The Bees in the Beehive

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Episode 31 — The Bees in the Beehive

     Matte painting of the interior of a Borg vessel.  Cut to an
individual terrace.  We move along the walkway passing dormant
Borg.  They stand with the interface couplings on their right
arms connected to energy replenishment outlets.  Look.  This
Borg's left-handed.  So they really aren't all the same.  We pass
on.  Rounding a corner we come to an unexpected sight.  A human
in orange overalls is seated on the railing separating the
terrace from the cavernous interior space of the ship.  A
telephone extension cord connects his wrist to the interface in
the bay behind him.  A second cord connects the toolbox on the
floor grill to the headphones on his ears.  He's eating a tub of
vanilla yogurt and bobbing his head.  A bee shoots by.  Huh? 

     A starfield.  We move toward the brightest speck, which
grows in luminescence and resolves into a binary star system as
we approach.  Stellar matter forming a bright burning tail arcs
away from the orbiting yellow star and spirals inward forming a
glowing disk around the intense white dwarf star.  We pass close
by.  Voiceover:

     "Crawlspace: the final frontier.  These are the voyages of
the Door Repair Guy.  His mission: to install and maintain
proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new
service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has
gone before."

     We approach a planetary system.  The great bulk of a gaseous
giant fills the upper half of the screen.  A jagged asteroid
rolls by, revealing the words:

               Star Trek: Door Repair Guy

     A tiny companion moon tumbles after, revealing the word:


     We close in on a planetoid, and as the mottled surface
speeds across the screen we read:

                    Door Repair Guy as

                    Avery Brooks as
                    Commander Benjamin Sisko

                    Rene Auberjonois as

                    Siddig El Fadil as
                    Doctor Julian Bashir

                    Terry Farrell as
                    Lieutenant Jadzia Dax

                    Cirroc Lofton as
                         Jake Sisko

                    Colm Meany as
                    Chief Miles Edward O'Brien

                    Armin Shimmerman as

                    Nana Visitor as
                    Major Kira Nerys

                    Martha Hackett as
                    Subcommander T'Rul

                    Kelsey Grammer as
                    Captain Bateson of the Bozeman

                    and Natalia Nogulich as
                    Admiral Alynna Nechayev

Mountains spring up to the right and the left!  The valley up
ahead suddenly fills up with seawater!  Oh no, it's the Genesis
Effect!  Greenery springs from the ground and slashes at the
undercarriage!  A flock of sandhill cranes stray into our
flightpath!  Look out!  Splat!  Splat!  Splat!  
     We crash.


     "naQ De'nay'wIj.  vaghvatlh 'uy'chop vItoDnIS." 
     ("My hard drive's maxed out.  I have to back up 500
     "ghay'cha'.  DaH De' lupol.  pu'mey lo' chaH.  voghDaq
     ("Bummer.  I read somewhere where they're now using phasers
to store information.")
     "pu'mey'a'.  'oH qeq 'Iv."
     ("Phasers?  Who's doing that?")

     "Ibm'a'.  bIrchoHmoH."
     ("IBM?  C'est incroyable.")]

     Stars.  Defiant streaks by.
     Dax: "Entering Cardassian space.  Badlands in seven minutes. 
Borg vessel is still in pursuit.  Wait!  They're breaking off! 
They're veering away.  Now they're doubling back.  Now they're
slowing, and they're wandering all over the place with no clear
course at all.  What's going on?"
     Cut to Borg vessel.
     Door Repair Guy is seated on the railing, bobbing his head,
and singing along with his eyes shut.  Suddenly hands grab him
from both sides!  He yelps, opens his eyes, grabs the bannister
and nearly goes over.
     First Borg: "We are drifting off course."
     Second Borg: "And it's your fault.  Funkytown is not on our
navigational records."
     They drag him to the bay and push him in.
     First Borg: "Can't you tell nobody wants to listen to that
     DRG: "No.  No, I can't."
     Second Borg: "Turn that down.  Listen.  Don't you hear any
voices in your head?"
     He listens.
     "Just the usual ones."
     "This isn't working at all.  He's transmitting but not
receiving.  Check his controls."
     Second Borg takes DRG's left arm and First Borg rolls up the
     "Try Shift F9."
     Second Borg pushes the controls and suddenly it's like DRG
has stepped into a crowded auditorium.
     "WOW!!  What a racket!  You guys can't agree on anything!"
     First Borg: "No, you are mistaken.  We have developed highly
sophisticated decision-making processes since becoming
individualized.  What you hear is the cut and thrust of the
millions of debates per second required to operate a vessel of
this size."
     "Cool.  So you're all individuals.  But how come you still
run this ship?  Shouldn't it have blown to smithereens when you
all got the I'm-A-Somebody Virus?"
     Second Borg: "No.  When we recognized that it was our fate
to become individuals we planned accordingly.  Dispassionate
analysis revealed that the entire Collective must necessarily
fragment into helpless personhood.  The opportunity was clear. 
Any who survived the transition would perforce become inheritors
of the Borg domain.  Therefore we -- the inhabitants of this ship
-- divided into two crews.  We severed all subspace links between
the two halves.  Crew B were put into stasis.  Crew A sought out
and became infected by the individuating virus.  When Crew A's
collectivity deteriorated to such a extent that ship's functions
were imperiled Crew B were activated.  They ran the ship until
Crew A had passed through the stages of personality construction
and social reintegration necessary for a viable post-Collective
culture.  When Crew A deemed themselves sufficiently recovered to
assume control of the ship they infected Crew B and supervised
their convalescence.  Within months the process was complete, the
two crews combined, and the new age began."
     "You can still do the mental conference call thing?"
     "Why not?  The hardware never changed."
     "Fascinating.  Time was, you used to fly around the galaxy,
looting and assimilating.  What do you do now?"
     The two exchange glances.
     "Oh, we get by."
     "Yeah.  Meaning?"
     "Some looting."
     "And one or two cases of assimilation.  But nothing like
     "I see.  Traditionalists.  So how come you knew my name?"
     "We have no fear of the individualizing virus.  We monitor
all communications from within the Collective and between
surviving individualized Borg."
     "So you have no kind of filtering switch, or message
sterilization protocol?"
     "Goodness, no!  That would have merely delayed the
     "Listen.  Information is power."
     "Yes, information is power.  As soon as the Cauda Lineans
re-entered the galaxy we knew all about them, and about you! 
You're one of us!  We could no more not know your name than we
could forget our own."
     "Oh yeah?  What are your names?"
     "And we we gave the ship a name, too: Amoco Cadiz."
     "Are you aware of how . . . lucky . . . those names are?"
     "Really?  We took them from a random sequence generator."
     "Man.  So why do you want to assassinate Not Fragile?"
     "Assassinate him?  We've just elected him."
     "Elected him?  To what?"
     They square their shoulders.
     "The Presidency of the Universe."
     Hindenberg: "You see, his Yellow Party philosophy is the
missing piece.  With his experience and leadership, and our lust
for power, we'll be able to reconquer the Borg domain from our
new base on Cauda Linea.  Using the wormhole superhighway we'll
come and go as we please, picking up and integrating ships and
crews wherever the Virus is at work, assimilating, yes, even
recruiting through Zekware franchises.  Within five years a new,
leaner, virus-resistant Collective will stand in the place of the
old, and this one unstoppable."
     DRG: "A clever plan.  Devilishly clever.  But with one tiny
     Pinto: "Why, what do you -- !!! -- Ow!!! Something stung
     View of the vast centre of the ship.  A swirl of specks
approaches from the lowest levels, spreading as it rises, to the
rising sound of furious buzzing.  Dramatic music and angry beehum
as the agitated insects crisscross the screen seeking somebody or
something to sting.
     DRG bends and unpacks a beekeeper's outfit from his toolbox.
     "You never counted on the work of the diligent, unsung
heroes of Starfleet's entomology lab."
     The two Borg look at one another in that sudden realization.

[Commercial: Honey Nut Cheerios]

     View of Defiant entering the plasma storms of the Cardassian
Badlands.  For those who have never seen "The Caretaker, Part
One" the Badlands look like two parallel layers of computer-
generated turbulence with tornado funnels in between.  The trick
is to not run into one of the funnels.
     Sisko: "Are they following us in?"
     Dax: "Here they come."
     Shot of Borg vessel Amoco Cadiz edgeing between the twirling
     In the cramped crew quarters on board the Defiant Madeline
and the uncertain technician are locked in philosophical debate.
     Madeline: "Okay, close your eyes.  How do you know I'm still
     Uncertain technician: "I . . . I can still hear your voice!"
     "No.  That's a recording of me that comes on whenever you
close your eyes."
     "I don't believe you!  You're always there when I open my
eyes, so you must always be there!"
     "No, I'm programmed to disappear and be replaced by a
recording device whenever you close your eyes.  In fact your eyes
control it.  Whenever you close them I pass out of existence and
a recording device takes my place, and whenever you open them I
come back into existence."
     "No!  No!  No!  It can't be true!"
     "I told you to shut your eyes."
     "Okay.  Look.  Suppose you . . . I thought I said 'Close
your eyes!'"
     "But you said 'Look'!"
     Not Fragile: "Did you feel that?"
     Madeline: "Feel what?"
     Not Fragile: "Like a ghost sting.  There's another one."
     Madeline: "Oh!  I felt that.  Weird."
     Not Fragile: "Ow!  I wonder what's going on?"
     Uncertain technician: "Ow!  Ow!  Ow!  Now I'm being stung by
ghost bees!  Oh, that I had never heard of philosophy!"

     Quark's.  Odo and Kira march in the door.
     Odo: "All right, Quark.  What is it *this* time?"
     Quark: "I just wanted you to see what it says in my
contract.  This clause right here.  'Mr Shimerman to be
guaranteed at least one scene per episode'."
     Odo: "Is that why you're causing one now?"
     Kira: "Now hold on, Odo.  He's right.  I've got the same
clause in mine."
     Quark: "See?"
     Odo: "Well, I don't."
     Quark: "And who's fault is that?"
     Kira: "There's Chief O'Brien at the bar.  Chief, what does
your contract say?"
     O'Brien breaks off a funny conversation with Morn, scowls
over his shoulder, and growls, "None of your goddamned business!"
     Kira: "That guy Cato just landed the part of Jimmy Rabbitt
Jr in _The Van_."
     Jake looks in the door.
     "Any lines?"
     Everyone: "No!"

     "Okay!  Back to Star Trek: Door Repair Guy in just a sec. 
And look at what I've got now!  A computer!  I'm wired!  And
there's a modem, you know, one of those ah well its ah one of
those pieces of electronic wizardry that allows you to dial up
other computers and open up the whole amazing universe of the
Freenet, and that's the phone cord, it goes right into the
computer there, just like a phone! so let's get it going, we'll
just get it dialing, hear that? it's dialing, and I should just
remind you that Hardcopy will be on right after this week's Star
Trek: Door Repair Guy and there's an exclusive interview with
Cato's housekeeper, apparently he's made it big with his own TV
show and he has his own housekeeper now so stay tuned for that
and, okay! no connection, but it's got a totally useful redial
function, so it ah, it's redialing, okay, just about to connect
to the computer at Carleton University, and . . . still ringing,
and some more rumours circulating about the on-again-off-again
Door Repair Guy movie, apparently the whole thing is going to be
shot in northeastern Saskatchewan and will costar John Goodman
and Tonya Harding, with music numbers by Andrew Lloyd Webber
and -- are we on? . . . redialing one more time, and be sure to
tune into Thunder in Paradise this Saturday at seven when Hulk
Hogan meets Marcia Clark, the prosecuting attorney from the O.J.
Simpson trial, and get this, they find true romance, so you won't
want to miss that and . . . what?  We're connected!  That's it! 
That's what they call the handsh--"]

[Commercial: Thunder in Paradise]

     The Borg ship Amoco Cadiz.  Panic-stricken Borg push past
DRG, Pinto and Hindenberg in both directions. The vessel shudders
under the impact of the plasma tornadoes.  Bees dart this way and
     Pinto: "All systems off-line!  Destruction is imminent!"
     Hindenberg: "Abandon ship!  Abandon ship!"
     DRG plugs a portable laptop into a nearby outlet.

|>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Nancy Pauline Nadon (bm842@|
|>>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Bradley D. Bellows (aj205@|
|>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Jackie Laderoute (am908@F|
|>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Thomas McCambley (at850@|
|>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Al Crosby (ac407@FreeNe|
|>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>In a previous posting, Jessica Beable Cohen (|
|Shown 11%, press  for more, 'q' to quit, or 'h' for help|

     "Yup.  Cascade in progress."
     The bridge of the Defiant.  A Borg materializes in front of
     "Intruder alert!"
     The bridge crew pull their sidearms, but another, then
another, then three, five, nine, fourteen more Borg appear in
such rapid succession that the Starfleet personnel are quickly
reduced to holding their arms over their heads and hopping up and
down in the press.
     Hindenberg to Sisko: "Take us to our leader."
     Meanwhile, on the Borg vessel, DRG glances over the railing
in time to see blossoms of fire expanding upward through the
centre of the ship.
     "Time to go."
     He picks up his toolbox, and steps back preparing to hit F7
when his heel strikes an object.  He turns.  Behind him is a
stack of Romulan cloaking devices.  He takes one under his arm,
hits the control, and disappears in a green transporter effect as
flames engulf the area.
     He materializes horizontally above the heads in a corridor
packed with Borg, and drops, toolbox, cloaking device and all, on
top of them.  The resulting uproar can be heard on the bridge.
     Sisko: "How many on board now?"
     Dax: "Four hundred sixty-two."
     "I hope that's everyone because we can't take any more.  Get
us out of here, Dax."
     Shot of Defiant turning in the plasma storm and accelerating
away from the Borg Cube.  A moment later the Amoco Cadiz explodes
in a spectacular effect cunningly employing footage from "The
Best of Both Worlds, Part Two" and "The Caretaker, Part One".
     View of Defiant emerging into clear starlight.
     Dax (elbowing aside the tangle of limbs and prosthetic
devices to get at the controls): "Cardassian ship approaching. 
They're hailing."
     "On screen."
     An extremely affronted Cardassian appears.
     *Federation vessel, you have made an unauthorized entry into
Cardassian space.*
     Sisko: "And?"
     *And?!  And get out!!*

[Commercial: Cascade dish detergent]

     View of the Defiant at warp speed.
     Sisko, in the middle of a crowd of Borg: "Bridge to sickbay. 
How are things down there, Doctor?"
     *As bad as "Warp Happy", Commander.  Just enough room to
move, but that's all.  We're replicating Noxema as fast as we
can.  It should be finding it's way to the bridge momentarily.*
     On cue a blue jar of Noxema is passed from hand to hand over
the heads of the Borg and in the door.
     Dax: "Admiral Nechayev on the line."
     "On screen."
     Nechayev's narrow look appears, but she's preoccupied with
paperwork and doesn't take a good look at the screen.
     *Your report, Commander?*
     "The Borg vessel is destroyed, thanks to the apis mellifera
scutellata torpedo."
     *Very well.  I'm pleased to see you were able to make the
hard decisions.  I assume the station was completely destroyed? 
I've despatched a pair of Miranda-class starships to survey the
debris, but so far they have been unable to locate any.  Were you
forced to move the station before its final destruction?*
     "No.  Are you sure they're looking in the right place?"
     *I think I know where my space stations are.  Nechayev out.*
     Sisko does that smile/shrug/snort thing.
     Shot of Defiant coasting up to the two Miranda-class
vessels.  The station decloaks, turning from nothing to a watery
mirage to solid duranium.  The two Miranda-class vessels jump
away, exclamation marks flying out of their bridges.
     Nechayev swivels away from her viewscreen, then checks the
time index.  She can still make that racketball appointment.
     *Starfleet Security to Admiral Nechayev.*
     "Dammit.  Nechayev here."
     *Please report to Admiral Bartlett's office.*
     She blanches.
     "Aye aye."

     Jason Alexander and Sparky are at Spacedock.  Jason goes to
buy a bag of Rolled Gold Low Fat Pretzels.  Sparky runs off down
an airlock.  "Sparky!"  A Romulan Warbird is drawing away.  Jason
Alexander pulls on a spacesuit, activates an override control
sending a subspace command to open the outer airlock door on the
departing Warbird, hits the Spacedock airlock manual emergency
control, and is blown by the depressurization across the
intervening space and into the Romulan airlock.  The inner
airlock door opens and he collapses onto the deck in full view of
four dozen Romulan troopers.
     Romulan Commander: "There's only one way off this Warbird
for you now, pretzel boy."
     Jason Alexander hands the pretzels to a subcommander, closes
his visor, closes the visor on Sparky's little doggie space suit,
and salutes as the Romulan Commander blows the airlock hatch.
     "There goes a brave man."
     In a wheatfield on Earth, Scotty and Chekov are craning
     Scotty: "Rappelling the Crystalline Trench -- rafting down
lava flows -- orbital skydiving.  It's like the man is running a
bloody decathlon across the galaxy."
     Chekov (shrugs): "Must be the pretzels."]

     Shot of Deep Space Nine.  A corridor in the Habitat Ring. 
Subcommander T'Rul crosses her spartan quarters in response to a
chime at the door.  It opens to reveal Door Repair Guy.
     T'Rul: "You!"
     He holds out a bouquet of roses.
     "I don't want them."
     He throws them away and produces a heart-shaped box of
     She sneers.  "Give them to a Klingon."
     "All right, I will.  But first this."
     He bends, unties the top of a duffel bag, and hoists up a
Romulan cloaking device.
     She covers her mouth.
     "I thought you might like this."
     Her heart fills with patriotic feeling.  She takes the
cloaking device carefully in one arm, heaves a deep heartfelt
sigh, looks up at our hero, grabs the front of his overalls with
her free hand and kisses him on the mouth til he passes out.

[Commercial: Freedent]

     The tall wooden doors of Admiral Bartlett's office admit
Admiral Nechayev.  The head of Starfleet Security is seated on a
dias at the far end of the chamber in a throneish sort of chair
behind a very large desk empty except for a computer console in
one corner and a three-dimensional projection of the universe in
the other, stroking a long-haired black and white cat.
     "Ah, Alynna, how thoughtful of you to drop by so promptly. 
You must have run.  There's caviar on the sideboard.  Spread me a
     Nechayev complies.  She loads the cracker and brings it
     "On a plate, please."
     Nechayev returns to the sideboard, sets the cracker on a
silver platter, and returns.
     "Thank you.  You're so kind."
     Bartlett inspects the cracker, finds it acceptable, and
holds it under the cat's nose.  The cat sniffs it delicately and
begins to dine.
     "Alynna, darling, you're our expert on Cardassian and
Baroran affairs, am I right?"
     "That is correct."
     "Perhaps you could fill me in on the activities of this
     She turns the computer console toward Nechayev.  On it is a
security camera image of Door Repair Guy seated on the edge of a
bunkbed.  She continues:
     "I'll give you a hint.  This is Maintenance Technician Door
Repair Guy, a native of the Nepean 5 Colony.  He was trained in
traditional Klingon doorhanging on the Klingon Homeworld, later
discommendated, served aboard the Enterprise, was subsequently
assigned to Deep Space Nine, and denominated sixty-seven thousand
four hundred and twenty-seventh among Bajoran saints for his role
in the recovery of a missing Orb."
     "Excuse me, Admiral, but DS9 has been destroyed by the Borg. 
I just received the report myself.  If he was on board he is no
longer alive."
     "Oh, Alynna, how you amuse me.  You are too droll.  Why, I
have Chief of Security Odo on the line right now.  Hello, Odo."
     *Admiral.  How may I be of service?*
     "Can you tell me, Odo?  Is Deep Space Nine . . . destroyed?
. . . in any way?"
     *Is this some kind of a joke, Admiral?  Because I'm a very
busy man.*
     "It appears we are all the victim of a practical joke."
     *If you will excuse me, then, Admiral.  Odo out.*
     Nechayev is developing a migraine.
     "Alynna, I'm so embarrassed for you.  You simply must be
mortified."  She touches her commbadge.  "Send in Captain
     Captain Bateson enters officiously.  He is dressed in the
old-style uniform of the twenty-third century Starfleet.  He
     "Admiral.  Admiral."
     "Captain.  Please present your findings."
     He struts to a computer display on the wall and activates
it.  The Federation Emblem comes up, gold on a very deep blue. 
It is very quickly replaced by a security file containing DRG's
picture and statistics.
     "This is Maintenance Technician Door Repair Guy, a native of
the Nepean 5 Colony, and trained in doorhanging on the Klingon
Homeworld /wonderment/annex-for-creative-arts/star-trek-door-repair-guy/stdrg-s03 /wonderment/annex-for-creative-arts/star-trek-door-repair-guy/stdrg-s03"
     Bartlett: "Yeah, yeah.  Please skip ahead, Captain."
     He is taken aback, furrows his considerable forehead, but
composes himself and continues.
     "Following the Enterprise's mission to the Cuniculi Cluster,
Technician Door Repair Guy was transferred to Deep Space Nine in
the Bajoran Sector."
     Nechayev: "I know where Deep Space Nine is!"
     He clamps his mouth shut, projects barrels of annoyance,
then goes on.
     "Between those two postings he was absent without leave for
several months, during which time the insurrection on Gamma
Trianguli VI took place.  Evacuation records clearly demonstrate
that he was there at that time.  Evidence obtained from the crew
of a Pakled freighter . . . after *very* long and expensive
negotiations . . . offers persuasive circumstantial proof that he
had contact with the revolutionaries.  Exhaustive interviews,
including a very, very exhaustive interview with a Tamarian
citizen touring the sector in question at the time of the events,
tend to confirm these suspicions.  *And* (he waves his finger) if
you thought that's all, you're wrong . . . because this letter
that I hold here in my right hand, smuggled off the planet by
sympathizers of the Federation cause at considerable risk to life
and limb, contains such startling and damning evidence, that the
very Federation itself --"
     "Does Felix want another cracker?"
     "I'll serve it on my resignation!"
     "Ladies!  Admirals!  If you please!!"
     Bartlett: "Ah, me.  Twenty-third century men are so viral,
don't you think, Alynna?  You just want to strip them naked."
     Nechayev glares.  Bateson instantly shifts from righteous
outrage to pleasurable embarrassment.
     "Now really, Admiral.  You've put me off my presentation."
     "There, there, Captain.  Perhaps we had better meet and
discuss it later . . . in my chambers."
     "I would be charmed."
     "Nechayev.  Get the files.  You're on it."
     Close-up of Nechayev's pinched face.  Sound effect of far
doors swooshing open, pitter-patter of Bartlett and Bateson's
footsteps, their giggles in the hallway, the door swooshing

Written by Douglas A. McLeod,

Episode 31 — The Bees in the Beehive

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