STAR SPECK: VOYEUR

                            THE CARELESS TINKERER

                              by Stanley Dunigan


   (This spindizzy spinoff/overlay series began with the same sort of
Speckian summary scrolling across the stars that Deep Space Mine did. Don't
those people realize what a terrible hazard these things are to deep space
navigation?)

   Unhappy with only one series going,
   DSM's executive producers decided
   to take on another executive producer
   and make yet another Star Speck show.

   These birdbrained men (and woman) then
   decided to inflict upon us another
   starship, but to name it Voyeur in honor
   of their favorite pastime.

   This new starship was to be new, advanced,
   and absolutely dude-cool in all ways, and
   was to challenge DSM's exploratory supremacy
   by getting itself stranded in yet another
   quadrant of the galaxy.

   Unfortunately for all concerned (especially
   the viewers), all these great new ideas
   were wasted on a show whose writers had no
   originality in them, and who constantly
   ripped off old Star Speck plots and ideas.

   Yes, friends, we've been on this voyage
   before. So sit back, relax, and take a nice
   long nap. Why, these stupid shortened
   paragraphs are only the beginning of the
   plagiaristics! See you in the next series.

   (Didn't that remind you not only of DSM, but also of the intros to the
Star Wars movies? But hey, here's another Star Wars reminder: an opening
scene in which we see a small ship of good guys in a hopeless battle
against a huge ship of bad guys from lots of different dramatic camera
angles.)

   "Zap zippety zap zap beat-the-crap-outta-thap!" the big, bad Badassian
ship said to the poor, little Makeme ship as it futilely tried to evade its
pursuers.
   "We need to get out of here!" the commander of the Makeme vessel yelled
at this crew.
   "Duh!" the Klingto woman at the conn station said, slapping her ridged
forehead in mock enlightenment. "So tell me something we haven't all known
ever since they started firing on us."
   "Our shields are weakening," a big bad rappin' Bulkan dude said from the
weapons console. "And our phasers aren't doing diddly-squat against their
shields. Why is it always like that, do you suppose?"
   "Standard dramatic intro procedure," Commander Warpaint-On-Face replied
in a clipped tone. To the Klingto woman, he said, "Toreup, I need more
impulse power if we're to reach Baddyland ahead of the Badassians."
   "Sounds like a clear-cut case of leaping out of the frying pan and into
the fire," Toreup said. "Besides, how can I get more power from nowhere?
This old junkheap isn't even capable of warp speeds, or at least never is
in this darned show."
   "Be creative," the Indian (they don't tell us his name until much later)
yelled at her. "That's what the whole Speckian Hopeless Situation Principle
is all about."
   The intercom crackled to life. "This is Gal Evict of the Dorf Order," a
mean-looking Badassian said from the ship's tiny viewscreen. "Power down
your puny ship at once, or we'll disable it and draw it in with tractor
beams and send Darth Vader over to teach you jerks a lesson."
   "Vader's dead, and so are you if you try to follow us," Indian jeered at
Evict. "I'm taking this nimble little ship into an asteroid belt...I mean,
a plasma storm, and if you try to follow us in your big old star destroyer
...I mean, Gizzard-class vessel, you'll be torn up real bad. Ha, ha!"
   After clearing the comm lines, Indian faced front and said, "Give me a
few more minutes of full impulse power, and I'll shake these guys like that
earthquake shook Japan."
   "We'll have to take both the weapons and the dramatic spark-fizz-hiss
systems off-line and transfer their power to the engines," Toreup said. "Do
it, Blackie."
   "I do not care to be referred to as `Blackie'," the Bulkan replied in a
snooty voice, "and I do not believe it is advisable to do as you request.
Come to think of it, why don't we channel engine power to the phasers and
really knock those Baddies out of phase, eh?"
   "Sorry," Indian said. "We have to duck into the plasma storm or we'll
wreck this whole series. Do as Toreup rudely demands."
   Grumbling, the Bulkan did as he was told. As a result, the Makeme ship
made it into the plasma storm and started dodging pink tornadoes seconds
ahead of the Badassian ship.
   "Ha! He's following us in," Toreup laughed, watching Gal Evict's ship as
it got knocked silly by a particularly large and nasty tornado. "Oh,
they're in trouble now."
   "So are we!" the Bulkan shrieked in an unBulkanlike manner. "We were
scanned by a coproducer's tagalong beam while you were busy laughing at the
Badassians, and have apparently been chosen to be co-stars on this show,
since a huge pushy energy wave is coming right at us."
   "Get us out of here now!" Indian roared.
   "Sorry, sir," Toreup said. "It seems we're going to be stuck with this
dopey show for the duration. Hang on!"
   "Oh, great," Indian moaned as the energy wave whited them out and went
to the intro.

   After the intro (in which the Voyeur flew by a bunch of weird stuff to a
tune that strongly resembled watered-down DSM music) was over, the scene
switched to a Conglomeration Peepee Colony in New Zealand, where a very bad
boy by the name of Tomboy Pearass was working on someone's malfunctioning
air conditioner.
   "You're really scraping the bottom of the ol' barrel, you know that?" a
rasping, gravelly voice sneered at him, causing him to lose his
concentration and blow the air conditioner to smithereens with his
electric-blue energy screwdriver.
   "Thanks a lot, sandpaper-throat," Tomboy said sarcastically, throwing
his tool at the woman who was staring down at him. "Do you know how much
trouble I'll be in when they find this mess? Why, I'll not be allowed to
watch any TV for a whole month!"
   "That would seem to be a good thing, with shows like this on," the woman
observed, equally sarcastic. "I'm Captain Kussin' Gangway. How do you do?"
   "Just horrible, thank you very little," Tom said, getting up and
stretching his legs. "Now would you mind explaining why you've done this to
me?"
   "We're dredging up all sorts of criminals to star on this new show,"
Gangway said. "It's part of our new image. We thought you'd like to be one
of the privileged many."
   "Oh?" Tom asked with greatly-exaggerated surprise. He walked away from
the house he'd just wrecked and into the forest, hoping to lose the
annoying woman in the sparse foliage.
   "I served with your father on the Al Capone awhile back," Gangway
informed him, easily keeping up. "He's an admiral now, you know."
   "Yes, yes, I hate it when everyone keeps reminding me of that!" Tom
snapped. "`Your father is so admirable they made him an admiral,' they say.
`You should try to be more like your father,' they say. `Why don't you go
shove your new series where the phaser don't shine?' I say."
   "How rude!" Gangway gasped. Brightening, she said, "You're just what we
need. A cross between that arrogant, self-confident Doctor Basher on DSM
and that offensive, loud-mouthed Ensign Robo on Next Degeneration. You've
just gotta say yes."
   "I already have," Tom pointed out. "Twice. But what I wanna know is:
what's in it for me?"
   "You'll be made the chief, primary, uh, head, um..." Gangway paused,
searching for the right word. "Nuisance! Yes, that's it. The number one
nuisance. And that's just for starters. Just you wait 'til the end of this
excruciatingly-long episode."
   "I'd rather not," Tom sighed, "but I suppose I have no choice. All
right." He threw up his hands, rolled his head around, and kicked a few
trees in defeat. "I'll go. When do I start?"
   "Right now," Gangway said cheerfully. "Head on over to that shuttle over
yonder. It'll take you to DSM, which will be making a brief guest
appearance in a hopeless attempt to boost our ratings."
   "A guest appearance by the Ennui helped make DSM a success," Tom
reminded her, "and helped lead to the Next Degeneration's demise. Maybe the
same gimmick will work for us."
   "I doubt it," Gangway muttered.

   "Hey, there, sexy," Tom said to the woman piloting the shuttle as he
slithered into the cockpit. "You're really changing my mind about this
show. Ah, ha, ha. Yum!"
   "Shove off, warp-speed-mouth," the woman snapped, pushing Tom off her.
"You're making me wobble."
   "I love it when you wobble," Tom said, never one to give up for at least
thirty seconds. "Besides, I hear you're a Beetanoid, like Counselor Ploi
was on the Next Degeneration. Are you going to be the ship's counselor for
Voyeur? I've got a whole lot of emotional problems, and we'll need to have
a whole bunch of intimate counseling sessions, and -"
   "I know you have problems, Pearass," the woman said, "but you'll have to
take them elsewhere. I'm just the ship's conn officer."
   "Uh, huh," Tom mumbled, frowning and backing off. "I can see we're going
to have to kill you off fast."
   "Thar she blows!" Beetanoidette yelled suddenly, making Tom jump in
alarm. She pointed to a small starship that was currently impaled on one of
the docking spikes of the ungainly wreck known as Deep Space Mine. The ship
looked like a melted-down compact version of the Ennui-D.
   "The Voyeur!" Beety sighed dreamily. "Starbeat's newest and hottest
starship. She's Entrapped-class, she's got a crew of 114 (but not for
long), she's got wappety-warp power, she's got bio-neural circuitry, she's
got the cable premium channels, she's got class!"
   "Bio-neural circuitry?" Tom asked, not recognizing the term.
   "Clumps of grey matter scattered throughout the ship's systems that do
everyone's thinking for them," Beetwoman explained. "It's a new innovation
in artificial intelligence. First, you dig up a bunch of dead bodies, but
not too old, or they're no good. Then you take out their brains, and -"
   "I'm sorry I asked," Tom choked, running for the restroom.

   A little while later, on Deep Space Mine, Quack was making a bid for
Nielsens by doing a guest appearance in the bar with Tom Pearass and a
foingy new Oriental officer named Harry Kari.
   "No one should be without them," Quack was saying as he showed a box
full of hard candy to Harry. "They're Brach's crystals from, ah, Moron.
Ever heard of it?"
   "All too often," Harry said, giving Quack a significant look.
   "Now, now, let's be nice," Quack said reprovingly. "Surely your parents
would want a little memento of their son's first fleecing...uh, I-I mean,
mission. After all, you never know when you're coming back. Heh, heh. Wink,
wink."
   "Oh, no, you don't," Harry said, smiling craftily at Quack. "They warned
me about Fingerii at Starbeat Academy."
   "What?!" Quack yelled, running all through the crowded bar and shouting
and waving his arms. "This is an outrage! It's a slur upon the Fingerii
reputation for trust, honesty, and decency. I will not have it, I tell
you!"
   "Er," Harry stuttered, not wanting to be blamed for the scene the crazy
little queer was making. "Maybe these so-called `Brach's crystals' would
make good gifts to my parents after all. Yes, that's it. Gifts to my
parents. Definitely. You betcha."
   "Ooooh, no," Quack said, shaking a slimy orange finger in Harry's face.
"No, no. You're going to tell me exactly who it was at your blasphemous
`academy' who warned you about Fingerii." He whipped out his handy pad and
pencil and waited in angry anticipation.
   "Well, actually, there were so many, it would be much easier and less
time-consuming if I told you who didn't warn me."
   "Another racial slur!" Quack accused. "And this show calls itself equal
opportunity and unprejudiced! Ha!"
   "Oh, why couldn't anyone else from your show be cheap enough to appear
for this dumb benefit?" Harry moaned. "Even Basher would be welcome over
you."
   "Wh...who -? B-? Gah!" Quack puffed and panted, unable to speak.
   "Say, you know, you could buy those `Brach's crystals' for a dollar
ninety-eight a two-pound bag at Wal-Mart any day," Tom said, walking up to
Harry and taking him by the arm. "Come with me. We'll go ogle some of DSM's
hot babes (off-camera, of course) and then check in on the Voyeur."
   They walked off and did just that, leaving Quack to fume and curse the
day he agreed to do an embarrassing guest spot on this show for a measly
two strips of old-stressed platinum.

   "Ehhhh, <chomp, chomp, chomp>, what's up, Doc?" Tom asked from the door
of Voyeur's sickbay as he chewed on a carrot.
   "Oh, gross," the doctor moaned when he noticed the carrot-crunching
creep in his sickbay. "Get outta here, you. I know all about you. We were
both stationed somewhere or other together, and while we never actually
met, I was sickened by your foul presence being so near by. Now kindly
scat."
   "Pardon me, o supremely sarcastic sir," Tom said with greatly-
exaggerated politeness, "but I was merely coming aboard to report for duty.
I didn't know there was such a sicko in the sickbay."
   "Go report to the captain," Docko growled. "I'm sick of ya." He suddenly
noticed Harry standing there. "Well? Are you sick, too?" he asked with a
sneer.
   "Um, er," Harry stuttered. "I haven't made a fool of myself in front of
the captain yet, either, so I think I'll be running along now with Mr.
Pearass. G'bye."
   The doctor sneered disdainfully as the two young upstarts left his
sickbay.

   Captain Gangway was currently in her ready room arguing with her husband
("Hey!" all the older male viewers yelled in protest) on the viewer about
the family dog.
   "She is so pregnant!" Gangway snapped.
   "He most certainly is not!" Mr. Gangway asserted angrily.
   "Then how do you explain that..." Gangway made a gesture that was meant
to indicate the look of advanced pregnancy.
   "Someone has been feeding him too much pizza, I suppose," Mr. Gangway
said, glancing at his beloved dog nervously, unwilling to admit he'd been
wrong about the mutt's gender all these years.
   "Don't be a deadhead, Mawk," Gangway ordered. "Go call the doctor at
once. She could have her puppies any second now."
   "I refuse to call a doctor simply because he is getting fat," Mr.
Gangway insisted stubbornly.
   "Oooh, you make me so mad!" Gangway growled, ending the transmission by
taking a big bite out of the viewer.
   At that inopportune moment, Tom and Harry (say, where's Dick?) rang the
doorbell. Gangway whirled on the door and spat the viewer fragment at it
just as Tom entered the room.
   "Er, ouch," Tom said hesitantly, rubbing his forehead. "Are we
intruding, Captain?"
   "Oh, no, not at all," Gangway said, all smiles and cordiality all of a
sudden. "Come right in, Mr. Pearass, and Ensign, er..."
   "Ensign Harry Kari reporting for duty, sir!" Harry yelled at the top of
his lungs, going into a wildly energetic stiffening-up-to-attention
routine.
   "At ease, Ensign!" Gangway yelped in surprise. "And don't call me `sir'.
What do I look like, Peppermint Patty, or something?"
   Harry slumped to the floor in relief. "No, ma'am," he said.
   "`Ma'am' is fine if I'm eating Captain Crunch (my favorite cereal), but
it's not Crunch-time yet, Mr. Kari. I'll let you know when."
   "Sir? I mean, Captain?" Tom asked timidly. "Shouldn't we amble along to
the bridge now and get this show on the road?"
   "Right you are, Mr. Pearass," Gangway readily agreed, heading out the
door. Looking at each other and shrugging, Tom and Harry followed her onto
the bridge of the Voyeur.
   They weren't on the bridge five seconds before they ran into the first
officer, who was pacing about in front of the captain's chair, impatient to
get underway.
   "What's the delay here?" the ordinary-looking man demanded. "We must be
off at once!"
   "Commander Cavity," Gangway said in stilted, formal tones, "meet our new
ops officer Ensign Harry Kari..." Cavity greeted Harry with a smile and a
handshake. "...and our resident nuisance and general annoyance, Mr. Tom
Pearass." Cavity greeted Tom with a snarl and a milkshake (on the head).
   "I'll get you for that!" Tom threatened as Cavity stomped off.
   "Oh, never mind Mr. Cavity," Gangway said, waving Harry to his post and
sitting down in the captain's chair. "He's just mad 'cause he isn't going
to be with us much longer." To the Beetanoid babe at the conn station, she
said, "Take us out. Full impulse power."
   "Aye, Captain," Beety said.
   "Engage," Gangway ordered in true Picacard tradition (though omitting
the odd hand gesture).

   During lunch break, Tom went to the ship's cafeteria to order some
tomato soup.
   "There are three billion kazillion different tomato soup recipes on
file," the replicator haughtily informed him. "There's extra tomatoey
tomato soup, there's really wild and spicy tomato soup, there's plain
vanilla tomato soup, there's -"
   "Just plain vanilla tomato soup will do fine," Tom said impatiently.
   "There are a thousand and one subvarities of plain vanilla tomato soup,"
the maddening thing said. "There's -"
   "Just plain old plainety-plain-plain tomato soup, &$* it!" Tom yelled.
"And make it scalding hot!"
   With an indignant snort, the replicator plunked down a bowl of evil-
looking red liquid violently enough to cause some to splash out on Tom.
"Eyowwwch!" he screamed in pain.
   Carefully picking up the brim-full bowl, he tiptoed over to the table
where Harry was sitting with the snooty doctor and Commander Cavity. When
they saw Tom approaching, the doc and Cavity got up, gave him a dirty look,
and walked off.
   "Oh, pardon me, almighty sirs," Tom shouted sarcastically after them.
"I'm so sorry to have offended you with my presence. Pray forgive your
humble servant his trespasses."
   He threw his bowl of soup at Cavity, and it scalded that good man from
head to toe. "Ha, ha!" Tom laughed heartily as he sat down next to Harry.
Cavity growled obscene oaths and went off to change.
   "Those two are going to seriously regret treating me that way," Tom
confided to Harry. "After all, you didn't notice either of them listed in
the opening credits, did you?"
   "No, I didn't," Harry said, staring intently at Tom. "Tell me," he said
after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "Why do they treat you that
way?"
   "Plain old simple pilot error...couldn't pin a thing on me...the ghosts
of Christmas...I confessed...dumbest thing ever...cashier...joined Makemes
...captured on first mission...sent to peepee colony...Voyeur voyage...
father an admiral...the end."
   "Uh, huh," Harry said, not having understood a word. "I see. And then
what happened?"
   Tom gave him a strange look. "I know those two goons probably told you I
was all kinds of dorfwad, jerk, geek, and moron. And you know what? I'm
rubber and they're glue, and what they say bounces off me and sticks to
you. Ha, ha, ha!"
   "I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me," Harry proclaimed
irrelevantly.
   Before this zany conversation could become even less comprehensible,
Gangway called Tom up on his combadge and told him to get to the bridge
right away since they were approaching Baddyland.

   By the time Tom and Harry made it to the bridge, Cavity was pacing
around in front of the captain's chair again (much to Gangway's annoyance),
and the guy at the ops station was babbling about a big wave coming, and
how they'd better get out their surfboards.
   Pushing the idiot aside, Harry took a look at the readouts and screamed.
"Captain! There's a really big wave coming up behind us fast! Hit the warp
lever, you!" This last was directed toward Beety at the conn station.
   "We can't go into warp until we clear the plasma tornado area," Beety
informed him. "Besides, you're not the captain."
   "But I am," Gangway asserted. "And I want you to go, go, go!"
   "Sorry," Beety said, "and believe me, I'm real sorry, but we simply
can't outrun it."
   "Ten seconds to impact!" Harry shrieked.
   Cavity's pacing turned into frantic running.
   "Five seconds!"
   "Brace yourselves, guys," Gangway sighed wearily, fastening her
seatbelt.
   4.99 seconds later, the wave overtook them, and Cavity was "eeeyaaah"ed
in the middle of his run.
   After the white light had faded, Tom and Gangway awoke to a fizzing mess
of a bridge. All of the stunt bulkheads had popped off and thrown debris,
rubble, and fizzing cables everywhere.
   Tom was overjoyed to find that Cavity was dead, but was somewhat put out
upon discovering the Beetanoid conn officer's smoking corpse. "Drat it," he
muttered. "I didn't even get a chance to get her intercom number. Darn!"
   Harry slowly and groggily crawled out from behind the ops console. "Wha'
hoppen?"
   "We were hit by a huge energy wave and knocked who-knows-where," Tom
said, running over and helping Harry to his feet. "Oh, say, look at this."
He stared at one of the ops readout panels. "It seems we've been knocked
spinning for over 70,000 light years. Wow! That's a long time!"
   Harry propped himself up against the panel and tapped a few buttons.
"Captain! Sensors read some `thing' out there!" he frantically reported.
   "Oh, here we go with the old `thing' routine again," Gangway muttered.
"All right, Mr. Kari, I'll play. Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?"
   "I don't know, sir!" Kari gasped. "It's just plain awful!"
   "Well, get the viewscreen working, `Marcie', and stop calling me `sir'!"
Gangway ordered. "The things we captains have to put up with on series
premiere episodes!"
   What they all saw on the viewscreen moments later shocked them.
   "I can't believe it!"
   "What is it?"
   "Why, it's a...it's a..."
   "Oh, it can't be."
   "Will you look at the size of that thing?"
   "It's a giant, twirly spinaroosa-type array, and it's spitting white
wads of energy off into space!" Harry finally managed. "Captain, it's
incredible! It must be what brought us here."
   "Brilliant deduction," Gangway said. "Look, there's that petty little
Makeme ship floating right over there. Let's go grab 'em!"
   "Sorry, Captain," Harry said, "but I register no life forms aboard the
Makeme vessel. They must all be on the array. Unfortunately, it's blocking
all my scans, so I can't be sure."
   "What a surprise," Gangway muttered.
   "Sir...Ma'am...Captain!" Tom stuttered. "I suggest we first concentrate
on ascertaining the condition of our own vessel and crewmen, and possibly
doing a little repair work before worrying about this new situation. After
all, the worst seems to be over."
   "Engineering to bridge!" the squawkbox yelled. "We've got a warp core
breach imminent down here!"
   "Nice talkin'," Gangway growled at Tom. "I'd better get down to
engineering and see what's what. You and Mr. Kari get down to sickbay and
whip it back into shape."
   "Aye, Captain," Tom said, grabbing Harry and dragging him to the
zoomtube.

   Sickbay was a mess.
   "Ha! Look at this," Tom laughed, pointing at the egotistical doctor's
pathetic smoking body. "Isn't this great? All the people who snubbed me
earlier in the episode were killed. I certainly hope that'll be a valuable
lesson to the rest of you."
   Ignoring him, Harry ordered the computer to activate the fake
holographic doctor that was to be used as an emergency backup only.
   "Oh, diddly-darn," the Picacard-headed holodoc whined petulantly. "This
place is a total wreck! What happened? How am I supposed to treat patients
when everything's broken?"
   "Ho boy," Tom sighed, seriously doubting the wisdom of doing a SeaQuest
hologuy ripoff. "Now listen, baldy-docs. We're going to have a lot of
injured crewmen being dragged in here for the next half an hour at least,
and our regular doctor is dead, so we need you to function properly for
once and get the job done."
   "Oh, don't worry about that," Holodoc said confidently. "I'm fully
trained (programmed, that is) in all known medical techniques and am
intimately familiar with all Starbeat medical equipment. I'm ready for any
injury whatsoever. Now how do you suppose this thing works?" He picked up a
band-aid and looked it over curiously.
   Tom and Harry glanced at each other and sighed heavily.

   When Gangway reached the engineering deck, she found technicians
frantically taking apart a section of the central swirly-colored tube.
   "What's the problem?" she barked at them.
   "There's a microfracture in the warp core containment thingy back behind
this panel," one of the techs explained. "See?"
   "Well, slap some putty on it and put that thing back together," Gangway
ordered. "I have a feeling we're going to need the engines at top
efficiency before long."
   "I'm not so sure," one technician said as he disappeared in a swirly
golden transporter beam.
   "What the hey?" Gangway demanded as she too disappeared.

   "What the hey?" Holodoc yelped in surprise as all his patients and
makeshift nurses vanished in the same way, leaving him alone under
sickbay's flickering phosphorescent lights. "Where'd everybody go? I didn't
give anyone permission to beam out of sickbay. That's gotta violate some
sort of regulation. Sickbay to bridge. Who's fooling around up there? Hey,
you guys! Stop ignoring me! Just because I'm a holographic projection
doesn't mean you can get away with..."

   When they rematerialized, the Voyeur's crew found themselves in another
cheap budget-saving Earth-like environment. They immediately whipped out
their tricorders and started scanning the place for someone to punch out
for this rude incident.
   "I detect absolutely no one at all here except us," Harry proclaimed a
moment later.
   "Well, howdy, you-all!" a cheery voice said from the front porch of a
nearby farmhouse. "So glad you could make it."
   "Nice detecting," Gangway sneered at Harry. She led her ragtag group of
Voyeurists over to the farmhouse to confront the unexpected apparition.
   "Who are you?" Gangway snapped in the woman's face. "Why are we here?
Why don't you register on our tricorders? Are those chocolate chip cookies
I smell?"
   "Why, shore," the woman said, choosing to ignore all but the last
question. "Them thar's genuine fakes, they is. Grab yerself a few. And do
have some milk, too. You sound jess lahk a bullfrog, sho' 'nuff."
   Puzzling over the woman's odd description of the cookies, Gangway did
another careful scan of the locale.
   "I should have known," she sighed. "We're inside that idiot array. What
we're seeing is just another holodeck-type illusion, like so many other
places encountered by our Speckian predecessors. I should have realized
they'd spring this one on us."
   "Look!" Harry interrupted, pointing across the farmhouse's spacious
front yard. "A large group of people, er, holopersons are approaching."
   "All right!" Tom cheered, running over and drooling on one of the young,
attractive holowomen.
   A rickety old guy with a banjo sat down on the porch and started playing
a typical, intolerable country melody. All the holopeople started shouting
and dancing happily around. The visiting Voyeur crew just stood very
stiffly and looked dumb.
   Gangway stomped over and dragged Tom back to their group by his ear.
"Now listen, you people. We need to get back to the Voyeur before she gets
towed away for being in a no-parking zone. Since there's no one on board to
beam us back, we'll have to find whoever brought us here and `persuade' him
to return us.
   "I figure the first step would be to find and grind the machine that's
running this hologram. Harry, you and Tom go snoop around the barn and root
cellar. I'll go interrogate these characters to see if they'll tell me
anything useful. The rest of you fan out and locate the rest of Voyeur's
crew. All 100 or so of us should be here somewhere. And we're off!"
   "We certainly are," Tom muttered as he and Harry headed for the barn,
closely pursued by the young holowoman Tom had been flirting with.
   "You-all don't want to go in there-all," she whined. "Not with me-all
out here to entertain you-all." She giggled and smiled at Tom, who grabbed
her in his tentacles, uh, arms.
   "Cut it out," Harry said with an irritated frown. "She's just a pretend
girl, you know. Any relationship you had with her would be very short-
lived."
   "Hey, there's nothing wrong with an occasional one-episode stand," Tom
said with a lecherous wink.
   "Well, while you're standing there, help me tricord the area," Harry
said, making a sweep with his own instrument.
   "Whoa, look at this!" he yelped as his tricorder started whining shrilly
at him. "I've got a ker-whee-whee-whee alert! That means trouble!"
   "Right," Tom said smartly, turning and starting to walk off in the other
direction. Grabbing his chicken-hearted colleague by the arm, Harry dragged
him over to the barn doors.
   "We're going in there," he proclaimed grandly, jabbing a finger at the
doors.
   "Oh, no, you're not-all!" the hologirl said defiantly, running around
them and pressing herself against the barn doors. "You'll have to get past
me-all first!"
   "No problem," Tom said, all over her in an instant. Harry took advantage
of the distraction to slip past her and enter the barn.
   "Yikes!" he said, quickly clapping his hands to his nose. "Major
stinkeroo."
   "Was that perhaps the danger that your tricorder sensed?" Tom asked
hopefully, walking in with the girl still trying to hold him back by his
right arm. Giving up on that, she just hauled off and socked him a good one
on the jaw.
   Tom sailed across the barn and crashed through its far wall. The hole he
made revealed a long and sophisticated-looking metallic corridor.
   "No, that was the danger my tricorder sensed," Harry finally answered
him. "But I guess you've already figured that out by now."
   "Yeah, I guess," Tom said, getting up slowly and rubbing his sore jaw.
"Jeez! These holodeck women are worse than the real ones!"
   "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Pearass," Gangway rasped as she
entered the barn with several miscellaneous Voyeur crewmen. "I take it
you've found the hologenerator?"
   "No, actually, we've just found a shiny metal corridor that leads off
into the sunset," Tom said. "Do you want to ride down it?"
   Suddenly, all of the holopeople appeared around them.
   "It seems you're in a hurry to get this episode over with," the cookie-
woman (who was now wielding a pitchfork) sneered at them. "Well, we're all
okey-dokey with that. Follow me." She carefully stepped through the hole in
the barn wall and started off down the adjoining corridor.
   Shrugging at each other, the Voyeur people followed her. Before long,
they came upon a hazy blue-and-white room full of sleeping Makemes. Before
they could do anything about this, the golden swirly transporter beam
whisked them away once again.

   This time they materialized in a hazy blue-and-white room like the one
they were just in, and were lying naked under thermal blankets on flat
metal slabs. Before they could protest this undignified condition, large
needles which appeared to them to be gigantic spears shot down from nowhere
and jabbed them in their stomachs. Harry managed to yell a few curse words
at the script writers before they all fell unconscious.

   When they woke up again, they were back at their original positions on
the Voyeur.
   "Gangway to bridge!" Gangway snapped into her combadge. "How long were
we asleep on the array?"
   "The ship's alarm clock says three days," a man on the bridge yawned,
"but I still feel tired."
   "Three days?" Gangway asked incredulously. "I don't believe it. If we'd
been out for three days, my beard would have grown noticeably."
   "Yeah, mine too," the dull-witted man suddenly realized. "Maybe they
give free shaves and haircuts with each kidnapping. You know, to keep ahead
of the competition."
   "I'm sure," Gangway snorted. "I -"
   "Pearass here," another voice interrupted. "Captain, Mr. Kari didn't
make it back to the ship with the rest of us."
   "What?" Gangway yelped, running hastily up to the bridge. "Why not?"
   "Maybe he didn't like the service, and stayed behind to complain."
   "Computer," Gangway snapped at the ceiling, "what all crewmen are
unaccounted for?"
   "Well, lemme see," the computer said, quickly peeking into everybody's
windows. "As far as I can tell, only Ensign Harry Kari isn't here, but I
could be wrong."
   "Great," Gangway muttered. "That bio-neural circuitry is real advanced
stuff, all right. Sheesh! Mr. Pearass, come on up to the bridge. We'll
brainstorm for ideas on how to get Mr. Kari back. Gangway out."
   "Sir!" a standard bridge goon yelped from the ops console.
   "What is it now, Mr. Rawmeat?" Gangway asked, dreading the answer.
   "The Makeme ship, sir! It's powering up!"
   "Hail them!" Gangway snapped, striding toward the viewscreen. An image
of the cramped "bridge" of the Makeme ship appeared.
   "I am Captain Kussin' Gangway of the Conglomeration Starship Voyeur,"
she announced formally, head held high. "I demand that you immediately
power down your vessel and surrender yourselves to us!"
   "No way, Gangway!" our Indian acquaintance from the beginning of the
episode snarled. "We're here to stay!" He revved up the engines to prove he
was serious.
   "Aw, c'mon, fellahs," Gangway pleaded, arms spread wide. "We'll treat
you real nice during the loooong trip back to Conglomeration space, and
once there, I'll personally see to it that you get sent to one of those
great new pleasure prisons where you'll be treated like royalty. Oh, pretty
please!"
   "Look, Croaketta," Indian said. "One of our crewmen is missing, and we
don't know where to find her. I take it you suffer from the same problem?"
   "Er, sorta," Gangway admitted hesitantly, reluctant to show any weakness
in front of a wanted criminal (especially one with so many left eyebrows).
   "Well, I suppose I and two of my crew can beam over to discuss the
situation with you if you're willing to negotiate about this `surrender'
business," Indian said. "As it is, it's just plain unacceptable."
   "I'm sure we can work something out by the end of this show," Gangway
said cheerfully. "You all just stand real still, and we'll beam you over."
   Moments later, Indian, the bad black Bulkan, and a miscellaneous Makeme
materialized on the bridge. "Another new show, another new transporter
effect," Gangway sighed.
   At that moment, Tom stepped out of the zoomtube and onto the bridge.
   "Cheekygay!" he exclaimed, noticing the indignant Indian at once. "How
nice to see you again! Remember me?" Cheekygay whipped out a phaser and
pointed it at Tom. "I guess so," he mumbled.
   "Put that away, you naughty boy!" Gangway snapped. "You know it's not
nice."
   "Just try and make me," the stubborn Makeme jeered. He was greatly
surprised when his Bulkan comrade took him up on that offer.
   The Bulkan turned stiffly to face the angry Indian and announced in his
best Bulkanian drone, "Commander, I regret to inform you that I am a dirty
rotten spy, and am in `reality' the Voyeur's chief of security. Whattaya
think of that?"
   "Why, you -" Cheekygay snarled. He rushed the Bulkan, who tripped him
and sent him sprawling on the deck.
   "Nice work, NuSpock," Gangway said. "Now take him and his wordless
companion down to the brig."
   "That's not fair!" Cheeky wailed. "You promised!"
   "Captain," NuSpock droned, "I now believe that we are dealing with a
single entity here."
   "You mean he..." Gangway pointed at Cheeky. "...and him..." She pointed
at the other Makeme who beamed over. "...are one being? Wow!"
   "No, no, no," NuSpock said. "I'm talking about the guy on the array. I
believe he is one entity, and that since he brought us here, he can most
likely send us back. I recommend we gang up on him and demand that he do
exactly that."
   "Right you are!" Gangway said enthusiastically. "Expand the compressed
phaser rifles and bring them along. We might need them. Cheekygay, NuSpock,
let's go."
   "Wait a minute, Captain," Tom said, heading them off at the door.
"Shouldn't I come along, too? After all, I'm the required nuisance for this
trip. You wouldn't want to go against regulations, now would you?"
   "No, I'm far too regular and ordinary to ever do that," Gangway
admitted. "All right, Mr. Pearass. Come on."

   Tom strode proudly along next to Gangway and Cheekygay with a
decompressed phaser rifle as they walked along the sunny landscape of the
array's holofarm. NuSpock had already been sent off with instructions to
search every nook and cranny for anything that looked like a starship-
return mechanism.
   Before long, Gangway and company came upon the banjo-plinking old man.
   "Oh, no," he moaned wearily when Gangway stomped up to him and kicked
him in the shin. "Not you clowns again. I thought I'd gotten rid of you."
   "You can't get rid of us so easily," Gangway rasped dryly, her voice
cracking in several places. "We demand that you immediately send our
starship back to the Alf Quadrant. No, wait! Make that after we beam back
aboard."
   "Here, Rasp-putin, take a good slug of this," Oldie said, handing
Gangway a bottle of Vicks 44. "I can't understand a word you're saying."
   Slapping the bottle away, the angry captain grabbed the old man's banjo
and smashed it over his head. "There!" she said, brushing her hands
together briskly in satisfaction.
   "Owwww!" Oldie creaked in pain. "My, you're certainly uppity for a minor
bicycle-pedal species. I can see I'm gonna have trouble with you."
   "Not necessarily," Gangway said soothingly. "Come on, now. Tell us what
you want from us. Maybe we can help you."
   "You?" he laughed, gasping and choking. "Ha! Hardly. You don't have what
I need. I've searched the entire galaxy with methods that will be beyond
your comprehension until at least the eighth spinoff series. You don't have
nearly enough money on you to pay off the debt that can never be repaid.
And you presume to offer to help me? Hee hee <cough> ha ha <gasp> har har
<choke>."
   "What about our two crewmen that you kidnapped?" Gangway demanded. "If
we're so clueless, how come they're being held for questioning? They're no
smarter than we are."
   "They're not being `held'," Oldie haughtily informed her. "And I didn't
kidnap them. I just sort of...took them."
   "But why?"
   "They may have what I need," the man said, going into another coughing
fit.
   "What you need is a doctor," Gangway said, pounding him on the back. "I
don't like the sound of your throat."
   "Same to you!" Oldie snapped impatiently. "I have no more time to talk
with you inferior beings. Begone." He waved his arm, and they all swirly-
beamed back to the Voyeur.
   "Fascinating," NuSpock observed.

   As Harry Kari slowly awoke, two funny-looking people in immaculate white
garments stared down at him.
   <<He's regaining consciousness>> the goofy-looking girl observed in a
weird voice, her mouth not moving.
   <<How do you feel?>> the dorfy-looking man asked him, not moving his
lips, either.
   "Er, I-I dunno," Harry stuttered, still not fully awake.
   "Wait a minute," the girl said, speaking normally this time. "He's not
supposed to be able to hear our telepathic talk. That's even stated out
loud as a fact later on in the show. So what gives here?"
   "I don't know," the man sighed. "All I know is that that dratted
Careless Tinkerer has been tinkering around with another innocent person's
DNA."
   "What's that?" Harry asked, sitting up abruptly. "What tinkerer screwing
around with whose DNA?"
   "Now, you just relax," the shallow fellow said, gently pushing Harry
back down onto the bed. "You've got a horrible, hideous disease that no one
knows anything about and that no one has survived yet, but hey! That's
life. Might as well accept it calmly."
   "Aaaaaagh!" the other patient in the room screamed, having awakened in
time to hear this awful pronouncement. "Lemme outta here!"
   It was Toreup, our Klingto girlfriend from the "dramatic" intro. She
pounded on the door, screamed, twisted about something awful, bit at the
gross slime pods growing on her arms, and made a general nuisance of
herself.
   Harry just sat in silent shock and stared at his own gross slime pods as
Toreup was sedated and returned to her bed.
   "I hate this detail," the alien man grumbled.

   "Captain's log, Stardate: Why Does Everything Happen To Me?" Gangway
croaked into her handy tape recorder. "First, we're kidnapped and sent
70,000 light years away from home, then we get swirly-beamed around against
our will several times, and then we find two of the stars of the show
missing. We've conjectured they're on the fifth planet, the one the array
is spitting at. How the array sent them there is something I don't want to
think about. I suppose we'll have to go there and check the place out once
repairs are complete. Oh, a captain's life is never an easy one."
   At this point, the door chime sounded, and NuSpock walked in. Leaving
the tape recorder going, Gangway stumbled wearily over to her couch and
collapsed on it.
   "Captain," NuSpock droned in his formal-report voice. "My pulse is
faster. I can offer no explanation."
   "Me either," Gangway yawned. "This is a pretty boring episode, if you
ask me. Of course, no one ever does."
   "Er, Captain -" NuSpock began.
   "Did you know that that filthy fifth planet we're going to have to visit
to get things going is a dessert planet?"
   "I thought it was a desert planet," NuSpock said, frowning.
   "Whatever," Gangway said, waving a hand to show she didn't much care. "I
did a long-range scan of it, and can you believe there is no smog in the
atmosphere?"
   "If it is a deserted dessert planet, or a dessert desert, or whatever,"
NuSpock stuttered, getting confused, "then population, and therefore
pollution, would be at a bare minimum. Do you really think we'll find
anything interesting there?"
   "Did you know that Ensign Kari's mother called me up the morning before
we departed and asked if we would fly by his house and pick up his teddy
bear on our way out?" Gangway asked irrelevantly. "It seems he'd forgotten
it in his rush to pack and get away."
   NuSpock just stood there and blinked, wondering if this attack on his
sanity was intentional.
   "Of course, I told her that a brand-new, top-of-the-line Conglomeration
starship can't be expected to make housecalls," Gangway continued. "I
promised her we'd be back in a few weeks, and he could go pick it up then.
Do you think I was too harsh on her?"
   "Captain," NuSpock said, licking his lips nervously. "I think maybe you
should get some rest. This has been a very trying episode for all of us,
especially you."
   "That reminds me, Mr. NuSpock," Gangway said, staring intently at him.
"What are your parents like? Is one of them Bulkan and the other human? Is
there really such a thing as a black Bulkan? Why did they accept you for
this series when you were turned down for the Next Degeneration? Is that
some sort of comment on this show's standards?"
   NuSpock realized that the only way to end this dumb segment was to put
the captain to sleep, so he started reciting the Bulkan Monologue of Anti-
Emotionalism.
   Gangway was snoring just ten seconds later.

   "What a pile of junk," Harry said a few hours later on the bridge.
   "I know it's not the Ennui, Mr. Kari," Gangway said defensively, "but
it's our ship, and we'll have to make do with it."
   "I mean this debris playing field we're going through," Harry said,
pointing to the screen. "Looks like a Dork ship blew up, or something. Oh,
and speaking of ships, I'm detecting a small one darting about and
collecting junk. It may be on a scavenger hunt, Captain."
   "Hail it," Gangway ordered.
   Moments later, the viewscreen switched from the outside junk view to a
startling inside view involving a photograph of a very familiar female
wearing a teeny weeny bikini.
   "Eek!" Gangway shrieked, covering herself with her arms reflexively.
"How did that get way out here on the other side of the galaxy?"
   "What is it?" Tom asked, not knowing whether to drool or barf.
   "I posed for a Sluts Illustrated swimsuit edition back in my young and
irresponsible days," Gangway admitted, blushing to the core. "I had hoped
that mistake wouldn't return to haunt me."
   Seconds later, two spotted yellow hands hastily brushed aside the
magazine and some other debris that was covering the viewscreen on the
other ship. Then a stubby yellow alien being stuck its supremely silly face
up against the screen and demanded that they leave his junkyard at once or
be slapped with a hefty fine for trespassing.
   "We've got enough junk of our own already," Gangway assured him. "Kindly
identify yourself."
   "I'm Mealymouth," the weird being announced proudly. "And since you're
not interested in my junk, I'm semi-sorta-pleased to meet you. Who might
you be?"
   "I am Captain Kussin' Gangway of the Conglomeration Starship Voyeur,"
Gangway grated. "We're the latest representatives of a very large
multinational, multilingual, equal-opportunity organization in the Alf
Quadrant. How does that grab you?"
   "Huh!" Mealy snorted. "What do you gargle with, old razor blades? Look,
lady. I really don't care where you're from or why you're here, so just go
'way and leave me alone, huh?"
   "We're new to this part of the galaxy," Gangway said, stating the
obvious. "We need someone who knows the area to be our tour guide. Would
you be willing to do that for us?"
   "Don't tell me; let me guess," Mealy said tiredly. "You were brought
here against your will by the Careless Tinkerer, some of your crew were
kidnapped, the old bat isn't willing to lift a finger to help you return
home, and you're out to stir up trouble. Am I right?"
   "Y-yes," Gangway said. "How could you possibly know all that?"
   "I've heard the same old story thousands of times before. It's always
the same."
   "Thousands of times before?" Gangway echoed in shock.
   "Well, if you narrow it down a little, maybe a few hundred times."
   "A few hundred times?"
   "Oh, all right! This is the first time. Good grief, you people are so
annoying. Tour guide, you say? Ha! Forget it! Unless...you happen to
have...pizza?"
   "Pizza?" Gangway asked incredulously. "How would you even know of pizza?
Come to think of it, how come you speak English?"
   "Hey, now!" Mealyman bridled. "Just because we're on the other side of
the galaxy doesn't mean we're uncivilized. Of course I speak English! Of
course I know of pizza! It's just that Dominoes doesn't deliver this far
out anymore. We've gotten too many pizzas for free because their delivery
starship couldn't make it here in less than 30 years. So whattaya say? Is
it a deal?"
   "I suppose," Gangway sighed. "Stand by to be beamed aboard our vessel.
Your little junkship will be towed in and stored in one of our empty
shuttle hangars."
   "What is this `beamed' stuff?" Mealy asked suspiciously. "Does it hurt?"
   "You won't even know it happened," Gangway assured him, "except that
you'll be someplace different when it's over. See you soon." After she
ended the transmission, she ordered NuSpock to get to the transporter room
and make sure their new guest didn't embarrass them in front of the
viewers.

   When Mealymouth materialized on the Voyeur's transporter platform, he
let out a big breath and said, "Wow, what a trip!"
   Looking around the room, he saw two black dudes jammin' near a large,
shiny console.
   "Oh, you beautiful people, you!" he yelled, running over and giving the
pointy-eared one a great big hug. "With technology like yours, I can tear
up the mean, nasty wrinkle-pusses plaguing this portion of the galaxy and
become a big hero!"
   "I am NuSpock," the Pointy One said. "This other guy here is a
miscellaneous transporter operator. Welcome to the Voyeur. Kindly stop
embarrassing me. May I show you to your quarters?"
   "I get money, too?" Mealy asked excitedly, holding out his hands. "Come
on. Gimme!"
   NuSpock sighed and left the transporter room, an eager Mealymouth
following closely and nipping at his heels.

   Toreup was less happy the second time she woke up in the odd little
white room than the first.
   "Aaarrrgh!" she screamed, bouncing violently off the walls.
   "Do you want those silly, grinning creatures to make you go sleepy-bye
again?" Harry asked her in annoyance.
   "Oh, who are you?" Toreup growled. "No, don't answer that! I can tell
just by looking at you that you're some dorfy new Starbeat officer who's
still wet behind the ears."
   After drying the backs of his ears off, Harry said, "I'm Ensign Harry
Kari of the starship Voyeur. What's your name?"
   "I am B'Eatheadda Toreup of the Makemes, so you can just try and make
me!" the woman defiantly proclaimed.
   "I wouldn't cause too much trouble if I was you," Harry advised
solemnly. "These characters look disturbingly similar to the Vorpedup. You
know, that evil Condominion-loving race from the Gummi Quadrant that the
DSM crew has had trouble with recently. And these guys do have telepathic
powers besides their long, fancy ears. So let's take it easy until we can
figure out exactly what's going on."
   "I'm sorry," Toreup wailed. "I can't help it. It's the Klingto half of  
me. It just wants to tear down the whole galaxy and trample its inferior
television programming into the dust."
   "I know the feeling," Harry said with meaningful emphasis.
   Before this enlightening conversation could progress further, the door
opened and Doc Shallow entered and tossed some ordinary-looking clothes at
their feet.
   "Here," he said. "You can put these on and roam about the place as long
as you don't start wailing or gnashing your teeth or anything non-PC like
that."
   "Don't you start that `you're not prisoners, you're honored guests'
bullcrap with me!" Toreup snarled, jabbing her finger in the doc's face.
"We were sent here against our will by some villainous creep, and you're
cooperating with him! Come on, 'fess up!"
   "The Careless Tinkerer sent you, miss," Docky told her. "He is getting
mighty careless these days. Kidnapping, assault, overcharging our
batteries, that sort of thing. Go ahead and change into your new clothes
and come with me. I'll show you around and try to explain things."
   After Toreup and Harry had put on their clothes (Harry getting a vicious
punch in the snout for peeking over the partition when Toreup was
changing), they walked out of the clinic and into an area that looked like
an old Earth shopping mall.
   "We're underground!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at a large still picture
on the wall that showed a vast building complex with dirt and roots for a
sky.
   "That's right," Doc confirmed. "We used to live on the surface, but the
Careless Tinkerer totally ruined that for us with his careless tinkering in
our atmosphere, and so we had to sink underground to survive. Sort of like
Atlantis, in a way. Especially since we've remained undiscovered by our
ugly enemies so far."
   The alien proceeded to show them how to work the food dispensers and the
remote controls in the big TV room.
   "You will be made very comfortable here during your last few days of
life," he said, smiling beneficently.
   "Aaack! Ptoo!" Harry and Toreup choked, spitting brown goo out of their
mouths. "What do you mean, our last days of life?"
   "Didn't I tell you before? You're dead meat, you're cashin' in your
chips, you're headin' for the last roundup, you're bein' canceled. Have a
nice day."
   The bright-white being walked off, leaving the sputtering pair to get
their affairs in order.

   NuSpock had thrown the grungy Mealymouth in the tub as soon as he had
gotten him to his quarters, and had now returned to inform the Mealish One
that they had reached the fifth planet and needed him to guide them to the
Ocampy that he had mentioned earlier.
   NuSpock was fascinated (of course) to notice that there were cold pizzas
and warm glasses of water stacked all about the room. He heard splashing
sounds from the bathroom, and went in to investigate.
   "Still taking a bath?" he asked Mealy, who was splashing around happily
in the tub.
   "No, I'm taking another bath, you silly person," Mealy informed him.
"I've had five baths and six meals since you dropped me off in here. And
I've laid in a stock of provisions in case the replicaterers go on strike
or something."
   "Our replicators are very obedient machines, and never go on strike,"
NuSpock said. "And we have a very dim view of people who abuse them."
   "You mean like this?" Mealy asked, squinting his eyes almost shut. "Man,
that is a dim view. Yikes!"
   Sighing so heavily he nearly went through the deck, NuSpock grabbed a
towel and threw it at Mealy. He then turned around and blocked the camera
to spare the viewers.
   Once Mealy was decent(?), NuSpock informed him they were ready to beam
down, and they needed him to guide them to the Ocampy settlement.
   "Well, I'll tellya," Mealy said. "Beam down next to the large sand dune.
Then go north to the rattlesnake, turn east, and continue on 'til dawn."
   "Thank you, but I think we'll just beam directly to the settlement."
   "Suit yourself," Mealy sighed. "Speaking of which, can I have a pretty
spacesuit like the one you're wearing? I'm a Speckie, too, y'know. We get
reruns of The Ancient Series even way out here."
   "Sorry," NuSpock said, on the verge of a forbidden emotional display
(the beating in of head, that is). "Just put on your old clothes and come
on."

   Moments later, Gangway, Tom, NuSpock, Mealy, and Cheekygay materialized
on the sand a few yards away from the only encampment they could detect on
the planet's surface.
   "What kind of desert primitives would live in a place like this?"
Gangway asked, shaking her head disapprovingly.
   "The Krazon Uglies," Mealymouth informed her. "That's them you see over
there."
   "Krazon Uglies?" Gangway snapped. "What about the Ocampy?"
   "Just relax and leave everything to me," Mealy said confidently as an
Ugly mob approached them. "I know these people well."
   "They look like feather-headed, bird-brained Klingtos to me," Tom
whispered into Gangway's ear as they approached. "Notice the classic
forehead, the violent demeanor. Oh, these guys are trouble, all right."
   "We'll just have to improvise," Gangway whispered back.
   "My fellow Ham-ericans!" Mealy shouted joyfully as the Krazons grabbed
him and hoisted him on their shoulders. "I'm so glad to see you. I have
come to speak with your leader, the ever-blabberin' Jabberin'. We have
important business to discuss."
   The Krazons answered by throwing Mealy against a concrete wall.
   "Ow!" the poor, abused being yelled. "What's the idea? You're not still
mad about me stealing that one lousy quart pitcher of lemonade last week,
are you?"
   "Wooba webe wabe wubbuh!" a tall, imposing being blabbered from atop a
metal girder. "We are the Krazon Uglies! We forgive no trespass. Unless
you've got some water on ya."
   "Here you go, sir," Tom said, handing the freak a thermos full of cold
water.
   Jabberin' cautiously opened it, sniffed it, and took a sip from it.
"Yum!" he said at last. "But that's not nearly enough to make up for us
having to be on this show. We need much more!"
   "Gangway to Voyeur," Gangway rasped into her communicator. "Energize."
   "Boy, you need water worse than we do," Jabberin' said, staring at
Gangway. "Are you sure you can spare it?"
   As if in reply, half a dozen large Ozarka water coolers materialized on
the desert sands a few yards away. The Krazons immediately ran over and
started filling the pointy paper cups and drinking from them.
   "Wow!" Jabberin' gasped. "You impress primitive little me. But what
could someone so powerful want from us?"
   "Directions," Gangway told him. "Where be the Ocampy?"
   "Ocampy?" Jabberin' said, frowning in total incomprehension. Suddenly,
he pointed at a bleachy-looking girl standing in the shadows. "She is
Ocampy! What would you want with her? She's just a dumb blonde."
   "They're hoping she can lead them to the Ocampy camp," Mealy told him.
   "Ha! Good luck," Jabberin' sneered. "I gave her a black eye and a split
lip, but she still won't help me out. I doubt there's any way you can
convince her."
   "Well, if she's such a worthless old thing, you won't mind if she just
beams away with us, will you?" Mealy said hopefully.
   "Not so fast!" Jabberin' snapped. "I want this new technology that can
make water out of hot air. Why, my dialogue alone could produce a small
lake!"
   "Sorry, that's a No Can Do," Gangway informed him. "The Prime Number
Directive prohibits us from giving advanced technology to inferior
primitives such as yourselves. Why, you don't look like you'll even be able
to invent stone carving tools for at least another 10,000 years."
   Several Krazon goons waved their blaster weapons around indignantly, but
Gangway ignored them.
   Suddenly, Mealy grabbed Jabberin' from behind and stole his phaser. "All
of you, stand back!" he ordered the angry throng. "I'll burn this
blabbering idiot's hair off if you don't!"
   "Do as he says," Jabberin' whimpered fearfully.
   When the Uglies had backed away from them, Mealy used his new phaser to
shoot holes in several of the water coolers. The Krazons ran frantically
over and tried to save all the escaping water by catching it in the
pathetic paper cups.
   Mealy tossed Jabberin' aside and advised Gangway to have them beamed
back to the Voyeur, which she obligingly did.
   "Oh, my dearest darling!" Mealy crowed triumphantly to the Ocampy girl
when they had finished materializing on the platform. "I told you I would
ransom you away from those gross primitives, did I not? Oh, sweetheart!"
   The Voyeur crewmen stared at each other in bewilderment as the two
reunited lovers embraced. (Yecch!)

   As Harry and Toreup were arguing in a dark tunnel, the silly Ocampy (for
that's what the underground people are) nurse from the clinic approached
them.
   "I knew you were spying on us!" Toreup growled, preparing to live up to
her name by tearing up this pathetic person.
   "I wouldn't ever spy on you," the girl said, wrinkling her nose in
disgust at their slimy appearance. "You look too gross. I'm here to give
you these brussel sprouts. They're good for you, and may help heal you."
   "Yuck," Harry said. "Thanks a lot, but the only way we're going to get
well is to get to the surface."
   "The surface is a harsh desert," the girl informed the ignorant human.
"You'll not get well there, let me tell you. Especially not with the Krazon
Uglies around. Why, the only person to ever make it to the surface never
returned."
   "I don't blame him or her," Harry said. "This place is the pits! We need
to get out now!"
   "Well, there are the usual unexplored tunnels," the girl said
hesitantly. "But they're too dangerous. And besides, there are fizzy little
force fields at their entrances to prevent Krazon invasions. You can't go
that way."
   "Thanks," Harry said, meaning it this time. "Off we go, Toreup."
   "Yeah, right," Toreup grumbled. "Off we go to the standard dangerous,
dramatic, overdone escape sequence. Wonderful."

   The Voyeur shuddered from a near miss by one of the array's energetic
spitwads.
   "Watch where you're going up there!" Gangway shouted at the bridge
through her combadge. She was currently in sickbay, where Holodoc was
treating the Ocampy girl, whose name turned out to be Kiss.
   "You really must all leave!" Doc admonished them. "Visiting hours are
over. Now scat!"
   "Computer," Gangway grated. "End Holodoc simulation."
   "'Bout time somebody gave me a rest," the doc said as he disappeared.
   "So tell us," Gangway said to Kiss. "How did you reach the surface?
Mealy tells me that that's supposed to be real hard to do."
   "I just followed my nose," Kiss said proudly. "It always knows. Except
what the heck good it did me to reach the surface. That's one thing it
didn't know."
   "We would appreciate it if you could reverse-engineer your escape, and
lead us down into the underground complex," Gangway said. "We have reason
to believe that two of our missing crewmembers are down there."
   "It's too dangerous," Kiss warned. "And besides, the security field
breach I used to get away has probably been fixed by now. You'll have to
find another one."
   "Mr. NuSpock," Gangway said, turning to the Bulkan. "Have the
transporter room sweep up the planet and scan for a breach in the defenses
that we can beam through."
   "Yes, Captain," NuSpock said, turning to go.
   "Kiss and I are leaving on my ship right now!" Mealy threatened when he
saw that Gangway wanted them to go with her. "We've helped you people out
enough."
   "Now, Mealybaby, don't be a bad little boy," Kiss pouted. "They did help
rescue me, after all. Or are you going to claim you transported me away
from the Krazons with the power of your mind?"
   "Don't attempt to belittle me!" Mealy said indignantly. "It can't be
done."
   "I'll say," Gangway muttered under her breath.
   "We're staying to help these people free their trapped crewmen, and
that's that!" Kiss said emphatically.
   "Oh, you women can be such pains," Mealy moaned.

   Soon after, they were strutting stiffly through the Ocampy city, drawing
several odd glances from the natives.
   "Doggin!" Kiss exclaimed happily, running up and hugging one of the
other Ocampy. Mealy growled and gnashed his teeth jealously.
   "Kiss!" Doggin exclaimed equally happily. "I had thought you'd left for
good. What made you decide to rejoin our boring community?"
   "I haven't come back to rejoin," Kiss said with a frown. "You know I
could never do that. I came to guide these people to their missing
crewmen."
   <<They must leave at once>> a televoice said from behind them.
   Kiss whirled on the newcomer. "Tasket!" she snapped at the man. "You
know they can't hear our teletalk, at least not anymore. Speak with your
mouth, or don't speak at all!"
   "Kiss, you are such a naughty little girl!" Tasket chided. "Why can't
you live with us and be content?"
   Kiss, who had been waiting for just such an invitation, went into a big
"we can't think for ourselves anymore" spiel.
   "Captain," NuSpock whispered into Gangway's ear, "it has become evident
to me that this entire two-hour show is just a fancy rehash of the old
`computer runs society; society decays; we bash computer' plotline. You
know, like the oldest series and its Launderu, Vile, and so forth."
   "Tell me about it," Gangway grumbled. She was further annoyed when
NuSpock took her literally.

   After several minutes of frantic searching, Harry and Toreup finally
found a big hole in the wall that led to a very lengthy ladder.
   "I'll bet that's the fire escape," Toreup said as she gazed up at the
tall thing. "All we have to do is climb it, and we'll be home-free!"
   "How so?" Harry asked skeptically. "We have no communicators, and
therefore can't contact the Voyeur. So how are we going to be rescued?
It'll be Gilligan's Island all over again."
   "Will you just shut up and climb?" Toreup growled, running up the first
few steps of the ladder and looking down on Harry. "Come on, Starbeater,
unless you're chicken!"
   "All right, all right, I'm comin'," Harry groaned, hauling himself up
the first ladder segment with his arms. However, he could go no further,
and collapsed in a helpless heap.
   "Okay, we'll rest," Toreup sneered, sitting down on the next set of
steps. "But we can't do this too often, or we'll never make it. Oh, how I
wish I'd stayed at the academy. It was a real pain, but at least I'd have
gotten a better assignment when I was through."
   "You went to Starbeat Academy?" Harry asked incredulously.
   "Yes, I did," Toreup replied defensively. "And I was very good, too. I
only left because I simply couldn't stand that `Scuzzy' Zorkdorkian jerk
anymore."
   "I know what you mean," Harry said sympathetically. "I had several
classes with old `Scuzzy', and hated them all. Isn't it terrible how they
let awful teachers ruin a good class for the students?"
   "I'll say!" Toreup snorted. "Why, I remember once when...the thrumming
is getting faster!"
   "Funny," Harry said. "I don't ever remember that happening, and I was in
the academy for the full four years."
   "I mean here and now, dummy!" Toreup snapped, referring to the sound
that the Tinkerer's spitwads made when they impacted with the planet's
surface. "This could be bad. We'd better get going."

   Out in the mall area of the Ocampy city, Gangway and crew noticed the
same increased thrumming as they were going up an escalator. Suddenly, the
thrumming stopped completely.
   "AWOL team to Voyeur," Gangway said, hitting her combadge. "What's
happening up there?"
   "Not much, Captain," Rawmeat replied laconically. "We're just sitting
around watching the Sci-Fi channel while waiting for you to return. Why, is
something up?"
   "Yes, something is up!" Gangway snapped. "Get on the sensors and find
out what that array is doing!"
   "It, um, seems to have ceased spitting at the planet, and is now
twirling its spindly self around," Rawmeat replied after a moment of
console-tapping. "Maybe it's practicing its dance steps."
   "Keep an eye on it," Gangway ordered. "Gangway out." Turning to Kiss,
she said, "What would be Mr. Kari and Ms. Toreup's most likely escape
route? Is there an elevator to the top anywhere around here?"
   "No," Kiss said, "but they might have learned of the tunnels that lead
to the surface. If so, they're probably already on their way up."
   "Lead us to them, then," Gangway ordered, breaking into a run. "We've
got to get them out of here before something else disastrous happens."
   As if on cue, the entire city shook.
   "Voyeur, what's going on now?" Gangway demanded.
   "The array is firing big green spitwad torpedoes at the planet's
surface, Captain," Rawmeat reported. "It seems to be trying to destroy the
underground city."
   "Well, then, to heck with Kari and Toreup!" Gangway shrieked. "Beam us
up right now, Mr. Rawmeat!"
   "I'm sorry, sir, I can't," Rawmeat said apologetically. "The green
spitwads have triggered a you-can't-beam-up-from-there sequence. I'm afraid
you'll have to make your way to the surface first."
   "Wonderful," Gangway muttered. "All right, troop. You heard him. Let's
run for those tunnels."
   "I see it all now, Captain!" NuSpock proclaimed, making grandiose
gestures as they jogged along. "The Careless Tinkerer is dying. That's why
he's been spitting so much energy at these people. He wants them to have
enough in reserve to power their television sets and game machines for the
next several years. He's also apparently decided to seal them off to
protect them from being invaded by other science fiction TV shows."
   "But what happens when their reserve energy runs out?" Gangway asked.
"If the Tinkerer is dead by then, how will they survive?"
   "Hopefully, they'll learn how to entertain themselves in less
electrically-consumptive ways," NuSpock replied. "In any case, we have more
immediate concerns."
   "I'll say," Gangway spat. "If that lousy Tinkerer dies, we'll have no
way to get back home."
   "I do believe that's the entire purpose behind his death," NuSpock said.
   "Don't remind me!" Gangway snapped irritably.

   Soon after, they split up into two separate teams to search for the
tunnel entrance. Tom's team, which included Kiss and Mealymouth, eventually
found the hole leading to the ladder that Harry and Toreup were climbing.
Waving his tricorder around, Tom eventually detected them far above.
   "Captain," he said over his combadge, "I've found Kari and Toreup.
They're climbing Jacob's Ladder."
   "Well, tell them to hold their position and wait for you," Gangway
replied.
   "I can't, Captain. They don't have their combadges with them, and
they're too far up to hear me shouting. I'll have to run up after them and
hope they don't fall off before I get to them."
   "You do that, Mr. Pearass," Gangway said. "We're right behind you."
   "How comforting," Tom mumbled after Gangway had signed off. Motioning
Mealy and Kiss to follow him, he began the long upward climb.

   Awhile later, Tom's team found the two collapsed officers and gave them
piggy-back rides the rest of the way up the ladder. However, escape wasn't
quite so simple as all that.
   "That's one of the security barriers I mentioned earlier," Kiss said,
pointing to a fizzly little force field blocking an entrance to a tunnel
through the rock. "Fortunately, the force field inspectors are on strike
protesting a salary cap, so they haven't repaired the breach yet. However,
we must be careful as we pass through since the area is tight, and the
field will slice you and dice you if you so much as brush against it."
   "That's real encouraging, considering how those spitwad torpedoes are
shaking everything around so," Tom said sarcastically. "You first, Kiss.
You're the expert."
   When Kiss made it through without mishap, Tom confidently strode forward
and began edging past the force field.
   "Ker-whoom!" Mealy shouted loudly, tossing small rocks and dust into the
air.
   "Aaah!" Tom screamed, nearly losing his balance and falling onto the
force field's sharp edge. "You mealy-mouthed jerk! What's the idea?"
   "Hee, hee, hee," Mealy giggled. Of course, when it was his turn to go
through, Tom tried the same trick on him, and it worked beautifully.
   "You're going to pay for this outfit!" Mealy snarled at Tom as he
frantically beat at his smoking clothes. "It's a genuine imported Galaxian
original!"
   Ignoring the indignant alien, Tom helped Harry and Toreup past the
forceful field, and they continued on through the rocky tunnel.
   A few minutes later, they came upon a small chamber which Tom's
tricorder said was only a few feet from the surface.
   "It's phaser time, baby!" Tom shouted exultantly, blasting the chamber's
ceiling all to pieces.
   "Gasp! Choke! You idiot! Call your shots!" Mealy gasped from under a
thick layer of rock and debris.
   "Sorry about that," Tom said, brushing off his uniform, "but we haven't
the time for any delays. To the surface on the double!"
   After boosting Harry, Kiss, and Toreup to the planet's deserty surface,
Tom and Mealy hoisted themselves up and out of the tunnel. "Free at last,"
Mealy panted for joy.
   "Duck!" Tom suddenly yelled.
   "Where?" Mealy asked eagerly, whipping out his phaser in preparation for
shooting the tasty fowl.
   Tom tackled him as another huge green energy spitwad impacted with the
planet's surface several kilometers away.
   "Oh, like that really would have hit us bad if we hadn't fallen flat on
our faces," Toreup sneered feebly, spitting sand out of her mouth.
   "Hey, you never know about those things," Tom replied defensively as he
attempted to brush off his dirty uniform once more.
   Toreup attempted a scathing retort, but ended up having a coughing fit.
   "We've got to get these two back to the ship at once," Kiss said
concernedly. "They need immediate medical attention."
   "Tom to Voyeur," Tom said, swatting at his combadge. When the starship
didn't respond, he looked down at the front of his uniform to find that his
combadge was missing.
   "I told you not to get so violent with your rock-phasering!" Mealy
chastised him. "Fortunately, I still have my communicator. Mealymouth to
Voyeur." He said this last with a superior smirk at Tom.
   "Rawmeat here," came the response. "You're clear for beaming, but I only
detect one combadge amongst all five of you."
   "So?" Tom shouted. "Beam us all up anyway."
   "Sorry, can't do that," Rawmeat said. "Only three customers to a
combadge. Regulations, you know."
   "Aaaggghhh!" Tom screamed.
   "Here you go, my dear," Mealy said, handing his combadge to Kiss and
ordering the Voyeur to energize. As the three others dematerialized, Tom
prepared to heavily pummel Mealy.
   "Quick!" Mealy said, whirling and pushing Tom back down the hole they
had come up through. "We've got to get to the other group if we're to have
any hope of ever beaming up!"
   "Sure thing," Tom croaked from a heap on the small cavern floor. "Let's
just hope they didn't get lost and climb the wrong ladder."

   I have good news and bad news for poor old beleaguered Tom.
   The good news is that Gangway, NuSpock, and Cheekygay did indeed find
and begin climbing the right ladder.
   The bad news is that the segment of the ladder they were on collapsed
when that last spitwad hit, injuring NuSpock and putting Cheeky in very
grave danger.
   "Oh, I love that pun, `grave danger'," Cheeky snarled. "Now get me out
of here!"
   "Mealymouth!" Gangway snapped when Tom and Mealy had reached their
position. "Help me with NuSpock. Tom, it's up to you to save Mr. Cheekygay.
And remember, he's listed second on the show's list of stars, so don't
louse it up."
   "Why do I always get the dangerous stuff?" Tom complained. He eyed
Cheeky's delicate position warily and considered jumping up and down on the
ladder to see if that would solve his problem for him.
   "Get over here and give me a hand, you worthless incompetent!" the
cheeky guy yelled as the piece of metal he was gripping continued to bend
under his weight. "Lord, I never thought I'd see the day when my future
depended on a loser weinerschnitzel skunk like you!"
   "That does it!" Tom roared in fury. "I'm gonna save your life if it's
the last thing I ever do!"
   "Now doesn't that just make a whole heap of sense?" Cheeky asked the
viewers sardonically.
   "Get over here!" Tom snapped, extending his arm to Cheeky. "I'll have
you know that I'm just saving your life so I can trounce you soundly later
on in payment for those insults."
   "I'll take cash or credit cards, too," Cheeky reminded him as he was
heaved onto a stable portion of the ladder.
   "Let's go," Tom sighed tiredly as they started the long, weary trek back
up.

   Once everyone was back aboard, Gangway left orders to take them back to
the Careless Tinkerer's spindizzy array, and went to sickbay to argue with
Holodoc and show off her medical knowledge.
   "Will you scram?" the ungrateful apparition snapped at her. "This `I can
do everything around here myself' routine of yours is really getting
annoying."
   "Speaking of annoying..." Gangway started, but was interrupted by a
bleep from the bridge.
   "What is it, you bleep?" she snapped.
   "Captain, there are two Krazon ships approaching the array."
   "What?!" Gangway screeched incredulously. "Those primitives? They're too
backwards to even comprehend what a ship is! I can't believe this!"
   "Believe it, sir," the voice advised.
   "I'm on my way up!" she said, running for the door.
   "At last," Holodoc breathed in relief.

   "Have you confirmed that these ships are indeed manned by those ugly
Klingto ripoffs we met on the planet earlier?" Gangway demanded as she
zoomed out of the zoomtube and onto the bridge.
   "Yes, sir," Rawmeat replied. "As a matter of fact, the ever-blabberin'
Jabberin' himself is hailing us at this very moment. Should I answer him?"
   "Power up the weapons systems first," Gangway ordered. "I want to be
ready for these creeps."
   "Phaser banks and photon systems are now hot to zot," Rawmeat reported a
few seconds later.
   "Good," Gangway said, "but be sure not to ever fire any torpedoes. That
would make it too easy. Now put Mr. Jabberin' on-screen."
   "Blabba wabba cradabba!" that nonsensical being blabbered as soon as he
saw that two-way communications had been established. "What do you think I
have, call waiting or something? Sheez!"
   "I am very sorry, Mr. Jabberwacky," Gangway apologized insincerely. "Now
tell me, what brings you to this part of the episode?"
   "Well," Jabberman replied, "we're supposed to establish ourselves as
this quadrant's equivalent of the Klingtos, and we're supposed to make
trouble for you if you try to `beam', or whatever you call it, over to the
Tinkerer's house again. We want control of that junkheap for ourselves."
   "If I were you, I'd just be glad I could blabber and chew gum at the
same time," Gangway said. "You have absolutely no need for more power in
this system, and I most certainly do intend to beam over to the array.
After all, it's the only thing that can send us home."
   "I'll send you to a much better place for daring to defy me!" Jabberin'
threatened as he signed off.
   "Fire phasers," Gangway sighed, hating to contribute to the violence on
television, but seeing no other way for now. "Mr. NuSpock and I are going
to beam over to the array and settle things once and for all."
   "But, sir, the shields are up," Rawmeat protested. "You can't beam
through the shields."
   "You can if you do it off-camera," Gangway informed him on her way to
the zoomtube. "Oh, and call Commander Cheekygay on the Makeme vessel and
tell him to help us blast these Krazon Uglies. I know he's just got a tiny
ship that's been shot up before, but every little bit counts."
   "Aye, sir," Rawmeat said reluctantly.

   Once on the array, Gangway and NuSpock made their way straight to the
barn, in which they found old banjo-plinker a-plinkin' away as if nothing
was going on.
   "And you claimed to be short on time!" Gangway snapped at the old
geezer.
   "Oh, I am, I am," he assured her. "I've only got time to render `O
Sleezanna' and `Swiney River' once more each."
   "Are you the Careless Tinkerer?" Gangway asked pointedly.
   "Isn't it obvious?" the old man said, grinning at her.
   "Rather," Gangway snorted. "I have come to demand once again that you
return us from whence we came. It was very careless of you to tinker around
with us, and now you're going to have to put things to rights."
   "Don't you think I know that?" Tink wheezed. "I was even more careless
with that fifth planet that the writers keep refusing to name. Didn't you
notice what a deserted desert it is? It was lush and beautiful before I and
others like me started tinkering around with it. We're peaceful
troublemakers from another galaxy who have taken an interest in yours."
   "You mean there are others like you here?" Gangway asked in horror.
   "Not anymore. There was another who was to stay with me and continue
tinkering with the planet in an effort to restore it for the Ocampy, but
she took off and left me here to do all the work. Isn't that just like a
woman?"
   "Yes!" Gangway shouted, leaping high into the air. "Liberate all women!
Women's lib all the way!" She ran around the barn yelling and waving her
arms triumphantly.
   "Oh, my," the Careless One moaned, shaking his head in despair.
   "Say!" Gangway exclaimed, suddenly grinding to a halt. "I just thought
of something! Since you're the only Tinkerer around anymore, you must be
desperate to find a successor. Why, I'll bet that's what you were doing to
our kidnapped crewmen. You were trying to &%*#!"
   "I much prefer the term `procreate'," Tinkerer said indignantly, "even
though I'm such an amateur at it. Besides, it didn't work. Everyone else
I've tinkered with has died, and those last two were rescued and cured on
your dumb little ship."
   "But how could you think that it would be possible to turn a human being
into a bloberiferous entity like you will soon be revealed to be?" Gangway
demanded. "It's positively against nature!"
   "So's Star Speck," Oldie reminded her, "and yet you're here. Look, I
knew the chances of success were very slim, but I had to try. The Ocampy
can't do anything for themselves. They need a Tinkerer to take care of
them."
   At this, Gangway positively erupted into the old "let them learn to care
for themselves" routine. Just as her volcanic mouth had begun to cool down
somewhat, the Voyeur frantically called on her communicator.
   "Captain!" it yelled. "There's this great big brown blobship out here
that looks like a super-Krazon vessel. It appears to be the standard huge,
invincible, you-haven't-got-a-chance-of-damaging-it-with-your-pitiful-
phasers ship for this episode. What'll we do?"
   "Observe the Speckian Hopeless Situation Principle," Gangway ordered.
"If you're not up to speed on that, consult Cheekygay, but don't bother me
again. Gangway out."
   "It seems your time is running out, too," Tink observed sagely.

   "Voyeur to Commander Cheekygay," Mr. Rawmeat's voice said over the
Makeme ship's intercom. "I have confirmed that the Speckian Hopeless
Situation Principle does apply here. Can you handle it, Commander?"
   "You betcha!" Cheekygay said happily, always ready to risk his life in a
dramatic, action-packed sequence. "Beam the rest of my crew aboard using
the `shields on, camera off' rule, and keep a transporter lock on me. I'm
gonna ram that dorkboat!"
   "Okay," Rawmeat said after a few tense moments. "You're all set. Just
tell us when to beam you out."
   "Right," Cheeky said, already aiming his ship at the big Krazon cruiser.
"Stand by. I'm initiating the Los Angeles Ram sequence...now!"

   On the Voyeur's screen, everyone could see the super-Krazon ship
concentrate its fire on the small Makeme vessel as it rocketed forward on
an intercept course. The Krazons hit the suicidal ship many times, but
weren't allowed to do it much damage.
   "It's an interception, sports fans!" Cheekygay screamed over the
intercom. "And the play is good! The crowd goes wild!"
   Rawmeat took this as his cue to energize, and so beamed Cheekygay out of
the Makeme ship just before it rammed into the side of the Krazon fat
cruiser, causing it to experience tremendous multiple explosions all over
its flabby exterior.
   Completely out of control, the enormous ship started falling toward the
array.

   Oblivious to the terrible danger they were in, Gangway calmly ordered
NuSpock to initiate the sequence that would return them to Conglomeration
space.
   "Hey, if it's too complicated and time-consuming for the Careless
Tinkerer himself, there's no way I could get it done any time soon,"
NuSpock protested. "We're going to need his cooperation, Captain. That's
final."
   "I've just initiated the array's self-destruct sequence," Tink creaked
happily. "How's that for final?"
   At that moment, the crazed Krazon supership rammed into the array,
smashing several of its antennas and solar panels to smithereens.
   "Oh, crud!" the Tinkerer growled. "Your silly, meaningless space battle
has screwed up my self-destruct mechanism. Now it won't go off. Just like
you. Waaaaah!"
   Suddenly feeling compassionate, Gangway patted the poor old Tinkerer on
the head and cooed, "There, there. We'll blow up your nice little array for
you. We won't let those mean old Krazies take it over and hurt the sweet
little Ocampy."
   "D-do you really mean it?" the old man sniffed.
   "Yes, I really do," Gangway assured him.
   Suddenly, he turned off the holodeck program, and Gangway found herself
patting a huge blob of translucent goo. "Eyuck!" she yelled, snatching her
hand back. "How gross!"
   "Same to you, you ugly bag of mostly water," the blob glorped at her.
"I'm going to crystalize now, so you be sure to keep your promise to
destroy this fancy spinning top."
   "I will," Gangway promised as the blob sloojed down into a fist-sized
diamond. "I'll keep this, too," Gangway added as she picked the valuable
crystal up.
   "Captain," NuSpock said, breaking into her reverie. "May I remind you
that any acting we do here will significantly alter the balance of power in
this star system? The Prime Number Directive would seem to apply."
   "If we always follow that dumb directive, we won't have a show," Gangway
accurately pointed out. "Besides, how could we not do any acting here
unless we self-destructed or something? You should know better, Mr.
NuSpock. I'm surprised at you.
   "Also, the whole premise for this new series is that we are stuck in the
Deltoid Quadrant here, and are forced to explore and exploit its strange
new worlds and sucky new lifeforms. We wouldn't be stuck here if we didn't
destroy the array before returning home, would we?"
   "No, Captain," NuSpock admitted. "But how many quadrants are there to
this galaxy, anyway? Why do we have to take another one?"
   "There are four quadrants in the galaxy, you ignorant Bulkan," Gangway
snapped at him. "They're named after the first four letters of the Geek
alphabet: Alf, Betty, Gummi, and Deltoid. The first two Star Speck series
covered the Alf Quadrant pretty well, and the third series is poking its
nose into the Gummi Quadrant. It's only fitting that we carry on the
tradition by invading the Deltoid Quadrant. I suppose the fifth series will
take on the Betty Quadrant, though that doesn't sound too exciting to me."
   "Well, if you're sure," NuSpock sighed resignedly, "we'd better be
beaming back to the Voyeur and getting things done. We're finally almost
out of time."
   "Good," Gangway sighed in relief.

   After she'd gotten back to the Voyeur's bridge and slapped down all the
vocal objectors, Gangway hailed the lead-bottomed Krazon vessel and warned
Jabberin' to jabber on home before he got hurt.
   "Your fizzly phasers can't harm us!" Jabberin' sneered. "And you're out
of suicide ships. I suggest you surrender."
   "Sorry, can't do that," Gangway informed him calmly. "But I can,
however, totally destroy the array so that you will be unable to twist it
to your evil, krazy purposes."
   "Why, I'll mash you like a french-fried potato!" Jabberin' screamed,
punching out his communications panel.
   "They've intensified their fire," Rawmeat informed Gangway.
   "Then intensify our water," Gangway retorted, "and use some new,
unheard-of weapon on the array to destroy it."
   "How about...um...er...try-COBOL thingies?" Rawmeat suggested.
   "Make it so-so," Gangway ordered.
   Two small white thingies shot out from the Voyeur and impacted with the
dead Tinkerer's array, destroying it utterly.
   "You have had an enema this day!" Jabberin' ranted over the intercom,
shooting a few last shots up the Voyeur's backside before turning tail and
running.
   "That image is certainly an appropriate one," Gangway observed.

   When Tom Pearass reported to Gangway's ready room as ordered, he found
her staring dramatically out the window with her hands clasped behind her
back in true Colonel Halcyon style.
   "Wing Commander...I mean, Lieutenant Tom Pearass reporting, Captain," he
said, standing at inattention.
   "Lieutenant?" Gangway asked in surprise, turning around and staring at
him. "How utterly presumptive of you."
   "Sorry, sir," Tom said apologetically. "I just thought I'd move things
along a little. We've been at this for almost two straight hours now, and I
need a rest."
   "So do all the Speckies out there," Gangway said. "But you're right. I'm
adding all the criminals to the official Voyeur crew roster, including both
you and all the Makemes. I'm giving you a fieldmouse commission as
lieutenant, and the job of conn officer."
   "You certainly picked the right con-man for the job," Tom said proudly,
repolishing the two Star Speck Fan Club pins on his collar that denoted his
new rank. Gangway was annoyed to recall that he had already been wearing
them when he came in.
   "Don't get too cocky, mister," she warned him. "I've made Cheekygay my
new first officer. He'll keep you in line, I'll wager."
   "Ugh! I mean, that's great, Captain," Tom stuttered, saluting nervously
and turning to leave. On his way out, he bumped into Mealy, who was on his
way in with Kiss.
   "Captain!" Mealy said cheerily. "How are you on this fine ending?"
   "Exhausted," Gangway admitted. "I'd like to get out there on the bridge
and give my inspirational pep talk and end this episode as soon as
possible."
   "Of course, Captain, of course," Mealy said soothingly. "This won't take
any time at all. Just say `yes'."
   "`Yes' to what?" Gangway asked suspiciously.
   "All right!" Mealy exulted. "You see, Kiss? She couldn't refuse our kind
and generous offer to stay on board and loaf around like a couple of
freeloaders."
   "Oh, no, you don't!" Gangway snapped. "If you're staying with us, you're
going to have to provide some useful service to our little spaced-out
community. What could you possibly do?"
   "I am the great Chef Boy-How-Dee," Mealy proclaimed. "I make a great
paranoid goulash. You oughtta try it sometime. And my beloved companion
here can stand around and look alien and sexy at the same time. So whattaya
say? Will you hire us?"
   "Anything to get you out of my hairdo," Gangway said in exasperation,
pushing past them and walking onto the bridge.
   "All right, people, I want to have your attention for a few minutes,"
she said, striding regally to the center of the room. "We're far from home,
and I know you all are wondering just how we plan to get back. Well, I'm
going to tell you: slow! That's how we plan to get back.
   "If we really milk this thing, we can squeeze at least three seasons out
of it, maybe more. We'll all need to work together despite our differences
and low opinions of each other, and that'll make for some exciting personal
controversy episodes. There's also no limit to the number of weird, alien
things and people we can meet.
   "And, of course, there are an infinitude of possible return-home
scenarios that we can use when the time comes. Heck, if nothing else, we
can have QT show up and knock us spinning back to the Alf Quadrant.
   "You have all been given your new assignments and character
descriptions, and I'm sure I can count on all of you to continue the Star
Speck traditions of danger, excitement, and really wild things.
   "Mr. Pearass," she said at last. "Set course for our next episode. Warp
one-week. Engage."
   As her ship slowly turned, and its warp nacelles started flapping up and
down, Captain Kussin' Gangway realized with a shudder that this inhumane
adventure was only just beginning.

                                   THE END