Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Listener Contribution! How DS9 Got Its Pylon Back

For the Cause, Part II

By David Bradley

"Jumpin Jehosefat! You need what? A new pylon? By next week? Yeah, well I want an Andorian pony, but I don't go around calling Starfleet requisitions asking for one." Lieutenant Ron Silvermage pressed his palms against his temples and let out a sigh. The engineer shook his head and gave a grimaced look into the viewscreen's camera. "Alright Chief O'brien, I'll see what I can do." Silvermage jammed his thumb into the panel in front of him, nearly fracturing the digit as he ended the transmission.

A moment later, Ensign Scotty McCandlesex entered the office. McCandlesex, Silvermage's assistant, noticed the deep frown on Silvermage's face. "What's up, boss?"

"It's those damn TV hot shots. Yet again, we have to go and clean up the mess they made. This time, a whole pylon is missing off Deep Space Nine! And we've only got a week to fix it!"

McCandlesex walked over to the replicator. "Coffee. Irish. Hot." He took a big gulp from the mug before addressing Silvermage. "You knew it couldn't last forever. We had it pretty good for a few years there. Whenever Enterprise would get into some big battle, we'd have to scrub that baby clean before the next episode started recording. But Deep Space Nine, they just let it ride."

Silvermage threw his hands up in frustration. "I know, the consistency thing was pretty sweet. But now, 'continuity be damned, we need the station fixed up right away!' Can't believe I've got to take orders from the only stinking noncommissioned officer in Starfleet.”

“So how are we going to get this done? I mean, pylons are a big job. How can we do it in a week?”

The pair furrowed their brows, put on their thinking caps, quickly took off their thinking caps because they looked stupid, and then, in unison, cried out: “The Dauphin!”


“I say we just go to Risa,” said McCandlesex from the pilot’s seat. “Leave this stupid job behind.”

Silvermage gave him a stern look, and turned back to the comm screen. “So, Admiral, where can we find The Dauphin?”

“Probably in my bed! Wait, is she hot?” replied Admiral Riker.

“Oh, um, well, she could be. Or she could be a furry monster.”

Riker shrugged. “I’ve Rike’d worse. But I gotta say, the quality of ladyfolk has really increased for me since I finally earned access to the Hot Chick Budget.”

Silvermage frowned. “Hot Chick Budget?”

“Yeah, the Hot Chick Budget!” Riker said with a laugh. “It’s why no one else gets paid in this society, we’ve got to keep the brass happy! And happy I am.” Riker sighed, and looked off into the middle-distance, a vacant smile overtaking his face.


Silvermage and McCandlesex turned to the transporter pad as The Dauphin appeared. They winced and turned away at seeing her visage. “Could you please choose a form a little less … repulsive?”

The Dauphin sighed. “I thought the form of the daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir of the Holy Rings of Betazed would be pleasing to you?”

Silvermage replied, “No, Lwaxana Troi just makes me want to run away.”

“Told you we should have gone to Risa,” McCandlesex muttered.

“There, is this better?” The two Starfleet officers turned back to The Dauphin and breathed a sigh of relief when they saw she chose the form of Kirstie Alley circa 2011.


As they arrived at Deep Space Nine, they looked out the porthole and saw the broken and battered station. “We better hope this works,” said Silvermage.

A steely look entered The Dauphin's eye. “I’m ready to do anything … for the cause.”

“Wait, why are you even agreeing to d – oof!” McCandlesex’s question was interrupted by a firm jab to the ribs from one of Silvermage’s elbows.

“ANYWAY. So once we transport you into space, you’re going to have about 30 seconds to transform into the DS9 pylon, Ms. The Dauphin.”

“My name is Salia.”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Ms. The Dauphin. Like I was saying, if you don’t transform quickly enough, you’re going to explode, and that’s going to make our jobs even harder. Ready?”

The Dauphin nodded, eyes locked forward, waiting for Silvermage to activate the transporter. After a few seconds, McCandlesex cleared his throat and said, “It doesn’t work unless you say ‘energize,’ Ms. The Dauphin.”


After The Dauphin-turned-pylon was secured into place, McCandlesex plotted a course back to Starfleet Headquarters. “So, when are we going back to actually rebuild the pylon, so The Dauphin can get back to running her planet?”

“Oh,” said Silvermage, “maybe next week some time?”

SPOILER ALERT: They never did.


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