Chaos Unlimited: Chapter Five
Chapter Five: Bartending 101 - By Heather
Lucas turned several shades of red, then a few shades of purple, and finally a bright, neon magenta. "AHHHHH!" he screamed, flailing about in panic. "Get him off me! Get him off me!" Ace, who had followed Lucas into the room, stopped and stared. "Well, I never," she snapped. Q popped in, "Well, you wouldn't be so tight if you had," and he popped out. Ace, oblivious to it all, continued, "You asked me to come down here to see your experiment, but I don't think this is the type of thing an impressionable girl my age should be seeing!" So saying, she turned on her heel to leave. "Wait! Ace, wait! It's not what you think! REALLY!" Trying desperately to shake Darwin off, Lucas grabbed ahold of Ace. "Wait, I can explain!" "Pervert!" she yelled. Lucas reeled back, the side of his face turning bright red in the shape of her hand. "This is starting to remind me of my engagement," Ranma muttered, watching her go. Lucas was furious. "Listen, you sorry replacement for my dolphin," he snapped, shoving Darwin away. "Just because you may not like girls, doesn't mean I don't! And that was a girl my own age, shoved into the tightest spandex you've ever seen! So just keep your feelings to yourself, all right?" Darwin looked insulted. "You were the one who kept stroking my nose!" Lucas opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly looked startled. Looking around, he spotted Quark and screamed. "AL? AL! What happened? Talk to me!" "What's wrong with him?" Quark asked. "What? Oh... you mean the girl? Oh great. Ace? Is that her name? OK, I can do this..." Lucas ran out of the room after Ace. "Ace? Ah... Sweetheart? Honey? Hey, this is all just a big misunderstanding. . ." Darwin rolled his eyes. "Scott Bacula," he muttered. Quark looked around curiously. "So," he asked, rubbing his hands. "Where are the replicators? I'm going to open a wet bar." "Well, you've got plenty of wet," Bridger said, pointing to the pool. "But I don't know what a replicator is, so we must not have it." Quark looked stunned. "No replicator? But... How can I open my bar without any drinks?" Richie looked around. "Well... There's always that chemistry set over there. You might be able to manage something." Brightening, Quark hurried over to the lab. "Great," he said. "I didn't take chemistry 101 for nothing. I'll be in business in no time." "But..." Bridger said. Quark ignored him. "But..." The feringi picked up several tubes and started combining them. "A little green... maybe some yellow... some blue..." "But that's Dr. Westfarlan's virus lab!" Bridger yelled. "That's alright," Quark said. "A little virus adds flavor." He held up a tube of bright neon blue that bubbled and fizzed. "Want to try some? No refunds guaranteed." Meanwhile, the bridge crew were experiencing problems with the Mag-Lift™. It refused to take them anywhere. "I get no respect," it grumbled. "No thank yous, no appreciation. I'm on strike." Lister weaved his way over unsteadily, leaning against the door. "No, no, no," he said. "You're doin' it all wrong. Like, you've got t' be reasonable. Not just quit all together. Maybe... Maybe you can just be really scary when people get on. You know. Point out th' lack of exits. Or... or give 'em cyanide capsules in case of a crash. Or show really bad movies." "Bad movies?" the Mag-Lift™ asked. "Hmm... maybe..." "Or toast!" Lister cried, warming up to the subject. "You can refuse to let 'em off until they have some toast. Or a crumpet. Or a scone. Now that is the sign of a crazy appliance. You just can't go on strike, you see. You've got to go insane with style." "All right," the Mag-Lift™ said. "I can do this. Give me a little time. I'll have to go check the movie listings." "Or you could just refuse to go in one direction," another man said, appearing out of nowhere. "I knew an elevator that did that once. Scared of heights. Refused to go up." Lister peered at him blearily. "Who're you?" "Ford Prefect," the man said, holding out his hand. "Reporter for the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. Actually, I'm on vacation right now. Would you happen to know where I could pick up a slightly used improbability drive?" "Not really," Lister said. Darwin appeared out of nowhere. He had found a normal UEO jumpsuit by this time. "Try the next universe over. The one run by little white mice. This one is run by bureaucrats." "Oh, alright. Thanks alot. I'll do that." The man started to disappear. "So long, and thanks for all the fish," Darwin called, waving. By now, the entire bridge crew had turned to look at them. "How did you get here?" Riker asked. "I'm an immortal shapechanger who knows all and sees all, and you're asking me a little thing like that?" The stormtrooper, who had taken Ardalla's place at the communication's station (the damp saltwater was doing terrible things to her hair, and she simply had to go take a shower) held up a sign on a stick. "What's he saying?" Riker demanded. "If I may, sir," C3PO said, "I am a translator droid. I am fluent in over 1000 languages. Perhaps I could interpret." "So what's he saying?" "He is writing in Imperial Shorthand. The sign says 'Refreshments now available at Quark's bar, down by the dolphin pool. Life insurance recommended.'" Starbuck jerked up, eyes dazed from looking through the radar scope. "WOW!" he said. "We're at that Babewatch place! And man, I don't think any of 'em have breasts smaller then their heads!" Riker started drooling. "Form a landing... er.. . swimming party! We have to go rescue them!" Buck Rogers started to scramble up, then stopped. "Can we invite them on board without knowing if we have some good alcohol to give them? Those lifeguards out there are guzzling down beer! We have to have something better than that!" Riker thought fast, the sweat dripping down his face from the strain. "Everyone, down to Quark's bar!" he said. "We have to sample his stock! Come on!" Everyone piled into the Mag-Lift™. The doors snapped shut on them. "Welcome to Mag-Lift™," a sing song voice announced. "I will be your train for today. If you look to the left and right, you will notice that there are no exits that I don't control. In the case of a crash, you don't need to worry. I only crash when I want to. Of course, I have been having a bad day today, and I'm feeling a little depressed, and crashing is starting to sound entertaining..." Screams filled the Mag-Lift™ as it shot away. The train decided to record the noise. Nothing like playing back sounds of panic to incite further panic in the future. Yes, this had been a good day for the Mag-Lift™. Riker forced his way out of the manic train first when they arrived at the other end of the ship. He was astonished to see Worf in the hallway. "What are you doing here, Mr. Worf?" he asked. "You're not supposed to be here." He noticed that Worf was carrying a large, squirming sack. "What's in the bag?" Worf sucked in a deep breath, momentarily taking all of the oxygen content from the surrounding air. Riker reeled. Worf breathed out a satisfied sigh, which smelled strongly of Klingon gahgk. "Dogs," Worf growled happily. A familiar furry head poked itself out of the sack. Blowing Riker a loud kiss, Yakko winked. "Gooood night, folks!" he exclaimed. Worf walked away down the hallway. Meanwhile, Ardalla walked out of the shower into the room she had claimed as her own. Her hair was freshly washed and dried and arranged into neat curls. She was wrapped in maybe two grams of some transparent silky something, but since none of the men were there it didn't really matter. She almost tripped over the damp piglet that had wandered into her room by accident. "Oh, how cute!" she exclaimed. Picking up the piglet, she hugged it to her transparently clad chest, nearly suffocating it. The piglet took one look, turned bright red, developed a nose bleed, and passed out. Aghast, Ardalla hurried off to sickbay to find out what was wrong with her new pet. Quark was happy. Business was booming. Everyone had come down to sample his new brew, and had agreed that, if nothing else, it certainly scoured the tastebuds off of one's tongue. He was just passing out seconds, when Riker suddenly looked around. "Hey," he said. "Where's Bridger?" All of the prospective Captains took a moment to think about this. Then there was a mad dash for the Mag-Lift™, which let them all in with an evil little chuckle. "There are still no exits," it said happily. "And I don't feel like crashing. But in the event of a nuclear warhead hitting this submarine, you will all be incinerated on the spot. Don't worry, though... I'll let you know if one's heading this way. And I'll countdown the seconds till it hits. Doesn't that make you feel better? Now, the in-ride movie today is 'Gone with the Wind', so why don't you all sit back and enjoy it... Would anyone care for a piece of toast? Or a crumpet? Did I forget to mention that none of you are getting off of this train without having at least one piece of toast?" The loudest shriek was that of Lister, who was being tortured by the rest of the crew. Bridger, meanwhile, had convinced KITT (who was trapped on the bridge) that he was the most logical person to take control of the ship. Now he was on line to the government of California. "I'll do what I can about your little tidal wave," he assured them, "but things are a bit hectic down here. My crew is gone and I'm working with a bunch of maniacs..." "I heard that!" Starbuck yelled. Everyone sprinted onto the bridge, carrying their pieces of buttered toast. "Get him!" There was a horrendous pig pile onto the captain's chair. Bridger, however, had Super Seventy-sevened himself to the chair and stubbornly clung to it, screaming "It's mine! The ship is mine! Mine, I tell you! MINE!" Realizing Bridger couldn't be budged, Riker started inching towards the commander's chair. The Doctor divined his intent, however, and slapped him upside the head with the lead weights in the end of his scarf, knocking him out. "It's a step down from being Lord President," he said, seating himself in the chair, "but it's better then nothing." There was a last, final rush to get to the Lieutenant Commander's chair. When the dust cleared there were bodies piled around the chair. Duncan stood in the middle of it, sword in one hand, Data's head in the other. "There can be only one," he said. Odo claimed the radar scope by oozing all over it. Everyone decided it was easier to let him have it then to try to scoop the ooze off. The stormtrooper started to take the communication's chair again, then stopped as the Seaquest was hailed. He held up a sign, now written in the English that C3PO had taught him. Cat shoved him out of the way. "Hey, we're here," he said. "Who's this?" "Seaquest! You have to help us! The tidal wave is coming! Do something!" "Man, I don't do tidal waves," Cat said in disgust. "That's your personal problem. You do something about it." He hung up. "Computer," Bridger snapped, "plot in what course we would need to get to that tidal wave before it washes out California." Nurse Chapel straightened. "Working. . ." she intoned. "Not you," Bridger snarled. "I meant Lucas! Where is he?" Darwin patted a confused Nurse Chapel on the shoulder. "It's all right, Majel," he said. Understanding, and then more confusion flashed over her face. "Oh my god," she said, stricken. "Where am I? This isn't the set of Star Trek! Where's Gene? Gene! Gene?!" Just at that moment, Lucas walked in, Ace on his arm. "Doctor," Ace exclaimed happily. "Isn't it wonderful? Lucas and I are engaged!" "AL?" Lucas muttered. "Al, I think I over did it. What does Ziggy say? “AL?" The Doctor sighed. "I lose more companions that way," he grumbled. "People," Bridger screamed, red in the face, "there is a tidal wave out there that we have to stop!" Chapter Six
Lucas turned several shades of red, then a few shades of purple, and finally a bright, neon magenta. "AHHHHH!" he screamed, flailing about in panic. "Get him off me! Get him off me!" Ace, who had followed Lucas into the room, stopped and stared. "Well, I never," she snapped. Q popped in, "Well, you wouldn't be so tight if you had," and he popped out. Ace, oblivious to it all, continued, "You asked me to come down here to see your experiment, but I don't think this is the type of thing an impressionable girl my age should be seeing!" So saying, she turned on her heel to leave. "Wait! Ace, wait! It's not what you think! REALLY!" Trying desperately to shake Darwin off, Lucas grabbed ahold of Ace. "Wait, I can explain!" "Pervert!" she yelled. Lucas reeled back, the side of his face turning bright red in the shape of her hand. "This is starting to remind me of my engagement," Ranma muttered, watching her go. Lucas was furious. "Listen, you sorry replacement for my dolphin," he snapped, shoving Darwin away. "Just because you may not like girls, doesn't mean I don't! And that was a girl my own age, shoved into the tightest spandex you've ever seen! So just keep your feelings to yourself, all right?" Darwin looked insulted. "You were the one who kept stroking my nose!" Lucas opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly looked startled. Looking around, he spotted Quark and screamed. "AL? AL! What happened? Talk to me!" "What's wrong with him?" Quark asked. "What? Oh... you mean the girl? Oh great. Ace? Is that her name? OK, I can do this..." Lucas ran out of the room after Ace. "Ace? Ah... Sweetheart? Honey? Hey, this is all just a big misunderstanding. . ." Darwin rolled his eyes. "Scott Bacula," he muttered. Quark looked around curiously. "So," he asked, rubbing his hands. "Where are the replicators? I'm going to open a wet bar." "Well, you've got plenty of wet," Bridger said, pointing to the pool. "But I don't know what a replicator is, so we must not have it." Quark looked stunned. "No replicator? But... How can I open my bar without any drinks?" Richie looked around. "Well... There's always that chemistry set over there. You might be able to manage something." Brightening, Quark hurried over to the lab. "Great," he said. "I didn't take chemistry 101 for nothing. I'll be in business in no time." "But..." Bridger said. Quark ignored him. "But..." The feringi picked up several tubes and started combining them. "A little green... maybe some yellow... some blue..." "But that's Dr. Westfarlan's virus lab!" Bridger yelled. "That's alright," Quark said. "A little virus adds flavor." He held up a tube of bright neon blue that bubbled and fizzed. "Want to try some? No refunds guaranteed." Meanwhile, the bridge crew were experiencing problems with the Mag-Lift™. It refused to take them anywhere. "I get no respect," it grumbled. "No thank yous, no appreciation. I'm on strike." Lister weaved his way over unsteadily, leaning against the door. "No, no, no," he said. "You're doin' it all wrong. Like, you've got t' be reasonable. Not just quit all together. Maybe... Maybe you can just be really scary when people get on. You know. Point out th' lack of exits. Or... or give 'em cyanide capsules in case of a crash. Or show really bad movies." "Bad movies?" the Mag-Lift™ asked. "Hmm... maybe..." "Or toast!" Lister cried, warming up to the subject. "You can refuse to let 'em off until they have some toast. Or a crumpet. Or a scone. Now that is the sign of a crazy appliance. You just can't go on strike, you see. You've got to go insane with style." "All right," the Mag-Lift™ said. "I can do this. Give me a little time. I'll have to go check the movie listings." "Or you could just refuse to go in one direction," another man said, appearing out of nowhere. "I knew an elevator that did that once. Scared of heights. Refused to go up." Lister peered at him blearily. "Who're you?" "Ford Prefect," the man said, holding out his hand. "Reporter for the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. Actually, I'm on vacation right now. Would you happen to know where I could pick up a slightly used improbability drive?" "Not really," Lister said. Darwin appeared out of nowhere. He had found a normal UEO jumpsuit by this time. "Try the next universe over. The one run by little white mice. This one is run by bureaucrats." "Oh, alright. Thanks alot. I'll do that." The man started to disappear. "So long, and thanks for all the fish," Darwin called, waving. By now, the entire bridge crew had turned to look at them. "How did you get here?" Riker asked. "I'm an immortal shapechanger who knows all and sees all, and you're asking me a little thing like that?" The stormtrooper, who had taken Ardalla's place at the communication's station (the damp saltwater was doing terrible things to her hair, and she simply had to go take a shower) held up a sign on a stick. "What's he saying?" Riker demanded. "If I may, sir," C3PO said, "I am a translator droid. I am fluent in over 1000 languages. Perhaps I could interpret." "So what's he saying?" "He is writing in Imperial Shorthand. The sign says 'Refreshments now available at Quark's bar, down by the dolphin pool. Life insurance recommended.'" Starbuck jerked up, eyes dazed from looking through the radar scope. "WOW!" he said. "We're at that Babewatch place! And man, I don't think any of 'em have breasts smaller then their heads!" Riker started drooling. "Form a landing... er.. . swimming party! We have to go rescue them!" Buck Rogers started to scramble up, then stopped. "Can we invite them on board without knowing if we have some good alcohol to give them? Those lifeguards out there are guzzling down beer! We have to have something better than that!" Riker thought fast, the sweat dripping down his face from the strain. "Everyone, down to Quark's bar!" he said. "We have to sample his stock! Come on!" Everyone piled into the Mag-Lift™. The doors snapped shut on them. "Welcome to Mag-Lift™," a sing song voice announced. "I will be your train for today. If you look to the left and right, you will notice that there are no exits that I don't control. In the case of a crash, you don't need to worry. I only crash when I want to. Of course, I have been having a bad day today, and I'm feeling a little depressed, and crashing is starting to sound entertaining..." Screams filled the Mag-Lift™ as it shot away. The train decided to record the noise. Nothing like playing back sounds of panic to incite further panic in the future. Yes, this had been a good day for the Mag-Lift™. Riker forced his way out of the manic train first when they arrived at the other end of the ship. He was astonished to see Worf in the hallway. "What are you doing here, Mr. Worf?" he asked. "You're not supposed to be here." He noticed that Worf was carrying a large, squirming sack. "What's in the bag?" Worf sucked in a deep breath, momentarily taking all of the oxygen content from the surrounding air. Riker reeled. Worf breathed out a satisfied sigh, which smelled strongly of Klingon gahgk. "Dogs," Worf growled happily. A familiar furry head poked itself out of the sack. Blowing Riker a loud kiss, Yakko winked. "Gooood night, folks!" he exclaimed. Worf walked away down the hallway. Meanwhile, Ardalla walked out of the shower into the room she had claimed as her own. Her hair was freshly washed and dried and arranged into neat curls. She was wrapped in maybe two grams of some transparent silky something, but since none of the men were there it didn't really matter. She almost tripped over the damp piglet that had wandered into her room by accident. "Oh, how cute!" she exclaimed. Picking up the piglet, she hugged it to her transparently clad chest, nearly suffocating it. The piglet took one look, turned bright red, developed a nose bleed, and passed out. Aghast, Ardalla hurried off to sickbay to find out what was wrong with her new pet. Quark was happy. Business was booming. Everyone had come down to sample his new brew, and had agreed that, if nothing else, it certainly scoured the tastebuds off of one's tongue. He was just passing out seconds, when Riker suddenly looked around. "Hey," he said. "Where's Bridger?" All of the prospective Captains took a moment to think about this. Then there was a mad dash for the Mag-Lift™, which let them all in with an evil little chuckle. "There are still no exits," it said happily. "And I don't feel like crashing. But in the event of a nuclear warhead hitting this submarine, you will all be incinerated on the spot. Don't worry, though... I'll let you know if one's heading this way. And I'll countdown the seconds till it hits. Doesn't that make you feel better? Now, the in-ride movie today is 'Gone with the Wind', so why don't you all sit back and enjoy it... Would anyone care for a piece of toast? Or a crumpet? Did I forget to mention that none of you are getting off of this train without having at least one piece of toast?" The loudest shriek was that of Lister, who was being tortured by the rest of the crew. Bridger, meanwhile, had convinced KITT (who was trapped on the bridge) that he was the most logical person to take control of the ship. Now he was on line to the government of California. "I'll do what I can about your little tidal wave," he assured them, "but things are a bit hectic down here. My crew is gone and I'm working with a bunch of maniacs..." "I heard that!" Starbuck yelled. Everyone sprinted onto the bridge, carrying their pieces of buttered toast. "Get him!" There was a horrendous pig pile onto the captain's chair. Bridger, however, had Super Seventy-sevened himself to the chair and stubbornly clung to it, screaming "It's mine! The ship is mine! Mine, I tell you! MINE!" Realizing Bridger couldn't be budged, Riker started inching towards the commander's chair. The Doctor divined his intent, however, and slapped him upside the head with the lead weights in the end of his scarf, knocking him out. "It's a step down from being Lord President," he said, seating himself in the chair, "but it's better then nothing." There was a last, final rush to get to the Lieutenant Commander's chair. When the dust cleared there were bodies piled around the chair. Duncan stood in the middle of it, sword in one hand, Data's head in the other. "There can be only one," he said. Odo claimed the radar scope by oozing all over it. Everyone decided it was easier to let him have it then to try to scoop the ooze off. The stormtrooper started to take the communication's chair again, then stopped as the Seaquest was hailed. He held up a sign, now written in the English that C3PO had taught him. Cat shoved him out of the way. "Hey, we're here," he said. "Who's this?" "Seaquest! You have to help us! The tidal wave is coming! Do something!" "Man, I don't do tidal waves," Cat said in disgust. "That's your personal problem. You do something about it." He hung up. "Computer," Bridger snapped, "plot in what course we would need to get to that tidal wave before it washes out California." Nurse Chapel straightened. "Working. . ." she intoned. "Not you," Bridger snarled. "I meant Lucas! Where is he?" Darwin patted a confused Nurse Chapel on the shoulder. "It's all right, Majel," he said. Understanding, and then more confusion flashed over her face. "Oh my god," she said, stricken. "Where am I? This isn't the set of Star Trek! Where's Gene? Gene! Gene?!" Just at that moment, Lucas walked in, Ace on his arm. "Doctor," Ace exclaimed happily. "Isn't it wonderful? Lucas and I are engaged!" "AL?" Lucas muttered. "Al, I think I over did it. What does Ziggy say? “AL?" The Doctor sighed. "I lose more companions that way," he grumbled. "People," Bridger screamed, red in the face, "there is a tidal wave out there that we have to stop!" Chapter Six