BAW meets SSB!

[PointyHairedJedi]

I was thinking about BAW fivers the other day, and how it's been a long time since we've had one. A little later I was thinking about the thread game known as Simulated Spaceship Battle, in which posters shoot the crap out of each other to the amusement of everyone else. Then the two thoughts collided, and when I'd regained conciousness it seemed like a jolly good idea to combine the two and create my very own BAW SSB! Only, it's not really an SSB because it's just me writing it, and it's not really a BAW fiver because I say so for the purpose of making this sentence sound better.

So here, now, I present the first part of The Alternative Factor II: When Egos Collide!


After receiving a mysterious distress call, the Excelsior-class USS Watch Where You're Pointing That Thing, commanded by the insane yet curiously still employed Rear Admiral PointyHairedJedi, arrives in the far-flung Botox system to investigate...

PHJ: Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Helm: No.
PHJ: How about now?
Helm. No.
PHJ: And now?
Helm: No.
PHJ: Can't you... you know, go faster?
Helm: We're going as fast as we can, sir.
PHJ: Hmm. Are you sure I can't use the big screen to play Tetris on for just a little while?
Helm: No.
PHJ: You're a real party-pooper, you know that? The first dangerous away mission we get, I'm dressing you in red and sending you down first.
Helm: Whatever.
PHJ: Damnit, Number One, when did they start getting to be so blasé?
Number One: I think it was when Starfleet banned you from carrying out summary executions on the bridge. Plus, to be honest, the huge baggy clown trousers do make it hard to fear you.
PHJ: Bah! Bah and tosh! Bah, tosh, and splinge! Just because I keep beating the computer at 3D chess, it stole all my uniform trousers and replaced them with these. I tell you, the very next overhaul, I'm getting that thing upgraded to Linux for good.
Tac. Officer: Sir, to be fair, you do cheat incessantly.
PHJ: I'm the captain! It's practically expected of me. Now, are we there yet?
Helm: Yeah, we arrived about ten minutes ago.
PHJ: And you didn't tell me why?
Helm: I honestly didn't care all that much.
*PHJ reaches for his phaser rifle but is restrained by Number One*
PHJ: Nobody lets me have any fun anymore. Right! You there, peon over at the sensor console, tell me there's something out there worth shooting at.
Science Officer: Nope. Nada. I can't even locate the precise source of the distress call. There's interference on the sub-spacial quasi-phase--
PHJ: How many times? How many do I have to tell you? No technobabble while I'm earshot, or else! There's like a six foot high sign right over your station that says that. Right there, right above your head.
S.O.: But how am I supposed to--
PHJ: I can still throw custard pies at them, right, Number One? Computer, three custard pies, double quick!
S.O.: Sir, please, if you'll wait just a moment... There appears to be some debris ahead. It's pretty scattered, but I would say at a guess that it was the remains of an Andorian civilian cargo ship. It was destroyed by phaser fire and torpedoes.
PHJ: Now that's more like it! TO, raise shields, and go to chicken alert.
T.O.: ...Chicken?
PHJ: Yes. Chicken. I reprogrammed the yellow alert protocol.
T.O.: ...
Number One: Just go with it man, just go with it. It's easier in the long run.

*Half a million killometres away, a ship decloaks without warning. It is heavily battle scarred but looks fully functional, and bears a striking resenblance to the Excelsior-class, only it looks somewhat... meaner. The name of this mysterious ship, lit up on the front of the saucer, is the ISS Stand Still While I'm Pointing This Thing*

PHJ: ...Smeg. Ketchup alert! Batten the hatches! Stow the tea cosies! Unfurl the battle ensign!
Number One: I'm sure he'll appreciate it, sir. It's awfully cramped in that cupboard.
T.O.: It's definitely Mirror Universe, Admiral. The scars are a dead giveaway. Their shields are raised, but no weapons on-line yet.
S.O.: It must have come through some sort of sub-temporal rift or anomalous--*SPLAT*
PHJ: Don't say I didn't warn you.
Comms: Sir, they're hailing us.
PHJ: Frequencies open, then. But keep the amplitudes closed till I say so.
Helm: Oh, ha ha, sir. Ha ha.
*On the screen appears... a face*
PHJ: My God! It's me! And I'm gorgeous!
mPHJ: Oh, I know, I know. It is so very tiresome, isn't it?
PHJ: I know exactly how you feel. Though... some would say that the eyepatch AND goatee were too much together, but you know, you really do pull it off.
mPHJ: Oh, you're too kind, too kind. And you know, you're not so bad looking yourself. Those clown trousers are pretty striking.
PHJ: Oh, you think? Anyway, to bizzz.
mPHJ: Yezzz. As you've guessed, I'm from what you know as the MU, though as an aside we call your universe the MU, but let's not go down that path as it would be long and confusing and I'd have to kill some of my crew for sighing in an exasperated manner which would of course be extremely disrespectful, especially as I am so hot. I am here on a mission to steal technology and science and stuff, though to be honest I don't really know much about the details. I have people for that.
PHJ: Of course, of course. No point in burdening yourself with the boring stuff. I see it that way myself.
mPHJ: Sound fellow. So, in the spirit of that, and given that coincidentally you happen to be me, I think it would be a jolly good wheeze if you surrendered so I can plunder your ship.
PHJ: ...Ah. Much as I'd like to, old sock, I'm rather afraid I can't do that. So it looks like we'll have to have a bit of a knockabout.
mPHJ: That's the spirit! I knew you wouldn't just roll over like that Andorian chappie. I've been looking forward to a good fight since I got here, and if there's anyone that can give me one it'll be... well, me.
PHJ: I do like to oblige. Except when I don't, of course. Me out.
Crew: Oo-er!

[mudshark]

*muffled giggling*

[Chancellor Valium]

...Is the implication of this thread that one or more PHJs are not evil?!

EHAD!

[mudshark]

Bah, tosh, and splinge! (No, I don't think so.)

[Chancellor Valium]

Ah. In that case, 'tis muchly amusiful.

[PointyHairedJedi]

And now, the exciting part two!



S.O.: Fascinating. Normally MU counterparts are almost polar opposites, but in this case it seems they are disturbingly similar.
Number One: So now there are two of them. "Oh crap" would be a phrase that comes to mind.
PHJ: Nonsense! It'll be fun. Sure, a few of you might die along the way, but I want you to know that you're all completely expendable.
Helm: All in favour of a mutiny...
All: Aye!
Helm: Anyone against?
*Silence*
Number One: Um, sir, you're aware that you just voted to mutiny against yourself?
PHJ: Given that there's two of me that makes perfect sense, don't you think? And now we're all agreed to fight against me, I say we get on with it. TO!
T.O.: How is it we can never win? Um, anyway, they weren't doing anything up until a moment ago. Sir.
PHJ: Probably having a jolly little chat about mutineering, I shouldn't wonder. Helm, evasive maneuvers, TO, charge phasers and target... you know, stuff. Bits that look important.
T.O.: They're on the move - incoming photons, sir!
*Explosions and shaking and stuff*
PHJ: They're using torches? The bastards!

*The WWYPTT and the SSWIPTT sweep past each other firing gamely away, causing many consoles to explode and redshirts to die, as well as some other bad stuff I suppose*

Ensign Michael Redshirt, Jr: GAK!
PHJ: Alas, poor Michael, I hardly knew ye. Or liked ye, for that matter. Damage report, someone!
T.O.: Shields holding steady at eighty percent, some minor damage to tea storage on deck ten.
PHJ: ...How minor?
T.O.: Some of the Assam was singed by an exploding power relay, apparently.
PHJ: GO TO RAMMING SPEED!
Number One: Let's not be hasty, sir.
PHJ: AND WHY NOT?
Number One: Uh... the other you might have some tea you can steal? If you beat him, that is.
T.O.: Coming back for another pass now, sir!
PHJ: Fire! Fire everything!

*Another dramatic exchange of weapons fire occurs; on the WWYPTT, several things on the bridge blow up with really quite impressive showers of sparks, almost as though they were designed to do so by some bored engineer with a perverse sense of humour, probably the same one that thought it would be a smashing idea to have plasma conduits running through crew consoles, though I bet he's a real hoot on April Fools Day... ahem, where were we?*

PHJ: Report!
T.O.: Smeg!
S.O.: I second that smeg, sir!
Chief: I third it!
PHJ: Helm, go to high warp, and head for the nearest starbase - one of those ones that's a proper starbase, mind, not a namby pamby planetary based one. And would someone be a darling and signal for some well armed reinforcements?

*The WWYPTT wheezes into warp, followed closely behind by the eyepatch and goatee wearing ship from the MU*

Helm: Warp nine point insert a tenth and then a hundredth of a number here, sir. The SSWIPTT is following us at a slightly higher speed than the one I just said - I imagine they'll catch up at some point.
PHJ: Some point when?
Helm: Add up all the minutes between now and when their first torpedo hits us, and it will have been exactly that long.
*Once again, PHJ reaches for his trusty phaser rifle, only to find that no good busybody Number One has put it away somewhere*
PHJ: *Sulk*
T.O.: The nearest friendly ship, in case anyone is interested, is the USS Ottawa.
PHJ: Rear Admiral Zeke! Yes! We'll pay him a visit.
Number One: Shouldn't we give him some prior warning, sir? You know that he can be a little... cantankerous, sometimes, and there are two of you.
PHJ: Nonsense. I'm sure he'll be just thrilled to see us. Helm, increase speed to warp plaid! Someone call me if I look like I'm going to overtake - I'm going to go and play with my dolls.

[mudshark]

Originally Posted by PointyHairedJedi

*The WWYPTT wheezes into warp, followed closely behind by the eyepatch and goatee wearing ship from the MU*

I'd like to see the ship wearing an eyepatch and goatee. That would be pretty cool.


Sinister! I meant sinister.

[Chancellor Valium]

Originally Posted by PointyHairedJedi

*Another dramatic exchange of weapons fire occurs; on the WWYPTT, several things on the bridge blow up with really quite impressive showers of sparks, almost as though they were designed to do so by some bored engineer with a perverse sense of humour, probably the same one that thought it would be a smashing idea to have plasma conduits running through crew consoles, though I bet he's a real hoot on April Fools Day... ahem, where were we?*

Good point.

Actually, design in the ST universe does generally seem to be more for look than practicality - I mean, why put the bridge on the top of the ship in space? There's no need!

And why run so much current through a bridge console that it'll kill?

Or are these PNQs?

[PointyHairedJedi]

And now, part the third, featuring some familiar faces...


*Meanwhile, on the bride of the as yet unsuspecting USS Ottawa...*

Zeke: Dammit, I can't believe it's come to this.
Nate: Yeah yeah, just gimme the pips.
Zeke: I mean, I really can't believe it's come to this. *Sigh* Crewman Nate, I hereby promote you to Junior Apprentice Helmsperson, Third Grade.
Nate: Woo hoo! I get to steer the ship!
IJD: Face it, Admiral--
Zeke: Ahem.
IJD: Fine. Face it, Commodore, you don't have much choice. You've promoted everyone else to fill in the gaps, and we've still got some. You were going to have to give Nate something to do at some point, and face it, the emergency inflatable helmsman is great for going in straight lines, but not much else.
Zeke: You're right, number one, but I'm still going to punish you by turning down the heating anyway.
IJD: Again? But it's practically an icecube in here already!
Nate: Don't be daft. Back home in Minnesota we'd call this sunbathing weather.
IJD: Eskimos. I'm surrounded by flaming Eskimos. Hrmph.
Valium: Admiral, sir--
Zeke: AHEM.
Valium: Yes yes. If you'd let me finish, Rear Admiral, long range sensors are picking up two ships travelling towards us at high warp.
Zeke: Do I have to send you to the brig?
Valium: It's completely archaic! Starfleet doesn't actually use the rank any more, sir, and hasn't in a while. So why do you persist?
Zeke: Why did IJD panel the whole bridge in cedar? It's just one of those things, Lieutenant. Now behave yourself or I'll remove all the vowels from your console's keyboard.
Valium: *Mutter mutter mutter*
Zeke: I didn't quite catch that.
Valium: I said, *Mutter mutter mutter*, sir.
Zeke: That's better. Now what's this about incoming ships?
Valium: One of them has a Starfleet transponder. The other is unknown. The 'Fleet ship reads as the Watch Where You're Pointing That Thing. Sapristi nobolas! Isn't that...
Zeke: ...Rear Admiral PointyHairedJedi. Yes. Hmm. I think perhaps we should go to red alert and arm all weapons. Just in case.
Mudshark: Waaay ahead of you there, Zeke.
Zeke: Excellent. Mr NAH, how are things looking down in engineering?
NAH: Och aye, Commodore laddie. Thins' look reet bonny doon here--
Zeke: For the last time, don't do the accent! It sounds just terrible.
NAH: But it's traditional, sir!
Zeke: I don't care. Just don't do it. Frogarium status?
KatyJane: It's all green down here, sir.
Zeke: You'll get a recommendation for that, Ensign. Or a charge. I'm not sure which yet. Helm? Don't crash into anything unless I say so.
Nate: What about billboards bearing acronyms that feature the word 'the' as part of the acronym?
Zeke: Anything APART from those. Weapons status?
Mudshark: They make things go 'kaboom', sir.
Zeke: Good, good. Doctor whoiam, prepare sickbay to recieve casualties. Lieutenant LtFielding -- and by the way, how confusing is that? -- prepare security teams to repel boarders. I think that just leaves you, Mister Sa'ar.
Sa'ar: Just say the word, Commodore, and I'll have those gold nanoparticles ready and waiting for action.
Zeke: ...Yeah. You... do that, then. And make me some coffee, while you're at it.
Sa'ar: Sure. You want some gold nanoparticles in that?
Zeke: I'll pass, if it's all the same.
Valium: They'll be dropping out of warp any second now, sir.

*The WWYPTT drops out of warp almost right in front of the Ottawa, avoiding ramming the other ship only by a few tens of metres. Not twenty seconds later, the SSWIPTT appears too, and almost immediately starts attacking the other two ships. It is fair to say that many redshirts will probably die in the next few minutes*

*Splosions and stuff*
Zeke: If we survive this, I'll kill him! I'll pun him to death with my own keyboard! Return fire, Mister Shark, return fire!

PHJ: Wheeeee! This is fun!
Number One: If we survive this, hopefully Zeke will kill him.
T.O.: If we survive. Sheilds at sixty-three percent, sir! Ventral phasers offline!
PHJ: Wheeeeeeeee! All this shaking is even more fun when you spin the chair around.
Number One: Sir! We need orders!
PHJ: Harumph. Fine. Try to take out their sensor arrays, then, and determine if they have any tea on board!
Helm: Today is not a good day to die!
PHJ: Wheeeeeeee!

Zeke: Report!
Valium: Eeek!
Nate: --dontwannadiedontwannadiedontwannadie--
NAH: Mommie!
Mudshark: I've been better.
Zeke: Pull yourselves together! What's Pointy doing?
Mudshark: Attacking their sensors, looks like. They're in better shape than us, but not by much!
IJD: Might I suggest that we stage a retreat before we get completely blown to pieces?
Sa'ar: Sir, I don't mean to alarm you, but I dropped my box of gold nanoparticles. They're all over the bridge, sir! Oh God, they're everywhere! We're all dooooomed!
Zeke: Yes, but not for your silly reason. Nate, plot a course for somewhere that it looks like we could hide for a while, and I suppose someone should let Pointy know that we're retreating.
Valium: Oh, must we? Ah well. Sir, I've got the perfect place.
Zeke: Mister Nate, engage!

[NAHTMMM]

*mashes a bunch of laughing smilies into three rofl smilies, one for each part*

Originally Posted by PointyHairedJedi

Zeke: Excellent. Mr NAH, how are things looking down in engineering?
NAH: Och aye, Commodore laddie. Thins' look reet bonny doon here--
Zeke: For the last time, don't do the accent! It sounds just terrible.
NAH: But it's traditional, sir!

Terrible, but scarily accurate.


[edit]Although the fact that I'm in charge of Engineering is much scarier.

[Chancellor Valium]

Originally Posted by PointyHairedJedi

Valium: Admiral, sir--
Zeke: AHEM.
Valium: Yes yes. If you'd let me finish, Rear Admiral, long range sensors are picking up two ships travelling towards us at high warp.
Zeke: Do I have to send you to the brig?

Yes.

[Tate]

Very funny. Good job.

[PointyHairedJedi]

Originally Posted by NAHTMMM

[edit]Although the fact that I'm in charge of Engineering is much scarier.

They're using new and experimental fractal warp drive technology on the USS Ottawa, so it makes sense in a roundabout sort of manner.

[Chancellor Valium]

A fractal warp drive?

Does this mean it's no longer necessary to bounce phased polyputtheketlon beams off the deflector array?

[PointyHairedJedi]

You could, but you'd look pretty silly doing it.

[PointyHairedJedi]

Part the four!


T.O.: The Rear Admiral is retreating, sir! He's taken a bit of a battering!
PHJ: Good, good, fine, fine. Did we knock out their sensors yet?
T.O.: Affirmative. If we go to warp now they'll have a hard time finding us.
PHJ: Alrighty then! Chief, deploy the RBFBG on my Robert; helm, take us after Zeke as soon as it goes off!
Chief: ...Who is Robert?
PHJ: Robert, Mark, whatever. It's not that hard to figure out. Charlie!
Number One: I think that's you, Chief.
Chief: *Sigh* Really Big Flash Bang Grenade away, sir!

*An object the size of a garbage can is launched from the ship; when it is between the two vessels it detonates, producing a huge bright flash that utterly obscures the WWYPTT's getaway*

PHJ: No bang. Shoot.
S.O.: For the very last time, sir, there's no air in space! Not any! None at all!
PHJ: Yeah, sure, whatever. So where is Zeke headed, exactly?
Helm: Over that way, more or less. I don't really care that much to be honest,
PHJ: You'd earn a splat for that, but the replicators seem to be offline. Darn.
S.O.: He seems to be heading towards the Snagge Nebula. Hmm. What an odd name.
PHJ: Not that odd. I'll bet Valium had something to do with the choosing of that particular destination. Very well, follow them in. SO, what can you tell me about this nebula? Bear in mind I have a custard pie in each hand.
S.O.: It's... uh... it's a stellar nursery with a high proportion of young noisy stars. A good place to hide out.
PHJ: Damn punk kids, with their loud music and their ridiculous cars. Get the hell off my lawn, you young whippersnappers!
Number One: I know what you're thinking, sir, and it's really not a bit like suburban LA.
PHJ: I'm wearing clown trousers, Number One. Huge, baggy clown trousers. Do you really want to second guess the thoughts of someone who commands a spaceship in such patently ludicrous attire?
Number One: ...Perhaps you have a point there.
PHJ: I always do, even if no-one understands just what the heck it is. Sometimes even I don't! So there.
Helm: We'll be arriving at the Ottawa's position shortly if anyone cares. Which I don't.
PHJ: Now we can have a proper chat without that dastardly me trying to interrupt things. Good-oh!

Zeke: Mister Sa'ar, I want you to open a channel the moment they arrive.
Sa'ar: Hmm. And that would involve gold nanoparticles how?
Zeke: I'm sure you'll find a way. Mister NAH, what's our systems status?
NAH: We'll be okay, sir. These Intrepids have an incredible capacity for getting the crap kicked out of them repeatedly without so much as getting s single scratch. Plus, I can tie the transporters into the magical shuttle generator systems and pretty much fix anything on the whole ship, barring unforseen plot occurrences. I just need a little time.
Zeke: Chief, you know I rate you very highly, but so much as ding the fourth wall again and I'll throw you out the airlock myself. Are we clear?
NAH: Uh, yes sir.
IJD: You don't think that was a little harsh?
Zeke: Nope. Exactly harsh enough, I felt.
Nate: They're here, Commodore!
Mudshark: I don't suppose you'd let me fire just a little friendly warning shot at, say, their bridge?
Zeke: Now now, Mister Shark. That wouldn't be polite. And besides which, it wouldn't be half so satisfying as clubbing him to death with... something.
Valium: A piano would be traditional, sir.
Zeke: Noted. Channel open!
PHJ: Zekey! Old bean! Old sock! Old turnip! How are you? Long time no see, eh? Don't suppose I could interest you in a pot of tea?
Zeke: Only if I can clunk you over the head with it. Just what is the meaning of turning up with a hostile ship in pursuit without even the barest warning?
PHJ: I wanted it to be a nice surprise, of course. Although... my crew do keep telling me that not everyone is as keen on explosions and space battles as I am. A lot of nonsense, of course, and at least the Tactical Officer sees things my way. Or he used to until I got him killed and had to replace him with this new one. She's not nearly so much fun, I can tell you, but on the plus side I don't have to worry about armed mutinies so much any more. I did ask if I could get some clones made, you know, it's so much hard work getting new officers properly trained, but Starfleet said no. Old fuddy duddy stick-in-the-muds, but at least I have enough incriminating evidence on the top brass to ensure they don't kick me out any time soon. How are you, by the by?
Zeke: ...Dammit. I always start out at the beginning of these conversations angry, but by the time you finish my brain is lagging so far behind I've forgotten why.
PHJ: It's a gift, old cuttlefish. So here's the thing -- that other ship is also commanded by me. It's from the MU, and we should probably try and stop it. I thought you might get a kick out of getting to blow me up, even if it wasn't really me.
Zeke: Wow. That's actually sort of considerate, in a deeply twisted way. Well... alright then. But next time, would you please give some warning that my ship is going to get shot at?
PHJ: I'll give it my fullest and most active consideration, and by that I mean fat chance. Oh, sometimes it's so good to be me. Pointy out!
Zeke: Number one, would you kindly hand me one of those stress balls.
IJD: They're made from finest cedar, sir.
Zeke: *Sigh*

*Meanwhile, on the bridge of the SSWIPTT...*
mPHJ: We've lost them, then.
mS.O.: For the moment. There's a faint trail, but it'll take a while to pick out against the background subspace noise levels. *SPLAT*
mPHJ: That was a terrible waste of a perfectly good Marmite pie, but you deserved it.
mS.O.: My eyes! Oh God, it burns!
mPHJ: Heheheheh. Chief, get us fixed up or you're next. Someone get me a mug of Bovril!

[Chancellor Valium]

Bovril?

Bovril?

Bovril?!

You inhuman monster.

[mudshark]

No little green baize card table? Too bad, that.

Got any pianos?

[AKAArzosah]

I'd highlight bits to 'lol' at but I think it'd take up a whole page.

The WWYPTT and the SSWIPTT

Anyone else read these as the 'Whip-it' and the 'so-whipped'? Just me? Okay then.

[PointyHairedJedi]

Yes, just you.

More... when I've written it! I do have one particularly evil idea in mind, I must warn you.