficient to warrant further modifications on a large scale." "I agree, sir: not even the High Council can deny evidence this extensive." Darya concurred not in flattery but because she could practically imagine such a fleet of super-enhanced warships waiting to be unleashed against the enemy. "Hah, so what of the High Council if they refuse to listen?" he said scornfully, showing for the first time that he too was capable of the human range of emotions. "What is inevitable has already began--even at this very moment, vast new powers are being harnessed for our...no, MY purpose." TOM: Because, you see; "This is the look of the true victor"! MIKE: Tom! Don't give it away to the reader! CROW: Get real Mike, only an idiot wouldn't be able to guess the identity of this 'Lord Commander'! Looking on carefully as the Lord Commander spoke, Darya felt a tinge of curiosity at the sudden change of pronoun, but pursued it no further, considering that she had something more important to say. CROW: I think, in short, he turns her on. "There's one other thing I need to report, sir: Captain Cobalt has given me information regarding the escape of the rebel prisoners from on board his ship, something not included in the official record submitted to the High Command." MIKE: He's a sack of doorknobs, sir. "Oh? Interesting, not an attempt at cover-up I believe?" the Lord Commander had assumed his usual composure, expressing only the merest flicker of interest; however, as Darya handed over the slim datapad, his whole body seemed to freeze in place and for a fraction of a second, she thought that she could see his eyes blazing a deep red in the darkness. TOM: Ahem. As you were saying Mike? MIKE: Okay, so it isn't Brian J Mason, sue me. -That must be something, to have surprised the "iceman." MIKE: Yeah, Maverick's going to "Top Gun". - But Darya had no idea what it might be. In her haste she was only able to discern vaguely, from the low resolution still frame, four armor-clad, humanoid shapes: white, blue, pink, and green. TOM: No! Not the Power Rangers! "Give the Captain my thanks for bringing this to my attention," when he spoke again the astonished look had vanished from his steely face, just as quickly as it appeared. "Tell him that I alone will look into it." CROW: Oh, and tell him he's nerfherder meat, too. -In other words, forget about everything you saw.- Deciding that she'll probably do the same, Darya asked, "Will that be all, Lord Commander?" "Yes, that and your next assignment: report to the Arc of Doom which is currently under construction at the Ssaridinn Shipyard, a new squadron will be waiting for you there." "I...I'm honored, sir!" Darya stumbled a bit at the mention of the new flagship of the Fleet. MIKE: Don't get TOO excited. It's just a garbage scow. TOM: Hope it's not the S.C.S. Eureka. It is said that the ship will possess fighting capabilities above even that of a Super Star Destroyer. CROW: According to the legends... TOM: Are we reading Tolkien? "That'll be all, you are dismissed." "Aye aye, sir." After Darya's prompt departure, the Lord Commander turned about and resumed gazing out of the viewport. But now a slight, malicious smile hang on the corner of his mouth. MIKE: Ewww....I wish he'd stop resorting to cannibalism! "So we meet again." He tightened his grasp around the datapad... ...to be continued in "The Boomers Strike Back." TOM: Due to the lack of a better, imaginative title. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for your time! Please send all comments, suggestions, flames, bomb threats, etc. to "geoclimber@aol.com". My previous works, Free Fall and Dark Horizon are availiable, upcoming installments, The Boomers Strike Back and Return of the Knight Sabers will be made as soon as possible, depending on the amount of brain cells left. ALL: Cough, Cough, Cough! And as a last note, the usage of my own name is purely due to the lack of a better one, TOM: Oh sure, tell us another one Rick! not because I have a crush on Linna so back off, Linnatics(Linna-fanatics)! CROW: Is that anything like 'Animaniacs'? MIKE: Riiiiiggghhht, Rick. Rick "Geoclimber" On the eve of the anime revolution, 1995 MIKE: Uh.. first I ever heard of *that*. TOM: Mike? Can we get out of here now? MIKE: Yeah. (They all leave theatre) [...1...] [...2...] [...3...] [...4...] [...5...] [...6...] [SOL] MIKE: Well guys, it looks like we survived. CROW: Barely. TOM: I think this should be held up as a prime example why crossovers don't work. MIKE: Meaning? TOM: It's simple really. Just because Star Wars was an groundbreaking space opera trilogy, and Bubblegum Crisis an excellently done cyberpunk OVA series, putting the two together does not mean you'll end up with a great crossover. CROW: In other words, it's two great tastes that _don't_ taste great together! MIKE: The sum is lesser than the parts! TOM: Exactly! MIKE : Well, what do you think sirs? [DEEP 13] Dr F: Poppy cock! It's all a matter of marketing! If you mix everything together in the right amounts, anything can be combined to make an exceelnt crossover. Just look at Voyager! Part Star Trek, part Lost in Space, part Wagon Train. [SOL] TOM: And all bad. [DEEP 13] Dr F: What do you know! (knocking at the door) Ah, these constant interruptions! Frank! FRANK: Yes, Dr. F? Dr F: The door! [Frank goes an opens the door. We see him look up and then fall to the ground in a dead faint. Dr. F: Now, as I was saying. I... [hears breathing behind him as Vader approaches] Frank! Will you get away from me! [Dr. F turnes around and comes face to chest plate with Darth Vader. Vader slowly reaches out for Forrester. DARTH VADER [lifting Dr. F by the neck]: I find your lack of taste disturbing. Dr F : H-h-hit the button, F-frank... [Frank, who has managed to wake up and crawl away from the door, staggers and falls on the button.] \ / \ / -- O -- FFIIIIISSHHHH / \ / \ DARTH VADER: Hmmm... the Force is weak in this one. Credits Department: Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved. Star Wars and all related characters are a trademark of Lucasfilm. Bubblegum Crisis and all related characters are a trademark Artmic, Inc & Youmex, Inc. MSTed by Michael Surbrook susano@otd.com Visit Surbrook's Stuff! A Hero System/Champions source (especially for anime and manga material) at http://www.otd.com/~susano/index.html and Joshua Seames j_kun@lni.net