Okay, folks. You know the drill. Repeat after me. Paramount is our master. It owns all things Trek. We kow tow before them begging that they do not sue for copyright infringement. Star Traks: And Now, Right Here On Our Show... By Alan Decker "It should be a pretty standard first contact, Number One," Captain Alexander Rydell explained as he leaned back in his desk chair. His first officer, Commander Travis Dillon looked at him nervously. Dillon hated first contact missions. Something always seemed to go wrong. "You're sure that this race isn't xenophobic or anything?" Dillon asked. "Well, to be honest, I have no clue. We're the first ones to ever see Nielsen IV. I know that normally months of scans are done before first contact is even attempted, but we don't have that kind of time. We'll just get it out of the way now. Don't worry, I have complete faith in you." "Thank you, sir," Dillon replied bolstered by his captain's confidence in him. "I won't let you down." Dillon practically jumped out of the chair and ran out of the ready room. "I have complete faith that in about one hour I'm going to have to beam down there and save his butt," Rydell mumbled. Commander Travis Dillon stepped up onto the transporter platform with the members of his away team: Lieutenant Patricia Hawkins, Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, Ensign Larkin, and Ensign Emily Sullivan. Sullivan understood why the others were there. Hawkins was security, and Jaroch would be doing science scans. As an android, Larkin was a vast storehouse of any kind of information, but Sullivan was just the navigator. She'd spent all of her time on the Secondprize on the ship. No away missions or anything. Now suddenly she was beaming down on a first contact mission. The truth was that Dillon thought that Sullivan needed the experience, and also he wanted somebody else down there for the aliens to shoot at instead of him. Sullivan would not have been happy about that one. She already thought that Dillon was an obnoxious, overbearing martinet, but the fact that he was using her to protect his own safety... that would have sent her through the roof. "Energize," Dillon ordered confidently. The captain was right; everything would be just fine. They'd beam down and have this wrapped up in no time. As Captain Rydell would say, not a problem. Dillon felt the molecules of his body tingling as the transporter began its work. The team rematerialized in the center of a small neighborhood. It reminded Sullivan of pictures she'd seen of life in the twentieth century. The houses all looked about the same: two story white houses with green lawns and flowers lining the walk that led to the front door. It was so disgustingly normal that she wanted to gag. Several of the neighborhood residents came outside to gawk at the beings that just appeared in the middle of their street. The Neilsonians were about a foot shorter than the away team. They had huge eyes and stomachs, but small and stumpy arms and legs. Soon, the away team found themselves surrounded by about fifty of them. They heard sirens and saw several black and white vehicles with flashing red and blue lights approaching. Each vehicle had the number 54 on its side. Dillon decided it was time to deliver his speech. "Citizens of Nielsen IV, I am Commander Travis Michael Dillon of the Federation Starship Secondprize. This is Lieutenant Patricia Hawkins, Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, Ensign Larkin, and Ensign Emily Sullivan of my crew." Gasps erupted through the crowd. "His crew? Yeah, right," Sullivan thought to herself unaware of the crowd's reaction. "Dream on, you bastard." "Sullivan! Sullivan!" the crowd began chanting placing emphasis on every syllable. "Ed Sullivan! Ed Sullivan! We want Sullivan! Do show! You must do show!" Sullivan was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of her name. What the hell was going on? "What the hell is going on?" Dillon demanded. "Who's Ed Sullivan." "An Earth television star from the mid-twentieth century. He hosted a variety show called The Ed Sullivan Show," Larkin replied after she'd retrieved the information from her vast memory. "It would seem that these people not only have received Earth's television signals, but they've taken its stars as gods," Jaroch said. "Great. What's that mean for us?" Dillon asked. "Your guess is as good as mine," Jaroch replied. Dillon hated that response with a passion. "Sullivan! Sullivan! Ed Sullivan! We have Sullivan! Take the Sullivan to the theater!" The crowd charged forward, grabbed the away team, and carried them toward a large building in the center of town. "Put us down!" Dillon ordered. "I am a representative of the Federation. I wish to open relations with your people. For God sakes, take me to your leader!" The crowd didn't listen. Actually, things got worse. People in the crowd began pawing at the away team and taking their equipment. They soon found themselves without phasers, tricorders, or communicators. Dillon was starting to wish he'd stayed in bed. The away team was carried through the center of town right past a huge statue of a human. He was slightly overweight and balding. Sullivan managed to catch a glimpse of the placard at the base of the statue. It was Ed Sullivan himself. The Neilsonians really did worship this guy which meant... she was a goddess! This was starting to look a whole lot better Yes, there would be feasts and offerings and everything else. So, it was slightly against the Prime Directive, but oh well. The Neilsonians carried their captives into a huge theater. The stage was bare, and everywhere the seats were full of Neilsonians. News of the away team's arrival had travelled fast. The away team was plopped unceremoniously on the stage except for Sullivan who was set down gently and with extreme reverence. "Now do show!" one of the Neilsonians replied. "Do show! Do show!" the crowd chanted. "Wait a minute," Sullivan said. "I don't know how." "Then you not real Sullivan! You must die!" the crowd replied angrily. "Oh! A show!" Sullivan exclaimed trying to save her life. "Of course I can do a show!" Appeased, the crowd settled into their seats. The away team ducked backstage to regroup. "These people are living proof that television rots your brain," Hawkins said. "Suggestions, anyone?" Dillon asked hopefully. "They wanted a show, and that's what we're going to give them," Sullivan said. "Larkin, tell me everything you can about how Ed Sullivan acted and the type of stuff that was on his show. We're going to give them a show they're never going to forget!" "Hey!" Dillon said. "Just who do you think is in command here?" "Seeing as how you do not appear to have a plan, Commander, and Ensign Sullivan does, I would say that she is," Jaroch said. "Now please shut up and listen." "Show! Show! Show!" the crowd chanted impatiently. Nothing had happened for almost ten minutes. They wanted their show, and they wanted it now! Suddenly, the lights in the theater went out, the curtains closed, and a lone spotlight shone on the stage. Emily Sullivan stepped into the beam. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman," she said in the best approximation of Ed Sullivan's voice she could do. "We've got a great show for you this evening." The crowd roared with delight. Cheers and yells erupted from everywhere. Sullivan noticed several cameras at the base of the stage. This was being broadcast all over the planet! "Captain, I think you'd better see this." "What is it, Lieutenant Beck?" "We're receiving a video signal from the planet, sir." "On screen," Rydell ordered. The picture of a stage appeared. Standing on the stage was Ensign Emily Sullivan. What was going on down there? "And now, ladies and gentlemen, right here on our show, it's The Amazing Larkin juggling herself!" Sullivan darted off stage as the curtains opened to reveal Larkin. She was seated in a chair on the otherwise bare stage. Music began to blare through the theater speaker system. Larkin detached her legs and head and started juggling. The crowd applauded wildly. They loved it. "One success," Sullivan thought to herself as Larkin finished and Dillon and Jaroch carried her off stage to thunderous applause. "Only three more to go." The curtains closed, and Sullivan stepped back into the spotlight. "More show! More show!" the crowd chanted. "That was The Amazing Larkin," Sullivan announced. "Now, I'd like to introduce sharpshooter Patricia Hawkins who'll give a demonstration, but first we need your help. Patricia has lost her phaser, so we'd like to know if one of you would give it back. It's the long narrow grey device with the flashing lights. If you return it, you'll get to come up on stage and be in the show." Sullivan tensed a little as she waited for the crowd's response. This could easily blow up in their faces. Suddenly, someone in the back of the theater jumped up and ran toward the stage, phaser in hand. "Me! Me!" he said breathlessly as he approached Sullivan. "I want to be in show! Here weapon." He handed the phaser to Sullivan. "Thank you very much," Sullivan said relieved. "Come on up here. What's your name?" "Beaver," the Neilsonian replied. Beaver? This race was strange. Sullivan led Beaver backstage where Hawkins was waiting. "Here's your assistant," Sullivan told Hawkins. "His name's Beaver. And here's your phaser." Hawkins practically took Sullivan's arm off as she snatched the weapon away. She had her phaser back. Everything would be fine now. Sullivan walked back out on stage. "And now, here's Patricia Hawkins assisted by Beaver." The curtains opened to reveal Hawkins, Beaver, and Commander Dillon. Dillon looked extremely nervous. "Tonight," Hawkins began, "I will show you the art of sharpshooting. My assistant Beaver will now blindfold Commander Dillon and place a two inch long piece of wood between the commander's teeth. I will attempt to shoot that piece of wood without harming Dillon." Dillon let out a little squeal of fear as the stick was placed in his mouth. He was just thankful he couldn't see what was going on. Suddenly, he heard the familiar whine of a phaser and felt a scorching heat go by his face. The applause of the crowd told him that Hawkins had been successful. It was all over now. "Encore!" someone shouted. Dillon cringed. "All right," Hawkins said. "Now I'll try a one inch stick." Beaver came up and put a new stick in Dillon's mouth. This was not the type of danger he'd expected to be facing when he joined Starfleet. He heard the phaser and felt the heat again. Success. "Thank you. You've been a wonderful audience," he heard Hawkins say. "Give a big round of applause to Beaver." The crowd erupted in clapping and cheers once again. Then, Dillon heard the curtains close. He was safe. Sullivan walked back out on stage. Dillon had no clue what his act was going to be, but Sullivan had it taken care of. "Now right here on our show, we have musical sensation Travis Dillon performing his hit tune 'I'm A Little Teapot.'" So, she was risking court-martial, but this was going to be hilarious. She ran off stage as the curtains opened. Dillon was standing in the middle of the stage frozen with fear. "Um...Uh...," Dillon stammered. The audience started to shift in their seats. If he didn't do something soon, they'd kill him. "I'm a little teapot short and stout," he sang softly as he did the motions. "Here is my handle and here is my spout." He was gaining confidence. He got louder and finished the song with showmanship worthy of a Broadway star. The audience laughed hysterically as Dillon hit notes flatter than anything heard in history. This wasn't the response Dillon had hoped for. He stormed off stage angrily. These people just didn't know talent when they heard it. Sullivan suppressed her laughter and went back on stage. So far, the Neilsonians loved the show, and there was only one act left. This one was either going to put the Neilsonians into hysterics or get the entire away team killed. Either way, it'd be interesting to watch. "For our final act this evening we have a special treat. Right here on our show, all the way from the planet Yyns, it's the comedy team of Jaroch and J'Ter!" She ran offstage a bit faster than usual this time. J'Ter was dangerous, and she didn't want to be around when he popped out. "Good evening, Neilson IV," Jaroch said after the curtains had opened. The stage was empty except for him and the piece of metal pipe he was holding. "Tonight, my partner J'Ter and I will do everything in our power to amuse you. First, I'd like to introduce you to J'Ter. J'Ter was a Yynsian prince from over a thousand years ago. His consciousness resides in me now forever ready to ruthlessly slaughter anyone foolish enough to stand in his way, but for now we're here to have fun." Sullivan cradled her head in her hands. Jaroch was not doing very well. Hopefully, he'd get better. "We're all going to be killed," she heard Hawkins mumble. "Now, for our first joke," Jaroch said. "Why did the chicken cross the road?" Jaroch bonked himself over the head with the metal pipe. The audience laughed hysterically. Jaroch's eyes glazed over, and his face contorted into a menacing scowl. J'Ter was out. "To get away from my wrath!" J'Ter bellowed. "All beings fear J'Ter. J'Ter is the master of all beings, slayer of multitudes. I shall destroy you all!" Sullivan realized that J'Ter wasn't going to let Jaroch back out. It was time to help the process. She untied a rope backstage. A sandbag plunged from the ceiling and clobbered J'Ter. The audience was rolling out of their chairs with laughter. Jaroch stood up a second later. "I apologize for J'Ter destruction of the punchline of that joke. We shall try another. What is red and green and moves at one hundred kilometers per hour?" Jaroch hit himself again. J'Ter reemerged. "You when I finish with you, insignificant vermin!" J'Ter screamed. He began to strangle himself in order to kill Jaroch. Sullivan closed the curtains as the audience laughed, clapped, and cheered wildly. Jaroch/J'Ter was still trying to kill himself. "Patricia, stun him," Sullivan said. Hawkins zapped Jaroch/J'Ter who fell to the floor immobile. Sullivan walked back out on stage. "I hope you enjoyed the show this evening. We'd like you to show your appreciation by giving any articles removed from us before the show to me." The audience complied gladly. "Sullivan! We love Sullivan!" they chanted as they filed out of the theater. Sullivan took the equipment back stage and gave it back to the rest of the away team. It was time to go home. Captain Rydell was waiting in the transporter room when the away team beamed back aboard. "Great job, Sullivan," he said as Sullivan stepped down off the transporter pad. "We saw the whole thing. You've more than earned yourself a place on future away teams." "Thank you, sir," Sullivan replied smiling. Finally, she wasn't going to be stuck on the ship anymore. Later that evening, Sullivan was lying in her bed about to go to sleep. The mission had been exhausting. She felt tired, but elated at the same time. This was why she joined Starfleet. She was going to like the Secondprize. "This is the captain," Rydell's voice announced over the ship's loudspeakers. "Tonight, we have a special treat for your listening pleasure. It's our very own Commander Travis Dillon singing 'I'm A Little Teapot!'" Sullivan started laughing as the recording of Dillon's earlier performance began to play. She could swear that somewhere else on the ship she could hear Dillon screaming.