SENSITIVE DOCUMENT: "Boldly Goin'"

This is a snippet of a round-robin story. It was my turn to write a segment, and I thought I'd take the adventure to new heights. Del Freeman, the creator of the main character somehow has gotten out of control of both the character and her adventures. Del has reluctantly taken full blame for the entire series. Nobody will admit that she is not the sole author, so she has been forced to accept awards for all of the adventures of Ruby Begonia, Virtual Character. I had to take a shot too, so here's my little piece of the pie..

Copyright © 1994, 1996
by Buzz Lange

"What'd'ya mean, 'It isn't there?'" asked Buzz. "I just uploaded an entire 'Bunker Hill' episode--all three parts! Zipped!"

"Hey, man, it just isn't here," Dave Freeman retorted. "Nada. You screwed up, man, that's all. Hmmmm." He shifted the phone to the other shoulder. He had been rousted from sleep by an upset Buzz calling about one of those "unmentionable" BBS problems that everybody hates.

A violent thunderstorm thrashed away at Ruby's Joint and hadn't helped the situation at all. The lights had flashed brightly during the last thunderclap, and now the continuous droning rain was lulling Dave back to sleep. Coconut Grove itself was lulling Dave back to sleep. Dave thought about closing his eyes just for a second. Maybe even for a year. Whichever occurred first.

"OK...then where's my packet?" demanded Buzz, "I spent eight minutes online downloading--and there's nothin' here!"

"Nah...come on." Dave saw his sleep tumble out of his head and dive for the bed. He wished he could follow it.

"We all know the Grove lines are lousy--It took six tries just to get on this time, but, hey--I hooked up at 14.4! I even saw Ruby at the login!"

"Whoa, man, like, 'I dunno.'" Dave was waking up and had crawled over to the terminal with the phone line in tow. Del Freeman had been pressing Buzz to meet the deadline for Ruby's Pearls, and Dave didn't want to hear about it any more. Not without more sleep. Dave was still having trouble keeping his eyes open. He waited until both monitors merged into one and showed signs of staying together.

The screen flickered as Dave dug into the BBS hard drive. Grudgingly.

"Well, d'ja find it?" asked Buzz with a worried voice.

"Aaah...Hummm.." Dave was still hoping he wouldn't have to wake up all the way. He leaned toward the tube and peered at it through two squinting pinholes. Something did seem wrong.

"Dave?"

"Oh, boy..." The fog was lifting, and Dave wasn't enjoying the view.

"Dave--What is it?"

"Oh, man...It's all the Ruby stuff.."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"..It's gone.."

"One quarter impulse. Slow to maneuvering. Make standard orbit." said Kirk through the smoke. The battle with the Klingon Bird of Prey had been costly.

"Standard orbit, aye!" said Sulu, his station almost useless with phaser burns and exposed circuits. He was showing signs of frustration as Enterprise wallowed into the orbit entry window.

"Spock--Any idea where we are?"

"After that last power surge, Captain, we could be...anywhere." The ship began to list, and rubble could be heard shifting downhill in all compartments.

"Bridge! Fer God's sakes can you keep this crate level? A've got everything from preemies to nose bleeds down here! Got enough trouble keeping half this crew on it's feet without the rest of 'em fallin' outta their bunks!" McCoy's voice complained. Sick bay was way overloaded, and no relief was in sight.

"Engineering--" Kirk began, his voice sounding tired, "Scotty, can you get us into orbit?"

"Ay, Captain, but ah dinn'a know how long we can keep 'er there! Got a Hell of a mess down here.."

"Any update on that power surge?"

"Th' dilithium crystals be nee'n' replacin'," Scotty piped, "An' there be nathin' ta sit on for naigh on twaenty decks!" There had been extensive damage to the interior of Enterprise.

"Scotty--The power surge?!"

"A dinn'a have a clue--" CRACK!...KA-BAAAMM!-- "..Aach! T'ain't over yet!"

"Scotty?-- " POP!...ZZZZZZZZT!...KA-BOOOM!-- "Spock, Can you do anything?"

"Interesting.." Spock stooped over his console and was bathed in green phosphorus from his monitors. He seemed to be in another world.

"Spock?" Jim's voice reflected his concern for his failing ship.

"Keipten! I believe ve are being underr attack--Again!" Checkov announced. His panel was glowing all the wrong colors.

"Shields UP!" said Jim, his blood pressure rising, "Damn!"

"Shields UP, aye, Keipten!--" Checkov's panel flickered momentarily and died-- "..I theenk.."

"Captain!" Uhura joined in from the communications station, "there's something coming in on sub-space! It's not quite..right!"

"Can you make it out, Uhura?" Kirk began to climb up the sloping deck toward the comm station. She tried again to lock onto the signal.

"Put it on-screen!" Jim continued.

"It's not video.." Uhura screwed the communicator deeper into her ear. "Hmm--It's not audio, either." Her face strained to listen.

"Spock?" Jim was hoping for anything.

Spock leaned into his panel and froze momentarily, deep in thought. Then he turned to Jim, and with an uncertain look, raised an eyebrow..

"..What does it mean: QWK--?"

"You mean she's really gone this time?" queried a disbelieving Del who had been watching some late-night reruns on TV.

"Nothing could be sweeter," said Dave, and headed for bed.

"What about all those stories?" asked Del, whose fingers were still numb from all the typing.

"They're not your problem now," said Dave who was thinking about freeing-up some bothersome conferences on his BBS. He yawned and thought about sleep. The rain continued. It was still dark outside.

"What about the emag? We'll have to call it something else.." pouted a sad-faced Del. "What will we publish?"

"We got other stuff. Hmm." Dave didn't want to think about it.

"Whatever happened to that 'Bunker Hill' upload--we sure could use it now." Del was mentally trying to fill the gap that Ruby had left behind. It was more like a crater.

"Aaa..Buzz'll send it again. He likes fighting Ma Bell."

"Dave, the phone's not ringing--"

"Maybe he'll mail it."

"Oooooooooooeeeeeee!!!" An electrostatic crackle filled the otherwise empty transporter room as a familiar hue formed over one of the pads, stood momentarily, and then tumbled off. Caught by the twenty degree list, the figure rolled helter-skelter, suffering a complete loss of composure.

"Whoa! Mamma!" Cried the startled Ruby, whose "So Many Men--So Little Time--Please Take a Number" Tote burst open and disappeared down a companionway. "Guess I missed the party!" she observed aloud, looking around at the empty room.

She found herself in a guest stateroom, one that just happened to have escaped serious damage. Her tote lay upsidedown next to her. A seam had split, and the contents were everywhere. She quickly assessed her situation.

"Damn! I was just steppin' out fer a smoke, an..." Ruby contemplated what had just happened. She vaguely remembered something about a packet, a flash of lightning, and a rerun of Star Trek. She noticed the inscription on the wall over the writing desk. It said:

"Well, whaddya know. Here I am--Boldly Goin'!" Ruby looked around at the heavy damage to all the ship's fittings. "Ugh!" she observed. "Bad ambeama... amala... ah... Tacky surroundings!" Ruby, who loved nothing better than interior decorating, silently bemoaned the lack of red velvet and chandeliers. She must be here to brighten up the surroundings, she decided.

Ruby was always finding some reason for her existence, even when there was more reason for her nonexistence. What she needed now was a "One Stop For All Yer Star Ship Decoratin' Needs Depot", she decided--Something big--Something really big.

"Wow!" she breathed, surveying a photograph. "This stuff is hot-hot- hot!" she purred. The problem was where to find such regalia in her current surroundings, which were, where, exactly, she wondered.

Her eyebrows furrowed deeper as she noticed all the damaged electronics and furniture and plumbing everywhere. Her resources looked mighty slim. She decided looking good at all costs was her top priority. She could always pick up a leopard-skin sofa somewhere. She planned to take a serious bite out of Star Fleet's unlimited line of credit. It'd be a big bite, even for Star Fleet. Ruby shivered in anticipation.

"Hot damn!" She exclaimed as she flipped through the RTFM! Technical section, noting the information about replicators. She wondered if she could take one home when her adventure ended. "A thing like that could come in mighty handy for duplicating coins with my profile and reproducing those sexy blue-beaded jockstraps," she thought as she remembered her recent adventures. She began to smile like a Cheshire cat.

Ruby rummaged around her tote and pulled out an almost empty bottle shaped strangely like a percussion grenade, complete with pin and lever. On the lever was engraved a single word:

She examined her scuffed shoes and torn outfit. She looked at the replicator in the compartment with a new determination.

"About freakin' time," she told herself.

Having established orbit and trimmed the ship, Kirk began to form an away team to examine the resources of the planet they were orbiting. He needed to get a fix on where the ship was, and he needed to start some sort of refit to bring everything back online.

"Spock--Have you got any better fix on our location?" he asked, hopefully. Spock had been very busy taking star sightings and working with the computer and had just entered the current readings.

"Computer--Compute present coordinates, and give designation of the planet we are now orbiting," Spock commanded in his dry Vulcan manner.

"Com..pu..ting.." came the equally dry response.

"Captain, we should have an answer almost im--"

"Current..lo..cation...unknown..."

"Well what 'n th' Blue Blazes is th' matter with that damned thing now?" gruffed McCoy who had collected his medical gear and was standing-by on the bridge, ready to beam down. He had no intention of beaming down even if he knew where he was going. Absolutely none. He hated to use the transporter.

"Com..pu..ting.." Kirk looked at Spock who looked at McCoy who fidgeted nervously.

"Oh, for Pete's sake--" McCoy threw his bag down and folded his arms.

"Planet..Class..M...Name," said the computer.

"Shh!" admonished Kirk, maintaining command.

"...unknown," finished the computer.

Ruby stuffed one of her stiletto heels with the live piranhas into the replicator. She punched in 100 and pressed ACTIVATE. The replicator chugged out about sixty shoes and died, the compartment choked with snapping fish and too many left high heels. She looked at the designation on the front of the replicator. It said:

"Freakin' small time!" huffed Ruby, as she headed for Engineering. She was sure she had seen a heavy-duty machine near there somewhere. Ruby checked each compartment along the way. She passed an open door and saw a sign that read:

It was hung over an impressive stainless appliance in a compartment all it's own.

"Yessss!" she breathed, and hurried to stuff her near empty Devastation grenade into the machine. She punched CONTINUOUS, and the machine began to make grenades. Just like the original. Ruby looked disappointed.

"RATS!" she said aloud, realizing she was going to have dozens of nearly empty bottles of Devastation. "I'll just pour them all together," she told herself.

She set up the grenades on the replicator bench and opened all the tops as she went along. An acrid scent formed in the air where a few drops seeped into the surface. She slid the empties off the bench onto the deck, realized she'd be forever finishing the task, and decided there had to be an easier way. While she was at it, she decided to replicate something she loved to eat. She'd seen the kind of stuff Klingons ate. "Yuk!"

"Aye, Go easy with that dilithium crystal, laddy!" Scotty admonished a crew member who was struggling with the isolation gear as he removed the delicate, extremely rare, and valuable crystal. He eased it into the fuel carrier. It socketed audibly, and everyone breathed again.

"Good work, laddy! That's the last of it!" Scotty and the crewman transported the fuel carrier to the engine nacelle duct works. They left the empty crystal case out in the open.

"Away Team to Transporter Room Four!" came the announcement over the ship's intercom. Ruby adjusted her new uniform and admired her new shoes. She was looking good, and she knew it. Quickly, she ran out of her acquired guest stateroom and entered the Engineering spaces. She had gathered up her damaged tote and was delighted to find the empty dilithium transport case open on the floor. She deftly dumped the contents of her now useless tote inside and hurried to join the Away Team at Transporter Room Four.

"Look, Spock, I..I don't like having my molecules taken apart and scattered across the universe--It just isn't..right!" said McCoy as he hesitated before stepping onto the transporter pad.

"It's fine with me!" bubbled the stunning young ensign with the sequined, skin-tight pressure suit-- "It kinda tingles!"

"Wha..?" McCoy turned to see a blur of brilliant red hair and matching emerald safety goggles swish past him and take up position on the transporter pad.

"Energize!" cried Ensign Begonia clutching her new tote firmly to her chest. She was grinning ear to ear in anticipation, and began flexing her knees in a seductive bobbing motion. Electricity filled the air and Ruby began to glow in all the right spots. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and--

"Oooooooooooeeeeeee!!!"

"..in'a nam'a God wuzzat??" McCoy whirled completely around, his hair standing stiff from the proximity to the transporter field. He sniffed the air and looked at Spock, perplexed.

"A rare mixture of an antiquated, highly volatile, unstable pheromone once called "Devastation" and three point oh four parts per million ozone, I believe," announced Spock, matter-of-factly reading from his tri-corder. Scotty had already stepped onto the transporter pad. Spock, noticing McCoy's hesitation, indicated the recently vacated position and said, "Ready, Doctor?"

"Yeah--Sure, Spock." McCoy climbed up where Ruby had just stood. He planted his feet, clutched his bag close to his chest, and began to flex his knees, slowly bobbing up and down. A nervous smile crept across his face. He glanced sideways at a bewildered Scotty, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exclaimed, "Energize--Damn it!!"

"Sir, the ship's engineer and doctor have beamed down to the surface to locate the necessary supplies," stated Spock with Vulcan efficiency. He had just returned to the bridge.

"Well, let's hope they find enough material to repair this ship and get us on our way. Did the computer ever determine exactly where we are?"

"I will check it again, Captain," said Spock, heading for the Science station. "Incidentally, Captain...something odd happened just before Scotty and McCoy beamed down."

"Something...odd?" asked Jim.

"An apparition appeared and transported in advance of them, Captain. I attempted a tri-corder reading on it, but, aside from an ancient pheromonic signature, it did not comprise any pattern familiar to our instrumentation."

"uh...Could you tell anything about it at all?" asked Kirk.

"Alien," said Spock.

"Friendly?" asked Kirk.

"Probably," said Spock. "It was carrying a Starfleet dilithium containment case; however, the case contained only traces of dilithium."

"What was in it?" asked Kirk.

"Caustic pheromones and an unknown substance I believe to be..food," said Spock.

"unknown? Food?" asked Kirk.

"Yes, and perhaps dangerous. Whoever or whatever it was, I believe it intends to distribute it."

"So Scotty and McCoy aren't down there alone," said Kirk. "And speaking of which, I'd still like to know where down there is."

Spock approached the computer and punched in the coordinates once again, seeking the exact location of Enterprise and the name of the planet she was orbiting. This time he attempted something new.

"I am initiating a character recognition surface scan," said Spock.

"Scanning..surface," said the computer.

"What?" asked Kirk, puzzled.

"We are going to read...Planetary Life Signs," stated Spock matter-of-factly.

"com..put..ing," said the computer.

"Ah, of course," said Kirk without the faintest clue.

"The planet..Enterprise..is orbiting..is..called," said the computer.

"Yes? Well?" pressed Kirk impatiently.

"..Furniture World.."

"I kinda' like this olive green leather one for Kirk, don'chou?" Ruby asked. "An' I think a couple of those fuscia loveseats would go real nice in my guest sitting room."

"I think I'm gunna be verra sick," murmured McCoy.

"Ah, yer jus hungry, that's all," said a level-headed Ruby.

"Here..." she dug in her new tote, "Have a Ho-Ho."

. . . to be continued

To the Disrupter

---

What's a La-Z-Boy?

La-Z-Boy is a rite-of-passage celebrated by young men growing into manhood in the Deep South. Not much is known about this ceremony other than it involves chicken feathers and nubile young village girls.

Special Assignment:
The Secretary wants to plant you here as an operative immediately.

When the opportunity to observe this behavior arises, you are instructed to proceed with vigor and stay on top until you have achieved your objective. Do not allow any obstruction to prevent you from reaching the required deep penetration. The Secretary expects you to put everything you have into this insertion.

As you know, The Center demands video and audio tapes. You are instructed to get all you can before returning. Do not allow caution or haste to lead to early withdrawl. No matter how you feel about this assignment, you do not want to go off half cocked.

Wipe the sweat from your forehead and get a grip on yourself..

Back to La-Z-Boy

---

What's RTFM?

RTFM is the CodeName for an unseen foreign operative who may soon become a factor. You are instructed to proceed with extreme caution until the identity of this operative is established-- Waitaminnit..  ***What?.. Huh?.. Read-the-what?? oops!***

I've just been informed that we have..ah..new data on RTFM. His identity, however, is not fully verified. You will be advised when we have more information.

Quickly return to the story before you get hopelessly confused..

Back to..ah..RTFM

---

What's a QWK?

A QWK is a tightly zipped packet of some sort that hackers extract from Bulletin Boards. Inside these QWKs are numerous secretive messages stored in a jumbled format. They require a special piece of equipment called an "off-line reader" to decode them. No one from Intelligence has ever seen one of these. Q is working on a thermal process to crack the QWK we've intercepted from this document. So far, all we know is that it's compressed to a dangerous level and might explode at the slightest provocation.

I would advise you not to touch it.

Quickly return to the story before you forget what little you know..

Back to the QWK