| The Next Generation | |
| 36 | |
| The Dauphin | |
| 42568.8 | |
Need transport in a flash? Are you lightyears behind schedule? If so, call 1-800-NCC-1701 for the fastest taxi in the galaxy! It's silly really - a starship whose claimed mission is exploration, with a research crew of more than a thousand, is used as a 24th century limousine. Are there no commercial flights available? Today's first-class passengers are Salia and her grumpy governess Anya. What makes these two so special, that the Federation would roll out the red carpet? It's Salia's destiny that peace will guide the planets, and love will steer the stars! This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius...
She hasn't been on the ship more than a few minutes, when who should cross her path - Wesley the Wonder Weeny! Ugh. Anya must have built-in geek avoidance radar, as she masterfully dodges the brat, and hurries her charge to the their quarters. Wait a minute, who's this? It's Shelley from "Twin Peaks"! Where'd she come from, and what happened to grumpy? "You're the last and only chance" she laments. Slurp! She turned into a gobbledock! The owls are not what they seem.
Wesley's hormones are leading a frontal charge, and he's desperate to see her again. Whom can he ask? Worf and Data aren't helpful, so he goes to the one with the most hormonal experience - Commander Beard! Riker demonstrates the ancient art of seduction, using Guinan as a subject. They seem happy enough now, but young Weaselly is no better off. Why not try the straight forward approach - go and see her. Nah, it'd never work...
Alright, so maybe it would work. There's a guard on the door, but by a brilliant stroke of luck, just as the brat is moping around like a lost puppy, Salia opens the door. "Could you show me how to use the food dispenser?" she pleads. It's an original enough pickup line I suppose. After some small-talk, Wes coyly leads her to the holodeck for a little... stargazing! How completely nauseous.
Anya's doing an inspection tour of the Enterprise, and finding faults everywhere. I wonder if she's considered becoming an Admiral? I hear that paranoia is high on the essential criteria list. She finishes in the sickbay, where Dr Pulaski is treating a patient. "Kill him" she shouts. It's a good thing that Dr Crusher's away for a while... When the Doc baulks, Anya morphs into a hideous 8' tall BEM, and tries to do the job herself. What a dead giveaway. Come and see the violence inherent in the system... Picard orders her confined to her quarters and form, but she just snickers "You cannot control me!" One to beam into deep space...
The teenage lovebirds finish their date with a chocolate mousse in 10-Forward. "I've had a great time being with you Wesley" she purrs. I'm going to be sick. On a first date, there's a line you shouldn't cross... "You could stay with me on the Enterprise" he begs. ...and that was it! Salia runs off in tears. Nice one Wes. He chases after her, but Anya and a squad of security goons keep them apart. Step away from the alien...
This time it's Salia's turn to be the whinger. Why is it that duty and responsibility always seem to be mutually exclusive with fun? While Anya's sleeping she creeps off to see her pal anyway. They touch! They kiss! We barf! Anya growls! Pardon? Yes, she's escaped confinement and turned into the 8' tall BEM again. It looks like Wes won't get to join the alien-bonkers club after all, in fact he might not even get another breath... No! Salia defends him by morphing into something even nastier. That shocked his fragile male ego!
Time to go. All passengers departing at Daled 4, please move to the nearest transporter room, and have your entry visas checked. Salia gets ready to leave, but her plaything is now in a huff. "Was it fun tormenting me?" he whines. I bet it was. "I loved you." Groan. He'd known her less than a week, and the wrong head was doing the thinking. "I loved you too" she replied. That's nice - stab the knife in, and then twist it! Of course they make up on the transport pad, and she shows her true form as a radiant energy being! Barf.
