For the World is Hollow...

[Atoz 77]

FOR THE WORLD IS HOLLOW, AND I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP

[Just warning you, the following is a parody of the Original Series episode, "For the World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky".]

The USS Entry-prize stood as Starredfleet's first line of defense, and in order to remain the well-oiled (if still somewhat squeaky and wobbly-wheeled) machine that it was, the starship ran on strict and exacting military protocols -- at least most of the time. So Captain Bean Kird was a little bit surprised one morning when he found an urgent message in his "IN" box, not from the Chief Medical Officer McRoy, as the chain of command directed, but from his assistant, Nurse Chippie.

As Kird strolled into Sickbay, he found Nurse Chippie bawling her eyes out, hiding behind a file cabinet while Dr. McRoy was throwing every piece of medical equipment that wasn't nailed down at her. "You had no right to sneak into the medical records, you busybody, let alone tell the Captain!" raged the doctor, picking up his set of golf clubs and hurling them across the room.

"I'm a nurse, you Quack!" she retorted, brushing away tears, "and second I'm a crew member of this ship! But first and foremost, I'm a snoop!"

"Not any more! You're fired!" blurted McRoy, straining to pick up an anvil, which was the only thing left in his immediate vicinity which wasn't actually fastened to the floor.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I QUIT!"

"Break it up!" shouted Kird. "What gives?"

They both started guiltily when they saw him. Chippie stood there with snot running down her face. McRoy, his face red, sheepishly dropped the anvil, narrowly missing his own foot. "For goodness sakes, Cursteen, blow your nose," he said to the nurse. She gave a loud HONK into her sleeve. "All right," he said, noticably calmer, "I'll give the Captain a full report. I promise."

Kird watched her dart out of the room, her miniskirt flapping behind her, as the doctor said, "I've just completed the physical examinations on the entire crew."

"Is that all?" the Captain said incredulously. "What with that dramatic little scene, I thought at the very least someone had come down with an incurable terminal disease!"

"Who told you?"

"Told me what?" deadpanned Kird. He looked around behind him as if McRoy might be talking to someone else. "What?"

The doctor tossed him a folder. "It's a rare blood disease, xena-polliwog-anemia. The victim only has a year to live."

Kird took a moment to digest this heart-rending news. One of his crew -- perhaps even one of the few whose names he had bothered to learn -- was going to kick the bucket! "Who is it, Bonehead? Is it Yoo-hoo-ra? Zubulu? Skitt? Please tell me it's Check-off -- we can do without Check-off if we have to..."

The doctor cleared his throat. "It's McRoy, Leneerd H."

"Don't know him..." Kird began, before his complacency metaphorically ran into a brick wall. "YOU?!? I thought this kind of thing only happened to background characters!"

"Well, it's happened to me, okay?" said McRoy testily. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody about this."

"Always thinking of your job!" said Kird admiringly. "You think you'll be more effective if nobody suspects..."

"No, I just don't want Starredfleet to find out and cancel my medical insurance before I croak."

[Atoz 77]

Kird was in the cafeteria, skarfing down some breakfast when the Red Alert suddenly started wailing, making him spill orange juice all over his shirt. Fortunately, the color blended right in. Hopping into the turbo-elevator, he rode up to the bridge, where he found his half-Volcanite First Officer, Spoke, warming his chair for him.

"What is it this time?" Kird asked, booting him out.

"A flight of missiles, Captain," explained Spoke, pointing to four or five tiny white dots on the viewing screen, but otherwise acting as if nothing very exciting was going on. "Chemical engines, thermonuclear warheads, internal guidance systems. The interesting thing is that they appear to be very, very old."

"How do you know?"

The First Officer pressed a button on his computer station, and the viewing screen swooped in for an extreme close-up. "As you can observe, Captain, the graffitti on the side of this missile bears a striking resemblance to Richard M. Nixon..."

Kird gently massaged his temples. "You interrupted my breakfast just to show me some rusty old missiles?"

"Of course not, Captain," said Spoke, folding his arms over his chest with affronted dignity. "There is a very good reason that your intake of cholesterol was disturbed..."

"Then what is it?" demanded Kird impatiently.

Just then the Entry-prize rocked back and forth as the missiles exploded one after the other against the starship's shields. The lights blinked off and on, while everyone was flung into the air, sliding across the ceiling and ending up in a big, untidy pile next to the water cooler.

"The missiles are aimed at the Entry-prise," Spoke was saying as he pulled himself upright.

"You imbecile!" blurted Kird, brushing aside the Volcanite's clumsy attempts to help him up. "Mister Zubulu," he continued, addressing the ship's Helmsman, "lock phuzzers on the ship that fired those missiles, and prepare to shoot back!"

"No ships within range, Captain," said Zubulu. "There's just an asteroid..."

"Then let me see it."

The viewing screen once more zoomed in for a closeup, this time showing a dull-grey planetoid about 200 miles in diameter. It was covered with a hundreds and hundreds of identical, perfectly round craters, perfectly spaced apart, making it look a little like a giant golf ball. Just coming into view as the asteroid revolved was a broad plateau, where you could just make out a logo and a serial number, spelled out in digits a mile high. "There's something peculiar about this asteroid," said Kird, "but I just can't put my finger on it..."

Spoke already had his big nose glued to his video monitor, doing a sensor sweep. "Whoa, Nelly!" he said, after a few moments. "It is pursuing an independent course through this solar system, Captain, as if it had engines like a spaceship!"

Diligent investigation with the sensors proved that this was indeed the case. The asteroid turned out to be a huge artificial hollow ball, with a conveniently breathable atmosphere inside, even though the sensors showed no passengers or crew. Furthermore, if Spoke's quick and perfunctory calculations were correct, it was on a collision course for the planet Darren Five, which had a population of thirty billion dull but wealthy taxpayers!

Kird was all for blowing the thing to smithereens, until Spoke pointed out that the missile barrage had probably been launched by mistake and would not happen again. The ship was in all likelihood on automatic controls, and anyway the absence of a crew meant one thing...

"Salvage Rights!" said Kird, greedily rubbing his hands together.

"I was going to say," said Spoke, "that it may have simply wandered off course accidentally, and it maybe be possible to correct."

"Oh, sure."

***

Half the crew wanted to join the landing party, but Kird insisted that he and Spoke get first pick of whatever goodies might be on board the strange craft. He had in fact forgotten all about McRoy's condition until the doctor showed up in the Trainspotter Room with a big empty sack over his shoulder. For a moment, he thought about leaving him behind, but then he shrugged and said to heck with it.

The three of them materialized on the inner shell of the asteroid and found themselves standing in a vast open space that ran on as far the eye could see in all directions. All around, the place had been landscaped with papier-mache boulders and obviously artificial plants. Far above them, the dome was painted sky blue, and they could even see a bright little spotlight, running on a little track.

"If you didn't know better," said McRoy, "you'd think you were on the surface of a planet."

Kird plucked a "flower" that looked like a plastic whirligig stuck on a coatrack. "Only if you were near-sighted, with no sense of smell, and had never in your life been on a real planet," he said.

Spoke agreed. "I too am at a loss to explain why anyone would go to all this bother."

As the three of them strolled along, they passed half a dozen tall, completely featureless cylinders sticking up out of the ground. Suddenly doors snapped open, and five or six men piled out, dressed in what looked like fluffy bathrobes and funky, flat-topped shower caps. Caught completely by surprise, Kird, Spoke and McRoy were quickly disarmed and pummeled nearly senseless.

Kird's disappointment that there was a crew after all was quickly forgotten as he caught sight of the luscious woman in a long metallic dress and a tiara who seemed to be in command. She looked over the three strangers one at a time, but when she got to McRoy, their eyes locked and violins played on the soundtrack.

"I am called Naughtyra," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I am the High Priestess. Welcome to the planet Yo! Nada!"

"I have to say," said Kird, in a slightly bitter tone of voice as he realized that he wasn't going to get the girl this time, "that I've received warmer welcomes on a Blingon battlecruiser."

"Bring them," said the priestess, and her flunkies dragged the three explorers into one of the cylinders, which turned out to be an elevator. Moments later, they were all marching down a corridor, stopping at a pair of heavy doors. There were panels on either side, with some kind of alien writing on them. To Kird they were just meaningless, worm-like squiggles, but Spoke's eyebrows went up with a snap.

"She called this a planet," whispered McRoy. "Can these people be so dim they don't know they're riding in a spaceship?"

"Stranger things have happened," Kird replied. "Remember that planet we went to last season, where the people thought they were pigs?"

"But they were pigs..." the doctor began.

"The writing resembles the lexicography of the planet Fettucini," Spoke murmured.

Naughtyra had opened the door and led them all into a smaller chamber. She made them stand on a small platform, in front of which was a tall stone monolith with more chicken-scratch writing.

"Oh Oracle of the People," announced the priestess. "Oh, Mostly Wise and Perfect! Strangers have come to our world!"

A little spotlight came on and played over the three spacemen. Naughtyra turned back to them. "The Oracle asks who you are."

Kird puffed out his chest. It was about time somebody asked. "I am Captain Bean T. Kird of the starship Entry-prize," he said. "This is Dr. McRoy, our Medical Officer; and this is Mr. Spoke, Science Officer."

"Why have you come?" she inquired, staring at McRoy with a hopeful expression of her face.

"We come in friendship," said the Captain.

And then it turned out the Oracle could speak for itself. Hidden speakers rumbled to life and a deep voice (with way too much reverb, Kird thought) suddenly said, "Then learn what it means to be our enemy, before you become our friend." Simultaneously, some kind of bluish, extremely painful energy beam stabbed at them from the monolith. Kird, Spoke and McRoy danced for a moment like frogs on a hotplate, and then crashed to the floor unconscious.

[Atoz 77]

They woke up some time later in what passed for the VIP suite, decorated like an oriental harem with curtains hanging everywhere. Kird got up first, then Spoke, and finally McRoy stirred uneasily. "That Oracle really put the whompin' on me," he said, sheepishly rubbing his neck. "I must have got an extra big charge, because I'm so good-looking."

Kird rolled his eyes. No sense in beating around the bush. "Spoke knows about your xena-polyester-itis, Bonehead," he said. "I told him."

"Blabbermouth!" snapped the doctor. Pushing himself upright, he calmed down. "Well, no harm done, I guess. I reckon Spoke can be trusted to keep it a secret..."

"Of course, doctor," agreed the Volcanite, holding out his hand. "And for a surprisingly small fee, considering..."

They were interrupted by the appearance of a thin, very, very old man, nervously twitching aside one of the curtains and approaching them, holding a little bowl in his frail, wrinkled hands. He looked like a scarecrow which had lost half its stuffing, and his white hair stuck straight out from under his hat like straw. "This powder will make you feel better," he wheezed. "Many of us have felt the power of the Oracle."

"Really?" said McRoy, taking the bowl and sniffing it. "What's in it?"

"Mostly aspirin," said the old man carelessly. "And a lot of powdered mustard," he added, as McRoy inhaled a lungful and went into a violent sneezing fit.

"You are not of Yo! Nada!" said the old man, making conversation as Spoke pounded McRoy on the back in an attempt to get his respiration back under control.

"No," said Kird, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of the doctor's gasps for air. "We come from outside."

"Outside?" said the old timer, rubbing his temple anxiously as if he was expecting to have a headache in the near future. "What is outside? Tell me!"

Kird thought about giving him a nursery school version of basic astronomy, but on balance decided against it. "It's up," he said lamely.

"Years ago," said the old man, blinking as if a sharp pain had just caught him between the eyes, "I climbed the mountains, even though it is forbidden."

"Why is it forbidden?"

"Who knows? But things are not as they teach us. For the world is hollow and...and..." Suddenly clutching his forehead, the old man crumpled to the floor without ceremony, as if he had just forgotten what he had done with his feet. Kird rushed forward to help. "For the world is hollow," the man continued, reaching up for support, "and I have fallen and I can't get up!"

"Bonehead, what's going on?"

Doctor McRoy, coughing out the last remains of the powder, knelt beside the old man, just as he expired. "I think he's dead, Bean!" There was a glowing red spot on his temple, which was rapidly fading.

"He said climbing the mountains was forbidden," noted Spoke, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

"Duh!" said Kird. "If you was to climb the mountains, you'd run smack into that painted backdrop of a sky, and the jig would be up, wouldn't it?"

At that precise moment, Naughtyra arrived with a couple of scantily-clad serving wenches bearing an enormous tray of food. "What has happened?" she asked, taking in the scene.

Kird gave her a slightly editted version of events, saying only that the man had dropped dead for no apparent reason, but the priestess wasn't fooled. She could see what was left of the glowing red spot on his temple. "Forgive him, Oh Oracle Mostly Wise and Perfect. He was an old man, and old men are sometimes foolish."

She had the serving wenches set down the tray and then (to the bitter disappointment of Kird and Spoke), she sent them away, taking a pair of brooms and sweeping the old man out with them. "It is the Oracle's wish that you be treated as Honored Guests," Naughtyra announced. "I will serve you." As Kird and Spoke hurriedly made a line, salivating at the very idea of food, she piled the best bits on a golden plate and, deftly kicking the two of them aside, presented it to McRoy. Almost as an afterthought, she tossed them a couple of paper plates with a half-gnawed chicken bone and a brown, wrinkled apple core. Then she took the tray and left.

"Do you get the idea that some people are more favored than others?" said Kird, ruefully comtemplating his dinner.

"Indeed," said the Volcanite. "She has been making eyes at the doctor from the word go."

"Y'all cain't blame her for that," said McRoy, his Southern accent coming out as he preened himself, slicking back his hair.

"Maybe you can keep her occupied," suggested the Captain, rubbing his hands, "while Spoke and I try to find those scantily-clad serving wenches..."

"Or a good sandwich restaurant," added Spoke, staring at McRoy's dinner plate. "I am famished!"

"Cheese it, she's coming back," Kird hissed.

The priestess had returned with a big amphora of wine. Carefully she filled a jewel-encrusted goblet for McRoy, then sloshed a swallow or two into a couple of paper cups for the others. Once again, as her eyes locked with McRoy's, the two of them seemed nearly oblivious to anything else. Kird could almost hear their hormones bubbling in their veins.

"We were just saying how much we liked our new friends of Yo! Nada!" said Kird, taking a sip of wine and nearly choking on it.

"Yes, indeed," said Spoke, surreptitiously pouring the vinegary swill into a flower pot. "We are most interested in looking around."

"We are pleased," said Naughtyra. "I will give you the fifty-cent tour..."

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, McRoy hopped off his bed, completely forgetting the plan they had worked out a moment before. "Uh...perhaps the doctor is not feeling well enough just now..." said Kird, winking at him and nudging him in the side.

"Oh, I feel great..."

"Perhaps the doctor is not feeling WELL ENOUGH just now..." Kird repeated, winking a little more loudly and stomping on his foot.

"OUCH! Perhaps not," admitted McRoy, dropping back into the bed.

"I will look after McRoy," said Naughtyra, escorting Kird and Spoke quickly to the entrance, "but you two are free to go about and meet our People." Once she had shoved them outside and slammed the door, she darted back to McRoy and dove onto the bed next to him. "Does McRoy find me attractive?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him coyly.

She was sitting so close, her perfume was nearly suffocating him. "Uh..well...that is to say...er...yeah!" he admitted finally. "Very much so!"

The priestess batted her eyes at him again. "I am glad, McRoy," she said, reaching -- not so shyly -- in between his legs. "I wish you to stay on Yo! Nada! and be my mate."

McRoy had just taken another gulp of wine, which he spewed all over the bed. "But you don't even know me!"

"Is it not the nature of men and women that pleasure lies in learning about one another?"

"I always thought the pleasure was more from---!" McRoy began to say, but she silenced him with a big, sloppy kiss. When she let him up for air, he cleared his throat, his incurable illness inexplicably weighing heavily upon his conscience. She was an incredibly hot babe, and he was undeservedly lucky that she had even glanced in his general direction, let alone fallen for him. She deserved to be told. "Naughtyra, there is something I must tell you..."

"There is nothing I need know," she said, starting to unbuckle his trousers and pull them down "Except -- Is Mr. Happy at home?"

"No, really. There is something I really have to tell you..."

"All right then," she said, her fingers poised over the waistband of his shorts. "Tell me."

McRoy looked at her again and immediately chickened out. "I'm a screamer," he said sheepishly.

[Atoz 77]

Meanwhile, Kird and Spoke were strolling down the corridors of the asteroid/spaceship, being gawked at by the people they met as if they were green and had three heads apiece. "It certainly does not take much to draw a crowd here, does it?" muttered Spoke.

"I can't believe how gullible these jerks must be," said Kird. "Thinking they really live on a planet?"

"The builders of the ship must have given them a religion which would discourage curiosity," speculated the Volcanite pompously.

"Oh, yeah," agreed Kird. "Judging by the very old man we met, curiousity can definitely be hazardous to your health around here."

They finally came upon a door with two big panels on either side, covering in writing. Kird thought it looked familiar, but he couldn't be sure. "You can read this chicken-scratch, can't you, Spoke? Does it say, 'Girls' or 'Topless' or anything like that?"

"The writing, as I said before, is that of the Fettucinis," said the Volcanite, looking at it closely.

"Wait a minute," said Kird, trying hard to remember his Galactic History. "Didn't that planet do the big firework? Eaten by a black hole or something?"

"Correct, Captain," said Spoke, his fingers gliding over the panel as he tried to decipher the writing. "Over a gazillion years ago. I surmise that they built this ship and launched it towards another planet where their descendants would be safe." Finally he hit upon the latch, and the doors swung open.

Kird rushed eagerly inside, only to be disappointed when the room didn't turn out to wall-to-wall girls. "Nuts! It's only that Oracle Room again."

Since they were here anyway, they decided to poke around a little, just in case the entrance to the spaceship's controls happened to be in this general area. They hadn't been looking long when the door opened and Naughtyra swept into the room, barely giving them the time to duck behind a decorative column. "Oh Oracle, and So On and So Forth," she hurriedly blurted out. "Hear my confession."

What could she suddenly have to confess about? Suddenly Kird's eyes went wide. McRoy had certainly been busy, the sly old dog!

"Speak!" blared the Oracle's deep voice.

"There is one among the strangers called McRoy," she said hesitantly. "I wish him to remain here as my mate."

It was all Kird could do to keep from jumping out from his place of concealment and screaming, "WHAT?" As it was, Spoke had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

"Does the stranger agree?"

"He...um...has not given me his answer yet."

"He must become one of the People," said the Oracle. "He must agree to the insertion of the Instrument of Obedience."

"I am sure that he will agree, Oh Almost Wise and Perfect."

"And what if he doesn't?" blurted Kird, stepping out from behind the column before Spoke could stop him. As he did so, he evidently triggered some kind of intruder alert device that they had someow avoided earlier, because the monolith shot those incredibly painful stun beams at both Kird and Spoke, zapping them both unconscious.

***

When they woke up this time, they were roughly escorted back to the inner "surface" of Yo! Nada! The guards dragged Kird and Spoke out the elevator and dropped them on the ground like last weeks garbage pickup. "You have committed sacrilege by enterring the Oracle Room," announced Naughtyra. "For this, the penalty is death. But for the sake of my love for McRoy, I will allow you to leave us."

The doctor strolled out to them and handed them their communicators. "What about you?" said Kird. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"Uh....no," said McRoy.

"But Bonehead, this place is on a collison course for Darren Five!"

"Aw, it'll probably miss! You know what Spoke's calculations are like!"

The Science Officer wrinkled his nose peevishly. "I must say it is quite unlike you to give up so easily, doctor."

"I've got less than a year to live, Spoke! When do you suggest I give up?"

"Return to the ship, Dr. McRoy!" said an exasperated Kird. "That's an order!"

"Get stuffed!" said the doctor, planting his thumbs in his ears and wiggling his fingers. "Bean, take a good look at that sweetie-pie over yonder," he whispered, pointing over his shoulder at the beautiful Naughtyra. "What would YOU do, if you only had a year to live, and a babe like that wanted to spend it rolling in the hay with you?"

The Captain took a long look at the priestess, then flipped open his communicator. "Kird to Entry-prize -- two to beam up."

[Atoz 77]

The ceremony was short but sweet. "To become one of the People of Yo! Nada!" boomed the Oracle, "you must receive the Instrument of Obedience. Do you consent?"

Naughtyra opened a little box and took out a device that looked a little like an overgrown turkey baster. "Oh, yeah, whatever," said McRoy, his mind on only one thing.

Without giving him time to change his mind, the priestess jammed the thing against his right temple and squeezed. For a moment, he felt like something was boring into his skull, and then it was over and he was rubbing the spot irritably. "What was that thing anyway?"

Naughtyra tossed the turkey baster back in its box. "It's nothing," she said with a light giggle. "If you do or say or even think anythiing the Oracle (Oh Mostly Wise et cetera, et cetera) does not like, it will cause excruciating pain until your brain scrambles like an egg and you die in agony." She sighed, gazing at him longingly.

"Oh, is that all?"

"I, Naughtyra, pledge you my love," she said, taking his hand. "I promise to make your life pleasant and happy, and to have hot, steamy sex with you every night."

"I'll second that!" blurted McRoy. And that seemed to be it. Naughtyra wrapped her arms around him, and they dropped to the floor and started making out right away.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Naughtyra, suddenly pulling away from him and straightening her dress. "I have to show you this secret thingie first." Getting up, she led him around to the other side of the monolith. Incised in the stone were nine little metal disks, representing a sun and eight planets. One of the planets was bigger than the others, made out of gold instead of silver, and for good measure had a little sign next to it in bold red writing: "This is NOT a Secret Button! Do NOT Press it!"

Looking both ways to make sure no one was eaves-dropping, she pressed it. A panel slid back, revealing a cheap, plastic three-ring binder. "This is the Book of the People. It is to be opened when we reach the New World."

"Uh...New World?" asked McRoy. "What's the story about that?"

"I know only that some day, we are supposed to leave this world of Yo! Nada! for a New World," she said with a shrug, and closed the panel again before the doctor could get his grubby paws on the book. "Now -- where were we?"

***


Back on board the Entry-prize, the course of the asteroid/spaceship had been checked again. A small but significant error had been found in Spoke's hastily-done calculations, with the result that the estimates of its path of destruction had been revised accordingly. Instead of smacking into Darren Five and snuffing out thirty billion people, it was now expected to merely graze the fifteenth moon of Darren Nine (population 2 settlers and a chicken).

Nevertheless, Captain Kird still wanted to blow something up. He tried calling up Admiral Vestpocket via Stubspace Radio, practically begging him to let him destroy the asteroid, but the Admiral refused to listen. "Go explore the galaxy or something," he said. "Isn't that what we pay you for?"

Kird had hardly hung up when his intercom whistled. "Captain, I'm getting a message from Dr. McRoy," said Lt. Yoo-hoo-ra, pausing for a few moments to put the finishing touches to her make-up. "He says it's urgent."

"Bean?" said the doctor's voice, coming through the intercom. "We may be able to get these people back on course!"

"You've found the controls?"

"Not exactly," said McRoy, wincing from the headache he was starting to get from the device buried in his cranium. "But I've seen a book that has the information."

"Great! Where is it?"

"AHHHHHH!"

"What was that?" said Kird, fiddling with the knobs of his intercom. "You're breaking up, Bonehead! I thought you said---"

"AHHH! The Pain! The Pain!"

"Bonehead, you're going to have to give me a better hint than that!"

***

Rather than rely on McRoy's stupid hints any more, Kird and Spoke had themselves beamed over to Yo! Nada!, directly to the doctor's VIP suite. They found him writhing on the floor with his head propped up in Naughtyra's lap. "I told him not to eat that entire pepperoni and anchovy pizza," she said, "but he is too stubborn and headstrong."

In between spasms of agony, McRoy was gesturing towards his right temple, unable to speak for the pain. "Uh...one word?" said Kird, desperately trying to guess what the doctor was getting at. "Sounds like...! Spoke, don't just stand there -- do something to help him."

"Yes, Captain," said the Volcanite, whipping out his phuzzer and setting it to OBLITERATE.

"What do you think you're doing?" blurted Kird, grabbing his arm.

"I thought you wanted me to put him out of his misery."

Naughtyra took that opportunity to leg it for the door, shouting, "Guards! Guards!" Kird ran to cut her off, stuffing a wadded up handkerchief in her mouth.

Meanwhile, McRoy had struggled to his feet, knocking aside Spoke's phuzzer and clawing at his tripcorder. Realizing that he was trying to get at the sophisticated electronic sub-cuticle scanning device he kept in there, Spoke obligingly opened the compartment. McRoy waved aside his help and simply bashed the tripcorder up side his own head. After two or three whacks, a small red crystal dropped from his temple. "Oh, that's better!" said McRoy, sagging to the floor in relief.

"What have you done?" sobbed Naughtyra, spitting out Kird's handkerchief. "My beloved is once again a stranger."

"Yeah, but he's a LIVE stranger," said Kird.

"The Book, Bean," McRoy gasped. "It's in the Oracle Room. In the monolith..."

"Ixnay," said Naughtyra, holding her hand up beside her mouth as if it could keep Kird from overhearing. "You cannot tell them about the Ecretsay Uttonbay..."

"Listen to me," said Kird, gripping her by the shoulders. "The Oracle has kept you in the dark for generations! You're not living on a planet at all! Fettucini was doomed to destruction over a gajillion years ago. Your ancestors knew their world was going to die, so they built this gigantic hollow spaceship and sent you off in it to a New World. But now its machinery is out of adjustment. If it is not corrected, Yo! Nada! will nearly strike another world which it knows nothing about -- and severely frighten a couple of settlers and an innocent chicken!"

Naughtyra blinked at him in disbelief, then turned towards one of the curtained alcoves. "I'm on one of those hidden camera shows, aren't I?" she said, patting down her hair and smoothing out the front of her dress. She waved at the alcove, smiling. "Is that the camera over there?"

***

The priestess agreed to escort them to the Oracle Room, if only to prove to them how silly the whole idea was. Once inside, she bowed to the monolith. "Oh Oracle Mostly Wise and..."

"You have listened to the words of unbelievers!" the voice demanded, cutting her off, its reverb all the way on Max.

"Yes, Oh Oracle Almost Wise and..."

"Their truth is not your truth!" it blared, feedback squealing.

"But let me finish, Oh Oracle Most..."

"There is only one truth!" said the Oracle.

"But let me..."

"Repent your disobedience!"

"Okay, I have about HAD IT with you!" Naughtyra blurted suddenly. "Do you think it's some picnic, wearing this stupid gown and this stupid tiara all the time..." -- she ripped her head-dress off and threw it to the floor -- "...and trying to remember to say, 'Oh Oracle Most Wise and Perfect' every time I open my frigging mouth?"

"Repent of your..."

"Button it!" snapped Naughtyra, digging the red crystal out of her right temple and tossing to the floor, where she ground it under her heel. The Oracle buzzed and threw blue sparks, but she glared at it dangerously. "I said BUTTON IT!"

McRoy stood gaping at her with awe. "Oh, Naughtyra! Dominate me, baby! Dominate me!" Flashing him a grin, she seized him by the waist and swept him off his feet with a passionate kiss. After a minute or two, the doctor, still locked lip to lip with her, feebly waved his hand to get Kird's attention and pointed mutely towards the monolith. Kird and Spoke reluctantly tore their eyes from the nearly X-rated scene and went over there. Pressing the secret button, they took the binder out.

"Blasphemy!" The Oracle, apparently forgetting that it had an intruder defense system, turned on the heating system instead. Panels on the wall began to glow red hot. Kird and Spoke sweated at every pore as the temperature shot up to 120 degrees and kept rising. McRoy and Naughtyra went right on making out, hardly noticing.

"Hurry up, Spoke!"

"Let me see..." said the Volcanite, quickly flipping back and forth through the pages of the binder. "'Emergency Access to Control Room'...'See Control Room, Emergency Access'...'See Access, Emergency'...'See Room, Control, Access to'..."

"Doesn't it have an Index?" wailed Kird.

"Here it is, Captain." The instructions were rather complicated, requiring the both of them to manipulate five different panels on the nearly walls, but finally a hidden door slid open, revealing a staircase. Kird and Spoke raced up the stairs in a panic and began pressing buttons pretty much at random.

"Is it hot in here," said McRoy, finally coming up for air, "or is it just me?"

"I think it is both of us," said the priestess, nibbling on his ear.

"Naughtyra, come away with me," said the doctor suddenly. "You have given me a reason to live -- to search for a cure for my disease or, failing that, to get stinking rich as the figurehead of a non-profit research foundation."

"You mean leave Yo! Nada!?"

"Why not?"

"Let me think..." she said sarcastically. "Run away with you and be your bimbo, or stay here and, now that your friends have turned off the Oracle, be absolute dictator of this entire planet...I mean spaceship. Hmmm..."

[Atoz 77]

Unfortunately, nothing Spoke or Kird did seemed to make the slightest difference. The "easy-to-read" icons on the controls were indecipherable to anyone but a Fettucini, and the binder was no help without at least three weeks to study the Fettucini layout. A viewing screen came on, showing the moon dead ahead. There was absolutely nothing they could do! Kird squeamishly covered his eyes...

...and the engines suddenly came on all by themselves, gently steering the ship around the obstacle. It turned out that the ship had been deliberately programmed to pass close by as a navigation check-point. Kird and Spoke exchanged somewhat embarrassed glances.

"Oh! Um...I guess we...um..." muttered Spoke sheepishly.

"Mission Accomplished!" said Kird, giving him two thumbs up, determined to take credit for the rescue anyway.

The Science Officer wandered over to a rack of shelves and pulled out his tripcorder. "These are the Fettucini data banks, Captain," said Spoke. "And -- Holy Moley! -- they seem to have amassed extensive medical knowledge!"

Kird stared. Hoping against hope, he said, "They don't happen to have a cure for zeno-pollywanna-whatsitsname, do they?"

"As a matter of fact, they do! Let me see if I can translate this..." Spoke frowned as he studied the squiggly letters. "Take...two...aspirin...and...call me in the morning." He sighed. "In fact," the Volcanite added in a disappointed tone as he scanned the rest of the data banks, "that seems to be their cure for nearly everything."

***

Kird and Spoke strolled into Sickbay a day or two later to find McRoy sitting morosely at his desk with his face in his hands. "I thought you were staying with Naughtyra," said the Captain. When they had bid farewell, the former priestess had ditched her metallic dress for a revealing black leather outfit with spiked cuffs that made Kird weak in the knees just to think about.

"Nah," said McRoy. "Y'all need me too much here on the Entry-prize."

"When she found out that he had less than a year to live," said Spoke, smugly folding his arms, "she tossed him out on his keister."

"At least I can thank the stars," said McRoy dryly, "that I only have to put up with YOU for one more year at best, you pointy-eared gargoyle!"

"Um...funny you should mention that, doctor," said Nurse Chippie, who had just come into the room carrying a clipboard. "I went back over all the physicals, and it turns out your blood specimen was mis-labeled. You don't have xena-polliwog-anemia, after all!"

"I don't? Then who does?"

"Mr. Spoke." Suppressing a giggle, she spun on her heel and left the room.

"What?" The cocky expression had disappeared abruptly from the Volcanite's face. "Nurse Chippie? Curstine, come back! This is not funny!" he bleated, rushing after her.

Kird heaved a sigh as he sank into a chair. "Don't tell me we're going to have to go through all that again! Am I going to have to break in a new Science Officer?"

"Not hardly," said McRoy. "Volcanites is immune to xena-polliwog-anemia."

"When are you going to tell him that?"

The doctor leaned back in his seat and got comfortable. "Oh, I guess I might think about it in two...three weeks, maybe..."

---THE END ---