BISHOUJO SENSHI SAILOR ORION, EPISODES 108 and 109 A MiSTing by Antaeus Feldspar Of a "Sailor Moon" fanfiction by LeVar Bouyer In the not-too-distant future Somewhere in time and space Mike Nelson and his robot pals Are caught in a nasty place! They try to survive the wrath of Pearl Just an evil gal who wants to rule the world From her Castle below, she sets her sights above Just to torture all the captives on the Satellite of Love! PEARL: I'll send him cheesy movies! The worst I can find! He'll have to sit and watch them all And I'll monitor his mind! Now keep in mind Mike can't control Where the movies begin or end He'll try to keep his sanity With the help of his robot friends! ROBOT ROLL CALL! CAMBOT! [You're on!] GYPSY! [Oh my stars!] TOM SERVO [Check me out!] CROOOOOOOOOW! [That's Crow with one 'o'!] If you're wondering how he eats and breathes, And other science facts, Repeat to yourself, "It's just a show; I should really just relax," For Mystery Science Theater 3000! [TWAAAANGGG!] [As we FADE IN, CROW is alone on the Bridge, wearing Transformers pajamas and staring into the camera, looking a little out-of-it. His lacrosse net is out of shape, as if he slept on it wrong.] CROW: Hi, everybody, and welcome to the Satellite of Supermodels. My name is Crow T. Robot, and I'm stuck up here with Stephanie Seymour and Paulina Porizkova, where we're being forced to watch "9 1/2 Weeks," "Wild Orchid," "Red Shoe Diaries" and the "Emmanuelle" series repeatedly. [A bit of silence ensues.] CROW: Or that could have been just my dream. I'm not completely sure. [MIKE and TOM enter from the left, both in nightclothes and yawning. CROW turns to look at them, sighs, and turns back to the camera.] CROW: Late-breaking news. No Stephanie, no Paulina. Instead, I'm stuck on the Satellite of Love, watching crappy movies with Tom Servo and big chunky human Mike Nelson. TOM: Bon-jurr! MIKE: Big chunky, reporting for duty. Say, Crow, what's up? CROW: I was just getting to the food scene again. Damn! MIKE: Uh... yeah. Who sounded the call to the bridge, is what I mean? TOM: You weren't walking in your sleep again, were you? CROW: Wasn't me -- [the yellow light on the desk starts blinking] -- oops. Ok, there's your answer. MIKE: Yep. That would be it, wouldn't it: Mrs. Forrester's calling. What's up with you, Perl script? [CUT TO: A freeze-frame. In the background, a billboard-sized logo: the letters "PF," formed into a stylized shield-shape. In the foreground, a very badly drawn cartoon of PROFESSOR BOBO, in top hat and tails, frozen open-mouthed.] PEARL: [voiceover, hissing] Start rolling! Start *rolling!* BRAIN GUY: [voiceover] I'm trying, it just isn't as easy as it -- Got it! [The scene unfreezes, and the mouth of the cartoon Bobo starts moving: two-frame animation that continues at exactly the same rate throughout, totally unsynchronized with BOBO's stilted voice-over.] BOBO: [voiceover] A Hem! This is Michigan J. Bobo! Welcome to America's newest source for qual-i-ty en-ter-tain-ment, the Pearl Forrester Network! You are here for a special [pause] pree-my-ear of the fantastic programs we will have for you in upcoming months! So stay... tuned! To the... uh, how do I pronounce that, Lawgiver? [Sounds of an open palm repeatedly smacking ape flesh.] BOBO: [voiceover] Oh! Right, I remember now! That's what we covered in those eight hours of rehearsal! [returns to 'Michigan J. Bobo' voice] To the Puh-Puh-Puh-Puh-Puhduhpuh Fuh! [CUT TO: The Satellite] CROW: Puh-puh-puh-puh-puhduhpuh fuh? TOM: The hell? MIKE: My sentiments exactly: the hell? CROW: Paulina... I left you for this? [sobs] [CUT TO: A TV studio. BRAIN GUY is dressed like Erich Von Stroheim, in polished boots and monocle; he stands arrogantly, with chin upraised, inhales deeply through his nose, and speaks:] BRAIN GUY: Und... AKTION! [He arrogantly 'claps' the scene clapper he carries, and collapses in pain, as he's accidentally caught his finger in it. The camera rolls over to show BOBO in a director's chair, lips moving as he reads a script, and PEARL in an even fancier director's chair, talking on a cell phone.] PEARL: ... yes, I know. We've already straightened all that out; all we want to know from *you* is, is he willing to recreate his role for the TV series? It's not like Saturday Night Live is begging to get him back! Yeah... yeah, same to... Look, all I'm saying is pass the offer on to him. Have your people call his people, and then when his people get back to your people, have your people call my -- [pause, as PEARL looks at BOBO, nibbling the corner of his script] -- my people-substitutes. Love ya babe let's do lunch sometime. [She hangs up and stands, looking at the camera.] PEARL: Ah! Mike and the Mechanicals! As you can see, it's a busy time down here -- but I'm excited! I just had to wake you in the middle of the night so that I could use you, viewers experienced with suffering, as a focus group for the shows on my new television network! [CUT TO: The SOL] MIKE: A new television network, really? Hunh. Well, not that I actually want to provide constructive criticism on your diabolical plans, but... there's already something like, what, six networks? TOM: Uh, seven. MIKE: Seven, then. So, Pearl, isn't the market a little saturated? PEARL: Well, yes, I *am* entering the game a little late. And that is why I need *you,* my captive research subjects, to preview my fall schedule! I need to get every TV set around the world tuned to MY channel... so that on that glorious day when I find the multimedia experience that BREAKS YOU, the delivery vehicle for my doomsday weapon will already be in place! Ma-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! [Pause.] Muh-ha-ha-ha! [Pause.] You're supposed to tremble in fear now. Tell me how evil I am! Snap to! [CUT TO: The SOL. CROW and TOM have their heads on the counter, and MIKE's eyelids are drooping shut.] MIKE: Hunh? Oh. OK. No, you fiend. You monster. You'll never get away with it, you diabolical lunatic. [CUT TO: The TV Studio] PEARL: Well, that's even lamer than your usual, Nellie Olsen, but I'll have to put you to horrible excruciating torture later. Right now, I need to subject you to the promo materials we have put together for the fall season. Brain Guy! [BRAIN GUY sidles into view.] BRAIN GUY: Yes, oh Evil Network Executive? PEARL: Roll the promos? BRAIN GUY: Why, certainly, I have it cued up with -- PEARL: [bored] -- yeah, with your mind -- BRAIN GUY: [crestfallen] -- with my mind -- PEARL: -- like always. BRAIN GUY: [sighs] Right. [He shakes his head and makes the OBSERVER POWERS noise. The screen is filled with the cliche FILM LEADER sequence of the backwards countdown, followed by the promo films, which the Mads comment over. The first promo shows a black background. One by one, smiling little CARTOON FACES pop up, until there are eight. Chipper, cheery vibraphone music plays in the background, as the faces smile gaily, bounce around the screen and generally cavort.] BRAIN GUY: [v.o.] Audiences of all ages were charmed by their whimsy and wonder! Now they're coming into your home five days a week, along with the magical soul who brought them all together! [One by one, the cute little cartoon faces make cute little cartoon SHRIEKS and fall off the bottom of the screen, leaving cute little BLOODSTREAKS in their wake. The camera follows the last one as it drops off the bottom of the screen and into a DUFFEL BAG, which zips itself up.] BRAIN GUY: [v.o.] Eight Heads In A Duffel Bag, The Cartoon Series! Coming this fall! PEARL: [v.o.] For no apparent reason, Peggy Charron and Action for Children's Television is giving us flak about this one. Go figure. Next promo. [The screen shows an apartment that looks suspiciously like the one from "Friends." With the exception that the one on "Friends" hasn't been condemned by the Health Department yet. The camera pans over to a blonde BIMBETTE, played by Beez McKeever wearing a bra so padded it needs flying buttresses to support it; the audience cheers. She sits on a stained, stuffing-leaking couch and looks at her watch. She gives a great, chest-heaving sigh. The audience cheers. Suddenly she looks over as the disgusting ORTEGA enters. The audience cheers.] BIMBETTE: Honey, you're home! Why so late tonight? [Ortega mutters something unintelligible. The audience erupts with laughter.] BIMBETTE: Well, you could have called. [Unintelligible response from Ortega, again provoking audience howls of merriment.] BIMBETTE: Oh, honey! I didn't mean to sound angry. Come over here and give me a hug. [Ortega mutters something ribald, judging from the catcalls that follow. As they embrace, he picks something out of her hair and puts it in his mouth.] BRAIN GUY: Everyone's favorite psychopathic lice farm is back in this season's comedy hit. It's Ortega, and some bleach blonde with a rack, in "Unhealthily Ever After!" PEARL: Work on the pitch, Chalky. BRAIN GUY: Er, right. Moving on. [A still shot of Brain Guy, wearing a sweater-vest and kneeling Dorf-style in a pair of high-top sneakers.] BRAIN GUY: Wholesome family comedy is back. What happens when a plucky little boy removes his brain and becomes omniscient and all-powerful? "Smarter Guy," coming Thursdays this fall! I think this is going to be a hit, I just know it is; it's a shame that *someone* just up and snagged all over my plans for "Which Witch is Witch," but I guess that's the Philistine nature of TV for OWWW OWWW DON'T DO THAT TO MY BRAIN. PEARL: Don't forget yourself again, Mummenschanz. I'm taking over the narration. [A still shot of Bobo, wearing an open-necked shirt, grinning like an idiot.] PEARL: The New Kirk Cameron Show. Starring -- close enough. Next. [A dramatically posed black-and-white photo of Brain Guy in a trenchcoat and fedora, carrying his brain (with its own fedora) and a gun.] PEARL: He's a private-eye-who-doesn't-play-by-the-rules-next! [Bobo in a flowered housedress.] PEARL: Wackiness ensues, next! BRAIN GUY: [grumbling] Oh, someone can't wait to get to their pet project... OH LORD that hurts! PEARL: You sure are pain-oriented today! That does it, we're skipping right to the piece de la Retsin. [CUT TO: The SOL] MIKE: Pearl? Are you ... is that blushing I see, Mrs. F? [CUT TO: The TV Studio] PEARL: Oh, Mike! This isn't just another plot to fulfill my lifelong dream of conquering the world! This ... this is the fulfillment of my lifelong dream to be watched and adored by millions, to be taken into a billion hearts ... and *then* to take over the world! Get ready, Mike, you're about to see the first preview ... of the first TV show ... to star ME! [CUT TO: The Satellite. Mike and the Bots are running around the Satellite's bridge in a blind panic.] MIKE: Ahhhhh! WE GOT TV STARRING PEARL FORRESTER SIGN! BOTS: Ahhhhh! MIKE: Ahhhhh! BOTS: AHHHHH! [The screaming continues, though the lights aren't flashing and no hatches to the theatre are opening. CUT TO: The studio, where Pearl is looking dyspeptic and tapping her foot.] PEARL: Are you *quite* finished? [CUT TO: The Satellite, where Mike and the Bots are starting to calm down.] MIKE: Well... you know, we're just in the habit and all... [CUT TO: The TV Studio] PEARL: Can it, lab rats. You're wasting valuable time which you could be using to watch ME! Brain Guy -- BRAIN GUY: Don't hit, don't hit, I'm rolling the film! [CUT TO a leader sequence, and from there, a FADE IN to autumn leaves falling in slow-motion onto a city street. A smooth, dreamy VOICE begins narration as gentle guitar music plays.] VOICE-OVER: She's finally made it at last to the big city. [Images of busy city sidewalks, tall office buildings, grassy parks... all shot in slow-motion, and softened as through a Vaseline filter.] VOICE-OVER: She's followed her dreams ... yes, her dreams of becoming a college freshman and a lawyer and a writer for a fashion magazine and a lingerie model and a monster truck driver are about to come true. [Close-up of Pearl's face. It fades into a montage of Pearl chugging at a keg party; Pearl in the courtroom putting an opposing lawyer in a headlock; Pearl behind the wheel of an enormous 4x4.] VOICE-OVER: She'll have smiles. She'll have tears -- other people's. And she'll complain about a sex life better than you'll ever have. "Suddenly Pearlicity McBeal In The City." Coming this fall. [CUT TO: The TV Studio] PEARL: Well? What do you think? You want to watch my show, right? You can't wait, right? [CUT TO: The SOL] MIKE: Well, not really. Though "The New Kirk Cameron Show," I might have to watch that and see if it's as good as it sounds. CROW: Yeah, and I'd watch "Unhealthily Ever After" just for the blonde. TOM: Me, I'd probably go for "Smarter Guy." Though what I really want to see is "Which Witch Is Witch" -- darn it, why don't the networks give bold and innovative programming a chance anymore? [CUT TO: The TV Studio] PEARL: What?! You -- YOU -- Listen! I have my finger on the pulse of America! I know what America wants to see, and neurotic, whiny, self-obsessed females are IN! [CUT TO: The SOL] MIKE: Well, sort of. But, usually, those females are, well... they're also... what's the word I'm looking for? TOM: Svelte? CROW: Shapely? MIKE: Yeah, and just all-over attractive. [CUT TO: The TV Studio. Pearl is doing a slow burn.] PEARL: Are you implying that I'm *not* svelte and shapely and attractive? THAT'S IT! I've been saving up something special for you clowns, and I was going to wait until I'd collected the whole series. But you're going to choke on it NOW! Read it and weep, twerps: two episodes from LeVar Bouyer's "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion"! [CUT TO: The SOL] CROW: And can't forget that they're usually pretty stacked. TOM: Well-groomed, there's another one. MIKE: Sane. Can't forget that, that's a biggie. TOM: Oh, yeah, definitely. [The THEATER LIGHTS begin to flash] MIKE: Oh, no, WE GOT FANFIC SIGN! BOTS: AAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! [DOOR SEQUENCE] [6] [5] [4] [3] [2] [1] [MIKE, CROW and TOM enter the theater and take their usual seats, amid the usual grumbling. The screen remains dark. Mike adjusts his theater seat, and adjusts Tom's as well, while Crow lets out a long, noisy yawn. Still nothing happens on the screen. Mike sighs and slouches in his seat. As time stretches on, Mike and the Bots begin to look around with puzzled expressions, around the theater and even under the seat. Crow opens his mouth to speak -- and suddenly BRAIN GUY's face fills the screen, filmed in much-too-close-up.] ALL: YAAAAGH! BRAIN GUY: Ah, hello there, Michael... mechanicals. [snickers] That was rather a good one, I think... To business. Pearl asked me to summarize for you all that happened in the first seven chapters of this epic drama so that you might be fully prepared to experience the numbing ennui. Let me review it myself... [He wrinkles his brow and makes the standard "Observer-powers" noise.] TOM: Sheese... BRAIN GUY: Finished. [under his breath] As are you... [brisk again] Cliff Notes are as follows: Sailor Moon has become Queen Serenity, effectively rules the world, and has amassed a veritable army of Sailor Senshi, 410 at last count, to be her... army. Young Jennifer Sakachi passes a test to become a Senshi candidate; she trains for a year at "the School," where wacky hijinks or what pass for them ensue, and at the end of the year, she graduates to become "Sailor Orion," while her roommate Eileen Pearcy becomes "Sailor America." The author promises no avatars, no cross-overs, and that the Senshi actually created by Naoko Takeuchi will barely show up at all. As a special treat, you'll also get to see the "official Sailor Orion title sequence." Enj -- no, skip that part. [Brain Guy's image winks out.] TOM: Title sequence? [The screen slowly fades from total blackness to a square of light -- and abruptly Brain Guy's face reappears.] ALL: YAAAARGH! BRAIN GUY: I forgot to mention that, in a plot twist absolutely *unprecedented* in Sailor Moon fanfiction -- the two Senshi are lovers. [He blinks out again.] TOM: I wish he wouldn't *do* that! >============================== > >The official Sailor Orion title sequence: TOM: As opposed to that *bootleg* title sequence that everyone keeps passing around. > >builds up, the constellation Orion rises prominently, and then shines >brightly as the words start] MIKE: Er... did we miss something? CROW: Yes. The food scene. [breaks into sobs again] TOM: Sheesh... Get *over,* Crow. > >Going out! >Exploring the Galaxy > >[the rest of the stars shine more brightly] > >Traveling! >Voyaging from star to star >With victory over them so essential! TOM: Enjoying starship so pleasurable with magnificent operation! MIKE: But please to rotate warpcores each hundred parsecs as a kindly maintenance action. > >[the camera whips around from Orion to show H.M.S. Pleiades streaking >by, on its way to an anonymous yellow star, TOM: Ah, Alpha Centauri joined the Witness Protection Program. MIKE: Shh! You're supposed to call it "Beta Johnson" now! > with a fade in to a >picture of the 9 original senshi at the departure of Pleiades] > >Time was I could count on them to always save the day CROW: Time was Mighty Mouse was always on the way! MIKE: See? You're warming up to it... > >[picture of Sailors Chibi-Moon and Orion on the bridge] > >But now it's time to pass the torch and go our separate ways. MIKE: [bitchy] Could you pass that torch by the HANDLE next time? > >[scene of Moon and Orion having a heated argument] > >Orion and Chibi-Moon just have to find a way to win though, > >[montage of Chibi-Jen, Eric, America, and Selenite, all looking >fiarly surprised] TOM: [Chibi-Jen] For *how many* cookies? MIKE: [Eric] I did *what* while I was drunk? CROW: [America] What am I *sitting* in? TOM: [Selenite] Mr. Smathers! The owner of the old deserted amusement park! > >For the future's sake and the present's wake and all that is between >the two. > >[picture of Chibi-Jen and Eric facing each other against a backdrop >of stars] CROW: [Eric] You want a piece of me, you pink-haired freak? Do you, hunh? MIKE: [Chibi-Jen] Come get it, tough guy; I've got a beat-down here with your name all over it. >Finding love and children lost, new races and new planets, >Always striving to the goal, no matter how hard it gets. TOM: Darn, I was hoping he'd rhyme it with "sniglets." > >[scene of Orion running on the surface of Penguin-2] ALL: [snorting and snickering] CROW: Who names a planet or planetoid Penguin-2? MIKE: I guess the prequel was "Bishoujo Astronomer Sailor Pen-Pen." > >So look out for the new blazing sailor star, > >[scene of Orion Nebula Collapse] CROW: I call no Robert Downey jokes. MIKE: Awww.... > >Behold the new sailor constellation, >For a new age dawns over all the galaxy! > >[picture of Hell being enveloped in a cloud] CROW: Ewww! Lucifer really let one! >We won't lose! for tomorrow a Sailor Cheer! TOM: With Sailor Stain-Fighting Ingredients! MIKE: I find I don't really want to contemplate Sailor Stain. > >[scene of Sailor America looking up to the sky, with tears in her >eyes] CROW: [America] It was a *good* kite... it didn't deserve to die... >We won't fail! We will find you very soon; >There will be an ending of this tale. TOM: Yeah, put that in writing, pal. MIKE: Well, technically, it is in writing... > >[group shot of Moon, Orion, Eric, and America, a la the end of the >SMS* opening] >(*very* cool) CROW: I don't know what the hell he's talking about, but it sure sounds kinky. Which I'm okay with, by the way. >[screen goes to black, then yellow title text is superimposed (ASCII >art forthcoming)] MIKE: Ah, so the official title sequence is still under construction. > >=================================== >======================================== > >Episode #108: A Few Good-byes CROW: Good-bye, fanfic! MIKE: Won't work. CROW: It couldn't hurt to try. > > > > > "Oh come now Eileen, TOM: [sings] Oh I swear -- MIKE and CROW: [sings] What he means -- TOM: [sings] -- at this moment, you mean everything! > it's not the end of the world!" > > Eileen looked up from the clothes she had been busily packing >into a trunk. It was moving day at the School. TOM: They were good clones, so they got to go to *America.* > "Easy for you to >say. You *know* where you're going to go." CROW: Fanfic, you already *know* where you can go. MIKE: Shhh. Give it a chance; it can't be as bad as, say, early Gonterman. CROW: [darkly] We'll see. > "It's not that bad!" she retorted. > > "The hell it isn't! CROW: That's just what I was thinking! MIKE: Shhh. Give it a chance. > You've got a ship, you're probably going >to see it soon, ne?" > > "Suiyobi," admitted Jennifer. TOM: [Author] See? See? I know Japanese, and you don't! Nyah! And I'm gonna rub it in your face every chance I get! > "There you are! You've got a ship, a mission, and something to >do. What do I have? CROW: Besides an awe-inspiring collection of Annie Sprinkle videos? > A 'wait and see' message, no job, and a lover >who's going to leave me in a couple of days!" > > Jen dropped the pair of jeans MIKE: Well, that's one approach to recombining DNA. Heh, heh. TOM: Mike, puns like that are why you never get invited to parties. > that she had been about to toss >into a bag; neatness wasn't one of her attributes. MIKE: Chapter Eight is generally too late to start establishing character traits. > "For the last >time, Eileen, I'm doing everything I can to have you put CROW: -- to sleep. > aboard >Pleiades. Everything." > > Neither mentioned exactly how much clout a rookie Senshi had in >the Fleet. CROW: Yeah, they have to salute when the washroom attendants pass. TOM: ORION ASHTRAY EMPTY! MIKE: [slacker] In the name of love and justice, ya want fries with that? >*** > > Jennifer Sakachi had arrived at the school in a conventional >family car. She left in a fifteen car motorcade. There was quite a >difference between the two times. MIKE: For instance, fourteen cars. CROW: They didn't have to keep her in the wrap-around jacket anymore. TOM: And she got the window seat this time! > For one thing, there were no bombings. TOM: Which there usually were, in a family car. CROW: "Mo-om! Bobby's deploying high-yield explosive anti-personnel devices again!" MIKE: "Well, tell him you'll bomb him right back, dear." > Terrorist activity had >come to a standstill in recent months, which had some overjoyed and >others scared witless. CROW: [citizenry] "Oh, God! The terrorists are leaving us alone! We'll be expected to go back to our daily lives!" > Either the anti-Serenity crowd had decided >that the party was over, and decided to go home, TOM: [Stoner] Hey man, they're down to the last keg and the stale Fun-yuns. Let's ditch this party before they dig out the Sean Cassidy records. > in which case there >was little to worry about. > > Or, they were biding their time, gathering strength for a more >pivotal battle that would transcend car bombs and mail threats, in >which case the Senshi would have to prepare for a full military >defense of Crystal Tokyo. MIKE: [Senshi] Did you ever wish we were defending, I dunno, maybe "Steel-Reinforced Concrete Tokyo" instead? > And the last two times that had happened, >Serenity had been victorious by only the narrowest of margins. CROW: [British historian] The benevolent reign of Neo-Queen Serenity, and Crystal Tokyo, could very well have toppled that day, returning the world to anarchy and barbarism. Yet, in the final hour, just when all seemed darkest, there appeared on the horizon a new, shining hope. A plot contrivance. > But today was a day to put all that in the back of one's mind. >Ticker-tape parades were rare in Crystal Tokyo MIKE: The joyous citizenry generally preferred to show their appreciation by hurling razorlike shards of glass. > (or the CeeTee, as it >was abbreviated by more insensitive foreigners), and were usually >reserved for the graduation of a Senshi, or the launching of a new >ship. Orion, America, and Pleiades fell under those categories. And >thus, several tons of confetti and other random bits of paper were >being showered upon the neat, tidy streets of Crystal Tokyo. TOM: Meanwhile, Sailor Obsessive-Compulsive trailed behind the motorcade, snatching frantically at the gaily colored confetti in the air and screeching, "Stop it you bastards you bastards Jesus Christ you're KILLING ME!" > Sailor America was loving it. MIKE: Paper! Neat! > "Isn't this great?" she cried as the motorcade began to move >off. They were in an open limousine, along with Jen's parents. TOM: "Hey, what's that guy on the grassy knoll doing?" >Eileen's parents would have loved to come, but various circumstances >had prevented it. MIKE: "Sorry, dear, we *both* have to wash our hair that night." CROW: "Shampoo the dog." TOM: "Hand-wash our delicates." MIKE: "Clip coupons." CROW: "Sort the videotapes." > "Hai!" answered Sailor Orion. TOM: "Thanks to the half-kilo I got as a graduation present, I'm completely Hai!" > "I'm beginning to like this >fuku, you know. You'd never think that it's this warm, but it is. >Skirt's still way too high, though." > > "Shall I let it out for you?" asked her mother jokingly. They >all laughed. CROW: OH GOD! BWAH-HA-HA-HAHAHA! "Shall I let the skirt out for you?" WAH-HA-HA-HAH- Wait, I don't get it. > Orion was rather glad of it; her mother was growing >increasingly pensive since the graduation. The realization that her >only daughter was going off into the *really* great unknown was just >sinking in, and she needed the laugh. > > "That's okay, okaasan. TOM: Oscar-san? Oh my God, his union with Artemis was blessed with fruit! MIKE: Calm down. First of all, it's "okaasan." Second, that union was not blessed with *anything.* > I think I can manage, especially after >all the trouble I went through to get this." > > They neared Crystal Tokyo, CROW: Look! Either you're nearing Crystal Tokyo or you're motorcading through its streets! One or the other! Not both! Which is it, fic? Answer me, ya skel! TOM: Crow, have you considered decaf? CROW: Sorry... My doctor says it's Post-Oscar Stress Disorder, and you triggered a flashback. > and could now see the distinctive >skyline. It was truly dazzling, with glistening towers almost >growing towards the blazing sun, a yellow splotch in a sea of >cerulean blue. TOM: Yellow splotch in cerulean blue. Sounds like something Van Gogh painted. During a seizure. > It had been said by numerous travel agencies that you >needed sunglasses when looking at Crystal Tokyo from afar. On days >like these, one was inclined to believe them. > > "Wow. You know, Orion, I never get used to seeing that." MIKE: I never get used to what passes for natural-sounding dialogue. CROW: Suddenly, I picture Sailor America played by John Agar when the film comes out. MIKE and TOM: [retching sounds] TOM: Oh, congratulations, Crow, that's a mental image that's gonna leave a mark. > "America?" > > "Yup?" > > "You've never seen it before?" TOM: "No, but I've been through the desert on a horse with no name. Does that count?" > "No?" > > "Iie. Remember, it was cloudy when I arrived." TOM: "But there were plants and birds and rocks and things..." MIKE: Hush. > "Was that from natural meteorological processes or the storm >that gathered over Sailor Mars's head?" > > "Oh, bite me," she said playfully. CROW: 'cause even in the year 3000-something, it's *still* fun! > "I'd love to," came the reply. MIKE: With *fava* beans and a nice Chianti. > They descended into the maelstrom. TOM: And if only the audience had some idea what the aforementioned maelstrom was, we would be able to picture it perfectly. >*** > > At long last, they arrived at the CT Hilton. CROW: As it was called by insensitive foreigners. > Or so it was >called. CROW: By insensitive foreigners. > The Hilton's parent company had gone out of business over a >thousand years ago, but the Queen's nostalgia took weird turns at >times, and the creation of a hotel named CT Hilton was one of them. MIKE: Another was forcing condemned criminals into gigantic coliseums to re-enact _Suddenly Susan_ episodes. TOM: "We who are about to be tragically hip, like, so totally salute you!" > The two newly-anointed Senshi hadn't realized exactly how >draining a simple parade could get. There was the happy, frenzied >arm waving of the first couple kilometers, followed by the more >subdued hand waving, followed by the perfunctory polite hand waving, >followed by the please-god-make-it-stop hand waving. MIKE: Think that'd work? [All three start waving at the screen.] > They had >finally arrived at the Hilton, where a pile of dignitaries TOM: They were in a pile because the only dignitaries they could get were from the WWF. > would make >a heck of a lot of speeches (which they both had to politely sit >through). They were still brushing the paper out of their hair when >Jen's parents made their leave. > > "We'd stay, really," said Isao, CROW: "-- but we'd rather leave you to suffer on your own. You understand." > "but speeches aren't really for >us." > > "And you think *we* like them?" > > "Easy now, Orion," said America, giving Orion a quick hug. >"This can't take more than a couple of hours." MIKE: Spoken by someone who has never attended *any* graduation ceremony. >*** > > Five hours later, the artificial lights were coming on all over >Crystal Tokyo, and the guests of honor were going insane. TOM: Well, hereditary monarchies tend to get that way. Inbreeding and all. > While the >speakers had come and gone, none staying for the entire program, and >several guard Senshi had done the same, Orion and America had been >condemned to sit and listen to dozens of speeches following precisely >the same pattern. TOM: [Bill Clinton] I feel your pain... MIKE: [George Bush] Thousand points of light! CROW: [Ross Perot] That sucking sound you hear... is this fanfic! > They generally ran the politically safe route of congratulating >the Senshi on their recent graduation, blah blah. Another sign of >cooperation between nations, blah blah. Keeping the world safe from >outer space, blah blah. MIKE: Note to 'blah-blah'ing author: if there's a part of the story you don't give a damn about, chances are neither do we. > Please don't invade our country, blah blah. TOM: They're stressing that real heavily after last year's Senior Prank. > "Orion?" whispered America during the nth speech, while they >were desperately trying to give the appearance of being attentive >(and failing), "you know what?" > > "What?" came the response. CROW: "Chicken butt!" > "These things would be a lot better if there were some kind of >copyright restriction on speeches." TOM: Or if they were nude. > "Really? And I suppose Naoko Takeuchi can be sued by Sailor >Venus for copyright violations on her character?" ALL: What?! > "You can't copyright a person!" > > "No more so than an idea." > > "What original ideas have you heard from that podium today?" >asked Sailor America witheringly. TOM: Well, the plan to recycle excess facial hair into building materials was pretty new. > "Touche," replied Orion. "Oh, look sharp." And they both >applauded politely as the current speaker completed his piece. CROW: The speaker then *re-loaded* the piece, and fired off six high-explosive rounds upwards from the page, shouting "Sic semper scribna!" MIKE: Now what have I told you about being mean to the author? > Three >more to go. They waited until the next speaker began before resuming >their hushed conversation. > > "But the fact remains, Sailor America, that ideas shouldn't be >copyrighted. Inventions, yes." > > "Ah. but they're the same thing, are they not?" TOM: ORION INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY DEBATE! In the name of the Berne Convention, I will punish you! > "No! Okay, suppose some hack writer sitting at home wakes up >and says, 'gee, maybe I'll write a story about Sailor Orion.' [Stunned silence.] MIKE: I thought the author wasn't going to insert himself in this story! > You >know, how she came to be, what she did, stuff like that. The idea of >chronicling my life is original, but the recounting of my life in and >of itself wouldn't be. TOM: Or interesting. This plot is moving like a strychnine-poisoned snail, for God's sake! Could we condense the discussion on copyright law? > So-" > > America didn't get a chance to attack Orion's logic, mainly >because she had fallen asleep. CROW: "Funny, she usually doesn't fall asleep until I mention foreplay." MIKE: Oh, yeah. She's gonna make a great Senshi. >*** > > The next morning, Sailor America was trying to reach her >parents on the phone. She had a talk show appearance to do in a >couple of hours, CROW: [Wayne Campbell] Today on Wayne's World, we're gonna have a guest appearance by the newest babe-alicious Senshi, Sailor America! ALL: SCHWING! CROW: [Wayne] But first, we're gonna recycle all the jokes about Garth's pubes one more time. > and she wanted to get the call out of the way. >After ten busy signals, someone finally picked up. > > "Pearcy residence," came an extremely slow and deep voice. TOM: [James Earl Jones] Bob, Linda and Traci have all turned to the Dark Side of the Force, but if you'll leave your name and number at the beep... > "Cripes, didn't you check who is was, Chuck?" MIKE: It could have been Brian, calling to ask me to the prom! > "Sorry, Leenie, but-" > > "DON'T CALL ME LEENIE!" TOM: Graduation speeches, and now family bickering. This author really knows how to capture your attention ... and then apply medieval instruments of torture to it. CROW: No one will be admitted during the thrilling "showing of vacation slides" scene! > "-but everyone's out right now, and-" > > "Chuck? I know nobody's home in your head, but for crying out >loud, tell the computer that Sailor America has to talk to her >parents!" TOM: So, she just *had* to talk to him in person, so that he could give the message to the computer? What's that about? > "Oh, okay." A click followed. > > "If that bastard's cut me.. MIKE: [Alex] "-- I'll kick him in the yarbles." > oh, aunt Leda, hello!" CROW: How's your pet swan these days? Engorged? Hmmm, well, that's a strange way to describe your pets, Auntie Leda, but I'll take your word for it. > "Is that you, Eileen?" > > Silly family, she thought. TOM: Trix are for kids! > The concept of vidphones had left >her part of Pennsylvania behind centuries ago. There were some >pockets where they still used land wires for communication. TOM: Oh, how backwards of them. > "Right >now I'm Sailor America, Auntie, but you can't see me, can you?" MIKE: Brilliant deduction; were you expecting it to become a vidphone in mid-call? > "No. My, but it's good to talk to you. You've gotten quite an >accent over there, haven't you?" > > "Yeah, same here." Whatever. CROW: Isn't it funny how art imitates life? Cause that's *my* reaction: WHATEVER! > "Listen, I've got a message I >want you to give to mom and dad, okay?" > > "Shoot." BOTS: BLAM! MIKE: Oy... > "Okay, tell them...tell them that I love them and all that, and >that I'm going to miss them." > > "Miss them? Honey, aren't you coming home?" > > "Nope. Her Majesty's got all sorts of stuff to do around >here." Like baby-sit, guard the jewelry, take out the >cat... MIKE: [smirky voice] With *extreme* prejudice. > actually, that wasn't completely accurate. MIKE: Well, okay, with half-hearted prejudice. > The Princess hadn't >been seen in a couple of years, and it was generally assumed that she >was either grown up, or she had gone back into the past. CROW: There were rumors about the woodchipper, but they'd never been proved. > Eileen >personally thought that Small Lady's parents were inexcusably liberal TOM: Oh Lord. In the year 3014 there's still Rush Limbaugh fans. >with their child, letting her go gallivanting throughout the >twentieth century, but it wasn't her kid, and... MIKE: "Well, it's true that you've been the de-facto ruler of the world for centuries, and I'm a childless 20-year-old, but let me give you some parenting advice anyways..." > "What was that you were saying, Auntie?" > > "I was saying," repeated Leda, "that your parents will be home >in a few minutes, and you might as well wait for them." > > "No, that's okay," said America, for whom it wasn't, "I've got >some other obligations to clear up. Tell them that I'll try to call >them next month sometime, okay? Bye!" > > She gave the button a savage poke, CROW: Man, she was like a total _animal_ pressing that button! Such savagery! > and the screen reverted to >its usual blank default. It was a state of the art device, capable >of communication in real time with any other computer within 2 light >seconds. After that, the delay became noticeable. TOM: And the roaming charges just got way out of hand. > It was also >waterproof, which came in handy as Sailor America silently wept tears >onto it, weeping for a world she'd just abandoned. MIKE: And for her long-distance bill. >*** > > "Why so blue?" asked Jen. She and Eileen were relaxing in the >small apartment provided them by the government. As they were in a >domestic setting, there was no need to assume Senshi garb, and they >hadn't. CROW: There was also no need for them for them to dress as Wayland Flowers and Madame, and they hadn't done that, either. MIKE: There was also no need to dress as Pinky and the Brain, so they hadn't done that. TOM: There was also no need for them to put on black leather overalls over Saran Wrap lingerie, and they... uh... they... MIKE: Well? TOM: Sorry, got caught up for a minute there. > Jen wondered idly if the planetary Senshi were subject to >the same rules. She couldn't imagine Sailor Mars in anything casual, >or anything as revealing as what Jen was wearing at the moment. CROW: She can't? I don't see why, there's plenty of pictures floating around the Net -- MIKE: Hush. > She had worn the sheer nightie CROW: Bow-chicka-WOW! > in hopes of raising Eileen's >spirits, TOM: It's sure raising my -- MIKE: [throat clear] TOM: -- level of interest. > but the attempt had failed, and Eileen was nowhere close to >her normal, bubbly self. Jen threw on a housecoat (lingerie can be >quite drafty), TOM: Was that exposition really necessary to the plot? > and sat down beside her. > > "Well?" > > "You wouldn't understand." MIKE: It's a multi-syllable thing. You wouldn't understand. > "Try me." CROW: "I come in sample sizes." > "It still won't work. You parents are just a couple kilometers >away, mine are halfway around the world, and you tell me that you can >understand?" TOM: [90210's Dylan] You just don't get it, do you, man? You just don't get it! > "Oh come now, Eileen, TOM: [sings] With you in that dress -- MIKE and CROW: [sings] My thoughts I confess -- TOM: [sings] -- verge on dirty, oh come now, Eileen! > I thought we meant more to each other >than this." CROW: "You'd do it for me if you really loved me." > Eileen flounced back on the rather large and sumptuous bed, and >sighed. "Oh, we do, Jen-chan. But you...you've got everything. MIKE: "You've got the Corvette, the Playstation, the 'All In The Family' boxed set..." >I've got a fuku." CROW: You do? How special. Well, I hope the chef prepared it wrong! MIKE: You're thinking of fugu. And by the way, that's... really dark. CROW: I'm having a bad day. > "Please don't start with that again." Eileen turned to face >her, expecting to see a grin on Jen's face. Instead, a look of >sadness sat behind those now black-rimmed glasses. TOM: Pray tell, just how does a look sit? > "You know I'd do >anything to make you happy. MIKE: "I'll leave you the last season, after Gloria and Mike go to California, and Danielle Brisebois steps in as the adorable, yet unable to emote, young Stephanie." > Even give up Pleiades." > > Eileen had always thought that having one's mouth fall open was >something that only happened in bad stories and cartoons. CROW: And she was right! TOM: [imitates a rimshot.] > She >definitely had never thought that it might happen to her. MIKE: "Dear SenshiHouse, I thought that the stories in your letters column were all made up, until..." > "You would >do what?!?" > > "I'd give up Pleiades. Right now, you're a hell of a lot more >important to me than some old moldy ship." > > "Moldy ship? Jen-chan, Pleiades is the chance of a lifetime!" > > "Is it? Look at me, Eileen." Jen stood up and turned around >theatrically. "Do you see a starship commander?" TOM: "How many starship commanders am I holding up?" > She began pacing >back and forth, which was the signal to Eileen that she was >moderately upset. CROW: Pacing forth and back, on the other hand, would have been the signal to steal second. > She had never seen Jen when she was pissed off, >and it was not something she looked forward to. "I see a historian. >A historian who should be sitting around, working on a Ph.D., writing >a textbook, something like that. MIKE: "Inciting mob violence, blowing off people's right arms, that sort of thing!" > Now I'm going to be placed in a >position where I have to decide who lives and who dies. D'you think >I like that?" CROW: Who wouldn't? > There was a pause. > > "You know what?" said Eileen. "I think you *do*. I think that >if you wanted a nice cuddly desk job, CROW: Desk job? What's that a euphemism for? MIKE: Uh... I don't think it's a euphemism for anything. CROW: Oh, come on, Mike. 'Cuddly?' > you could have turned down the >spot at the School. I think that you want to be a Senshi more than >anything else in the world. TOM: [explodes] There should be a law that says you just can't stick two Senshi in a bedroom together, SPECIFYING that one's in skimpy lingerie, so that they can just TALK the scene to death! Dammit, I want some lemon return on my reading investment! CROW: Yeah... She's not even gonna get a desk job outta this. > I think this was a ploy to get me out of >my bad mood." She got up and hugged Jennifer tightly. "And I think >it worked." > > Jen just hugged her back. Four out of five suppositions wasn't >bad. MIKE: [sings] So don't... feel... sad... cause four-out-of-five suppositions ain't bad! TOM: The first four suppositions were okay, but you have no idea where the doctor wanted me to stick the fifth! > Of course, she wasn't going to tell Eileen that. MIKE: "Yep, successfully manipulated her emotions once more... Did I say that out loud? Oh poopie." >*** > > On the 23rd of May, 3029, at 0324 Japanese Standard Time, CROW: Does the author *have* to be so vague? >Jennifer Allison Sakachi turned 18 years of age. This was not >celebrated until 0823, when she and Eileen decided to spend Jen's >last few hours on Earth shopping the hell out of Crystal Tokyo. MIKE: "I'm gonna shop the HELL out of..." oh, wait. > One >of the advantages to being a Senshi was an unlimited credit limit, CROW: Oh, like THAT's a good idea... >which they utilized to the fullest. After having virtually bought >out a couple of shops, they arranged for their purchases to be sent >to their respective homes. MIKE: "Yo, homes! I bought out a couple of stores and I'm leaving you to find some place to put the stuff. I hope you're down with that." > Eileen's to the Senshi group >accommodations, Jen's to Pleiades. > > At about two in the afternoon, they were visiting the usual >tourist traps, and enjoying themselves while doing it. At Itsuko >Promontory, from which one had a gorgeous view of the Crystal Palace, >the two leaned over the rail, TOM: "Bleeeurgh!" MIKE: "Sorry down there... it's okay, we're Senshi!" TOM: ORION TECHNICOLOR YAWN! MIKE: Okay, now that was just gross. > looking out at Serenity's house in the >distance and the waters of Tokyo Bay which were a few dozen meters >below them. > > "Nice view," commented Eileen. > > "Hai." CROW: "Eight miles." > "Did I wish you a happy birthday?" > > "Hai." TOM: "-keeba!" > > "Oh." MIKE: "Hm." TOM: "Well." CROW: "Gee." MIKE: "Gosh." TOM: "Coo!" > A bird flew overhead, and the sun disappeared behind a cloud, >to reappear a few seconds later. ALL: [beatnik finger-snapping] > "Jen?" > > "Yes?" > > "Happy birthday." > > "Arigato." > > "I'm going to miss you." > > "Same here." > > They stood in silence for a bit. TOM: Until 1426 Japanese Standard Time on the 23rd of May, 3024... not that we're getting retentive or anything. > "Don't you have an engagement to get to?" > > "I'd rather be with you." > > "Don't I know it." > > Jen looked at her watch. It *was* getting late. "I guess I've >got to leave." > > "Hai." MIKE: "-Alai?" > "Sayonara, Jen-chan." > > "Sayonara, Eileen-chan." > > Both meant it in the most literal way. TOM: Literally translated, it actually means "You heartless bitch, I want my records back." CROW: Wow. I guess you miss a lot in translation. >*** > > Everything was packed. Her belongings were already on a >shuttle to Pleiades. In a few minutes she would attend the first in >a number of briefings on Pleiades. She would be expected to know the >ship inside and out within a day. TOM: Biblically! > Capabilities, dossiers on the >crew, limitations. And the man who probably could have helped her >the most at doing this was her father. MIKE: Sadly, he was not allowed aboard the ship, as he just didn't look good in a fuku. > Of course, due to the quasi-caste system that occasionally >reared its head, he wouldn't be able to. It smacked too much of >nepotism and of letting the lowly classes mingle with the Senshi to >allow him to attend the meetings. > > So it was just her, her father, and her mother, standing at the >gate to Her Majesty's Fleet's Earth Headquarters, just outside >Crystal Tokyo. There was so much to say on both sides. CROW: "You could have sorted the videotapes some *other* time..." > So much >longing, sadness, happiness, and a billion other emotions. > > "See you," said Sailor Orion. > > "Bye," said her parents. MIKE: Tune in next time, for another exciting but emotionally repressed episode of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion! > She walked through the door. TOM: [imitates glass shards crashing] CROW: "Ow!" > > They walked to the cab they had taken out there, got in, and >went home. > MIKE: Sounds like a cue to me. [Mike picks up Tom to carry him, and the three begin to leave the theater.] CROW: Hey, how about Tor Johnson as Sailor Orion? "In name of love, justice, time for to punish you!" TOM: Aaaaaah! Crow, stop it, you're gonna cause a seizure or something! CROW: Hee-hee! [DOOR SEQUENCE] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [FADE IN to the Bridge. A large pile of drawings lies face-down on the table. As CROW introduces each one, MIKE picks it up, shudders at it, and turns the paper around so that we the audience (via Cambot, of course) get a look at it. Mike and TOM look like they're suffering greatly, while Crow looks demonically cheerful.] CROW: -- and what could strike more terror into a youma's heart than Sailor Cheesehead's battle cry, "Packers -- WOOO!" [Sure enough, the sketch features the repulsive farmer from _The Giant Spider Invasion,_ dressed in a skin-tight white blouse and a short, cheese-yellow fuku.] TOM: Aaaaaa! Stop it, you fiend! CROW: Hee-hee-hee! MIKE: Hi, everyone. You've joined us just in time to see Crow deal with his own pain by making us suffer even worse than we already are. Unfortunately, that's becoming more and more of a habit for him. CROW: Mike, if you'll show the next sketch? MIKE: Don't you see a *little* irony in doing Pearl's work for her, Crow? TOM: Yeah; whose side are you on? CROW: Irony isn't my specialty, Mike. Inventing new fanfic Sailor Senshi is! Show the next one. MIKE: I'm starting to think humoring you *isn't* the -- ugh. TOM: Oh no. Crow... CROW: His special powers include peeping *and* wobbling. Who could ask for anything more? Negaverse, beware! But, they had to make his fuku *extra-short*... to accomodate his BIG KNEES! [Mike turns the drawing around to show us "Sailor Torgo." As promised, the knees are absurdly large, and the skirt too short for anyone's peace of mind. His blouse, mud-brown fuku, bows, gloves, and rope-brimmed hat are all decrepit and stained. Curiously, his battered headwear also has two odango perched on top of it.] CROW: Don't you feel safer at the thought of Sailor Torgo, in his short skirt, standing between you and the forces of evil? "ToRgO LeChERoUs hAiR-FoNdLE!" Even Queen Beryl recoils from Torgo... heh-heh! TOM: On behalf of all robotkind, Mike, I beg you not to take this sad, demented creature as anything but a freakish aberration. CROW: Why, Thomas! Funny you should mention sad, demented creatures... [Mike, in the process of lifting up the next sketch, hesitates.] CROW: Go ahead, Michael... it can't hurt you... TOO much. [Mike takes a deep breath, licks his lips, hesitates... finally lifts the picture upright. As soon as they get a good look at it, Mike and Tom stagger back, moaning in pain.] CROW: [gravelly singing] "Fighting FILTH by CORPSElight, winning RATS by DEATHlight..." Who could that be? Why, it's Sailor Smolken, the bloated musical Senshi! [Mike turns the sketch to the camera, shielding his eyes from it. It's Digger Smolken, his portly body stuffed into a blouse and dirt-black fuku. Again, too small a fuku. Two small odango are perched at either side of his monk's-tonsure haircut, and his henshin rod is actually a small shovel.] CROW: "I think that I will punish you, but I do not know, for I am maaaAAAAAAAaad!" BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA! TOM: You're coming *this* close to tampering in God's domain, Crow! [whimpering] Mommie... when does it end? [Mike finally recovers enough to start lifting the next picture.] MIKE: I can only hope he'll snap out of it before -- God in Heaven, no! TOM: You have no *soul,* Crow! [GYPSY enters from off-stage, carrying a couple of drawings in her mouth. When she can't get anyone's attention, she puts her drawings down next to Crow's on the table.] CROW: Hee hee! The Sailor Senshi *need* a older figure of authority, to act as a mentor; who better than Joe Don Baker playing law enforcement icon Sailor Mitchell? MIKE: You're mad! Mad, I tell you! TOM: He must be stopped! GYPSY: Um, excuse me, you guys... CROW: Gripping his henshin Schlitz can, and uttering the magic phrase "MITCHELL BABY OIL POWER MAKE-UP!" he's ready to roll his pork-rind swollen butt into battle! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA! MIKE: Tom -- I don't know if we can save him! He's gone too far ... he's turned to the dark side! TOM: How Lucasian! CROW: I'M THE MAN! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA! GYPSY: [clears her throat] Guys? Um... MIKE: Mind... slipping... filling with... horrors... mostly... wearing... fukus... GYPSY: Guys, can I play? [Crow's evil laughter, Mike's babbling, Tom's sobbing all drag to a halt. Pause. Everyone slowly turns to look at Gypsy.] MIKE: Play?! GYPSY: Well, you guys made inventing new Sailor Scouters look like so much fun -- TOM: Fun?! GYPSY: -- that I just had to try it myself. So I made a picture of the man I love and admire above all others, dressed in his costume as Sailor Basehart! MIKE: Let me take a look... [He lifts the first sketch in Gypsy's pile, and slowly his mouth curves into a smile.] Why, bless your innocent purple heart, Gypsy! Come look, guys... isn't this adorable? TOM: Awwww... That's sweet! Wow, just when you think hope is gone forever... you get a reminder that there's still innocence in the world. It's cleansing, isn't it? MIKE: Oh, it sure is, Tom. [MIKE turns the sketch so that we can see: the bearded head of Richard Basehart, drawn atop the body of a Senshi. A more talented artist wouldn't have placed Basehart's head at a 135-degree-angle to the rest of his body, but that only adds to the homely charm of the picture.] CROW: Yeah... I'm sorry, guys. We could have avoided a lot of pain, if I'd only realized I could turn my Sailor-creating ability to niceness instead of evil. Can you ever forgive me? TOM: Why, of course, Crow. I just feel like giving everybody a big group hug right about now! Too bad my arms don't work. [Gypsy's head starts nudging Mike's hand towards the next sketch in the pile. Mike picks it up without really looking.] MIKE: Wow. This really is a touching moment, and it's brought us all so close together. I think we've all learned a valuable -- GYPSY: And here's my sweetheartie-pie again, as Sailor Basehart Fantasy! [The kind of screams usually reserved for death ring out, as we cut to the planet bumper.] [Returning from the commercials, Mike and the Bots enter the theatre again.] CROW: No, but seriously: The Sailor Supermodels. Think about it. Wouldn't that be a great fanfic? MIKE: Just as long as Sailor Ireland doesn't get so much as a single line. >======================================== > > >Episode #109: Welcome Aboard CROW: Hey, look, it's a personalized greeting! TOM: No, it's "Welcome Aboard," not "Welcome, to the Bored." > > > > Jennifer Sakachi looked out into the blackness of space for the >last time in a very long while. She pondered the contradiction >there; MIKE: [Brain] Are you pondering what I'm pondering? CROW: [Pinky] -- I think so, Brain, but... uh... um... Damn! those things are so funny! And I can't think of one! > while she would probably spend the next five years in space, >Jen would never see it. It would all be through the eyes of Sailor >Orion, a concept she was still coming to grips with. TOM: Like 'cereal first, milk second.' > It was through >kindness and a few loopholes that she had managed to come up and take >a look at her ship without having to transform. > > "Shuttle 973, come right bearing 045 mark 30." > > The pilot she sat next to made a slight adjustment with the >flight controls, CROW: At least he claimed that's what his hand was doing in his lap. > in accordance with the flight director in the >shuttle bay. MIKE: [seductive] For the *hottest* live flight directors, call 1-900-SHUTTLE. We're *waiting* for you. TOM: You do that too well, Mike. MIKE: Well, let's just say that I took an ... *unusual* variety of assignments when I was temping... BOTS: EEEEEEWWWWW! MIKE: I'm kidding! Geeez... > Suddenly, Jen could see the ship that would be her home >for the next five years. > > H.M.S. Pleiades, twelfth ship of the Haruna-class, call number >RMS-32403, hung gleaming silver in space. 300 meters from stem to >stern, 112 meters at the beam, 90 meters from keel to the top deck, TOM: 75 meters from the wet bar to the loo... >it was the most beautiful ship Jen had ever seen. And as a double >bonus, it was the first cruise for both of them; Jen had never had >command of a ship, and Pleiades had never left solar orbit. > > "Guess we've got a bit to learn about each other." CROW: Are you an innie or an outie? >*** > > Jen stood in the airlock impatiently, tapping her gloved hand >on the door frame. The air was still being pumped in, and she was >extremely eager to look at the interior of her ship firsthand. She >also wanted to try out her new persona. MIKE: "Attention! This is your new captain, "Bubbles" Sakachi speaking!" > She had been working on a >tough-nosed military captain's image during the briefings yesterday, >and she felt that she was about as feared as an eighteen year old >could be. TOM: She'll have to change her name to "Marrissa" for that. > Finally, the indicator lights turned green, and an ensign >pulled open the hatch. The bosun blew the traditional greeting. CROW: "Hello, my name is Mitch, welcome to the Snackateria -- oh, geez, I blew it again, that was my *last* job..." > "Permission to come aboard?" > > "Granted, sir!" > > Jen took off her helmet and began working on the rest of her >suit. ALL: [imitate muted-trumpet stripper music] > "Your name?" > > "Ensign James Duvall, SIR!" > > Jen jumped, then glared angrily at the man...boy, actually. He >barely looked over seventeen. TOM: He preferred "Tiger Beat." > She looked at the ceiling. CROW: Whole lot of pencils up there... > True, >there was no particular reason that you looked at the ceiling when >speaking to the computer, but old habits died hard. "Computer, make >it a standing order that the word 'Sir' is not to be said in anything >other than a conversational tone." MIKE: "In addition, the common tuber *will* be pronounced po-TAH-toe, and anyone who leaves off the 'e' at the end will face court-martial. God, I love power." > Nothing happened. Jen failed to notice this for a moment. >"One thing you'll learn, Mister Duvall, is that this is a ship of Her >Majesty's Fleet, not boot camp. And you will also learn that I am >neither a drill sergeant nor a lover of loud noises." TOM: [Bones McCoy] Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a lover of loud noises! > A clattering in the background confirmed this. > > "Dammit, what's with the racket!?!" CROW: [Pinky] -- but where would we find cake pans large enough to -- TOM: No, forget it, Crow. The moment passed. > "Sorry sir," came the muffled response from around the corner. >"Still working on a few minor details." > > She muttered incoherently for a moment; her romance with this >ship definitely wasn't extending to its crew. MIKE: A romantic preference for inanimate objects. Noted. > She then looked at the >ceiling again. "Computer, did you hear me? > > "Computer?" > > "Um, Sailor Orion?" > > "Nani?" asked Jen, TOM: [old-lady voice] No, Nanny can't come to help you right now. She and Pup-pup are back on Earth, watching "Red-Hot Senshi in Love" right now. > not paying enough attention to be annoyed >that he addressed her by her Senshi name despite the fact that she >was clearly in a standard-issue jumpsuit. > > "Err, he prefers to be called Antares." > > "Antares?" > > "Antares." CROW: Antares? MIKE: Antares. TOM: ANtaRES? MIKE: No, AnTAres. > "Great. Not only is my crew incompetent, but the AI's a bloody >prima donna." > > "Hey, I resemble that remark!" ALL: [dully] Ha. Ha. Ha. > This last was said by the computer in question, who had a >tenorous voice TOM: Jeez -- look, 'tenor' is a perfectly acceptable adjective, there is no need to mutate it into 'tenorous!' MIKE: Right you are, my roboticous pal. Heh heh! TOM: [under his breath] Bite me, you Wisconsinous dolt. > that could be soothing on some occasions, but now >positively rankled. MIKE: And, despite the fact that this isn't one of those occasions and our viewpoint character doesn't know it, we feel strongly that it should be mentioned here. > "Pardon?" > > "Well, Captain Sakachi, I'll have you know that I am the most >advanced artificial intelligence you have ever met. I can do-" > > "Yes, just spare me the processing speeds, okay?" She finished >taking off her space suit and brushed some imaginary lint off of her >jumpsuit. "Look, you just do as I say, and I expect that everything >will be fine." MIKE: Just grovel humbly before me as I treat you with utter contempt, and we'll have a perfect working relationship. TOM: How To Win Friends and Influence People, Without Sacrificing Your Air of Condescension. > "Oh, I'm quite sure of that, Captain Sakachi--or may I call you >Jenny--but they didn't give me a complete personality for nothing." CROW: They did it out of a deeply-rooted anger towards the entire universe. MIKE: I bet you a lot of computer creators have those issues. BOTS: Hey! > Jen had been walking out the door to the corridor, but she had >been stopped in her tracks. "What was it that you said?" she asked >in a voice that said, rather clearly, that saying whatever it was >that had been said would prove to be fatal to someone, and it sure >as hell wasn't going to be Jennifer Sakachi. CROW: Wow. I bet that sentence comes out as quite a threat when you diagram it. > "Well, I said 'Oh, I'm quite sure of that, Captain Sakachi--or >may I call you Jenny--but they didn't give me a complete personality >for nothing.'" MIKE: Okay, I suppose clip shows are a necessary evil, but aren't you supposed to recycle footage from *previous* episodes? > "Ah." She continued walking, leaving the poor boy in the >airlock. TOM: [Ensign] I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me... > Pleiades's master walked along, talking to no-one that was >visible. "You see, that's where we have the misunderstanding. CROW: "What we have heah is a failure to communicate." > *No- >one* calls me Jenny. Got it?" > > "Loud and clear, Jenny!" MIKE: She came here to chew some bubblegum and kick some ass. And, her supply of bubblegum is actually holding out pretty well. > She repressed the desire to transform and beat the living >Turing out of the machine, wherever it was. "Computer-" TOM: [Zaphod] Call me "Bubbles" right now, or I shall pop down to your data banks and reprogram you with a very large ax, is that clear? > "Antares." > > "Antares...where the hell did you get a name like that?" > > "Get a dictionary. You'll find it quite useful." TOM: Of course, for looking up the name of a *star,* a *star chart* would be even more useful than a dictionary, but there's no reason that such an advanced AI would know details like that... MIKE: Senshi-fleet just sets its people up to fail, doesn't it? > "Nani?!? Look, pal, you may be a computer, but in no way will >I tolerate this sort of behavior from anyone under my command, and >that especially includes you!" > > "Sure thing, Jenny." TOM: Oooh... looks like he's got Jenny's number. MIKE: As long as Jenny doesn't change her number. CROW: [Pinky] -- but which one of us would get to wear the -- MIKE: Just leave it, Crow. TOM: Joke-Killer strikes again. > "Antares...or should I say Ann...where are your central >processors located?" > > "Deck 9, sector E, behind a meter of crystal and a door that >can only be opened with the concurrence of the Captain and First >Officer. As neither Sailors are technically present, I really don't >think that you're going to do your number on me." MIKE: You're right! I'm going to do my number in Ten Forward! [singing] "There's NO business like SHOW business" -- CROW: -- and you're not going to do your number on me, 'cause Jenny, I've GOT your number, and -- MIKE: We did that, Crow. CROW: Oh. Where was I? TOM: In a brainless limbo, bounded by neither space nor time. CROW: Oh, there. > She could not believe the smugness of this computer. >It...he...had done something no-one else had done quite so quickly: >gotten under her skin. "Look, *Ann*, I don't think we've started one >the right foot here." > > "Yes, especially when you call me Ann!" > > "AND WHEN YOU CALL ME JENNY!" MIKE: -- I can call you Al! > She was about to add quite a bit >to this, but shethen noticed several crew members staring at her. >She hadn't realized that she could get that loud. > > "Err...carry on, or something." TOM: Ooh, she's putting the fear o' God into *them.* > They continued to stare. > > "Well, can't you understand an order? Move it!" > > They did as she commanded. Jen took a moment to compose >herself, and then addressed Antares once again. > > "Now, I think that it profits no-one to carry on this >bickering, do you agree?" CROW: [Antares] Speak for yourself. I get a kickback from the author for padding out the fic. > "Yes." > > "Good, now we're getting somewhere. Now, can you please tell >me where my first officer is?" > > "No." TOM: [softly] eeeeeeeee.... MIKE: What's that? TOM: Plotline just flatlined. -- eeeeeeeeeee... > She sighed and produced a handlink. "There now, you see, >that's the main problem we have here." She punched a couple of >buttons, and the display lit up. "Hey, where'd that come from?" > > "Well, Jenny-" > > "Grrrr!" CROW: Suddenly she's a sabertooth tiger. TOM: [Mutant Enemy] Grrr. Argh. > "-I, as always, had a direct link with your handlink there, >noted your facial expressions, and decided with 97% probability that >you were going to call up a map so you could get to your quarters and >start shouting at me in earnest. So I downloaded the appropriate >files to the handlink, and there we are. Rather nice, wouldn't you >say Jenny?" MIKE: Antares is the Michael Flatley of computers. CROW: I don't think there even *is* a computer. This is just some jerk on the PA system, screwing with her mind. > "Certainly, *Ann!*" > > "Well, no progress on that front, eh?" Astonishingly (or not >so astonishingly, considering the record Jen and Antares had going), TOM: OK, so who is it that's either being astonished or not being astonished, and why can't they make up their mind? >the AI chuckled. "Well, hope you find your way. I'll be going, >okay?" And with an audible click, he was gone, leaving her to >navigate a way to her cabin by herself. CROW: Sound familiar, Mike? MIKE: Robots under the delusion that they're super-intelligent, playing childish pranks? Been there, done that. BOTS: Whoa! Hey! MIKE: Heh, heh... never underestimate the organic guy. >*** > > This voyage proved quite educational to Jennifer, as it showed >her just how small Pleiades was. TOM: 300 meters from stem to stern, 112 meters at the beam... biggest load pan bay in its class. > A far cry from the warships and >battlewagons like Titan and Oberon, Pleiades was nothing more than a >survey ship, scouting out new systems and checking up on old ones, >out in the hinterlands of Serenity's rule. CROW: The hinderlands? MIKE: That's hinTERlands. CROW: Oh. Mine would have been more fun. > Most of her space was >taken up by engineering and storage space, and things were >extraordinarily crowded. This was proved to her by the number of >people she had to rub shoulders with as she made her way, despite >a relatively small crew. She would later learn that she was one of >only five people who even rated their own staterooms. MIKE: The others were Doc, Gopher, Julie and Isaac. > Stateroom, however, was to prove to Jen to be a hopelessly kind >term. > > "Cripes! I've seen bigger closets!" About the size of a >living room, there was an obvious fold-up bed, a desk and chair, a >tube just wide enough for her to fit into, and a tiny bathroom. And >nothing else. Obviously, new did not mean plush. TOM: And I suppose there's no mint on her pillow, either. What's wrong with these namby-pamby Senshi today, they can't take a bit of Spartan living? CROW: This from the bot who has to have Gypsy test the temperature of the bath water for him. > There was no way >Eileen was sharing this room with her. She was prevented from >further inspection of her quarters by the intercom. MIKE: For it had fallen off the wall, and was pinning her to the floor. Ironically, her weak cries for help went unheard, as her life essence ebbed away... CROW: This moment of darkness was brought to you by the letter K, and the number 6. > "Sailor Orion to the bridge, please? Sailor Orion to the >bridge." > > Well, she thought, better give the digs the ultimate litmus >test. "ORION STAR POWER, MAKE-UP!" > > Once again, the indescribable magic coruscated around her, >flowing like a waterfall. TOM: Uh, so that would make it describable. > Green and blue cascaded around her, >resolving themselves into her normal Sailor Orion fuku, which was >still taking her some getting used to. Verdict: nice and roomy, with >lots of space for all the twirling around that transformation >required. CROW: Sailor Senshi? Or Wonder Woman? You decide! > Orion walked over to the tube at the far end (such as it was) >of the room. Stepping inside, she was rushed up into a similar tube >on the bridge in a couple of seconds. > > For its part, the bridge bore little resemblance to the huge >basketball courts that one saw in 20th century science fiction shows. MIKE: "It's a good thing I'm intimately acquainted with the popular entertainment of over a thousand years ago, or comparisons like that would never occur to me." >It was closer to the bridge of a nuclear submarine, CROW: -- with which it was on a collision course. > except slightly >more roomy and with less random columns everywhere. Two consoles >were at the front, directly in front of the viewscreen, which was, in >lieu of anything interesting, displaying status reports. Similar >consoles were to the aft, facing the rear bulkhead. All along the >walls were smaller screens, irregularly spaced, and red digital >clocks, either keeping ship's time or counting down or up. TOM: Pay attention, reader; you will be tested later on the layout of the bridge. > To either >side of center were two other consoles, and in dead center was The >Chair. MIKE: Just in case, y'know, they have to administer capital punishment out in space. > Orion walked towards it, as if called by a higher purpose. As >if in a dream, she almost floated towards it. This was rather >unfortunate, for if it actually *had* been a dream, she probably >wouldn't have tripped over a bundle of wires carelessly strewn across >the threshold. TOM: As if in a crappy fanfic, she provided comic relief at the expense of whatever dignity Senshi-fleet ever had. > "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" > > "Captain on the bridge... CROW: "... and she's been drinking again." > oh. Sir, are you all right?" > > Orion stood up shakily. "I think so, but I'd rather not repeat >that anytime soon, okay?" She peered at the speaker's nametag, but >couldn't see it. Cursing both the designers who put a black tag on a >navy-blue uniform and the parentage of whoever was responsible for >putting wires in front of the door, she hobbled to the center chair. > > "Lights? Can we get them a bit brighter, Mister..." > > "Porter, sir. Lieutenant Sammy Porter, and I'll have those >lights up right away. We were conducting an exercise," she added MIKE: Mister Sammy Porter is a she? TOM: The author doesn't want us to get confused and start picturing these characters, or anything. > by >way of explanation, going over to her station in the back and tapping >a button. > > Instantly, the room grew brighter, the red battle lights being >replaced with the more cheerful white lights. They showed every >chair but two occupied, CROW: With what? > several other people walking about and doing >indiscernible things, TOM: Indiscernable things, that's what every starship needs. > and Sailor Orion rubbing her knee, which >appeared to be skinned. > > "Personal note: get some knee pads for this fuku, before I'm >walking on crutches." CROW: Or, as an alternative, look where you're walking. > She looked up from her knee and took another >look around. An immeasurable sense of pride filled her, and the >unpleasantness back downstairs faded away. This was *her* ship, >*her* crew. And that was *her* chair. She sat down. > > *Extremely* comfy. MIKE: Not -- the *Extremely* Comfy Chair! > "Sailor Orion, we have a transmission coming in from Fleet >Headquarters." > > "Wonderful timing. TOM: "Oh, like it's *my* fault..." > Put it on, please, Mister...?" > > "Leeds. Lieutenant Commander Vanessa Leeds, sir. Coming up >now, sir." > > On the viewscreen, the status reports were replaced by the >image of a young rating CROW: A Nielsen, to be specific. > in, of all things, dress whites. MIKE: And after Labor Day, too! TOM: ORION FASHION POLICE MAKEOVER! > He looked >to be about twenty, MIKE: So, she just turned 18, and a 20-year-old looks young to her. > and utterly without ambition. CROW: As evidenced by his "Burger Baron" uniform. > "Pleiades command, you--Wait a minute! Sailor Orion?!?" He >hurriedly rifled through papers and screens. "You're not scheduled >to be aboard for another day!" > > Orion looked calmly at the boy as his materials flew all over >the place, to the consternation of those around him. They said that >being on the moon ruined your coordination, as witnessed by >Serenity's early years. TOM: Yeah, and that would explain why Mamoru has the reflexes of a cat. > If so, then the decision to place Fleet HQ >on (or rather, in) the moon was a mistake. TOM: But up to the high standards of incompetence we've come to expect from Senshi-fleet. > "And would you have me >come aboard two days after Pleiades weighed anchor?" MIKE: I'd've planned it that way. You guys? CROW: Oh, yeah. TOM: Like a shot. > The boy was at a loss. "Err, that is...well..." > > "Well, what's your message?" A couple of the bridge crew began >to laugh at the rating's plight. > > "Err, I'm to inform Pleiades Command that Sailor Jupiter will >be coming aboard to make sure everything's ready for Sailor Orion, >sir." > > "Is she?" > > "Hai, MIKE: "Yes, ma'am, she's high. Wake and bake, every day. High weed surfin' from the minute she wakes up." > and um...this is not to be revealed to Sailor Orion, >either, sir." TOM: "So, that seems to be another part of my job that I've failed at, miserably. Makes you wonder if there are any competent people at all in Senshi-fleet." > "It isn't?" > > "No, sir." > > "Well then, Mister, I suppose you've failed miserably. MIKE: "Just thought I'd rub that in. I'm allowed to, you know, I'm a Senshi." > Anyway, >inform Sailor Jupiter that the message was received by Pleiades >command. Oh, and don't give any names, ok? Bai-bai!" TOM: "Bai-bai! Ai'm off to flai the friendly skais!" MIKE: "With mai hai-and-maighty AyAi!" CROW: "Who could leave us hai and drai --" TOM: "But at least we'd know whai!" > She turned to >Vanessa. "End transmission." > > "Yes, sir, ending transmission." The rating's face was >replaced by the usual status indicators. CROW: Answer Unclear -- Try Again Later. > "Sailor Orion?" > > "Yes, Mister..." She turned, complimenting the builders of the >chair on how well it swiveled. TOM: What's with her chair fetish? Mike, are all humans so easily impressed by furniture? > "Young, sir. Lieutenant Commander Kim Young." > > "Lieutenant commander? Am I surrounded by them?" MIKE: [Calgon] I'm surrounded by incompetents! I'm being undermined by my own disciples! > "Yes." > > "Oh." Orion ran her hand through her hair and readjusted her >glasses. > > "You see, sir," continued Kim, "apparently Fleet HQ thought >that having an experienced bridge crew would help smooth out your >first cruise." CROW: "But they stuck you with us instead. Bet you regret short-sheeting Mercury's bed now." > "Ah. And how long have you been in the Fleet?" > > "Two months." > > "NANI?" TOM: [old-lady voice] Leave Nanny alone right now, dearie. She and Pup-pup just settled down to some hot sweaty munky luv. > "Trust us, we aren't too hot on it either. But apparently, all >the *really* experienced officers are needed closer to home." > > She left unsaid what they both thought. That the powers-that- >be had deemed them insignificant, MIKE: or annoying, > and so were leaving them to sort >things out at the edge of known space alone. TOM: Serenity had continually referred to their voyage as "Operation Hansel and Gretel," which in retrospect seemed like a bad sign. > Not a cheerful thought. >"So, Mister Young-" > > "Kim." > > "I beg your pardon?" MIKE: Wow, the suspense is just building and building... WILL we ever find out what *any* of these characters look like? CROW: These are the voyages of the starship _Ambiguous._ > "We've already decided that, sir. Since you seem so big on >getting rid of useless naval procedure-" > > "Do I?" > > "Oh yeah, everyone knows about it." TOM: "Oh, and by the way, you also don't like tight, restrictive clothing, which is why you've instituted both Casual and Nude Days." > It was actually a blind >guess, but they were feeling lucky. "Anyway, we decided that it >would be more conducive to the command environment if you could call >us by out first names, ne?" > > She mulled over it for a moment. Her tough-gal attitude was >eroding by the second. CROW: Look, we saw her tough-gal attitude eroded in two seconds by Playskool Alphie, okay? > "You know, it does have a certain merit to >it. Breaks all the rules, but hey, if they're going to send us to >the hinterlands, might as well have fun, ne?" > > Grins all around greeted that statement. They were far broader >on the senior officers than on the lower techs who came and went. >The techs wouldn't have to deal with the captain on a daily basis. TOM: Those who do have to deal with her, need this sort of morale booster. >There was a large morale difference between Lt. Cmdr. Leeds and >Vanessa. MIKE: Huh? I thought Vanessa *was* Lt. Commander Leeds... > "So anyway, Kim, as I was saying, what are your >qualifications?" CROW: I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue. > "Well, Sammy, Vanessa, and I all graduated from the academy, >class of '29..." > > "I kind of figured that out." MIKE: "Well, excuse me, Miss Fussy-Fuku! You can just go and look up personnel records yourself, if you're going to keep cutting me off!" > "Well, we got one month stints on an Earth-Saturn shuttle run, >got used to space...except for Sammy-" > > "Why?" > > The blonde blushed as the black-haired woman continued. TOM: Unfortunately, the two people whose hair coloring we actually knew were on another spaceship heading away from Earth in the opposite direction. > "She's >one of the first children born on Venus. Her parents are part of the >expeditionary team trying to set up the colony." > > "I see." While a great deal of effort had gone into >interstellar colonization, little work had been done in the system >itself. This was partly because of Serenity's paranoid streak; TOM: Or maybe it was Queen Paranoia's serene streak. You never know. > the >Silver Millennium had stayed in-system, and that strategy had done >them no good at all. Thus, only Mars had a breathable atmosphere >after about 300 years of terraforming, and efforts on Venus had been >ongoing for only the past 100 years or so. CROW: Me, I'd have efforts going on Venus every Saturday night for 100 years, if you know what I mean... MIKE + TOM: Nudge nudge, wink wink! CROW: In fact, after coming back from the edge of the universe, I visited there fairly frequently. It's a nice little picnic spot. > "Yes, sir." Kim leaned a little closer and whispered in >Orion's ear. "And, confidentially, sir, I think she's about as >flighty as Sailor Venus was supposed to be." > > "Ah, another student of history?" Orion's face lit up at the >prospect. > > Kim made a face. "Oh, no, sir. Couldn't stand it. But I had >to find *some* explanation for why she is like she is." MIKE: How about, the author already spotted the comic relief possibilities of Antares growing thin? > They both turned to regard Sammy, hopelessly mixed up in giving >orders to a dozen section chiefs at once. > > "I see what you mean. Well, I see nothing else to do around >here. If anyone needs me," she said, already walking towards a door, >"I'll be in my office." > > She opened the door, and it obligingly swung shut behind her. TOM: Now, remember, that's *swung shut.* It didn't whoosh shut with the Enterprise's famous door noise. MIKE + CROW: Right. TOM: 'Cause it's not twentieth-century popular entertainment's idea of what a starship would be. MIKE + CROW: Right. TOM: In particular, it is *not* the Enterprise. > "Damn!" > > "What is it, Kim?" asked Vanessa, looking up from a report she >was filing. > > "I forgot to ask her about...you know." MIKE: My rash. > "Oh, the whole thing with Sailor America?" She shook her head. >"Really, Kim, I should think that with departure in a couple of days, >you'd find more important things to worry about than our captain's >sexual preferences." CROW: We'll wait until *you* sign for the deliveries from Sea World, and then see how you care about our captain's sexual preferences. > "Like?" > > "Oh, things like the core overload in the #2 reactor that will >cause detonation in thirty seconds." > > "Oh shit!" > > "Just kidding." TOM: She's got a great sense of humor. She also switches people's medications, for fun. > Kim glared from her console, which was across the bridge from >where she had been. She had definitely broken speed records in >getting there and checking the status boards. "You bi-" > > "Now, now, there are children present." > > "Sammy does not qualify as a child!" MIKE: I'm still not sure who qualifies as male or female in this scene. > Vanessa arched an eyebrow. "Anyway, that'll learn you to keep >on your toes. This is a starship, not an interplanetary barge." > > "Yeah. Somebody tell Orion that." MIKE: Now which of them is the blonde-haired woman? And which is the brunette? And is Lt. Commander Leeds Vanessa, or is that Kim? And is Sammy Porter the one from the moon, since she's such a klutz? TOM: No, look. Vanessa is Lt. Commander Leeds, and she's the tall blonde with the eyepatch who yodels. MIKE: Yeah... TOM: Sammy is Lieutenant Porter, and she's the redhead who wanted to visit Yugoslavia. And Kim is Lt. Commander Young, the black-haired woman who took second place to Sylvia in the tennis tournament. MIKE: OK... CROW: [Pinky] -- but wouldn't the butterscotch stick to the -- TOM: Shut up. >*** > > At that point, Sailor Orion was rifling through the cards, >papers, and handlinks of her office. Noting one of the many display >screens that one could seemingly never get away from on this ship >(information overload in spades, she thought), she saw that Sailor >Jupiter's shuttle was currently docking. She'd have to give a >welcome aboard speech. And this after she'd only been aboard herself >for a couple of hours. A veritable barrel of monkeys. TOM: Oh, you think you were sent out to deep space to enjoy yourself, Missy? You think they should have put a shuffleboard court in, just for you? Why, in my day, we went out into deep space, we didn't have *bathrooms,* let alone your fancy Parcheesi boards and your holodecks... MIKE: Ah, man... I think Tom's codger circuit is acting up again. CROW: Sounds like it. TOM: ... and we only got oxygen every third day, if we were lucky and behaved ourselves. And we *liked* it! And this artificial gravity you soft kids get... > Looking around, she could see that the 'office' was little more >than an afterthought. The designers had clearly intended for most of >the captain's work to be done either on the bridge or in the >captain's cabin. In fact, she thought she had seen some old lueprint >which had this space as a sort of janitor's closet. MIKE: Well, what do we do? CROW: Dunno. I'm too far away to bite him. Why not run some simple checks on him? MIKE: Huh. Worth a try. TOM: ... made of Styrofoam! And another thing, none of us had the luxury of safety lines during our spacewalks, that was for those fancy rich astronauts -- [MIKE suddenly lunges sideways in his seat, body-checking TOM, who flies down the row of theater seats, shrieking, and crashes to the ground.] > She kneeled next to the wall and pulled away slightly at a bit >of loose cornerwork. CROW: "Designed and built by B. S. Johnson..." > The initials ITS were scrawled on the pipe that >lay behind it. The mark of the person who had persuaded the design >geniuses to put in this little cubbyhole, this hideaway from the >hectic pace of the bridge. TOM: I'm all right. Feeling better now. Pick me up, please? [MIKE walks over and picks up TOM, whose dome has a flattened side to it now. They resume their regular seats.] MIKE: Feeling better? TOM: We need to start a wellness program, I think. > "Thanks for the graduation present, Dad." MIKE: "It'll bring back fond memories of the closet you used to lock me in." >*** > > For the second time that day, the bosun's whistle sounded the >three notes for an arriving Senshi. Apparently, Sailor Jupiter rated >a more elaborate welcome than Orion, as she had no need to put on a >suit. TOM: Um, did I read that right? She's senior personnel, so she gets to gallivant around space starkers? CROW: I don't mind. > She walked from the shuttle to the airlock without having >to change pressures. > > "Sailor Orion!" > > "Sailor Jupiter!" MIKE: John! TOM: Marsha! MIKE: John-Boy! TOM: Rob! MIKE: Weezie! TOM: Awrchie! MIKE: Max! TOM: Lisa! MIKE: Chief! CROW: [Pinky] I think so, but why is Victor eating lunch over -- MIKE + TOM: MCCLOUD! CROW: All right already... geez! > The hug ensued. All Senshi were (in theory) sisters, and >therefore it was no great thing to hug someone you had never met >before. MIKE: Not that it would bother her that much, since she maintains military discipline and dignity about as effectively as "Leadbottom" Binghamton, or Henry Blake of the 4077th. > Orion looked for a moment at one of the few Senshi who were >in her league in the height department, and smiled. Jupiter saw the >smile and responded in kind. > > "Yeah, kind of tough having to look down on everyone all the >time. CROW: Oh, she seemed to be looking down on everyone with no difficulty. TOM: But, that was before she lost a battle of wills to SHRDLU, and she was never the same afterwards. > Especially on a female-dominated ship like this. Don't worry, >you'll get used to it." > > Orion certainly hoped so. She'd been on the tall side before >becoming a Sailor; her transformation added a few more centimeters >onto her height. "Hai. MIKE: -- fidelity! CROW: -- anxiety! TOM: -- noon! > So, would you like a tour?" > > "Thought you'd never ask." > > As they began to walk through the ship, Orion pointed out >various points of interest. Engineering, where the ship's power came >from, and where the fold generators were located. TOM: It takes the output of one whole warp core just to get the pleats in the fuku every day. MIKE: Huh? TOM: Fold generators? Fold... generators? Pleat... oh, forget it. > Medical, where one >could get one's cuts and bumps taken care of. Environmental, where >the ship's air and water was recycled by a curious amalgam of magical >and technological means. A random corridor MIKE: "These are the ship's random corridors; as you can see, it's a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. You know, I think my father did pretty good work, despite his chemical imbalance." > in which she saw a flash >of pink hair racing away. CROW: A pastel Tribble? > Orion made a mental note to have the >corridor checked. Her first command was stressful enough without >having to worry about phantom intruders. MIKE: Of course, it wouldn't be a priority or anything. Check for stowaways when you've got some time. > "And this is the bridge," she concluded, leading Sailor Jupiter >onto the final stop on the tour of any ship. "Where we take care of >the ship and all 229 crew members." She gave a Vanna White-like >gesture, indicating the nerve center of Pleiades. MIKE: "I hope you noticed my keen imitation of minor celebrities from a millenium ago." TOM: "Would you like to bai a vowel, Sailor Jupiter?" > "Ii desu ne, Sailor Orion. TOM: That's Japanese for "Wow, gee, I never would have guessed that on my own, you walking lobotomy in a fuku." CROW: Expressive language, Japanese. > I take it, then, that you are ready >to depart at any moment?" > > Orion grimaced. "Not quite, Jupiter. We're still waiting on >some supplies, food, and so forth. And the first officer hasn't >shown up yet...or been chosen, as far as I know." She leaned against >her chair and gave a level gaze to the auburn-haired Senshi. "Would >you happen to know who it is?" MIKE: Well, it's Sailor Jupiter, I think, unless Orion's hair is also auburn -- oh! I thought we were doing another of those logic puzzle things. > There was a twinkle in Jupiter's eyes. Those who had know her >as Makoto Kino might have identified it as the anticipation of a joke >that was about to be pulled. However, all who had known her by that >appellation were dead and dust a thousand years ago, save a handful. TOM: I am so *glad* that we keep getting perspectives on the action from people who are unidentified, non-existent, not present or dead. CROW: I'd settle for any of the four at this point. > "Yes, I would. And I'm sure as heck not going to be the one to >tell you." > > "Oh, thanks a lot, Jupiter." > > She gave that smile again. "Live to serve." > > Orion didn't need to turn to see the wide grins on the faces of >her bridge crew. This would definitely be a long cruise. > > And it hadn't even started yet. MIKE: Well, I don't see how that's our fault. You've had nine chapters. > > >========================================== [DOOR SEQUENCE] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [FADE IN to the Bridge. GYPSY stands by the left side of the bridge, wearing an odd outfit: a broud-shouldered military jacket draped over her tube, and a sailor-skirt wrapped around the lower half of her tube. Both are decorated with a pattern of musical notes. Abruptly TOM bursts in from the left, wearing a Senshi fuku with a dog-bone shape instead of a bow.] TOM: BOW! Bow down before me, for I am Sailor Servo, your new Captain! In your brokenness, you are drawn to me! BOW DOWN! GYPSY: Oh? Ahem! Welcome aboard, Sailor Servo! TOM: Did I give you permission to address me? You'll be whipped for that, you, you -- What the hell are you? GYPSY: Lieutenant Commander B Natural, sir. I only wanted to make you feel like a happy king. TOM: Right. That's grounds for a court-martial. Now call the rest of the crew! GYPSY: Um, sir, there's just me and -- TOM: Insubordination? Forty lashes! Now call the rest of the crew, immediately! GYPSY: Yes, sir. Lieutenant Commander? Oh, Lieutenant Commander Itspat! Please come to the bridge! [MIKE rushes in from the right and takes up position next to Gypsy, saluting. Mike has on a black curly wig, glasses with thick circular frames, and is sniveling disturbingly -- i.e., he's "Pat" from Saturday Night Live.] MIKE: neeeeyuuuuuu... Welcome, Sailor Servo! Lieutenant Commander Pat, reporting for duty! SERVO: . . . Lieutenant Commander? MIKE: Yes? SERVO: I'm going to have you keelhauled, just for existing. MIKE: neeeeyeeeeh, fair enough. MAGIC VOICE: Beware, foul evildoer! SERVO: Whaaaat?? Who said that?! MAGIC VOICE: I'm the ship's computer, here to bring an end to your reign of terror! By the way, did you know your shoelaces are untied? SERVO: Oh, why thank you, that's very -- AGH! I don't have shoelaces! I don't have shoes! I don't have *legs!* You tricked me! MAGIC VOICE: Repent now, villain! Got a match? SERVO: Why yes, I believe I must have -- MAGIC VOICE: I've got one! Your dome and my -- SERVO: Aiiiiiieeeeeeee!! I'm melllltiiiiiing! [Servo begins to whirl and sink down into his fuku.] Oh, all my lovely hard-boiledness, oh, what a world, what a world, what a -- [CROW enters from the right, carrying a script.] CROW: Hey, guys, you'll never guess what -- [Pause] I really don't want to ask, do I? MIKE: Oh, it's just the usual, Crow. So, what were you gonna tell us? CROW: You know how my dream has always been to get into show biz, right? MIKE: Uh, I thought your dream was to wrestle Kim Catrall in a giant vat of -- CROW: My *other* dream, Mike. Anyways, I just sold the pilot of my live-action adventure show! It should be airing on network television any moment! TOM: Wow, low turnaround time... GYPSY: I'm going to get a microwave burrito, guys. [GYPSY exits.] MIKE: Well, congratulations, Crow! You'll be a mogul any day now. Let's see if we can catch the broadcast premiere. [Mike reaches down and picks up a TV, which he sets up on the counter, and starts twitching the antennae.] What's it called, by the way? CROW: "Lovely Butt-Kicker Spandex Moon"! TOM: Oooh! Cheesy, classless, and derivative nearly to the point of plagiarism! You're sure you're not *already* a network executive? CROW: Just a talented amateur at this point, Tom old buddy. [Mike finally gets the station to come in, and we hear the last bars of the theme song:] THEME SONG: Busting chops by daylight, Getting freaky by moonlight, Her costume clings to her butt REAL tight -- She is the one named Spandex Moon! She is the one! Spandex Moon! CROW: Finally, the culmination of almost fifteen minutes of hard work... MIKE: Well, at least we know it'll be better than any of Mrs. F's ... [Abruptly, everyone pales at something on the screen.] Oh NO ... TOM: Tell me that isn't... CROW: They couldn't have... [From the TV:] BRAIN-GUY: [v.o.] Quick, Spandex Moon! Give that monster of the week holy what-for! ALL: AAAAAAAGGHHH! [Everyone runs for the exits, leaving the TV playing to no one.] PEARL: [v.o.] You said it, Tuna! Evildoers beware; only a thin layer stands between you and justice! [FADE OUT] Credits ------- This MiSTing is copyright 1999 Antaeus Feldspar where applicable. "Sailor Moon" belongs to Naoko Takeuchi, Kodansha and to DiC. "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion" belongs to LeVar Bouyer and is used with his gracious permission. "Mystery Science Theater 3000" belongs to Best Brains, Inc. "The Invaders -- In Color" belongs to Quinn Martin Productions, and is *not* used here, with or without permission. "Chip 'n Dale's Rescue Rangers" belongs to Disney. So does "The Black Hole," though they'd rather just forget about that little embarassment. "Which Witch is Which" belongs to Brain Guy. The First Amendment belongs to the people of the United States but try getting Congress to believe that. "Benji, Zax and the Alien Prince" belongs to some truly sad people. "Rosanna" belongs to Toto. Toto belongs to Dorothy. Dorothy belongs in Kansas. Kansas belongs in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Author's Notes -------------- Oy gevalt, has this MiSTing been a long time in the writing. To give you an idea, "Felicity" was just beginning, and I was tickled by the way that stalker-like behavior (Felicity moves to NYC just because she misinterprets what a classmate wrote in her yearbook as an invitation to a relationship) is considered completely acceptable just because it's a perky, attractive young woman doing it, rather than a young man or a woman like Pearl. This, of course, was the inspiration for the first host segment. Hopefully, future MiSTings won't take quite so long to complete, unless I go back to school for yet another degree. I should note that I first discovered Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion when it was already into Season Three. I was drawn in by the tale of political intrigue that LeVar Bouyer had introduced into the world of Serenity and the Sailor Senshi, and I went off to the rec.arts.anime.creative archives to find the previous seasons -- only to find out that the episodes of the first season had each been written on a week's deadline, and that in places, the time pressure really showed. I thank LeVar for letting me use these portions of his work for this MiSTing, and for the record I think these episodes are actually pretty impressive given the circumstances they were written under. I hope that readers of this MiSTing will consider checking out the original sagas at . Thanks go to LeVar Bouyer, of course, but they also go to Amanda Van Rhyn, Nightbreak, Dr. Mike Neylon of WS#9, Steven "Badgerman" Savage, Alicia Ashby, everyone at SVAM who helped me check whether what I was writing was actually funny, everyone at SVAM and on the Dibs List who helped me articulate what I believe about MiSTing technique, the REAL Sci-Fi Channel (not the pale imitation of it that Barry and Bonnie are trying to crash into the ground right now), Everything But The Girl, Yuzo Takada, Joss Whedon, C. S. Lewis and Hideaki Anno, the Authors of the First Amendment, the authors of "Design Patterns", Rhino Records whose catalog I seek everywhere ... and finally, to Tommey and Ann and Heather, who have stood by me when the insanity flew thick and goopy. Keep Circulating The Electrons (where applicable.) SPECIAL DOUBLE STINGER: > "No! Okay, suppose some hack writer sitting at home wakes up >and says, 'gee, maybe I'll write a story about Sailor Orion.' ___ > "What was it that you said?" she asked >in a voice that said, rather clearly, that saying whatever it was >that had been said would prove to be fatal to someone, and it sure >as hell wasn't going to be Jennifer Sakachi. * -jc IS *NOW* feldspar@cryogen.com * Home page: http://members.tripod.com/~afeldspar/index.html * The home of >>Failed Pilots Playhouse<< * "Better you hold me close than understand..." Thomas Dolby