[PointyHairedJedi]

And now for the exciting conclusion in two parts! Oooh-er!



Valium: We're entering a pretty big debris cloud, sir.
Nate: Strange, it's not on any of the charts. I know! They must have blown up Alderaan! Also, that's no moon, it's a--
Zeke: Very amusing, I'm sure, but let's stick to the facts. And if it turns out to be an ambush, then I'm calling that line right now.
Nate: Aw.
Zeke: Rank hath its privileges, and so on. Mister Valium, can you tell me any more?
Valium: Yes. "In sixteen-hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue."
Zeke: I don't wish to know that! I meant about the debris cloud, of course.
Valium: Most of it is the remains of the USS Voyager, but parts appear to come from the USS Titan as well. I'd say the former was destroyed outright and the latter severely damaged and then towed.
Zeke: They... blew up... Voyager?
IJD: Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you go quite that colour before.
LtFielding: Forgive me if this is a stupid question, but what's so special about Voyager?
Mudshark: He's a big fan of the serial they made out of it for the News And Fun Federation network. I heard that the one time he actually got to meet Admiral Janeway in person he was so nervous that--
Zeke: Ahem, I think that's enough of that particular story. Right! Ask-- no, tell Pointy to sweep the area and watch our backs while we pick up the flight recorders and bodies and such.
Tate: You could tell him yourself, sir, he's hailing.
Zeke: You know, I don't care. He'll only say something that'll make me want to shoot him, and I need to save that for... him. The other him. You know.
Nan: Transporter room here, el capitano. We've got the recorders aboard and are recovering bodies now.
IJD: Liek, whoah.
Zeke: Nan! Where did you spring from? I had no idea you were the transporter chief. How come I never noticed you on board before?
Nan: I've been lurking in the shadows, mysteriously.
Zeke: Also, aren't you a Romulan?
Nan: That just means I'm extra good at it. Lurk lurk lurk.
Valium: Doesn't saying 'lurk lurk lurk' make the lurking less effective?
Nan: I can't hear you, I'm too busy lurking. Bodies all aboard now sir.
Zeke: Very well. Mister Valium, did you find out where they went?
Valium: I would imagine the morgue.
Zeke: ...
Valium: Fine, fine. They headed towards the nearest planetary system, with what's left of the Titan in tow. The tractor beam has left a pretty clear trail.
Zeke: Mister Nate, set a course!

PHJ: I'm looking for Mike Rotch! Mike Rotch. Has anyone seen Mike Rotch?
Number One: You know sir, it's not really a prank call when you do it over your own PA system.
PHJ: That sounds dangerously like logic, Number One.
Number One: It does have it's uses sometimes.
S.O.: Talking computers into self-destruction, you mean?
T.O.: To be fair, the Admiral has never really favoured that approach, have you sir?
PHJ: Heavens no. Semtex every time. Oh, I do so enjoy our jolly little chats on the bridge. I.P. Freely! Does anyone here know I.P. Freely?
Comms: Sir, Zeke's signalling that he knows where the SSWIPTT went.
S.O.: It's not hard to figure out -- you'd just have to follow that trail of charged partic-- *SPALT*
Number One: Is if just me, or did that one make a noise that sounded like 'spalt'?
PHJ: I'm trying out a new recipe. TO, take us to von Richthofen alert and stand by with all weapons. Let's go and kick my arse!
All: Woo-hoo!
PHJ: Just to clarify, I mean MU me, not me me.
All: Aw.
PHJ: Deal with it. Helm, engage!

mT.O.: Two more incoming ships, sir.
mChief: We're in reasonable shape from the last battle, but I can't make any promises. There just hasn't been enough time to make any effective repairs.
mPHJ: Hrmph. Remind me to have you tortured later then. Recall all the teams from that dead ship and make ready for battle. Let's get ready to prod buttock!
mT.O.: With great gusto, my hairy captain!

*The Ottawa appears first, immediately firing a large volley of torpedoes and banking to avoid any incoming fire, which it sort of manages but quite; it takes several hits to the starboard side of the saucer (though it's really more of a spoon than a saucer in this case). Inside, everyone is getting bounced around quite nicely.*

Zeke: Next time, when I tell you to avoid incoming fire, you think you might actually try and avoid it?
Nate: I missed most of it! Sheesh, you are so picky!
Mudshark: Shields holding, commodore, but those torpedoes didn't do much in the way of damage to them. They aren't in great shape to begin with though.
Zeke: Excellent. Now, where the hell is Pointy?
Valium: Beats me, sir. Incoming!
Zeke: I am so going to him fired.

*The two ships continue to peck away at each other, neither decisively; some way away from where the action is taking place, a very strange scene is happening...*

PHJ: Wheeeeeeee! Wheeeeeeeeeeee!
Number One: Sir! We should be helping Zeke to fight the other you!
PHJ: Chill out, dude. This is fun!
S.O.: Nauseating is what it is. I'll have you know I suffer from terrible motion sickness.
PHJ: That's rich, coming from you. Inertial dampeners, and all that.
S.O.: That may be as so, sir, but the way the main viewer is spinning round and round and round and round and... oh dear. Where's that sick bag?
PHJ: Gnarly.
T.O.: I'm begging you, please, never ever say that again. Especially not whilst wearing hotpants. I most strongly recommend that we get the hell on with kicking the other you's arse!
PHJ: Obviously you can't appreciate the beauty of what I've done. A roundabout in space -- have you ever heard of something so wonderfully ludicrous? My genius just cannot be denied!
Helm: 'Genius' is one word for it. I can think of some others...
Number One: Sir, I'm begging you! Some of us want to still have jobs when this is all over!
PHJ: Hah! You'll be lucky if you're still alive when this is over.
*Silence*
PHJ: I don't even get any marks for honesty? Oh, you lot are so harsh sometimes. Fine, you party poopers, we'll mosey over to the battle, but you mark my words -- someday, the space roundabout will catch on. I'd stake my considerably strange reputation on it!

*Meanwhile, the odds seem to have turned against the Ottawa -- despite the legendary and mystical ability of the Intrepid to take a jolly good kicking without leaving a mark, the battle with the SSWIPTT is evidently taking its toll on the small ship. On the outside, it's starting to look pretty beat-up; on the inside, even more so, with silver pipes of indeterminate function lying all over the place and generally getting in the way. And showers of sparks, of course. There are always showers of sparks.*

Mudshark: Shields at 47% and holding!
*KA-BOOM!*
Nate: I think we just got hit again.
Zeke: Give that man a promotion.
Nate: Really?
Zeke: No. Mister NAH, how bad does it look down there?
NAH: Pretty bad, sir. A conduit exploded in the bulkhead separating us from the Frogarium... I don't know quite how to say this, sir, but there are bits of frog everywhere.
Zeke: Ewww. Mister Shark, how many torps do we have left?
*KABLOWIE!*
Mudshark: Uh.... the display seems to be faulty. It's telling me there are 3.1459 left. Isn't that...?
Zeke: Mmmm, pi. Save them for the moment then -- I guess we'll just have to try and do the job with phasers. Also, WHERE THE HELL IS POINTY?
Valium: Still no... oh wait, there he is.
Sa'ar: Incoming message, text only. It just says... "JITNOT".
Zeke: I shoulda guessed. Mister Nate, take us in close! Fire at will!

T.O.: Commencing attack!
PHJ: YEEEEE-HAH!

mPHJ: Hey, it's me again! Concentrate fire on the new ship, that'll teach me not to surrender to someone as awesome as I!

*Swooping around each other, the SSWIPTT and the WWYPTT blaze away at each other, with the Ottawa pouring in fire from the sidelines; the ship from the MU puts up a good fight, but it is simply too damaged from the earlier engagements to effectively defend itself, and it is quickly worn down, with many cool explosions taking place in the process*

mPHJ: Hey, they're winning! That's not fair!
mChief: Terrible news -- the shipwide quantum teleport doohicky is offline.
mPHJ: Which means...
mChief: The SSWIPTT can't teleport back to our own universe any more. Plus, I should hardly need to mention that the ship is being blasted to pieces even as we speak.
mPHJ: Pants.
*FAZOOOM!*
mRedshirts: GAK!
mPHJ: They're killing my redshirts! Only I am allowed to kill my redshirts!
mT.O.: The shields will collapse pretty soon, sir, and weapons systems are failing! We've even run out of rocks to throw at them!
mPHJ: Double pants. Number One, I have a plan!
mNumber One: Would this plan involve ramming something, sir?
mPHJ: You better believe it, buddy.
mHelm: How... super.