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Star Trek The Degeneration - Encounter At Gunpoint (Alun Jones)

{ed Yes, another Star Trek: The Pepsi Generation parody.  I think it was
International Trek Parody Month.}

Okay, somebody asked for it, saying they were looking for Star Trek parodies.
Now that the Next Generation has been seen on BBC, I think the time has come
to reveal the original scripts for Encounter at Farpoint.

I present to you: Star Trek: The Degeneration.

Space - the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship
Enterprise - her continuing mission to seek out new worlds and
civilisations, to find yet more terrible jokes to write into Star Trek
parodies, and to boldly go where no man has gone before - the ladies'
loo in Security.

Captain's log, stardate 41123.8. Captain Jean-Luc Pickaxe
reporting. I have been posted to the Enterprise, a Galaxy class
exploration, combat, discovery, combat, training, combat and attack
vessel. This new vessel is many times larger than the previous cruiser
to bear her name under Admiral James T. Kirk - may his TMs rest in
peace - comprising a main 'saucer' section, and a smaller command 'cup'
section. The main saucer section has distinctly greater space for
personnel, families, and friends of my staff. The reason for this increase
in personnel carrying ability is that people started to notice in the last
series that security guards were dying faster than we could possibly
get replacements.

We are under orders from StarFleet command to head toward the
planet of Denim 4, where the construction of the Farpoint space station
and drive-in burger-bar is to be reviewed. We have been specifically
asked to check the availability of the free offer crystal tumblers. My
crew seem fairly competent - Nasher Yar, security officer, is pretty
sexy in that skin-tight regulation thigh-gripper, and the Klingon doesn't
look too bad either (thought - is that why they call them Kling-ons?).
The ship's counsellor, Day'n'a Night, is keeping herself employed by
wearing a short enough mini-skirt to give personal problems to all men
over the age of twelve, and Data, the ship's android, is currently
experimenting with a new variety of gangrene for his face. My first
officer, Captain William Stryker ("Strike 'er?" <SLAP> "Thank you
captain.") is currently awaiting our arrival at the Farpoint fast-food
joint, along with Dr. Crusher - our medical expert. Maybe not the real
McCoy, but a lot more attractive. During my younger days, I had an
affair with Dr. Crusher - this leading to her signing off all her
transmissions with "From Crusher with love." I suppose you could say I
had a crush on her.

We are now merely a few parsecs from the Denim system, and
preparing leave tickets for members of my crew.

"Captain - I have an anomalous reading up ahead."

"Put it on main viewer ... Good grief - it looks like a section of
chain-link fence."

"It registers as solid, Captain. Shall we stop?"

"No, Ensign - we plough straight into it, with the loss of thousands
of lives. Try thinking for a change. All thrusters to reverse. Counter all
our forward motion. All hands - prepare for a possible 'super-powerful
alien' script."

A sudden flash lit up the bridge.

"Not now, Nasher. Leave that till next episode."

"That wasn't me, Captain - look."

"You're right - it looks nothing like you. Good thinking."

"Greetings to you Captain. I would advise thee not to worry overly
much about yon dead security guard - he was doomed as soon as he left
camera-shot. I appear to thee as a Captain of another ship, so as to
appear more normal to thee and thy crew. Besides, it keeps the
costume budget up, and I get to talk with a funny accent. But enough of
this ribaldry, jocularity, and any other word I can think of to sum up my
humour. We must now come to the main reason of my boarding your
ship. You must go back to your crummy little solar system - you are
unworthy of what exists out there in the endless void. I know your
history almost too well - you are a savage race."

"What's so savage about the 2.15 at Newmarket?"

"Shut up, Data - this is no time to try out your comedy routine. So,
alien being..."

"Please, call me Q."

"Ah, a James Bond fan?"

"No, Steve Davis. I require that you and your crew leave this area
immediately - you are too barbaric to continue your exploration."

"How dare you judge us! No species that refers to its individuals
with single letters should judge those with reproductive proclivity
sufficient to generate multi-syllabilic names!"

"An apt choice of words - but your sentence remains unaltered.
Either go back now, or die in the vacuum of space."

"Couldn't we just tell you how good we thought your poem was?"

"Enough of this obscure quoting - the next time we meet, you shall
be judged for what you are - under one of your ancient judicial systems
- trial by scriptwriter."

And with that, another great explosion of light fills the bridge of
the Enterprise, and the alien being is gone once more.

"Mr. Data - I need warp drive speed now."

"The engines willnae take it, Cap'n"

"What did you say, Data?"

"Oh, sorry Captain - I just thought someone had better say that
sometime during this episode, or they won't think it's Star Trek. Warp
factor 6 now, sir."

"We are out-running the hostile, sir. Commands?"

"Yes, they're orders related to a junior by a senior, intended to be
carried out - but that's not important right now. Ensure all personnel
not directly noted in the opening credits are safely on board the saucer,
then disconnect it."

"Aye aye sir. Ejecting saucer now."

There now follows a scene in which the families, etc, are herded
across hundreds of passageways into the saucer, which then ejects,
revealing only seven connecting passageways. Someone shoot the
continuity director. The Enterprise turns back, and heads for the
chain-link fence, which closes itself around them.

A flash of light, even brighter than before, illumines the bridge,
until, with a raucous noise of crowd, it fades once more to reveal that
our heroes (and heroines) have been transported to a strange hall.

"Sir, I recognise this from the history tapes, as being from the
post-atomic age of Earth - the infamous CS hearings. It appears we are
to be judged on our own terms of centuries ago."

"Thank you, Data. Well, at least we seem to be acquainted with the
judge." and with this, a huge gong resounds across the room, and a
voice announces:


Immediately, Pickaxe and his crew seat themselves, as a gigantic
Microsoft mouse enters the room. Seated atop the control button is the
alien, Q.

"So, earthlings, you have decided to stay and face me. Good - I like
a challenge. You shall stand in my presence, please."

There is a pause of some 5 frames, before a se-Q-rity guard
approaches the prisoners, with a cup of foul smelling liquid in his hand.
He motions to throw the effluent over the assembled cast, but is
prevented by Q.

"The prisoners must not be harmed. You are out of order."

"But I work perfectly well."

This sentence is cut short by a loud volley of machine gun fire from
all directions, aimed at the se-Q-rity guard.

"I do so hate a smart-ass. You are now out of order. Clerk - the
charges must be read."

"Criminal - you must read the charges to the court."

There is a pause, as Pickaxe scans the paper he has been handed.

"I see no charges here directed to us."

There is another pause, as the paper is turned over in his hand, so
the writing is uppermost.

"Oh. Those. Ah, well, that was a long time ago, and she was
handsomely paid. By the time we'd cleared up the blancmange nobody
knew anything about it. I ask you to judge us, not on what we were,
but on what we are, and what we can progress to become."

Again, we switch to a description of the action. Not too boring?
Good. Nasher Yar notices that one of the se-Q-rity guards is approaching
her with his gun ready to fire, and acts with the speed and precision
available only to a master of the martial arts. She kicks him between
the legs. Despite the massive amount of armour being worn by the
guard, he crumples immediately to the floor, singing the descant line of
the Hallelujah Chorus.

"You, woman, are out of order."

At this cry from Q, she suddenly stands straight, and closes her
eyes as a group of stage hands spray her with aerosol snow, and she
falls, stiff to the floor.

"The first one to make a joke about her being frigid gets the same

"You have gone back on your word - you stated quite clearly that
the prisoners would not be harmed."

"Oh, very well, this court is merciful. See - she is now out of cold
storage once more. So, you wish me to judge you for what you are? In
that case, I shall allow you to complete your mission, and will observe
your pathetic attempts to deal with the script I have concocted for you.
Now, I let you back to your ship. But remember - you're on Candid

A short flash of light later, and the crew are once again on the
battle bridge of the Enterprise. A security guard, who wasn't with them
in the courtroom, is manning the navigation console, with the sort of
grin on his face that implies he either knows something about his chief
that he is not telling, or he grows some strange plants in his quarters.

"Navigator - what course are we headed on?"

"To Denim 4 - the same course we've been on all the time. And I'm
going to get there first, because I'm flying now. Wheeeeeee!!!!!!"

At this, Nasher Yar relaxes as she realises he knows nothing of her
and the Cortina fan-belt. We now switch to the planet surface, where
Stryker and Crusher, tonight's main wrestling attraction, are engaged in
conversation. But before this, we get a beautiful panoramic view of the
city, just to emphasise that no-one is skimping on the special effects

"It's truly amazing how quickly the Bandys have built this
space-way service station. It's almost magical - the way in which they
have constructed it in the time between the opening credits and now.
And don't you find that they bend over backwards to please you in
every way?"

A knowing smile plays over Crusher's lips, before she replies "Yes, I
agree - it's almost worrying the way they seem to be able to produce
anything we require at a moment's notice. Take that Blues Brothers
T-shirt I just bought. I could swear it wasn't there when I entered the
street of silver, and yet there it was on display."

A crackle sounds from both their chests, as their communicators
inform them of the impending arrival of the Enterprise.

"The Enterprise's arrival is impending. The saucer and combat
sections are arriving separately."

"Separately? Something must have happened." Full marks to
Stryker for observation there. "I must beam aboard immediately.
Stryker to bridge - beam me up."

A flickering light plays across his body, as the new-style
transporter beam takes Stryker onto the combat section of the

"Welcome aboard, Mr Stryker. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Pickaxe."

"Yes, I recognise the hair-style from Federation records."

"Thank you. As you can probably guess, we had a small adventure
here a while ago. Play the tapes back to yourself in the video lounge."

"You call that a small adventure?"

"Yes - you wait till you see the rest of the script! Now, to prove
your skill as a pilot, I require you to manually dock with the saucer."

"Yes sir. Helm - three degrees to starboard. Up a bit, left a tad,
there. Now press 'C' to dock."

"But sir, this isn't Elite."

"Oh, right. Well, reduce velocity to zero - our momentum should do the

"But sir, we don't have any momentum with zero velocity."

"Quite right, helm - just testing. Okay, slow down to one
half-meter per second."

We now switch to a view of the two sections approaching, at a rate
that suggests if their relative velocity is one half-meter per second,
then the Enterprise is only two meters long.

"Easy, easy, and slow down ... now. Damn - we're three inches
short. Okay, when I say now, everyone jump. Now!"

There is a crunching noise, and the Enterprise docks with its saucer
section. The captain congratulates Stryker, and they lever his knuckles
from the rail he has been holding on to.

"Stryker - you and Day'n'a must come with me and Data down to
the planet's surface - we need to find out more about this place that
claims to serve edible Big Macs. For a start, why is their head man a
look-alike of Slartibartfast?"
Now, If you're all really lucky, I'll send the rest of the original
script in a few days/weeks/months.

Alun Jones - Unix Development Engineer - Welcom Software Technology Int'l.

(From the "Rest" of RHF)

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