BUBBLEGUM WARS PART 2 a MSTing by Michael Surbrook and Joshua Seames [Tom is sifting through various technical manuals and blueprints; Crow can be heard yelling off camera] CROW: NO! NO, MIKE! BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH! MIKE: JUST HOLD STILL CROW! [to Tom] So, Tom, any luck finding it?! TOM: [looks off-screen] Uh, yeah! Check for the circuit below the C-FPU! MIKE: The what?! TOM: [sighs; shows frustration in Mike being such a complete tool] Crunchy-Factor Processing Unit! Geez, Mike. Where'd you go for your robot repair courses? The local Vo-Tech?! MIKE: This thing? TOM: [nodding; indicating correction] Yeah...yeah. That's it. MIKE: Just take it out? TOM: Rip that sucker like it was a McElwaine post, my friend! CROW: [scream] YAAAAAHHHH!!!! TOM: [shaking head] NO! NO, MIKE! That's his 'Fear Of Marrisa' circuit!! MIKE: Whoops! Sorry, Crow. CROW: [weak] Oh, the pain...the pain.... MIKE: Ok, I think I've got it! URK! [various noises such as drills, hammering, sawing, laser beams, and other miscellaney while Crow complains in spurts; finally walks on screen; has a small component in his hand] TOM: Well, that's it? MIKE: I think so...boy, I never expected a libido circuit to be so OILY. TOM: It seems perfectly right for Crow. CROW: [sluggishly walks on-screen from the right] Ohhh.... TOM: Hey, Crow! How're you feeling? CROW: Full of pain, sorrow, and...a strange desire to spurn all the episodes of "Star Trek: TNG" by decapitating Patrick Stewart. MIKE: [shrugs; to Tom] Seems pretty normal to me. TOM: Yeah! Hey, hey Crow! Wanna go oogle at the latest 'Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition'? CROW: Huh? TOM: Go watch Gypsy work out on her tube? CROW: [confused] Excuse me? TOM: Wanna watch that episode of "I Love Lucy" where she stomps on grapes in the wine place? CROW: [snooty voice] I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR! I shall not listen to anymore of this ridiculous, hormone induced fiddle faddle! Now, if you'll excuse me, *I* am going to go watch another fun-filled episode from my video collection of "Pockets & Patches"! [exits stage right] MIKE: Does this mean--?! TOM: Could it be that--?! M&T: HE'S CURED! TOM: Woo hoo! [appreciative crowd noises] Who's bad?! Who's bad?! MIKE: Well, great! This should make my job in the theatre a little easier! [LIGHTS & KLAXONS GO OFF] TOM: And just in time, too! We've got-- MIKE: MOVIE SIGN! --------------------------------------------------------------- ...continued from part 1... "Well, there isn't exactly an easy answer for that..." Linna took a deep breath and started explaining as best as she could of how they got here in a beam of light and ran smack into a Star Destroyer. "We have no idea as to what's going on, what empire or republic..." TOM: Please take note that the READERS have very little idea as WELL! "Wow, excuse me for a second." Rick rubbed his temples, looking even more baffled than she expected. MIKE: We expected quite a bit, y'know. "Let me get this straight: you've never heard about the war or the Galactic Empire? Where have you been?" CROW: On Deep Space 9. We don't get Star Wars there... TOM: Mars. MIKE [Linna]: In our own universe, where we belong. You? "In Mega Tokyo." -Why do I have a feeling that I've just added to the confusion?- TOM: Yep. "Mega-what? Don't think I've heard of it. Is that a really backwater planet? -Gee, I might as well tell him the whole history of Earth.- CROW: First, the dinosuars came, but they got fat and died. Then we had oil companies.... TOM: Then Mel Brooks made a movie about it all... MIKE: Heck, we've got five minutes, Linna... tell him all you know. Linna sighed. But with the help of Nene she got the idea crossed, more or less. MIKE: (as Rick) So, in your world, you and Nene are the supreme Empresses? TOM: Well, I've always said we should kneel before the red-haired hacker goddess. CROW: Cyber-geek. "Oh, I see," Rick nodded at last, incredulous light flickering in his eyes. "You came from another universe or somewhere equally strange." MIKE: Greenwich Village? TOM: Hollywood? CROW: Las Vegas? "I know it's hard to believe, but please do." Linna pleaded earnestly, clutching his hand with hers. "Maybe you know something that can help us." "Don't worry, I can take it. Open-mindedness is something I take pride in." Rick still sounded a little dubious, but he did not pull back his hand. TOM: Hell, if Linna held my hand, I'd wouldn't either! MIKE: But, you hands don't work. TOM: Hey, it's the principal of the thing. "But if it's true, you've sure got a lot of catching up to do." Artoo whistled in agreement, being listening the whole time. CROW: Completely derailing the grammer train... "Go ahead, seems we have plenty of time..." Linna was interrupted by a soft moan from Priss, TOM: As she often was... CROW: hehehe... MIKE: NOT a word, Crow, I fixed THAT little problem. who was in the process of getting up from the stretcher. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern. TOM [Priss]: I just got zapped in the head with a blaster... what do _you_ think? MIKE: "Gee, your head seems to be missing...are you okay?" "Ouch...what a headache." Priss groaned giddily, MIKE: She's EXCITED about having a migraine? CROW: That's what I'm getting out of that sentence. one hand touching the back of her head. She then rubbed her eyes and blinked hard, noticing Rick and Artoo. "Who is that man, Linna? MIKE: The writer. TOM: BOW BEFORE HIS MAGNIFICENCE, UNWORTHY ONE! ALL: (chanting) OHHHHHM......OHHHHHMMM!!! And Nene, why are you talking to a trash can?..." CROW: Yeah Nene, who do you think you are, Mousse? TOM: (Boris & Natasha) Dumbkoff! It is Moose und Squirrel! CROW: Uhh, wrong Moose, Tom. [Meanwhile, inside another detention cell] MIKE: In another part of the movie. "Say, lady, why don't you sit down and cool off a little? Lando said to Sylia who had been pacing back and forth in the tiny, windowless cell. TOM: [as Sylia] I'M CLAUSTROPHOBIC, OK??!!!! "No thank you, I think better this way." Sylia replied tersely. -What I'm going to think anyway? MIKE [narrating]: "Fortunately, Sylia's Thoughtful Spot was in a sheltered part of the Hundred-Acre Wood..." After all these.- She had the devil's own time explaining the matter to the ill-matched pair--Han Organus Solo and Lando Calrissian, former smugglers, MIKE: No! TOM: Oh c'mon! CROW: Oh, all that is good and holy, please smite the author! big-time gamblers, ex-New Republic generals, and part-time galactic legends-- TOM: Gotham City Public Defenders CROW: Operatives for the CIA. MIKE: Corner Qwik-E-Mart employees. according to themselves of course. And Mackie was no help either: he was learning to play sabbac cards with the two, saying that he's taking a more practical approach to the problem. TOM: Ahh, that wacky Mackie! Always taking on the LIGHTER side of life! CROW [as Mackie]: "Go fish!" "It's not that we don't believe you," Han said as he dealt MIKE: But we don't believe you. off another deck. "I've certainly had my share of weird adventures." -Most of them also deadly.- "But there just isn't much to be done as long as we are locked up in here." CROW: So, let's just give up all hope and die! MIKE: That WOULD end the story quicker. "Any idea what's going to happen?" Sylia soothed herself a CROW: You're going to die, die die! MIKE: Yeah, Captain Cobalt is going to force you to watch really lame-o science fiction flics. TOM: Uh... Mike, that's us. MIKE: Oh, yeah... sorry. little. "I've got the impression this isn't the first time you've been here." she tried not to sound cynical but said it anyway. TOM [Celia]: Cynical! CROW [ditto]: It! MIKE: That's pretty lame guys. "Hey, it's not my fault the old boys hate my guts." Han caught the drift but didn't seem to mind. "Probably a prison planet if they don't shoot me first. Try telling your story to the Imperials, you'd end up there too." He gave her another lopsided grin. MIKE: Which fell right on the floor. CROW: Poor Han. The Imperials are stepping up on the acid torture! "But we are not supposed to be here!" ALL: Neither are we! "Nobody is, really." Lando added dryly, then he glared at Han. "Not if you didn't mess up, anyway." "Oh, come on, you saw what happened: a whole squadron of TIE's swarmed all over us the moment we left hyperspace--they knew we were coming." "So?" Lando raised one brow. "If the starboard maneuver jet had held out, they wouldn't have locked a track beam on us so soon." MIKE: Doesn't Nadia Comeneci perform on a track beam? "Are you saying that I don't know how to take care of the Falcon and almost got us killed?" TOM: Yes. Han threw up his hands in a good pretense of astound anger. MIKE: (preacher) CAN I HAVE A HALLELUJAH, BROTHERS AND SISTERS!! "Perhaps. I'm still seeing about the getting-us-killed part." Lando answered, all serious. CROW: We'd be happy to oblige with you there, but... "Thanks for the vote of confidence, pal." Han snickered. TOM: Packed with peanuts, 'Snickered' really annoys! "What about the rest of your team, the other...Knight Sabers? Any chances they could figure out a way?" he turned to Sylia and said. MIKE: He said...WHAT? What did he say? CROW: Looks like Fred Byon even designed the sentence structure for this guy. "I don't see how they can break out if they are locked up as we are here." she replied soberly. "Besides none of my people are familiar with your world." -Only if I had my hardsuit, then there might be a chance.- TOM: [as Sylia] Oh, if only I was a dancer! [Back in the first cell] It had taken Linna a good ten minutes to calm Priss down, CROW: And if you've got $39.95, we've got the film of it! TOM: "Wok-a-chicka, wok-a-chicka...wowwww!!" but at last she understood what was happening. Convinced that the steel door could not be banged open, she finally sat down. "But we've got to get out of here." CROW: And this year's 'Stating the Obvious' award goes to Priss! "I know, Priss. Of course we'll find a way if there is one." Linna said soothingly. TOM: I really can't picture Linna with a soothing voice. CROW: How the hell do you even picture a voice?! "This is like a bad dream..." Priss muttered, back against MIKE: You can say that again. the wall and head hanging over her chest. "Weird things always happen to us." "Oh c'mon, where's your sense of adventure? MIKE [Han Solo voice]: 'I traded it for a ten-carat chrysopaz and three bottles of good brandy...' There's a whole new world out there." Nene tried to cheer her up. TOM: Oh, God, I sense a song cue coming up! MIKE [Monty Python voice]: She's starting to sing! "We'll explore it alright, as'oon as you get me out of this stinking place." At least Priss was half-buying it. CROW: The Imperial Empire will take you hostage, but what they WON'T take is American Express! "Can't the lock be picked?" Linna glanced at Rick. MIKE: [as Rick] We really don't want to lower it's self-esteem any lower. TOM: [falsetto] Oh, honey, don't pick at it. It'll only get worse. "Nope. Double redundancy mechanism, CROW: You can say that again! [CROW forces a laugh. MIKE slaps him one.] TOM: So now we know what powers this story! impossible to hot wire without tools." he answered nonchalantly from his comfortable laying position on the floor. "But Artoo might have done it if they didn't put a restrain lock on him." "Is this it?" Nene noticed for the first time the metal collar around the droid's base and the short cable which secured it to the wall. MIKE: NO, NENE! THOSE'S 'R HIS NAUGHTY PLACES! TOM: Mike?? MIKE: Sorry. The air felt kind of empty for some reason. "Hmm, strange, it's only a dead bolt." she said after examining it more closely. CROW: [ER surgeon] Yep. No pulse. Time of death? TOM: [ditto] Title of story. "Don't tell me you can open it." Rick commented but sat up straight, watching with curiosity as Nene fished for something up her left sleeve. TOM [Bullwinkle voice]: ''Nuthin up my sleeve!' "Yes, I knew it! Nene I'll never say anything bad about you again, ever." Priss said excitedly, depressing thoughts forgotten. -It's never too late to get onto somebody's good side. ALL: [smooching noises] - But soon her jaw dropped as Nene produced something rod- like and brownish: ALL: Eeewwww!! a cube of field ration. ALL: Wanh... wanh...wanh... "You promised you won't say anything bad about me." Nene winked at a speechless Priss, barely suppressing a giggle. "Why? Of all the things you could have brought..." Brows knitted and fists clenched, she looked angry enough to burst. TOM: "Like a pimple on a hot tin roof..." MIKE: PLEASE, Tom. Don't add your own metaphors. "Hold on, I was just kidding!" Seeing that Priss was about to leap at her, Nene backed off timely. She rolled up the sleeve further and took out what she was really looking for: CROW: The small, import Cuban cigars she'd been waiting all day to puff on. a small, MIKE: Slim Jim. TOM: Nuclear device. almost tiny multipurpose pocket knife. "How did you manage to hide it?" Rick asked, genuinely surprised. TOM: (as Sam) Where do you hide that, Max? CROW: (as Max) That's none of your damn business, Sam! "I thought they scanned everybody." MIKE: At 150 DPI, apparently. That's would explain the grainy quality of this story. "Oh, that's simple. It's not made of metal but a superhardened plastic, which happens to blend in with the fabric of my bodysuit." Nene explained matter-of-factly as she began to work on the restrain collar, using various tools on the knife. ALL: Oh, sure...I get it...that makes -- HUNH?? "There." Swiftly and deftly, she opened the bolt. Artoo let out a series of happy beeps as the collar loosened around his base. TOM: Uhh, Nene, I think you just mated with him. Using a set of wheels under his body, the droid skidded to the door. The four humans watched anxiously as he set about to deactivate the lock with a thin, needle-tipped manipulator. MIKE: Which Nene fainted at the sight of. TOM: With a smile on her face! MIKE: Don't you start! Finally, their patience was rewarded by a muted clack and Artoo's affirmative warble. CROW: You know, Artoo warbles, but he won't fall down. "Now we need to get our hardsuits back." Linna said, stepping into the corridor only after she made sure it was completely empty. "No problem, Artoo can find them. Right?" Nene looked down at the little droid who beeped positively in reply. He plugged himself into a wall socket and after a few seconds, projected a holographic map of the detention area. CROW: A laser light show! TOM: That's nice. Now do you mind helping us find our DAMN SUITS?!! "That's the store room. Whatever you are looking for must be there." Rick pointed out a red dot not far from their present location. "It's right down the hallway, I can take you there." TOM: "You are here! The plot is over there!" "Let's go then, c'mon." Priss prompted. "Look for Sylia and Mackie if you can. We'll bring your suit." Linna told Nene and ran after the others. TOM: [as Linna] Heh heh. Shoulda' ditched her LONG ago! Soon the trio approached the store room. They got in easily since the door was left unlocked. MIKE: Plot Convenience Theater Presents... The hardsuits components were scattered carelessly in a corner, along with pieces of white stormtrooper armor. TOM: Well isn't that convienent... I'm almost expecting a flashing sign saying 'You've found the secret area'. "I'm gonna rip their heads off if I find anything missing." Priss swore, stepping into her suit's leg pieces. Linna too had located her parts and was suiting up as well. Dumbstruck and wide-eyed, Rick looked on as the two soft- looking girls turned into armor-clad warriors. "Well, guess I better dress up too, just to keep up with the fashion." With that, he began to put on stormtrooper armor. MIKE: Of course there was the problem of Rick being a little *short* to be a stormtrooper. TOM: Uh, Mike... enough already! -Please, let it work.- Linna prayed as she clicked her helmet into place and switched the suit on. The display on the inside of her face plate flickered to life: CROW: Insert quarter for first 15 minutes. She breathed a sign of relief as the last line flashed on. "YES!" Priss yelled triumphantly as Linna looked her way. "Everything seems to be working again." As a test, she uncurled and then clenched the gleaming robotic fingers on her powered arm, like a bird-of-prey flexing its claw. MIKE: Or Lucasfilms lawyer's flexing their lawsuits. "Hurry up, we've got to get back to Nene." said Linna, scooping up Nene and Sylia's hardsuits under her arms. "You ready?" she shot a look at Rick. TOM: Her eyeballs splatting in the middle of his forehead. "Yeah," he answered in a electrically filtered voice. CROW: Neat! The AOL armor profanity filter! "The fit's a little tight, but it'll do. One second..." He picked up a blaster rifle and a couple of concussion grenades from a rack and stepped out of the room, following Linna and Priss. Nene had been waiting in the corridor and was real glad to see them back. MIKE: They could tell this mostly due to the colorful streamers and assortments of noisemakers she was sporting. CROW: Nene's a noisemaker in herself, Mike. MIKE: C'mon, Crow. Leave the little Miss Cyberpunk alone. "Sylia and Mackie are in Cell 11. TOM: And Film at! Crow: Heh. There're two others with them whom Artoo seems to know." Nene told the three while putting on her suit. "Must be Captain Solo and Calrissian. We were captured together." Rick explained. "We'll have to pass the security foyer to get to them, but how?" TOM: In an amazing display of gratuitous violence? "What'a you mean `how?' Shoot our way through of course!" Priss eyed him peculiarly behind the visor. MIKE [to TOM]: Nice call! TOM: I try. "But there're at least ten guards in the area, and the patrol's going to show up any moment." CROW: But only if the writer rolls a '7' on the encounter table. "Hehe, too bad," Priss had a devilish grin on her face as she loaded her railgun. "I didn't ask them to be there." CROW [growling, as Priss]: "They just happen to be where I'm shooting!" MIKE: Who are they? Relatives? TOM: Hehehe. Rick wanted to say more but was stopped by Linna. "Don't worry, we'll take care of it. They are only human after all." she assured him. MIKE: "And we're not. So there." [In the security foyer] MIKE: The Stormtrooper captains were having a delightful brunch, discussing about the most recent political issues such as Vadergate, and... TOM: Actually, I think they were making fun of a bunch of dirty movies on pay-per-view. Walking along one side in a single file, the group advanced near the corridor's entrance. As Rick said, there were a dozen or so security personnels in the oval-shaped room, most sitting in front of monitors with backs to them. CROW: The Secret MICROSOFT Programmer cubicles!! WOW!!! "That's not all, looked up there." Rick whispered, pointing out the automatic laser guns hidden along the top of the walls. "No problem, Artoo says he can block them." said Nene. Behind her, the little droid has already found a circuit outlet and plugged in. CROW: Wow! Artoo works fast! MIKE: Crow! I thought I'd fixed that! CROW: Guess again Nelson! "Maybe we can do this without attracting too much attention. TOM: Yeah, like that'll happen! Let me go first." Rick stepped out of hiding before Linna could stop him. Slowly he walked across the room. MIKE: Let me walk noticably slow in the wide open, thereby attracting even more attention. For a few seconds nobody paid him attention, but then he was halted by the officer on watch. "What are you doing here?" the man inquired. MIKE [little kid voice]: nuthin... TOM: [ditto] Stuff... Swallowing hard, Rick replied, "Sir, I'm here to pick up the prisoners in Cell 11." "Strange, I wasn't notified." the officer remarked, looking at him skeptically. "Let me see here..." He bent down to check on a monitor. TOM [as Officer]: "Hmmmm...it says 'kick me hard'..." CROW: BEN DOVER! HEHEHEHEE! TOM: (to Mike) Well, I guess some things will never change. MIKE: (looking at Crow, to Tom) Indeed. -Who am I trying to impress anyway?- Sweat broke out on his forehead as Rick waited, half-expecting the guards to draw blasters on him. But as he watched the suspicious look on the Imperial's face gradually faded. "The order came in late. Very well, you may proceed." He waved him on, barely looking up. TOM: (as Rick) YES SIR! BAG OF HAMMERS, SIR! -Thank you, Artoo!- Tension alleviated, Rick couldn't help but shot a glance from the of the corner of his eye at the shadowy corridor. "Ye'sir." he said at the same time, followed by as brisk a stormtrooper salute as he could manage--just when he realized that stormtroopers did not salute naval officers below the rank of captain. But it was too late: the watch officer had noticed the oddity. "Hold on, what's your serial number..." TOM: THX-1138. MIKE: Now that's a shameless plug. CROW: And an even more obscure refrence... Not waiting for him to finish, Rick uppercutted the man with the butt of his rifle. Swinging around, he managed to drop the nearest guard who was just reaching for the "panic" button. MIKE: Just another hold-up at the local 7-11... He then ducked behind a console and discovered that the others have began shooting into the room already. Linna knew that they were bounded for trouble the second MIKE: 'bounded for trouble'? Rick was stopped by the watch officer, and Priss, well, she sort of hoped for it. Itching for a good fight, she leaped into the center of the room and picked off several guards with her rail gun while they were still aiming for her clumsily. Linna's supporting fire took care of a couple more, the densematter slugs from her gatling gun ripping into the bodies with a sickening thud. CROW: Oooohh... someone played the 'Carnival of Carnage' card! The unevenly-matched fray was over before the smoke from the first shots cleared away. The few guards left in good health were rounded up and given Priss's own brand of "physical sedative." MIKE: She sang to them? "That was the cleanest job I've ever seen! TOM: Well, aside from the gross amount of blood and guts, I mean... You guys are good!" Rick said, much impressed. CROW [Rick]: "Yeah, can you blow *me* away in a fine red spray sometime?" "Of course, we are the best in the mercenary business." Nene CROW: Whaddya mean 'we' Nene? (Kemosabe, maybe?) said smugly. -In Mega Tokyo, that is.- "We'd be even better if you could lend us some fire once in a while, Miss Cyberpunk." Priss countered with a mocking grin. "Oh yeah? And who's gonna keep the boomers' comm channels jammed? Or monitor 200 frequencies at the same time?" Nene didn't TOM: Mackie? CROW: Artoo? MIKE: Gypsy? GYPSY: Richard Baseheart? ALL: Hunh? want to simply give in. TOM: Until Priss coldcocked her with the railgun. -These two pick the best time for argument.- Shaking her head in bewilderment, Linna decided to cut in, MIKE: (as Dave Coolia) CUT-IT-OUT! TOM: I wish HE would. "All right, can't we save it for later? We've still got to find Sylia and the others." Reminded of the task at hand, Priss and Nene quickly negotiated a cease fire. Together, they entered the next corridor where the prisoners were being held. "Er, excuse me, but what's a `boomer' that she just talked about?" Rick asked Linna as they were about to leave the room. TOM: Rush Limbaugh. "Oh, it's a type of android in our world, some not too different from your droids." she replied, beckoning him to go on. TOM: THEY ARE *NOT*! MIKE: It's alright, Tom. We believe you. CROW: Of course, if you factor the Dark Troopers in, MAYBE... TOM: Oh, like THAT has any real bearing on the Star Wars Universe! Try "Shadows of the Empire", you Katarn-loonie! CROW: (pissed) "DARK FORCES" WAS A FINE GAME, I TELL YOU! A *FINE* GAME! MIKE: Enough, guys! "And don't forget, I'm not doing all the talking: you've got to tell me more about your world too." TOM: Why is the author even IN here? It seems his only purpose is to ask inane questions, like: What's that? Who's that guy? What are those funny lumps under your su--! MIKE: (holding Tom's tiny beak shut) I don't want to perform surgery TWICE in a day! -And maybe about myself?- Rick imaged Linna winking at him. TOM: With what, Photoshop? But then they were outside Cell 11, where Artoo and Nene were working on the lock. After a few seconds, the door hissed open. "Priss, Linna, Nene! You've done a nice job, I see." Sylia greeted them warmly, although she hadn't been expecting any help. "We got a helping hand along the way." said Nene, stroking Artoo's top fondly. CROW: I see, Nene's found herself a 'special' friend. TOM [high-pitched, as Nene]: "And you should see his attachments!" "Captain Solo and Captain Calrissian, it's good to see you again." Rick took off his mask and said as the two stepped out of their confinement. MIKE: "But they're mine. All four of them. I'm the author, dammit." "How many times do I have to tell you: call me Han, And him Lando." Han reminded him. "By the way, you look great in that outfit, kid." MIKE [designer voice]: But those shoes just don't go with those pants. "Thanks." Beside them, Sylia was putting on her hardsuit, rather enjoying the amazed look on Han and Lando's faces. "It seems that we best join forces." she offered. "That's for sure. Think we'd better get to the Falcon." Han replied, exchanging a quick glance with Lando. TOM: Ewww... that's disgusting! "C'mon, the hangar deck is down this way." He started off, followed by the rest. [In the main hangar bay] The alarm did not go off until the group of escapees reached the outer entrance of the hangar bay. Once there they were met by a stormtrooper patrol. The air was soon full of bright orange blaster bolts and discharges of other kinds, and as a result, the smell of burned flesh and charred metal--mostly of the Imperial side. TOM: *sniff, sniff* Mmmmm, fresh roasted Imperial! Anyone bring the sauce? CROW: So, who do you think is a worse shot, the AD Police or stormtroopers? TOM: Stormtroopers, at least the ADP hits their targets, even if it doesn't do anything. MIKE: I was going to vote for Star Trek security officers myself. BOTS: TREEEEEEKKKKIIIIEEEE!! "Do they ever give up?" Nene grumbled as another volley of lasers glanced off her barrier shield, creating loud crackles on its glowing red surface. MIKE: Do you ever run out? "That's the standard stormtrooper tactic!" Rick yelled, MIKE: What? Fire aimlessly? TOM: "Come out or I will fire aimlessly!" trying to talk over the roar of Linna's gatling gun. "Right, so we better get a move on it before another battalion gets here." Han suggested, firing a captured blaster and creeping forward slowly. CROW: Fortunately, the blaster had a generous severance package. Ahead of him, Priss had already advanced up to the blast- proof shutter gate that separated them from the main hangar. She took up position behind a slanting support shaft while Artoo worked on the lock behind her back. As expected, the gate slid open, revealing a largely empty space save for the various ships sitting on the deck. TOM: You mean like...a DOCKING BAY, maybe? "Follow me." Han motioned, back lowered and moving toward the Millennium Falcon, an ungainly mass of battered metal just beyond the hangar's entrance. He ran up to one of the landing struts and touched something, bringing down the boarding ramp. TOM: -- off its hinges. CROW: CLLAAAANNNNGGG!! "Shouldn't we take some other ship?" Sylia asked hesitantly as they approached the Falcon, which did not look much more promising than the Knightwing under the circumstance. "No need to worry, this old bucket flies like nothing you've seen." MIKE: "Well, falls, anyway." Lando tried to assured her. -Well, that goes both ways.- TOM: It flies like an old bucket? CROW: It's a seen that flies like nothing? MIKE: It flies like a nothing? Nothing more to say, they went up the ramp one by one. Priss, Linna, and Rick brought up the rear as the last of the stormtroopers were driven off. MIKE: [sighing softly] The dorks go marching one by one, hurrah. Hurrah. Inside the cramped cockpit, CROW: "Huh-huh...he said 'cockpit'!" Han and Lando had already finished the preflight check up. "Our luck that they didn't mess with her...we'll know soon enough anyway." Han said and started the engines. TOM: Plot Contrivance Theater: The Sequel. The Falcon rose above the deck as the repulsorlifts hummed to life, nose turning slowly around to face the rectangular dock exit that led the way to freedom. CROW: The word 'EXIT' seems so appealing for some reason right now. The ship first eased forward at what must have been--to all those on board--an agonizingly slow pace, then without warning it dropped down sharply through the wide-open dock into open space. MIKE [chuckling]: "Oh, for dumb! Out of gas *again*!" The afterburners kicked in after a brief pause, and the freighter blazed nimbly away from the dark, hulking form of the Star Destroyer. TOM: Han pops the clutch and tells the Empire to eat his dust! to be continued in part 3... MIKE: You have to admire the author's "death or glory" spirit. CROW: I vote death. Great big heaping piles of it. TOM: Let's go guys. MIKE: This all gives me an idea...(picks up Tom) (They all leave theatre) Credits Department: Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved. Star Wars and all related characters are a trademark of Lucasfilm. Bubblegum Crisis and all related characters are a trademark Artmic, Inc & Youmex, Inc. MSTed by Michael Surbrook susano@otd.com Visit Surbrook's Stuff! A Hero System/Champions source (especially for anime and manga material) at http://www.otd.com/~susano/index.html and Joshua Seames Joshua-kun@juno.com or j_kun@lni.net