Roger M. Wilcox Length = 14055 words
18550 Prairie St. # 10
Northridge, CA 91324
December 11, 1983
Roger M. Wilcox
There are those who believe that life here began . . . out
there -- far across the universe; with tribes of humans who may
have been the forefathers of the Egyptians, or the Toltecs, or
the Myans; that they may have been the architects of the great
pyramids, or the lost cities of Lemuria or Atlantis. Some
believe that there may yet be brothers of man who even now fight
to survive somewhere beyond the heavens. . . .
And then, there are those who don't believe any of that
nonsense, and for them we present:
(The ultimate "Galactica" put-down)
IN THIS EPISODE: Captain Alpo uses a nail file. . . .
[An alarm plays the main Dread theme of the show]
ALARM: Wake up, Lieutennant Startrek! Time for you to go out on
[The pajama-clad figure in the sleep bay bed rises to
consciousness groggily. He flops onto the floor, gets to his
feet by mental telepathy, aims his right index finger at a red
panel on the near wall, and utters a shrill tone. The door on
the wall slides open, revealing a pink and purple bathroom]
STARTREK [rubbing his eyes]: ?
[The bathroom resolves into its usual blah-white self]
STARTREK: That's it. No more Pyramids games that last until 0200
centars. I'd better get ready for my pylon patrol.
[He enters the bathroom and yells at another red panel. A spigot
crashes out of the mirror and fires a burst of mouthwash in his
mouth. He gargles a bit and spits. A sink dashes forth and
catches the green stuff in midair. After this, a toothbrush and
comb materialize as corporeal projections from the new hole in
the mirror and groom both sides of his actor-perfect head.
[He walks out into his sleep bay again and stands in a little
blue circle. He aims at a panel on the far wall with his left
STARTREK [at a high pitch]: Oooooooo. . . .
[He looks up. From out of a shaft in the ceiling, a pile driver
crashes down on him, and when it rescinds, Startrek is dressed in
a big blue suit with an "S" on its chest]
STARTREK: Whoops! Wrong costume.
[He utters a tone a perfect fifth lower, and this time the pile
driver dresses him in a regulation Colognial uniform. The pile
driver has also done everything that used to be handled by a
bathtub and deodorant.
[He gallantly drags himself into the hallway outside, a corridor
dimly lit with the traditional white background that says they
are not on alert. He stands over the foot-wide Red Circle in the
floor, aims his finger at the wall panel, and after indicating
for it to activate, says:]
STARTREK: Here I go again. Another day, another cubiiiiiiiiiiit!
[He falls through the hole in the floor, goes straight down for
the length of a few imperial micrars, then banks sharply until
the tunnel ends and plops him in the seat of his wiper fighter]
CENTRAL CONTROL: Transferring luck systems to our side. Wiper 1,
launch when ready.
[Startrek pushes the "TURBO" joystick button with his thumb, and
the wiper launches in a fury of cheap steam special effects]
STARTREK: Yeeeow! Every time I launch, my head snaps back
against the seat, and I get whiplash! I'm going to ask
Dr. X to install a slower takeoff, rubber seats, or a rubber
neck for me!
[Startrek is off in the endless void of surrounding space,
searching for the "deadly" (they're as harmful as a 72-year-old
mouse) pylons. He looks down at his scanner]
STARTREK: Ah, what a beautiful universe this is! Just look at
this on the scanner; red giant stars, white dwarfs, black
holes, intergalactic space crap, two hundred pylon raiders,
beautiful -- TWO HUNDRED PYLON RAIDERS!?! [face
takes on a look of "Oh, my god!"] Oh, my god! [turns on
helmet-communicator] Calling the CRAP-tica! This is
Lieutennent Startrek calling Battlestar CRAP-tica! Do you
OH-DAMMIT (commander of the CRAP-tica): This is Commander
OhDammit here! Come in, Startrek. . . .
STARTREK: I'd like to, but I'm several centons of travel away,
and I'd have a little problem getting back with 200 pylon
raiders on my tail anyway! Could you send some help?
[Captain Alpo has been listening in all this time in his own
sleep bay, not quite awake yet. He doesn't hesitate to interrupt
ALPO: I'll get 'em for ya, Startrek, ol' buddy! Hang in there!
[He abruptly shuts off his homemade wiretapping device and gets
up from his stainless steel bed. Having no time to comb his hair
or wash his mouth, he runs to his door and presses the opening
button (he lives in an old apartment block). He poises himself
above the "Red Circle" outside, and is about to press its
activator button when he discovers he is still not dressed. He
runs back to the front door, opens it, positions himself below
the Dressing Shaft, and pushes its button. The pile driver
crashes down on him and leaves him sleepy but uniformed.
[In a blinding flash, Captain Alpo manages to zip through his
front door before it recloses, get above the circle, and push its
button. He falls down as quickly as he can (not that he has much
choice) and lands in the seat of his wiper fighter]
CENTRAL CONTROL: Transferring systems to a far far better place.
Wiper 2, launch when --
ALPO: Yeah, yeah, I know!
[Without looking, he frantically brings his thumb down on
whichever button is within his reach. Unfortunately, the button
he presses is marked "IM", which stands for "I am," or "reverse
thrust" in CRAP-tican]
ALPO [falling against the dashboard]: Yaaaaaah! I think I
pressed the wrong button!
[He goes on a demolition course through the CRAP-tica in the
wrong direction. Worse, the IM button is stuck, and Alpo can't
stop his reverse thrusters. He crashes through the wall in back
of the launching chamber and keeps right on going toward the
other side of the battlestar's port fighter bay.
[Meanwhile, somewhere in the center of the port fighter bay:]
PYRAMID PLAYER: Hah! Five Pyramids! I think I'm gonna win!
MAN LISTENING AT THE BOUGHSIDE WALL WHO HEARS ALPO'S WIPER
APPROACHING BUT CAN'T IDENTIFY THE NOISE: What the frak?
CONFUSED MANIAC [barging into the room]: Wiper crossing! Use
caution! Wiper ahead!
[The players break into a confused babble just as the wiper
crashes through the boughside wall]
ALPO: Comin' through!!
[The wiper plows through the room and out the sternside wall,
killing two-and-a-half people on its way by]
LANDING BAY PERSONNEL [receiving warning of the wiper's approach,
and with a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face]: Oh, my god!
I hope he doesn't crash though the --
[The wiper smashes through the end protector wall, heading out
down the runway]
LANDING BAY PERSONNEL: -- end barrier!
[The wiper nears the last few meters of landing runway just as an
exhausted wiper comes in for a landing. The pilot of the
incoming wiper sees Captain Alpo just in time]
OTHER WIPER PILOT: Yaaah!
[He swerves just far enough to the right to miss Alpo's wiper and
scrape his tail fin on the edge of the landing bay.
[At last, Alpo is out in free space, and naturally the first
thing he does is contact Startrek]
ALPO: Startrek . . . you out there?
STARTREK: If I'm not, I'm in big trouble! Glad you could make
ALPO: Actually, I have a problem.
STARTREK: Don't look at me, I take the pill.
ALPO [trying to ignore Startrek's last comment]: My I-M button is
stuck in the on position, and I can't pry it loose!
You got anything that would help?
STARTREK: Don't you have a nail file? They'll work!
ALPO: What do I look like, anyway?!? Only women carry nail files
around with them!
STARTREK: Well, then, you can use mine; I always carry one around
with me. I'll send it to you via the on-board
ALPO [with a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face]: Oh, my god!
I've been wondering about you, Startrek! [the teleporter's
RECEIVE end fills up] Aha, the file. Hey! What's this
pill here? It's not a birth con--
STARTREK: No, it's a Certs; you have terrible morning breath!
ALPO: I know, I know! [pops the Certs in his mouth] Say, didn't
you say something about a hundred pylon raiders?
STARTREK: Two hundred! Look at your scanner.
ALPO: You're right, there they are . . . all 200 of them! And
there are only 2 of us!
STARTREK: That makes the odds 100-to-one! That's not fair!
ALPO: Yeah. Poor pylons, they don't have a chance!
[Alpo pries loose the I-M button, which pops out into his hand.
'They don't make buttons like they used to,' he thinks; but he
hasn't time to worry about this now. He presses "TURBO" and
sends his wiper flying toward the pylon hoard. Startrek does the
[Soon, the pylons are within both visual and weapons' range. Alpo
instinctively moves his thumb from the joystick's central "TURBO"
button to its left, red "FIRE" button. Without even looking, he
fires once in the general direction of the pylons.
[The twin shots streak on into nothingness, appearing as if
they'll miss altogether. Just as they're between two pylon
raiders, they split off, each heading for one of the two pylons.
Both enemy fighters explode simultaneously, leaving no trace of
their existence. Alpo now utters his famous war cry:]
STARTREK: Big deal. Watch this!
[He swerves his wiper until his crossfire lines up with four
pylon raiders flying one-behind-the-other. He presses the firing
button once, and watches the bolts leap toward their target(s).
[(By the way, how are you supposed to see the laser bolts if
they're travelling at the speed of light?)
[The bolts hit, and the pylon raiders, one by one, down the line,
vaporize into nothingness]
STARTREK: How do you like that?
ALPO: Not bad. But this'll blow your mind -- not to mention
STARTREK: It'll blow the pylons' mind too, eh?
ALPO: No, the audience's! They've been waiting a long time for
some half-decent special effects!
[He shoots a pylon raider chosen at random. The fighter, upon
being hit (just a glancing blow, but that's more than enough to
destroy any pylon raider), splits in half. Both halves go off in
different directions and hit another pylon raider, destroying
them and splitting them up, etc..
[When the whole chain-reaction is over, eleven pylons raiders
have bitten the big one. One large flaming fragment (burning in
airless space) still zips about. It almost hits another pylon,
but is only a near miss. However, either from the heat of the
fragment, the suicidal instincts of the pylon race, or cheap
spaceship construction, the raider explodes anyway.
[Suddenly, as unexpectedly as the near victory for the wipers (in
other words not unexpectedly at all) a pylon raider maneuvers
underneath Startrek's wiper and fires repeatedly]
STARTREK: Alpo! I just took ten direct hits from underneath!
ALPO: Check the damage report. What does it say?
STARTREK: Hmmm . . . I think they scratched the paint!
ALPO: Are you sure?
STARTREK: You'd better believe it! [A display on his panel
reads, "Hmmm . . . I think they scratched the paint!"]
ALPO: Only ten direct hits? They did that much damage?!?
STARTREK: Yeah, and now I'm really mad! A new paint job costs a
whole quarter of a secton's pay! Now they're in for
[Startrek adds to the massacre with his newly acquired rage, and
the "battle" continues onward.
[Meanwhile, on the bridge of the CRAP-tica:]
MOXIE: Grampa, what's happening to my daddy?
OH-DAMMIT: He's engaging a squadron of pylon raiders and will
probably get blown to bits.
MOXIE: That's nice. What are you going to do about the pylons
when they come after you?
OH-DAMMIT: Gee, I don't know, I hadn't thought about it.
MOKIE: Well, why don't you ask my dangit for advice?
OH-DAMMIT: Okay. Stuffit, what should we do next?
STUFFIT: Bark! Bark!
OH-DAMMIT: Brilliant! I would never have thought of that!
Athinner and KaBoomer, get out there and aid Alpo and
JELLY: Wiper pilot Jelly reporting for duty, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: What are you doing here?
JELLY: I want to fend off the pylon attack for the greater good
as a Colognial warrior, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Sorry. We're under attack by the pylons, and I'm only
sending Real Pilots out there to handle them.
JELLY: Thank you, I think, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT [aside]: There are times when I wish he would just fall
into a jar of his name!
ATHINNER and KA-BOOMER [in their wipers, pressing "TURBO"]: Yeow!
[When they arrive, there are only fifty -- no, wait! -- only 48
pylon raiders left]
KA-BOOMER: Hey, man, like what's happ'nin'?
ALPO: We've destroyed over 3/4 of the pylons! Tell ya what . . .
you can grab some of the glory, too. . . . I'll take that
KA-BOOMER: And I'll take that twelve.
ATHINNER: And I'll take that twelve.
STARTREK: Hey, I wanted that twelve!
ATHINNER: Startrek . . . uh . . . if you let me kill that twelve
I'll . . . uh . . . reconsider your offer of coming over to
your sleep bay tonight . . . and . . .
STARTREK: Uh, tell ya what. You can have all 24 remaining
pylons! Now whadayasay?
ATHINNER: A definite "maybe"!
[Alpo makes the first move. With one quick blast, he destroys
all twelve of his pylons; figure out how he did this yourself.
Next is KaBoomer. He's a little less experienced at this sort of
thing, and needs to fire twice to kill them all.
[Then comes Athinner. Sexy, stupid Athinner. You know that
scene where the pylon raider is right in the crossfire but the
wiper has to fire five times to match the pylon's path anyway?
Well, Athinner is responsible for that sequence! To destroy all
24 of her pylons, she has to fire twenty-five times! Gad, that's
[Athinner and KaBoomer have to return to the CRAP-tica; partly
because they're running low on fuel in their older "gas guzzler"
model wipers, partly because they've run out of firing power
(actually only lame Athinner has), but mostly so they can send
Startrek and Alpo out on their "adventure of the secton"!
[Time passes . . . ]
STARTREK: What time is it, Cap'n?
ALPO: It's two abondanzas past a pastaroni. We're very late.
STARTREK: Well, I just want to go a little bit farther.
ALPO: Oh? How far?
STARTREK: Far enough to find another planet to crash-land on.
ALPO: We're crash-landing again?
STARTREK: Not we, you! It's your turn this secton.
ALPO: Look -- there's a nifty-looking planet down there. Well,
here I go!
[Captain Alpo abruptly presses "TURBO" and sends the wiper on a
direct course for the planet "below." Startrek headed off in the
same direction, but glided safely down through the atmosphere
unlike a certain captain he had an acquaintence with.
[Alpo thunders down through the atmosphere (which is 14.7 psi
pressure at sea level, 80% nitrogen and 20% oxygen, of course).
Within seconds, Captain Alpo, who is now travelling at maximum
speed, smashes into the surface, obliterating his wiper and
making a new crater.
[Startrek lands near the crash site, unaware of exactly what has
happened to Alpo, and walks in Captain Alpo's general direction]
STARTREK: Alpo? Alpo! You here? This is no time to play games!
Alp -- [sees the wreckage] -- oh. When I said
"crash-land," I didn't mean CRASH-land! Say, on a scale of
one to ten, I'd rate this landing as a nine!
ALPO [amazingly crawling out of the wreckage]: Hey! I'm alive!
Now what would you rate this landing as, a ten?
STARTREK: Hmmm . . . well, now that I see you've survived, I'd
rate the crash-landing as a three.
ALPO: Oh, shut up. Say, I wonder if this planet is inhabited.
STARTREK: They usually are. They might have a pylon munitions
depot, or a pylon base, or a beautiful female alien, or a
ALPO: Startrek, LOOK!
STARTREK: What, what is it?! A pylon raider? A troup of pylons
ALPO: No, a beautiful female alien!
[Alpo draws his gun, resets a few controls, and fires directly at
the alien. Startrek's ideas were one and the same]
STARTREK: WHATD'JA DO THAT FOR?!?
ALPO: That way, they won't show any resistance!
STARTREK [with a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face]: Oh, my god!
[But before Captain Alpo can get real dirty on network TV,
Startrek points a rather interesting detail out to him]
STARTREK: A PYLON!
ALPO [resetting his hand laser]: All right! [kills the pylon
before it has a chance to return fire] These are even more
fun than dead female aliens!
STARTREK [pulling the necromaniacal Alpo away from both corpses]:
C'mon! If there are pylons on this planet, we have to
[The two head off in the direction the pylon came from. After a
few centons of exploring, they come upon something astounding
. . . ]
ALPO: Do you see what I see?
STARTREK: Only if you see a pylon ground base! How are we gonna
[Startrek's question has to remain unanswered for the moment,
because a pylon on the rafters of the base has spied them and
opened fire. Since pylons have terrible aim, Alpo and Startrek
don't have to worry much about him. Alpo reaches out to the line
of fire of one of the laser bolts and catches it in midair]
ALPO [inspecting the blue glowing laser bolt]: There can't be
more than 2 kilowatt-centars of energy in this bolt! The
regulations always say "laser bolts must contain at least 3 KWC
of energy at all times," and what do you do? You turn right
around and operate your laser pistol below specifications! Those
rules are there for a reason, centurian!
[Alpo hurls the bolt right back at the pylon, blowing him up as
ALPO: And I always thought lasers reflected off shiny surfaces,
[Suddenly, another pylon appears, but this time Alpo is hit in
the shoulder. Alarmed but not seriously injured, Alpo returns
fire and the pylon falls to the ground at his feet]
ALPO: I didn't know you guys could hit anything with a laser
blast! How'd you manage to actually HIT me?
PYLON: I-wasn't-aiming-for-you. I-was-aiming-for-that-grizzly-
ALPO: Grizzly bear? WHAT grizzly -- [looks over his shoulder] --
[They dash away, leaving the pylon to "die," the grizzly bear
lumbering close behind. They spin 180 degrees and begin running
backwards across a dusty plain, keeping the bear in clean sight.
Alpo draws his pistol, aims, and fires; the shot hits, but the
bear is unaffected -- confused, maybe, but not affected]
STARTREK: What happened? Why didn't it die?
ALPO: Silly me, I had this gun on the wrong setting! Let's see
[resets controls] . . . pylons . . . humans . . .
20-foot giants . . . flying maids . . . aha! Grizzly Bears!
[Alpo blasts the big brown behemoth, and the grizzly bear is
toast. Well done, Alpo! He holsters his gun]
STARTREK [snapping his fingers]: I've got a plan on how we can
destroy this pylon base!
ALPO: You mean like that other plan of yours where I had to carry
your detonator five hundred frisbees behind enemy lines,
while you stayed back and "waited for my signal"? Not
STARTREK: No, no, this is even better! We get together a big
squadron of X-wing and Y-wing fighters, fly down through the
canyon, and at the last micron fire a proton torpedo down
the exhaust port; then we get away quickly and watch the
Death Star explode!
ALPO: That's Star Wars!
STARTREK: You know something, you're right! Okay, then, we get
together a big squadron of wiper fighters, fly down near the
surface, and at the last micron fire a laser torpedo at
their atomic reactor; then we get away quickly and watch the
pylon base explode!
ALPO: Now you're thinking!
STARTREK: Wait a centon, we don't even have to do that much! We
have enough power in our wipers. We'll get 'em with the new
weapon developed by Dr. X: the zucchini missile! It's so
huge, only one will fit on a wiper.
ALPO: Hey, hold on there! You're forgetting that my wiper was
vaporized in the crash-landing!
STARTREK: No, I remember that. But would I leave a higher-
ranking-who-could-put-me-on-report buddy behind? Let's go!
[Soon, the two of them are in Startrek's wiper. The wiper is
only a one-man craft, you say? So it is -- unless you put
Captain Alpo in the front hole on the wiper's nose! They launch]
ALPO: So these are coach class wiper flights, eh?
[Startrek keeps his thumb down on "TURBO" as he swerves the wiper
in the direction of the pylon base's nuclear reactor. He'd never
seen a pylon base before, and had never been told where the
reactor was supposed to be, but that's where he was going]
STARTREK: Now . . . here goes the zucchini missile lever!
[Alpo glances over his shoulder into the wiper's nose, and sees a
pair of weapons bay doors open, followed by the appearence of a
green missile the same diameter as the nose shaft. In a sudden
realization of where the missile launcher is located, Alpo
clambers up to the top of the wipers nose. The missile launches
1/3 of a micron later.
[The missile streaks toward the reactor as Startrek swoops the
STARTREK [over his helmet communicator to Alpo's pocket-com]:
We're headin' for space, buddy! We don't want to be within
range of that A-bomb blast!
ALPO [to himself]: Space? Oh-oh, there's no air in space (or so
they tell me), and I'm riding in an open-air nose cone! I'd
better get back in and pull down the built-in transparent
[Alpo gets back in and pulls down the built-in transparent
[In practically no time (on film, anyway) Startrek brings the
wiper into the endless, star-specked void known to the producers
as "space." He can almost see the big spotlight behind the black
canvas. As he causes the wiper to spin 180 degrees and lurch
backward ("IM" button, remember?), he and Alpo witness the entire
pylon's destruction in a single atomic blast. Good thing
Colognial warriors are immune to the intense radiation caused by
[Meanwhile, aboard the CRAP-tica:]
KERNEL DIE: Look, sir!
OH-DAMMIT: What is it?
KERNEL DIE: On the scanner -- a pylon base tar!
KERNEL DIE: Good point.
OH-DAMMIT: Well, I haven't had much excercise in a few days, so
we might as well send out a destruction team.
KERNEL DIE: Yes, but how are we going to destroy it?
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm . . . aha! We get together a big squadron of X-
wing and Y-wing fighters, fly down through the canyon,
and at the last micron fire a proton torpedo down the
exhaust port; then we get away quickly and watch the Death
KERNEL DIE: That's Star Wars!
OH-DAMMIT: So what's the difference? . . . okay, we get together
a big squadron of wiper fighters, fly down near the base's
surface, and at the last micron fire a laser torpedo at
their atomic reactor; then we get away quickly and watch the
base tar explode!
KERNEL DIE: Genius at work. . . . Hold it! We probably won't
even have to do that much! Look -- on the scanner! It's
OH-DAMMIT [on the spacecom]: This is Commander OhDammit of the
CRAP-tica calling Lieutennant Startrek! Do you copy, Startrek?
STARTREK: No, I don't copy -- but I do some great typesetting!
OH-DAMMIT: Where's my son?
STARTREK: You mean Captain Alpo? He's in the nose of my wiper.
OH-DAMMIT: Startrek, we're faced with a threat more serious than
a pyramid game played with marked cards.
STARTREK: That can only be . . . Sire Urine! He's back!
OH-DAMMIT: No, not THAT bad. We've just sighted a pylon base tar
in the vicinity of the CRAP-tica.
ALPO [on his pocket-com]: So? Me and Startrek --
OH-DAMMIT: -- Startrek and I.
ALPO: Oh? You fought the pylon ground base too?
OH-DAMMIT: No, just correcting your grammar. I won't have any
son of mine using bad Colognese! Anyway, have you used up
your zucchini missile?
STARTREK: Yeah. On the ground base.
ALPO: And almost on me, too!
OH-DAMMIT: Okay, then, I'll send out a new wiper # 2 for Alpo.
[Commander OhDammit presses a button sending a wiper out in the
general direction of Alpo and Startrek. Fortunately, he's left
the cockpit open, so when Alpo makes a leap for the wiper he'll
have a better chance of catching it and getting in before he
asphyxiates or freezes or explodes or something.
[The wiper 2 roars onward toward Startrek's wiper # 1. Inside
the nose cone, Alpo is inhaling and exhaling like he's just
sprinted six frisbees; he's getting ready to go into space. The
wiper # 2 zooms up as close to Startrek's wiper as it'll come,
and Startrek makes a frontal pass at it (though he's more used to
doing that with girls).
[At the last imaginable millimicron, Alpo throws open the built-
in transparent airtight shield and leaps out for the other wiper,
shouting his famous war cry:]
ALPO: ! [(there is no sound in space)]
[He stretches his arms out and grabs the wiper by its port laser
turret. Tumbling up and over, he flings himself toward the
cockpit and catches it with his lower legs. He pulls himself up
into the cockpit, fighting the pain of his lungs' carbide
buildup, and with his last strength yanks down the canopy.
[Breatheable air floods the cabin at last, and Alpo is safe.
ALPO: Whew! I'm glad that's over. Say, didn't OhDammit say
something about a pylon base tar?
STARTREK: I think so. I know so! Take a gander out at nine
ALPO: Uh, where's that?
STARTREK: Same bearing as 1800 centars.
ALPO: Oh, goody! It doesn't even look scratched. Now I get to
try out my zucchini missile!
STARTREK: Speaking of missiles, I gotta get back to the
ALPO: But why? You'll miss all the fun!
STARTREK: Well, for one thing, I'm low on fuel; for another, I've
used up my zucchini missile; but mostly, if you remember, I
have to get a new paint job where the pylons scratched it!
ALPO: Okay, I'll get the base tar, you get the paint job and
hurry back; er, how long will it take?
STARTREK: Paint jobs are rumored to take sectons. So long!
ALPO: Sionara. Hmmm . . . that base tar sure looks closer to the
CRAP-tica than it was a few centons ago. . . .
[Meanwhile, on board the base tar]
BALDSTAR: I can't stand this light shining up into my face to
make me look evil! Somebody, shut it off!
LUCITE: I am afraid that is impossible, oh inferior leader. The
light comes with the command chair.
BALDSTAR: Well, then YOU command this dump for a while! My eyes
need a rest.
LUCITE: But I don't command base tars! I'm just a servant!
Besides, do you realize that by your stepping down you are
giving up command?
B.S.: Yes, I realize that; I read the pylon base tar handbook.
Now, leave me alone while I join forces with the CRAP-tica
LUCITE: But last show, you were captured, sir. You told me how
bad it was aboard the CRAP-tica, and I assume you really
don't want to go back there!
B.S. [confused]: I wasn't captured last show.
LUCITE: You weren't captured on the last show we filmed. You
were captured on the rerun that was shown on TV last week.
You had terrible living conditions, the place was infested
with veeblefitzers, and everybody around you was a criminal!
And then they took you to the BRIG . . .
B.S.: I don't care about the living conditions!
LUCITE: They also put their illumination on the floor.
B.S.: Well, er, you may be right. They ARE terrible living
conditions. But I'd still like a vacation. I think I'll go
to Carrion for a secton or ten. Look over the store while
I'm gone, Lucy! Bye! [exeunt]
LUCITE: Back to the colonies? How odd. Now then, up to the
command chair. [climbs the stairs to the high chair, sits
down] Hmmm . . . I see what Baldstar means about the light!
I'm glad I have my automatic sunglasses turned on.
PYLON [entering]: By-your-command.
LUCITE: Oh, how I've longed to hear that! Er, speak, centurian.
LUCITE: OH, NO!!! LAUNCH ALL FIGHTERS! READY ALL WEAPONS!
PREPARE FOR ANNIHILATION! DON'T LET HIM GET TOO CLOSE!!!!!
[At the same time, simultaneously:]
ALPO: This is Captain Alpo calling Battlestar CRAP-tica. Do you
read, Commander OhDammit?
OH-DAMMIT: Yes I read; I passed my literacy test just last
secton. What's happening out there, Alpo?
ALPO: I have this strange suspicion that the base tar is after
OH-DAMMIT: Why do you suspect that?
ALPO: Because they're on infrared alert and have all their major
weapons targeted on your battlestar.
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm . . . you may be right. You'd better blow them
up first. Commander OhDammit, over and out.
[The death of the base tar is now in Alpo's hands. Before he can
make any death-dealing moves, though, the launching bay of the
base tar opens wide and begins pouring out pylon raiders.
[Alpo doesn't want to waste time playing war games, so he fires
one shot down the launching bay that destroys all 200 pylon
raiders at once. Now he heads for the nuclear reactor at the
bottom center of the base tar. Swiftly, he snaps down the lever
that takes control from the laser turrets and gives it to the
zucchini missile launcher via the same button. As he passes as
close to the reactor as he deems possible, he pushes "FIRE,"
instantly followed by "IM" so that he can see the A-bomb blast
while still staying clear.
[The missile streaks toward the bottom conter of the base tar,
spewing out cheap chemical exhaust. Although Alpo is too far
away to see the actual impact, he knows it has probably happened
because the base tar evaporates in a split-micron with a flash of
WRITER: That does it! I can't take this crap any more! Next
time, I'm giving these wiper jockeys a real challenge!
[BUT . . . just before the base tar turns into a pyrotechnic slag
heap, Alpo catches a glimpse of a shuttelcraft zipping out of its
rear exit. The shuttle has a label on the side which reads,
"Baldstar's private shuttle"]
ALPO: I think that might have been Baldstar's private shuttle.
Maybe I should check it out. . . . Naah. I'm out a zucchini
missile. I might as well return to the CRAP-tica; it's only
a few centons away.
[Meanwhile, on board the CRAP-tica:]
OH-DAMMIT: That scratch on your wiper is too unsightly, Startrek.
I'm afraid I'm going to have to assign you a new one.
STARTREK: But you can't, sir! You just can't! I've had that
wiper since I was three-and-a-half yarons old!
OH-DAMMIT: You've had that wiper since your last crash-landing,
three sectons ago!
STARTREK: Oh yeah. Okay then, what's my new assignment?
OH-DAMMIT: I'm assigning you to pylon patrol in the reconnaisance
STARTREK: You mean that Dr. X marvel that doesn't even have laser
OH-DAMMIT: That's the one. I know you're just dying to meet
STARTREK: Oh, sure. I've always wanted a hot date with a
OH-DAMMIT: Look, Startrek, ever since the destruction of the
colonies at Carrion, we've only had odds against the pylons
at 100-to-one in our favor, tops! And since you go around
with Alpo and wreck a wiper every secton or so, we're
running low on our supply! The Recon wiper in the only one
STARTREK: Well, okay; but could you calm down Antagonice a bit?
I don't like computers that are all over me. I mean,
they're just machines.
OH-DAMMIT: Startrek, have you seen "Tron"?
OH-DAMMIT: Neither have I. And I'm sorry, but I can't calm her
down. That's Dr. X's territory; the only thing I know how
to do is feed my Alpo dogs.
ALPO [via helmet-com]: You called, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: No, no, never mind. Anyway, Dr. X doesn't usually go
around doing menial tasks like taking out the afrodisiac
circuits in a computer. He invents things.
STARTREK: I know. I loved the zucchini missile, and I loved the
iniolator ray even more -- although he could brush up on his
spelling, since he spelled "annihilator" phonetically. And
now, I understand he's working on a zucchini missile
revolver. But FRAK! I want a decent computer!
OH-DAMMIT: Sorry, Startrek, but I'm not going to do it.
STARTREK: Felger carb!
NEONLITE (one of the control personnel): Sir, our extra extra
long long long range scanner has picked up something!
OH-DAMMIT: What is it?
NEONLITE: It's a dust particle a few hundred light-yarons outside
of the galaxy.
OH-DAMMIT: How many times do I have to tell you, never put the
magnification up that high! Bring it down to extra long
range, and then see what you get. . . . Startrek, where
are you going?
STARTREK: Over to Dr. X. If you won't get him to tone down
Antagonice, then I have to.
OH-DAMMIT: Well, good luck -- you're gonna need it!
[A little later, in Dr. X's lab:]
STARTREK: Dr. X, I presume.
[A four-foot high bald-headed man turns around. His true age is
eight yarons, but his features (and his demeanor) make him to be
DR. X: You've seen my picture displayed hundreds of times, and
you presume I'm Dr. X?!? You have less intellect than
STARTREK: Can the funny stuff, that's my department. Your
department is making Antagonice less of a "woman," if
you get my drift.
DR. X: Certainly. Why don't you find out what's wrong for
yourself! [presses a button on his armchair]
[A shaft of light springs from the projector below the buttons on
Dr. X's chair arm, casting the image of Antagonice's circuitry
right on Startrek's retinae]
STARTREK: Wow . . . she's sure got a great set of dip shunts!
Oh, here's the problem: you didn't put in enough resistors.
DR. X: Should've known.
STARTREK: Well, are you going to fix her, or what?
DR. X: I'm going to what. I don't want to leave my zucchini
missile revolver hanging just to add a few resistors to an
overaffectionate computer. In the mean time, goodbye!
[pushes another button on his armchair which whisks Startrek
out of the room at about 90 frisbees per centar]
STARTREK: Well, he's sure in a nice mood today! I think I'll go
out and greet Alpo.
[He crosses the battlestar, enters his wiper, presses "TURBO" to
launch, gets the usual whiplash, and exits the launching bay.
However, being used to holding down "TURBO," he is suddenly aware
of just how fast he's going]
STARTREK: The stars! They're falling away from me like mad!
ANTAGONICE: You're approaching the speed of light, sexy-bod!
STARTREK: Oh, yeah. [buries his face in his hands] Hi,
ANTAGONICE: Honey, I suggest we go back. Captain Alpo is that
STARTREK: Huh? Oh, sure, sure. Take me back.
ANTAGONICE: I've been waiting for you to say that, tiger!
[The wiper comes around in a long, sweeping arc, sidling up right
behind Alpo. The supercharged turbos then shut off]
STARTREK: We're going too fast, Antagonice. Can't you slow me
ANTAGONICE: We're idling right now!
STARTREK: I know, but our idle is faster than any ship in the
fleet normally moves. Hey, let's show Captain Alpo what we
ANTAGONICE: You got it!
[The turbos engage, and leave Alpo's wiper in the space dust]
STARTREK: Hey, Alpo, how's it going?
ALPO: Startrek? Where are you?
STARTREK: Right here!
ALPO: Glad to hear it.
STARTREK: Going very near the speed of light!
ALPO: Whoa, that's heavy.
STARTREK: Yep, that's right! That's one of the side-effects of
going near lightspeed, along with blue shift, time dilation,
Lorentz contraction, lack of simultaneit--
ALPO: Thank you for quoting Dr. X, but I don't think I really
care for a lecture on special relativity right now.
STARTREK [deturboing]: Say, did you hear the one about the two
pylons who go into a pyramid game room?
STARTREK: Oh, darn! I've always wanted to hear that one.
ALPO [with a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face]: Oh, my god!
This is going to be a long space opera. Let's go home.
STARTREK: You mean back to Carrion?
ALPO: No, I mean --
STARTREK: Hey, I can go there, too. Antagonice, take me to
ANTAGONICE: You bet your sweet buns, earth-mover!
ALPO: Startrek, you have the Recon wiper?
STARTREK: No! I just brought Antagonice along for my health!
ALPO: Oh, well that's all right. See ya!
STARTREK: So long, sucker!
[He pushes "TURBO" as soon as Antagonice has him aimed at
Carrion. The stars flash by, and the wiper is gone]
ALPO: You know something, I believe he really did have the
[He maneuvers his wiper back to the landing bay, and lands (how
about that!). He gets out and leaps up through his transport
hole to the area near his sleep bay, then goes through a second
hole which deposits him on the bridge of the CRAP-tica]
OH-DAMMIT: That reminds me, I meant to put that mattress back
where I found it.
ALPO: Thanks a lot, Commander!
OH-DAMMIT: You're welcome. Say, have you heard anything from
Startrek? You know how he doesn't get along with the Recon
ALPO: Well, he did say something about the planet Carrion.
OH-DAMMIT: The colonies? Don't tell me he used the Recon wiper
to take a vacation on that old hunk of ash!
ALPO: Okay, I won't tell you, but that's probably what he did.
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, dammit! He was our comedy relief!
ALPO: He never really did care for Antagonice, so don't worry,
he'll be back.
OH-DAMMIT: How soon?
ALPO: Before the show is over.
OH-DAMMIT: Goody! Then we have less than half a centar to wait.
Why don't you get back to your quarters for now.
ALPO: Sure thing.
[With that, he leaps up to the hole in the ceiling and is
whooshed back to the quarters level. Unfortunately, he forgot to
close the hole in the Red Circle, so he continues on past the
quarters level back into his awaiting wiper]
ALPO: Well, as long as I'm in my wiper, I might as well go out on
patrol. Transferring all the control to me.
CENTRAL CONTROL: Wiper two, do not launch when ready. Your daddy
is very angry with you.
ALPO: Oh, forget OhDammit the wonderfrak. He's just an old guy
who doesn't know anything about the modern generation of
OH-DAMMIT [occupying the launch bay in front of Alpo's wiper]: Oh
I don't, do I? Well, I know enough to tell you that if they
catch you, you'll be stripped of your paint in nothing flat.
ALPO: Aw, c'mon daddy, pylons can't hit worth frak!
OH-DAMMIT: Watch your mouth, son, or I'll wash it out with lye-
ALPO: Glad to see you're a member of the new generation, dad!
OH-DAMMIT: You wouldn't launch out over your own father, would
[Alpo closes the hatch, presses "TURBO," and launches out over
his own father]
OH-DAMMIT: You know, I believe he would. [faints in a pile of
ALPO: Ah, what a beautiful universe this is. Look at this on the
scanner: red stars, white dwarfs, black holes, intergalactic
space crap -- oh no! Not THIS time! There's no squadron of
two hundred pylon raiders. After all, base tars are
supposed to carry three hundred pylon raiders! I saw that
a few sectons ago on Sixty Centons.
STARTREK: Hey, Alpo, how're you doing out there?
ALPO: Startrek? Where are you?
STARTREK: I'm on the planet Carrion. Believe me, the pylons did
more good than harm when they attacked this planet. It's
lush and tropical all over its surface. Reminds me of
ALPO: What's a Florida?
STARTREK: Well, I don't know about Florida, because I haven't
seen Earth yet. I also don't know about the United States,
or Russia, or air pollution, or Albert Einstein, or --
ALPO: Yeah, yeah, we don't know about any of that stuff either.
Say, Carrion is hundreds of light-yarons away from here.
How can you communicate with me over that distance?
STARTREK: Easy. I just run a string between two tin cans, and
give one of them to you. When the string is pulled taut, it
can transfer sound waves.
ALPO: But Startrek, I don't have one of those cans.
STARTREK: Oh, well then forget everything I've said because this
conversation evidently didn't take place. So-long! [puts
down his tin can] Ah, this is the life. Palm trees, warm
starshine, female aliens (who happen to be human
compatible), rolling hills, Baldstar, cool -- BALDSTAR?!?
BALDSTAR: You were expecting maybe Peter Pun?
STARTREK: What are you doing here?
B.S.: Same as you. I'm taking a vacation.
STARTREK: It ain't a vacation so long as a Colognial warrior and
a pylon sympathizer are in the same place!
B.S.: Okay, if that's the way you feel . . .
[One big fight later . . .]
B.S.: Waaaah! You hit me when I wasn't looking!
STARTREK: Oh, shut up! I didn't ruin any of your major organs;
just your heart, lungs, and brain! You'll heal.
B.S.: But you skinned my knee!
STARTREK: Oh, all right, so I did damage one of your major
organs. But you deserved it! You're just helping the
pylons destroy the human race so that they'll kill you last!
Why don't you join our side?
B.S.: Because your lights are on the floor!
STARTREK: You have a point there.
B.S.: Where did you come from?
B.S.: But I am your leader!
STARTREK: Forget it, Baldy. He doesn't know you; he thinks
you're just another human he has to destroy.
PYLON: I-am-not-a-he. I-am-a-she.
STARTREK: Didn't know it made any difference.
B.S.: Can't you do something?
STARTREK: Well . . . okay, but just this once. Hey, pylon!
STARTREK: Your hand is purple!
PYLON: No-it-is-not. I-checked-it-this-morning-and-it-was-not-
STARTREK: Well, it's purple now!
PYLON: What-are-you-talking-about? [bends down to inspect her
[As the pylon lowers
his her head, Startrek gives her a good
swift kick in the breadbasket. She falls back onto her rear end]
[She begins to draw her gun, but Starbuff is quicker. She
explodes in the standard unshielded-pylon-battery spark shower]
STARTREK [blowing the smoke from his laser]: Well, that polishes
her off! I have to be leaving now, so take care of your tin
slot machines while I'm gone.
B.S.: Hey, Startrek, your wiper helmet makes you look like King
STARTREK [hesitating]: No . . . actually it makes me look more
[He enters his wiper, closes the hatch, and engages a myriad of
controls on his instrument panel]
STARTREK: Why do we need all these controls just to scan, go
backward, go forward, and fire? I'd think the computers'd
take care of all the picky details.
ANTAGONICE: Sorry sugar, but we can't be everyplace.
STARTREK: Yeah, I know. I guess. Now then, Antey, on to the
ANTAGONICE: By your command. [launches]
STARTREK: Arrrrrgh! Antagonice, could you cut down the engines a
bit? The human body can only take five or six gravities of
acceleration before unconsciousness!
ANTAGONICE: Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you could take ten. I'll
STARTREK: Too late --
ANTAGONICE: Startrek? Startrek! Oh well, he's more affectionate
[The ship sails into interstellar space, approaching its cruising
speed just below the speed of light. At that rate, it should
only take two or three hundred yarons for it to catch up with the
[Meanwhile . . .]
ALPO: Hum de dum. Doo doo doo doo doo. Hmm hmm -- hey, what's
[His scanner displays a blip with the label "Something Big" under
it and an arrow pointing to it]
ALPO: Commander . . .
OH-DAMMIT: Yeah, whadaya want.
ALPO: My scanners just picked up Something Big.
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm . . . probably just another flock of chaff geese.
ALPO: What are they?
OH-DAMMIT: Interstellar metal geese whose wingspan is exactly
half the wavelength of our subspace radar. You
wouldn't believe how much interference they can cause!
ALPO: But do chaff geese normally fly in isoceles triangles with
a multi-level cone construction?
OH-DAMMIT: No. . . . Uh oh.
ALPO: I'm coming in closer . . . No doubt, it's a ship! On it's
side there's one word in small block letters: "PYLON" [with
a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face] Oh, my god! I've
heard about these things -- that's a Pylon Starc Ruiser!
OH-DAMMIT: Hey -- did you see how the word "PYLON" was just
ALPO: Yeah. . . . Yeah!
OH-DAMMIT: Capitalized! We're in trouble now! Startrek, get out
there and aid Alpo!
NEONLITE: But Lieutennant Startrek is still on Carrion, sir.
OH-DAMMIT [with a look of "Oh, my god" on his face]: Oh, no!
[Bet you thought he was going to say "Oh, my god!", didn't you?]
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, my god!
[Well, you were right!]
OH-DAMMIT: Athinner, KaBoomer, Jelly -- get out there and defend
ATHINNER, KA-BOOMER, and JELLY: Right!
KERNEL DIE: But four wipers can't take on an entire Starc Ruiser!
OH-DAMMIT: Maybe not, but those are the only regulars we have on
the show. You wouldn't want me to send out any extras,
CENTRAL CONTROL: Wipers 3, 4, and 5, launch when ready.
ALL THREE [pushing "TURBO"]: Yeow! My neck!
[Three tiny figures launch from one side of the CRAP-tica in time
with the background music. Three trails of steam follow the
craft from behind, the useless remnants of once-powerful fuel.
Naturally, the exhaust doesn't spread out in a big fan, because
that's what it's supposed to do in space! But what can you
expect from people who fight space battles like World War II
[Meanwhile, Alpo has decided to start an attack on the gigantic
Pylon Starc Ruiser. Alpo gets on-target with the ship's control
center and fires. The shots hit, make two little red glows, and
ALPO [with a look of you-know-what on his face]: Oh, my god! I
fired at a Pylon creation once, and it DIDN'T explode into
nothingness! I think I'm in trouble.
[Meanwhile, in transit:]
KA-BOOMER: Hey, Jelly, what's the point of sending all these
little fighters out when we're fighting a Starc Ruiser?
JELLY: So we can engage when they send out all their little
KA-BOOMER: We don't even worry about attacking the ship? Fighter
versus fighter combat's the only reason?
JELLY: That, and for making some great special effects!
KA-BOOMER: It sounds so pointless to me.
JELLY: Now you're catching on.
KA-BOOMER: It's fun, though.
ATHINNER: Okay, wake up, you guys! We're nearing the Starc
JELLY: And now it's Miller time.
KA-BOOMER: Not quite -- it's 1600 centars: tea time!
ATHINNER: This is no time to play golf!
ALPO: You said it!
ATHINNER: Who said that?
ALPO: I did!
ATHINNER: Well, that tells me a lot!
[Out of an exit in the rear of the Starc Ruiser, 200 Pylon
ATHINNER: All right! Fighter combat! Let's give these monotone
chrome domes a real workout!
[They all push "TURBO" and speed off toward the Pylon mass. As
they approach, each Pylon raider fires a blast in a random
direction for no apparent reason, and doesn't fire again for
quite some time.
[Alpo makes the first move. He decides to try a new twist, and
takes a shot at a reflective meteor conveniently placed directly
behind his wiper. The shots bounce off the meteor and jump from
Pylon to Pylon, killing twenty-seven in all. 'Well done!' he
thinks as he pushes a button which causes a hand to appear and
give himself a pat on the back.
[Next is Athinner. She begins by holding down the "FIRE" button
and sending several rounds of laser torpedoes off in a pointless
PYLON # 1: Look-sir! A-Colognial-wiper-is-firing-a-stream-of-
PYLON # 2: What-else? Dive-right-into-the-line-of-fire!
[The Pylon raider does just that, and is, of course, destroyed]
ATHINNER: I've heard of suicide missions, but that was
[The fragments of the Pylon raider eventually destroy 24 others.
However, this required Athinner to fire 23 times]
ATHINNER: Good! My average is improving!
[Now it's KaBoomer's turn]
KA-BOOMER [firing once with each sentence]: THAT'S for destroying
the colonies at Carrion! THAT'S for inventing the base tar!
THAT'S for killing the reptiles that made you! THAT'S for
killing John Wayne!
KA-BOOMER: . . . and THAT'S for inventing cancer!
ALPO: The Pylons sure got around, didn't they?
KA-BOOMER: . . . THAT'S for organized religion! THAT'S for the
emotional plague! And THAT'S for getting around so much!
ALPO: Well done! At a kill rate of about nine Pylons a shot,
that's a total of . . . 72! Not bad.
KA-BOOMER: All in a secton's work.
[Unfortunately, the other 77 Pylons aren't going to take this
lying horizontally. They actually start FIRING!]
ATHINNER: Alpo, I'm hit!
ALPO: Did that Pylon fire on you? I told them specifically not
to do that! Just wait'll he asks me for a lollipop
afterward! Did he scratch your paint, Athinner?
ATHINNER: This is no time to be thinking about sex!
ALPO: No, no, I don't mean your paint, I mean . . . I mean . . .
ATHINNER: Oh . . . no. He just disabled my number one engine.
ALPO [with a look of "Oh, my god!" on his face]: Oh, my god! OH-
DAMMIT! OH-DAMMIT! WE'RE IN TROUBLE OUT HERE!!
OH-DAMMIT: Uh oh. That's Alpo's famous distress call. All
NEONLITE: How fast, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: The speed of light!
NEONLITE: But sir, going the speed of light requires an infinite
amount of power, and we haven't pushed the engines that hard
in a long time!
OH-DAMMIT: I don't care! All engines ahead at the speed of
light! AND STEP ON IT!
KERNEL DIE [fending off the giant foot that just appeared]:
Commander, I think the writer is getting a bit tired of the
OH-DAMMIT: Are you?
WRITER: Yes I am! That's why I capitalized the Pylons. I wanna
see how well you'll do under genuine stress.
[The battle continues, and the Pylons are holding the upper hand]
OH-DAMMIT [pondering]: I just remembered something.
KERNEL DIE: What, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: An old legend handed down from the lords of Cobalt
through the generations to the Council of Eleven-and-a-half.
KERNEL DIE: Don't you mean the Council of Twelve?
OH-DAMMIT: No, they never liked me very much. Anyway, the legend
said that on the second secton of the thirty-third crossing
of the moon of Blastula with the star of Pontifobilousness
(that's right now), a ship the shape of an isoceles triangle
with a multi-level cone construction would carry the last of
the Pylon empire into battle. That means that ship out
there contains the last of the Pylons! [opening
communication channels] Hey, gang, that ship out there
contains the last of the Pylons!
ALPO: That's all fine and well, but I don't think we can hold out
much longer! These last 77 Pylon raiders really mean
ATHINNER: Yow! I see what you mean! We haven't got a chance!
PYLON: Colognial-wiper-craft-in-sights. Nothing-can-possibly-
save-you-now. Preparing-to --
[With a flash of brilliant white thrust, a wiper thunders right
through the center of the Pylon cloud at a nearly immeasurable
speed. The Pylons panic in terror]
STARTREK: Hey, hey, would you look at those Pylons run! They
never knew what hit 'em!
PYLON # 1: What-hit-us?
PYLON # 2: I-don't-know. I-suggest-we-go-into-battle-formation.
PYLON # 1: What's-battle-formation?
PYLON # 2: This! [pushes a red button marked "BATTLE-FORMATION"
in Pylonese. The rest of the Pylon raiders respond] We-
STARTREK: Geez, you don't have to yell!
ALPO: You really saved our gludions back there! I guess I owe
you one now.
STARTREK: Well, when you're right, you're right.
ALPO: Say, Carrion is hundreds of light-yarons away. How did you
get back so quickly?
STARTREK: The same way I got there. I went through a loophole in
the plot! Anyhow, I'm still recovering from the in-flight
movie: "Planet of the Female Computers."
ALPO: Chosen by Antagonice, right?
JELLY: Hey! I didn't get my turn to fire on the Pylons yet!
ALPO: Okay, then, you blast them before they get out of range.
JELLY: With pleasure!
[With a single laser bolt, he destroys all 77 remaining Pylons]
ALPO [astonished]: Jelly, you may have the least social know-how,
but your aim is superb!
JELLY: Thank you, SIR!
ALPO [burying his face in his hands]: Save it for Commander
OH-DAMMIT: What was that?
ALPO: Oh, nothing that concerns you.
OH-DAMMIT: Did you destroy their pylon raiders?
ALPO: You bet we did! That was easier than --
[A small door opens atop the Starc Ruiser, followed by the
appearence of a medium-small laser turret. The turret twists
around so that it's aimed for our 5 heroes. Fortunately, they
have the foresight to hide behind Alpo's reflective asteroid
before the turret actually fires. Two streaming blue bolts hurl
at the five. Each shot makes only a glancing blow on the
asteroid, but their combined power is enough to vaporize the
rocky mass instantly.
[Alpo fires at the turret, since its well away from the shielded
control center. Even on this extremity of the Pylon Starc
Ruiser, though, his direct laser hits only glow red and
ALPO: Hoo boy. [glimpses his zucchini missile lever] A zucchini
missile? That might be powerful enough to penetrate their
[He flips the lever that transfers control from the laser turrets
to the zucchini missile launcher, just as the turret fires at him
again. It's a good shot, but Alpo easily evades it. He hears
the faint sound of launching doors opening, followed by the
wiper's built-in alert that the launcher has been activated. He
lines up with the turret and brings his thumb down on the "FIRE"
[The missile impacts against the shield and explodes. The force
of the explosion penetrates the electromagnetic barrier and
destroys the turret]
ALPO: All right!
[Another turret appears]
ALPO: All wrong!
KA-BOOMER: Well, at least now we know how to hurt this thing.
Everybody with me?
ALPO: I'm with you!
ATHINNER: I'm with you!
JELLY: I'm with you!
19 OTHER WIPER PILOTS: We're with you!
STARTREK: Reinforcements! It's about time. Go get 'em!
[22 levers clank down into the zucchini missile position, and the
battle begins. As more laser turrets spring up, more zucchini
missiles bring them down.
[Soon, all of the turrets are destroyed; and with them went the
supply of zucchini missiles. The only one that's not destroyed
is a turret labelled "BD," and from the size of the thing (Oh, my
god!) BD probably stands for "Battlestar Destroyer (or
Disintegrator, or --)"]
OH-DAMMIT: We're maneuvering the CRAP-tica into position. We're
going to use the iniolator [sic] ray to take down the heavy
magnetic shield around the Starc Ruiser's control center.
It's going to be a doozey of a light show!
ALPO: Sounds great, but you better watch out for that --
[the BD turret fires at the CRAP-tica]
ALPO: -- turret!
OH-DAMMIT: Don't worry, they missed as usual. Say, the special
effects of that BD beam look an awful lot like The Gun on
Ice Planet Zero, don't you think so?
ALPO [inspecting another beam as it goes by]: Yep.
[The CRAP-tica closes to within firing range of its iniolator
ray, contsantly being challenged by the BD. The iniolator ray is
incredibly powerful, but usable only once per day; so if they
miss the first time they won't get a second chance.
[Finally, the CRAP-tica makes it to the perfect trajectory
position. The iniolator ray, having been charging all this time,
is at last unleashed. Out of the iniolator ray port comes a long
and winding beam that looks something like the Death Star's beam
except fatter and shorter. It collides with the control center's
shielding, heats it white-hot, and with one stroke reduces it to
the level of the rest of the Starc Ruiser's shielding in a sphere
of expanding sparks]
JELLY: Some light show. I've seen better displays in the meat
OH-DAMMIT: What was that?
JELLY: Oh -- I mean, I've seen better displays in the meat
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, go jump in a reactor.
JELLY: Yes, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Some time, I'm going to have him traded in for an old
coot. At least an old coot'll show a little respect!
Anyway, men, THE HEAVY SHIELDS OF THE STARC RUISER'S CONTROL
CENTER ARE DOWN!!
[The wiper pilots cheer]
OH-DAMMIT: Now all we have to do is hit it with a zucchini
[The wiper pilots stop cheering]
ALPO: Uh oh. I already used up my zucchini missile.
KA-BOOMER: I used up mine, too.
ATHINNER: And I fired mine.
ALPO: Yeah, and you missed!
ATHINNER: Oh, shut up!
JELLY: Mine's gone.
19 OTHER WIPER PILOTS: We all used up our zucchini missiles, too!
ALPO: Great! NOBODY has one le . . .
ALL: . . . STARTREK???!?
STARTREK: Huh? Who me? Ulp. Er, Antagonice, do we have a
zucchini missile on board?
ANTAGONICE: Why . . . yes, we do!
STARTREK: Frak! Well, it's up to me again. Give missile launch
control to my fire button.
ANTAGONICE: You got it, beef legs!
[Standard whir of zucchini missile launch bay doors, standard
blinking red light and beeper that indicates zucchini missile
[Antagonice may be a great conversationalist, but she has no
targeting capability whatsoever. Startrek sights up with the
STARTREK: Gotta make this shot count . . . one chance . . . one
[The zucchini missile thunders out of the Recon wiper at
subatomic speed. Like a streak of Tron special effects, it rams
into the weakened control center shields. The whole Starc Ruiser
shakes. And finally, the ship rips itself apart from the inside!
The Starc Ruiser is Pylonless and dormant forever!! The end]
ALPO: Wait a minute!
STARTREK: What's a minute?
ALPO: Same thing as a centon. Does this mean we're out of a job?
STARTREK: Hey, that's right! Now that all the pylons are gone,
we won't be needed by the fleet!
ALPO: Wait -- did you see how the word "pylon" was just spelled?
STARTREK: Yeah, but it doesn't make much difference now. The
pylons are gone. And we're next!
ALPO: . . . no we're not! Why stop with the pylons?!
[(the names are those of the pilots)]
J.T. KIRK: Yeah! I know these bad guys called "Klingons."
L."B." McCOY: . . . and the Romulans!
RIKER: . . . and the Ferengi!
LUKE S.: And there are these other guys called the "Empire."
B. ROGERS: And what about those people on NBC, the Draconians?
APOLLO: And on ABC, the Cylons! Hmmm . . . somehow, that sounds
ALL: WELL, WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? LET'S GO!!!
[Each flips a switch and presses "TURBO," crossing the Network
Barrier in their separate directions]
NEONLITE: Sir, we've just received signals of 24 objects crossing
the Network Barrier at different angles.
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, my god! [sound familiar?] Our own pilots have
NEONLITE: Can't say I blame 'em, sir.
OH-DAMMIT: I guess this is the end for me.
NEONLITE: Well, so long. Don't take any wooden cubits.
OH-DAMMIT (a.k.a. Lorne Green): No! This is not the end! Of
"Battlestar CRAP-tica," yes; but its only the beginning of a
NEONLITE: Huh? Oh . . . I get where you're comin' from.
OH-DAMMIT: Yes. Get me some black and some white paint. I'm
gonna change the name of this hunk of junk. . . . from
"Battlestar CRAP-tica" . . .
LORNE GREEN: To "BATTLESTAR PONDEROSA"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fleeing from the pylon tyrrany, the last Battlestar,
Ponderosa, leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest: A
shining television series, known as . . . Bonanza!