textfiles/sf/STARTREK/shadowsi

Subject: REPOST: Shadows in the MiST
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this was a silly little thing i worte that attempted a crossover at... well, 
why don't you just read it! 

  +                                  +                                       +
   sandra guzdek + username: v130qh57@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu + til 28 Aug 1992 
       6037 Devlin Avenue + Niagara Falls, NY + 14304 + after 28 Aug 1992 
    "Higher emotions are what separate us from the lower orders of life... 
                  Higher emotions, and table manners."
                       --- Deanna Troi, _Imzadi_
 
SHaDowS iN tHe MiST                              by Sandra Guzdek   May '92
______________________________________________________________________________

	All was quiet in deep space as the mammoth galaxy class starship 
cruised by at a healthy warp 4 speed. The bridge was staffed by its normal, 
familiar faces; the captain stood before the viewscreen in awe, once again, 
of the beauty of the dark tapestry before him. Everything was calm... *too* 
calm. The captain thought wryly that that alone was indicative of something big 
about to happen.
	He turned back to do some work in his ready room when the booming 
voice of the security chief announced, "Captain, sensors indicate that 
there is a vessel of unknown origin adrift in space off the port bow 
approximately 500 megameters away."
	The captain smiled to himself. _Surprise, surprise._
	"Life signs?" he queried, as he turned on his heel for the command 
chair.
	Data piped up, "None that we can detect."
	As he pulled down on his uniform top, he commanded, "On screen."
	The screen seemed to change in star pattern only. There was a 
smallish shape in the lower right quadrant, which the captain ordered 
enlarged.
	"What *is* it, sir?" the voice of Deanna Troi wondered almost 
silently.
	"I'm not familiar with any ship of this kind. Mr. Data, analyze 
its structure and theorize on its function."
	The ship that had appeared on the screen looked as if it were 
constructed of two stout cylinders fused together side by side, with two 
faceted spheroids on each end. Seams ran the length and breadth of it, 
forming strange, intricate, triangular patterns. Here and there the hull 
was broken up by portholes, and marred by scars of wear and tear. All in all, 
the ship seemed centuries old and no longer very space-worthy.
	"Captain, I can find no known match to the ship. However, it has no 
propulsion systems, no weapons systems and little in the way of shielding. I 
hypothesize it was ejected into space as space junk."
	"The energy readings we're getting are too high for simple space 
junk," Worf bellowed.
	"It's a miracle its still in one piece," commented Will Riker from 
next to the counselor.
	Deanna shook her head. "It's very unusual."
	The captain sighed. "You're right, that *doesn't* make a lot of 
sense. I want to know why. Number One, prepare an Away Team." As he tapped 
his communicator: "Dr. Crusher, report to Transporter Room Three with a 
medical compliment. There may be some casualties to attend to."
	The doctor's voice responded instantly, "Acknowledged."

+++

	Comprised of Riker, Troi, Crusher and Geordi, the Away Team 
materialized inside the oddly damp and humid ship. All was dark save the 
starlight. As Geordi looked around in a survey of the fair-sized room, the 
others squinted as their irises adjusted to the dimness. Instinctively, the 
doctor pulled out a medical tricorder and held it before her.
	"Anything?" Riker asked of his Team in general.
	At that moment, the lights whirred on. "I found the lights," announced 
Geordi, who had flipped a switch on the wall up like the old-fashioned light 
switches of centuries ago. They looked around to better see the place.
	The room was much smaller than the main bridge of the Enterprise, 
and its triangular seams resembled those on the hull. Through the dirt, the 
walls were a beige colour. There was a large window on the largest wall, and 
something that was probably a door opposite to that. There was also a 
window to the stars outside on an adjacent wall. The room was unkempt, 
apparent even after considering the age of the ship: in one corner sat a heap 
of rubbish, including large-diameter plastic ribbed pipe, a flashlight of 
twentieth century design, and... baby car-seats? A bubble gum machine?
	"I'm not getting any life signs in this room," Beverly chirped, 
interrupting the silence.
	Troi slid her hand along the console, and grimaced at the dirt that 
had come off on her fingers. She then took notice of the console. It was 
simple in design, three large buttons of green, red and yellow. She wrinkled 
her brow. "Geordi, I'm no engineer, but how could anything possibly run on 
just three buttons?"
	Geordi had just thought the same thing, how primitive and shoddy 
the structure and design of this vessel was. Other than those three buttons, 
there didn't appear to be any other controls. "You got me, Counselor."
	Riker spoke up. "It seems to be a sattelite of some sort... though 
we're light years from any systems or M-class planets. But even sattelites 
have more controls than this."
	Beverly had been scanning the walls. "I'm reading something behind 
these doors. Some sort of energy source. I think we should get to it, see 
if it's dangerous." She turned to face her companions. "The question is, how 
do we open the doors?"
	The foursome looked to the simplistic control panel, then to each 
other. "It's got to be one of these buttons," Geordi said, voicing the 
thoughts of everyone present.
	"But which one?" pondered Deanna. "Assuming one of those buttons is 
for the door, what are the other two for? And how do we know that one of 
the other two buttons isn't the cause for total abandonment of this 
sattelite?"
	"But there's still that tricorder reading," Beverly reminded kindly. 
"We have to get to it, make sure it isn't a threat."
	"So which will it be?" Geordi asked.
	Fortunately, the matter was taken out of their hands when a surge 
of power buzzed through the room: a red light began to flash, and what 
sounded like an alarm klaxon began to ring. All three control buttons began 
to flash. They looked to each other, as if to say, what did we do? 
	"It seems as if all systems -- scant as they are -- are back on 
line," Geordi explained. 
	A female voice, pleasant and not unlike the Enterprise's own 
computer voice, announced that something was going to occur in ten 
seconds; what that something was, they could not make sense of.
	Panic seized the seasoned Starfleet officers. "What do we do?" Troi 
wondered.
	"What did that voice say?" Riker queried.
	"I don't know!" Troi said desperately.
	"'Sign'. It said '*Something* sign'," Geordi commented.
	"It isn't a threat, or else the Enterprise's sensors would have 
told them and they'd have pulled us out of here..." Riker reminded.
	Calmly, Beverly reached over and pushed the red button. The sound 
and lights continued, but the door slid open. They all looked to her in 
amazement. With a smile she said, "It was just a hunch." The noise died 
down, and the light dimmed back to normal.
	 Riker's communicator buzzed. "Number One, is everything all right 
down there?" It was the captain.
	"Aye, sir. We've just discovered..." As Beverly cleared her throat 
playfully, Riker corrected with a smile, "*Dr. Crusher's* just discovered how 
to open the door. We're going to investigate a high energy reading now."
	"Be careful, Number One. We don't know what's down there."
	"Understood. Riker out."
	The door had opened to reveal a long corridor of numbered doors which 
were successively opening. Geordi said meekly, "This is getting wierder and 
wierder."
	Data materialized beside the four of them. "The captain thought I 
might be of assistance down here."
	Deanna clapped her hand over her heart. "Oh, Data. You frightened 
me."
	They went down the long hall, tricorders alive and flashing. 
Riker's brow furrowed as he picked up what appeared to be the skeleton of a 
small canine. It was red-orange, and certainly not organic. "Data, you 
couldn't have showed up at a better time." Riker thrust the find at him. 
"What *is* this?"
	Data took it, turned it over in his hand. After a few moments of 
analysis, he stated, "It would appear that there is no known source for 
this... thing, although it does highly resemble a Merconian shell beast."
	He handed it to the two women, who in turn scrutinized it.
	"Come on, let's go," Riker said, indicating the end of the hall.
	At that moment he noticed Geordi fawning over a second find. 
"LaForge, what have you got there?" As Riker crouched down, he saw exactly 
what it was. His grandmother had had one, and he remembered her using it, 
a nostalgic grin on his face. "A... waffle iron?"
	They looked at each other. Geordi muttered, "Curiouser and curiouser."
	Coming to the final door, a large round door like that of a bank vault, 
it opened to reveal a darkened room. On the wall directly before them there 
was a mammoth screen upon which images were projected, and the room had rows of 
seats. Beverly waved her tricorder around, and announced, "There's the energy 
source." She pointed to the projection booth.
	"This must be some sort of theater," Riker mused.
	Data spewed his usual two cents: "It is a motion picture cinema, as 
indicated by the pictures on the screen. Motion pictures became popular in the 
early to mid-twentieth century, and though it has waned considerably, people 
still enjoy it today as a form of entertainment."
	Beverly smiled, her eyes dreamy. "Yes, I've seen _Casablanca_, and 
_The Wizard of Oz_."
	Data looked to the screen, analyzing the actors and the dialogue. 
His brow furrowed in its special android way. "It would seem that this 
'movie', as they were called in the vernacular, is what is known as B 
grade: obscure actors, thin plots, and cheap, flimsy sets."
	Deanna laughed in spite of herself. "So what is a B-grade movie 
cinema doing all the way out here in space?"
	Riker turned to her and, looking very much like a mad scientist, 
said, "Push the button, Troi."

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                    Copyright 1992 by Sandra Guzdek
   standard disclaimers about Paramount, and threats of death for plagiarism, 
                                apply.