Galactic Decision 20008, Part One: The Light Side

by R. John Burke

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Star Wars, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Andromeda, Deep Space Nine, Firefly, Harry Potter, and Iron Man are the copyrights of their respective creators. This is just a fan fiction parody; no money is involved. This story is also a work of political parody, but I'm mocking everyone; no insult to any party or belief system is intended.

RATING: PG-13 for mostly mild innuendo.

SPOILERS: Lurk for almost everything. Beware.

THE SETTING: This is a parody of political debates featuring sci-fi characters. I'm playing fast and loose with everyone's timeline, but the election is roughly set within the post-ROTJ Star Wars Universe. The characters from other Universes and their stories are assumed to exist alongside that Universe, so it's sort of an amalgam. If that doesn't make sense yet, just read. You'll get it...

(The Setting: A darkened underground meeting chamber, lit by candles and torches. EIGHT PEOPLE stand in a semicircle around a podium. In the background, SHADOWY FIGURES look on, murmuring excitedly.

A hush falls over them. A secret passage CREAKS OPEN, admitting a somewhat out-of-place figure, a bespectacled man with an academic air. This is RUPERT GILES, who ascends the podium and clears his throat.)

GILES: Erm, greetings, hello, yes. My name is Rupert Giles, and on behalf of the Watcher's Council, I'd like to welcome you all to Earth for this first debate of the electoral season.

As you know, our previous Galactic Emperor is departing the office, due to having reached his term limit, and also having fallen down a shaft of a somewhat... bottomless nature.

Of course, this places us in a quandary. A new supreme leader must be named, and it's difficult to say just what procedure to follow, since Emperor Palpatine had most copies of our constitution burned, and has been using the last remaining one in his private sanctum as, well, a dart board. I'm afraid it's barely legible.

(clears throat) Undaunted, the Imperial Senate has called for an election to take place one year from this date. Our two most prominent political parties, the Galactic Alliance for Peace-- or “Light Side”-- and the Consortium for the Acquisition of Power-- or “Dark Side”-- have put up a number of candidates, and tonight we'll begin the winnowing-down process for the Light Side. It shouldn't be any time at all until we've located someone suitable... or at least less prone to slaughter.

Now, then. Let's turn our attention to the first question, which by virtue of a rather elementary Selection Spell will go to Senator Organa.

(Everyone looks to PRINCESS LEIA ORGANA, whose dress is stunning and whose hairstyle was probably the height of fashion in a galaxy far, far away. Unfortunately, when viewed from anywhere else it looks like two large cinnamon buns are stuck to the sides of her head.)

GILES: First of all, Princess Leia, I'm sure the entire Council wishes to offer its condolences on the tragedy of Alderaan.

LEIA: Thank you.

GILES: Also, before we begin, will you kindly persuade Captain Solo to stop shooting at vampires with his quad lasers? It only upsets them.

(Leia winces and murmurs to her aide, SEE-THREEPIO, who scuttles off in a tizzy.)

GILES: We're obliged, Your Highness. Now, our first question has to do with corruption. You've based your campaign largely on your promise to clean up the Emperor's scandals. But while your own record of humanitarian work is beyond reproach, there have been some ugly rumors about your family...

LEIA: Baseless rumors, without merit.

GILES: Apparently, your father was the Emperor's right-hand man, your foster father was part of his inner circle when he declared martial law, and your brother killed upwards of a million people on the first Death Star?

LEIA: ...yes, that looks bad...

GILES: How can you, then, a product of wealth and privilege, aspire to lead this galaxy into an egalitarian new era?

LEIA: Look, we could stand here all night and talk about the past, but I'd much rather discuss the future. What I stand for-- what the Organa family has always stood for-- is a return to the ways of the Old Republic.

GILES: Gridlocked bureaucracy? Huttese slavery rings roaming unchallenged? Forced conscription of children into the Jedi cult?

LEIA: Yes, that looks bad... (recovering) Erm, but I meant things like restoring the Senate, shutting down the cloning tanks so that no more innocents die at the hands of stormtroopers, instituting new and stricter regulations to curb the smuggling trade...

GILES: Forgive me, Princess, but aren't you married to a--

LEIA: Okay, you are really getting on my nerves, pal!

(She gives him the Royal Glare of Death, usually reserved for Corellians and Imperial Grand Moffs. Giles is flummoxed... until a zombie staggers out of nearby crypt and hands him an envelope.)

GILES: Ah, yes! It's time for a question from the audience! (He reads it.) I'm afraid this also touches on your life of privilege.

LEIA (dangerously) Go on...

GILES: Anya from Sunnydale wishes to know how much you paid for that hairstyle.

LEIA: Oh. (brightly) I did this myself, actually.

GILES: That explains a lot. All right... our next question will be for the ambassador from planet Vulcan. Mr. Spock...

(SPOCK OF VULCAN, a tall, thin man with a distinct greenish tinge, stands a little straighter.)

SPOCK: Greetings.

GILES: Peace and long life, sir. Now... you've campaigned strongly on your theme of “a more logical approach to government.” Some faith-based and charitable groups have termed this inadequate. What is your response to those who find your policies cold and lacking in compassion?

SPOCK (arching one eyebrow): “Thank you.”

(Giles waits, realizes that's all he's going to get, and clears his throat again.)

GILES: Alright. I should mention that Princess Leia is not the only candidate with family problems. Is it true your own father has endorsed, quote, “anyone but you?”

SPOCK: Indeed. Ambassador Sarek is a distinguished man, but we have... political differences.

GILES: Would you care to elaborate?

SPOCK: That would require colorful metaphors, the use of which I have been advised against.

GILES: I see. Ambassador, what may people expect from a Vulcan leader?

SPOCK: I have already spelled out my complete, 492-point platform in a multi-volume document which is available on my website.

GILES: Can you give us the highlights?

SPOCK: Expansion of scientific research, abolition of capital punishment in favor of a program of rehabilitation, re-distribution of wealth according to the needs of the many, and a strict but fair leader who is never wrong.

GILES: Never wrong? Surely some margin of error is to be--

SPOCK: I do not make errors. (beat, puzzled) Did you misunderstand my platform?

GILES: Apparently not. Our next candidate is from the Cardassian Union... forgive me, I don't know your correct title.

(An unassuming alien with a wide smile and a thick, corded neck beams at him. This is GARAK.)

GARAK: No titles. Just plain, simple Garak.

GILES: Mister Garak. I've been looking into your record...

(He looks offstage; a hooded WATCHER lugs in a huge, overstuffed file, panting and cursing, and drops it at Giles' feet with a THUD.)

GILES: It's both elaborate and... impressive.

GARAK: You're too kind.

(Giles tries to pick up the folder, quickly decides it's not worth the effort, and shrugs.)

GILES: If just one-tenth of this is true, you are a spy, an assassin, a war criminal, a charlatan, a monster--

GARAK: Please, Mister Giles. Leave something for my campaign commercials!

GILES: Bluntly, sir, I'm buggered if I know why you're running for the Light Side nomination!

GARAK: It's the people, mostly. I think you'll find I'm a people person. I like people, they like me...

GILES: Until you kill them.

GARAK: It gives me a genuine thrill to make new friends and help them with their problems!

GILES: --and then kill them.

GARAK (big smile): Only in the most extreme cases.

GILES: (sighs) Well... all right... as personally distasteful as you may be-- which is to say, as personally distasteful as anyone I've ever met, and I spend most of my time with the undead-- perhaps there's something in your policies which is of value. Where do you stand on civil liberties?

GARAK: Oh, I'm against them.

GILES: Torture?

GARAK: Mandatory on special occasions and alternate Thursdays.

GILES: How about wire-tapping?

GARAK: Too inefficient. I prefer direct neural implant.

GILES: Mr. Garak, do you have ANYTHING to offer as a candidate?

GARAK: Oh, yes. Security. My first day in office, I'll establish a special covert division of the Imperial Guard, dedicated to monitoring every citizen to ensure their thoughts, words, and actions work to the benefit of the State. Under my administration, the people of this Galaxy will never have to live with the unsettling feeling that their government isn't looking over their shoulders... every single second.

(Another Big Smile.)

GILES (stunned): Yes... erm... be that as... I mean... well...

GARAK: Oh, and fashion sense. You'll all have the benefit of my impeccable fashion sense.

GILES: Al...right, then. Moving on... our next question is for the Wizarding candidate, Professor Albus Dumbledore of Hogwart's School. Hello, Professor.

(A tall man with a long white beard and elaborate robes nods pleasantly.)

DUMBLEDORE: Rupert. Splendid evening, don't you think? How's the Slayer?

GILES: Oh, you know this younger generation... no appreciation for research, always running off without the proper incantations...

DUMBLEDORE: Tsk, tsk... indeed... why, just the other week, young Weasley...

LEIA: Maybe you two would like an adjournment so you can discuss magic in a committee?

GILES (shaking it off): Er... no, thank you. Professor, you're obviously a man of great deeds... Supreme Mugwump, Order of Merlin... but lately, the talk about you hasn't centered on those accomplishments.

DUMBLEDORE: A shame, really. Some of them were quite brilliant.

GILES: No doubt. But there's been a great deal of discussion lately about your sexuality.

DUMBLEDORE: Well, at my age, I must admit, just having the subject be of interest is flattering.

GILES: Do you really think the Empire is ready to be led by a gay wizard?

DUMBLEDORE: Come now, Rupert. If it comes to that, I dare say there's no one on this stage who isn't a veteran of slash fiction.

(General rumblings of agreement from the candidates.)

GARAK: It's practically a second career for me...

GILES: Still... none of the other candidates has been outed by their creators.

GARAK: Welllll...

GILES: Canonically outed. The polls show that's a real problem for values voters.

DUMBLEDORE: If we're speaking of values, I believe my predecessor was responsible for five-billion-plus deaths?

GILES: Er... yes. The values voters don't really have a poll about that.

DUMBLEDORE: Then I suggest we move on to something a bit more relevant to the campaign.

LEIA: Hear, hear!

GILES: In that case, let's take another question from the audience.

(A BAT swoops down from the ceiling and drops an envelope in Giles' hand. He opens and reads it...)

GILES: Here we are. Fred in Los Angeles writes: “Professor Dumbledore, you're celebrated for discovering the 12 Uses of Dragon's Blood. Can you tell us what they are?”

DUMBLEDORE: Rather a good question. Let's see. There's, erm... oven cleaner, car wax, Dragon's blood pudding... giving a transfusion to another dragon... and... erm... well...

GILES: You've only got four, haven't you?

DUMBLEDORE: Well, it's a matter of marketing, you know. Who would have bought a book entitled There Really Aren't That Many Uses for Dragon's Blood?

GILES: Fair enough. Our next candidate is a military man, Captain Dylan Hunt of the Starship Andromeda.

(A tall, strapping fellow in uniform-- DYLAN HUNT-- salutes smartly to the audience, which cheers. He catches Princess Leia's attention and winks. She rolls her eyes.)

GILES: Captain Hunt, welcome home to Earth.

DYLAN: It's good to be here. Especially on this Earth. You should see what the Nietzscheans have done to the place in my series' mythology.

GILES: Well, this Earth's no prize, what with the yearly demon apocalypse...

DYLAN: Still.

GILES: Now, Captain, I've been trying to make sense of your back story... apparently you were trapped in a Black Hole for some 300 years?

DYLAN: Near a Black Hole, yes.

GILES: Hasn't that left you out of touch with the problems of the modern voter?

DYLAN: Not at all. I have an excellent staff; they've brought me up to speed on everything I need to know about the modern Galaxy. Politics, alliances... even pop culture. Say, who else caught Fibber McGee and Molly last week? Is that a great show or what? Huh?

GILES: Erm...

DYLAN: No, no, I kid, really. Little joke. The fact is, Giles, I've been out there on the campaign trail, I've been meeting the people, occasionally exchanging small-arms fire with them... I think they're really excited about this campaign, and it's because I speak to their concerns. I'm now. I'm both hip and dope. In fact, I gotta say, I'm “the shizzle”...

LEIA: Captain Hunt, if you'll never use that sentence again, I'll vote for you.

(That gets a laugh from the crowd, to Dylan's chagrin. Giles soldiers on...)

GILES: Yes, but there's more to a campaign than personality. Why do you want to rule the Galaxy, Captain?

DYLAN: Babes, mostly. I mean--

(With a flicker of light, the ANDROMEDA HOLOGRAM appears beside him and whispers urgently in his ear. Dylan faces camera.)

DYLAN: Representative democracy, Giles. That's what I believe in, and back in the days of the Old Republic, we were just lousy with it. We couldn't go two hours without taking a vote on something, and if I'm elected, I promise to make a better world--

(The crowd seems to buy it, and Rommie sighs with relief.)

DYLAN: --in which I can score with babes.

(Rommie slaps her forehead and DE-REZZES.)

GILES: Well. That's a refreshing bit of honesty, really. I don't think we've ever had a candidate set out to create a sex scandal before. Although you might get some competition on that score from our next candidate. Representing the Ferengi Alliance: Quark, son of Keldar!

(QUARK, a diminutive Ferengi in a loud suit, steps forward, waving to the crowd.)

QUARK: Thank you, thank you all. It's great to be here. Top of the world, Moogie!

GILES: Mr. Quark, I believe you've been campaigning mainly on fiscal grounds...

QUARK: What other grounds are there?

GILES: If elected, what is it precisely you intend to do for the economy?

QUARK: I'm glad you asked that, Rupert. May I call you Rupert? Rupert, I'll make this brief-- I have to, because my idiot brother is charging me an arm and a leg to run the bar in my absence. If I'm elected, I'll shepherd this Galaxy into the future! I'll cut the tariff, deregulate industry, create a totally free-market economy. I'll make money! You'll make money! The oppressed people of the Galaxy will find new hope. But above all, I'll make money!

GILES: That's also refreshingly honest. You'd class yourself as a fiscal conservative, then?

QUARK: I'm not sure I understand these hu-mahn labels. What's the difference?

GILES: A fiscal conservative believes in supply-side economics, cutting spending, lowering taxes, letting people keep more of their wealth...

QUARK: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, sure... as opposed to?

GILES: A fiscal liberal, who believes in leveling the playing field to create government programs and help the less fortunate.

QUARK (breaking into giggles): You're making that up!

SPOCK: He is not. In fact, there are many logical reasons to...

QUARK: But... but why would I let some poor person get their grubby hands on my money? It's my money!

GILES: For the common good, I believe, is the theory...

QUARK: Common good, my left lobe! Did you miss the part where it was MY MONEY?!

GILES: Well, of course, we're only speaking hypothetically of--

QUARK (pointing at Spock): Well, then you can hypothetically take his money! My money is MY money! Why are we still talking about this?

GILES: Perhaps you're right. Actually, our next candidate is of a libertarian bent... I suspect he might agree with you. Captain Reynolds?

(MALCOLM REYNOLDS stands off to one side, clad in his long brown coat, trying to look unobtrusive. Even his answers are laconic...)

MAL: Runt's got a point. A man's entitled to what's his.

GILES: Then I assume you're for small government?

MAL: Don't care how big the government is, just so it keeps its nose out of my affairs.

GILES: If you feel that way, I'm surprised you'd want to lead the government.

MAL: Seems like a steady job. Pay's pretty good.

GILES: But what policies will you advance?

MAL: None. People promise not to shove their ideas on me, I won't shove mine on them.

GILES: What new laws will you support?

MAL: None. Reckon we got more than our share of law in this 'verse as-is.

GILES: But you must intend to do something if elected! What about foreign policy? Suppose there's a war?

MAL: If I decide to go to war, I guarantee you'll see somethin' new.

LEIA: Excuse me, Giles? I was under the impression we wouldn't be quoting from our movies in this debate.

DUMBLEDORE: You've already used, I believe, the committee quote.

LEIA: Oh, that's right. Never mind.

GILES: I think it's time for a viewer question. Have we got another question?

(A MUMMY pushes through the crowd. It allows Giles to unroll one of its bandages and read...)

GILES: Ah, it's from one of our Internet viewers. Jayne from Jaynestown would like to know your stance on labor practices, and particularly why you... quote, “pay your crew like they wasn't worth xiong mao niao.” Ahem! Doesn't that phrase mean...

MAL: Panda urine. Little joke 'twixt me and a friend of mine.

GILES: Odd joke. What's the punchline?

MAL: That'll be when I punch him.

GILES: Alright. It's time to introduce our final candidate, and then we'll have a few general questions. Welcome, Mister Stark.

(ANTHONY STARK, a dashing man with Clark Gable looks and a gleaming suit of red-and-gold armor, flashes a brilliant smile.)

TONY: Thank you, Giles. I'm glad to be here.

GILES: I note you've come in costume. Hoping to remind people you're the lead character of the upcoming superhero epic “Iron Man?”

TONY: Well, I don't have the name recognition of these others... yet. A little free publicity never hurt anyone. Plus, I just look so damn good...

LEIA (aside, to Dumbledore): He really does.

DUMBLEDORE: If a bit obvious for my tastes.

LEIA: Right. Sometimes I'm turned off by rugged handsomeness...

DYLAN: He's not the only ruggedly handsome guy here, you know!

(Leia and Dumbledore exchange a look, and SNICKER.)

GILES: You certainly don't lack confidence. And why should you? Billionaire industrialist, director of SHIELD, crime-fighting dynamo... is there anything you can't do?

TONY: Lose gracefully.

(LEIA laughs out loud and makes doe-eyes at Tony.)

DYLAN (miffed): You're still married, right?

LEIA: Yeah, but he's being all scoundrelly...

GILES (oblivious): Since you are, as you say, a lesser-known candidate, perhaps you could educate our audience about your platform.

TONY: Certainly. I'm a futurist, Giles. That means I'm smarter than you. I can do things that regular people might at first think slightly ill-conceived... only to later have them turn out to have been TREMENDOUSLY ill-conceived.

GILES: Like the Superhuman Registration Act?

TONY: Precisely. Let's take a good look at what I did there: I sold out my friends, undermined civil liberty, contributed to the death of the very symbol of American justice... and came out smelling like a rose. Now that's the kind of political savvy you're going to want in your corner.

GILES: It sounds very much like the previous Emperor's philosophy.

TONY: Oh, goodness, no. He was old and gross and had Force Lightning. I'm great-looking and have repulsor beams. It's totally different.

GILES: There are also the concerns about your drinking...

TONY: That's a manufactured issue the writers like to drag out every few storylines. Completely overblown.

GILES: She-Hulk told the newspapers about a certain Christmas party at which you consumed an entire bottle of whiskey and--

TONY: Frankly, I'm a little tired of this mud-slinging. Don't we want a different kind of campaign? Let's move on.

GILES: Well, I suppose...

MAL: Now, wait a minute. I got some fairly serious concerns here, an' I think we all deserve the truth. What kind of whiskey?

TONY: I'll tell you later.

(GILES looks from one to the other and sighs.)

GILES: With that, it's time for the lightning round. I'll go to each of you and ask you to state briefly what it is that sets you apart from the field. Princess Leia, you first.

LEIA: Experience, Giles. My opponents are all accomplished men, but only I have years of real leadership experience. As a Senator... as a military leader...

GARAK: As a dancing girl...

(A GASP from the crowd, and all eyes turn to the Cardassian, who is smirking slightly.)

LEIA: Just what are you implying?

GARAK: Oh... nothing, nothing. But a fellow tailor of mine, a former costume-maker for a certain Mister Fett, has come into possession of several photos of you in what appears to be a highly questionable metal bikini.

LEIA: But you wouldn't...

GARAK: Have my campaign workers post them all over the Internet with the caption “Shake it, Jedi mama?” Already done.

LEIA: Thank you, Garak. You're a professional.

GARAK: I like to think the High Road is its own reward.

(Meanwhile, the ANDROMEDA HOLOGRAM has reappeared with Dylan, and they're having heated words...)

DYLAN: --don't care how busy the crew is, I rely on you people to keep me abreast... uh, informed. WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN THESE PICTURES?

ROMMIE: I gave them to Harper to give you.

(Dylan glares out into the crowd, where SEAMUS HARPER is blushing and shuffling his feet.)

HARPER: Uh, yeah, sorry, boss. I'm still studyin' those...

GILES: If we might move on! We've got to cover a lot!

LEIA (grumbles): Pity Jabba's seamstress didn't.

GILES: Ambassador Spock, what sets you apart?

SPOCK: Careful study. I am dedicated to thorough, dispassionate, clear-headed analysis of every contingency, and correspondingly thoughtful action. I am never partisan, careless, or self-absorbed.

GILES (astonished) Then what the hell are you doing in politics?

SPOCK: I am no longer certain.

GILES: Mister Garak, I believe you've just demonstrated what makes you so special...

GARAK: It's a gift.

GILES: Professor Dumbledore?

DUMBLEDORE: My focus on education and my history of fighting evil. Finally, of course, I have a truly impressive beard.

TONY (scratching his mustache): That's true, it's really silky. What kind of conditioner do you use?

DUMBLEDORE: Dragon's blood. (snaps his fingers) That's five!

GILES: Captain Hunt?

DYLAN: Gut instinct, Giles. Instinct, willingness to take chances, and rugged handsomeness.

(Leia SNICKERS again.)

DYLAN: That'll do, Gidget.

GILES: Mister Quark?

QUARK: Ethics. I don't have any. That's why I pledge to blame my brother Rom for anything that goes wrong in my administration.

GILES: That's quite a timesaver.

QUARK: And very comforting! Go ahead and try it!

GILES: Perhaps later. Captain Reynolds?

MAL (to all candidates): Anybody ever sucked rattlesnake venom out of their own leg while under heavy bombardment?

(The other candidates all frown and shake their heads.)

MAL: Reckon I'm one up on ya, then.

GILES: Er... indeed. Finally, Mr. Stark?

TONY: I have tons of money, and I'm willing to buy votes.

GILES: Ha! Yes, but seriously...

TONY: I'm quite serious. I'll pay cash. Send your self addressed, stamped envelopes to Anthony Stark, c/o Avengers Tower, New York...

GILES (losing his cool for the first time): I'm sorry-- excuse me-- but this is a debate, not A SODDING GAME SHOW!

TONY: Ah, well. Nothing ventured...

GILES (deep breath): Let's have our final round of questions.

(With that, a VAMPIRE bursts from concealment and vaults to the podium, snapping and snarling. Giles calmly produces a wooden stake, DUSTS HIM, and picks an envelope out of his ashes.)

GILES: Ah, yes, excellent. Princess Leia, if you are elected, what is the first reform you'll institute?

LEIA: The most important thing is to get the people of this Galaxy working again. Too many years of propping up the Empire's massive military budget have left us in a recession. Why, just look at the mining industry. Yesterday I spoke to Lando Calrissian, who said his payroll had gone from--

GILES: Excuse me, with regard to General Calrissian--

LEIA: What? What is it now? That he's a compulsive gambler? A former traitor? Likely to embezzle billions from the government someday? Because it's true-- he is! It's ALL true! My brother's a cultist, my husband's a rogue, my father was a madman, my mother was a spineless wimp with a thing for madmen, my droids are dysfunctional, and my whiny-ass kids will probably grow up to be Sith Lords someday! I myself did some VERY questionable acting in “Return of the Jedi,” and you know what else? I kind of LIKED the metal bikini! There-- I said it!

None of that is supposed to matter, because I'm ten times more qualified than any of the nerf herders on this stage, but our whole political process has become such a farce that all anybody wants to talk about is dirty laundry! I swear, some days I think Palpatine had the right idea...

GILES: Actually, I was going to ask if Calrissian was talking about his Bespin mining operation or his Nkllon mining operation, but thank you for the lovely sound bites.

LEIA (tossing up her hands): ...and now I'm Howard Dean. I wonder if Luke can Jedi Mind Trick every voter in the Empire?

GILES: Amnesia spell? Bad idea. Take my word for it. Ambassador Spock, what will be your first priority?

SPOCK: I intend to “go green,” as humans say.

GILES: Aren't you already?

(Spock gives him a baleful glare.)

GILES: Little joke.

SPOCK: Microscopic. Yet the fact remains, we face an environmental crisis. The Emperor strip-mined dozens of worlds to build his Death Stars, catastrophically impacting their habitability. My own planet, Vulcan, has become practically a desert...

QUARK: Wasn't Vulcan always a desert?

SPOCK: Fascinating. (thinks about that, arches an eyebrow) Never mind, then.

GILES: Eh-- right. Mister Garak, your first step if elected?

GARAK: I've already taken it.

GILES: I'm sorry?

GARAK: It would be the height of arrogance to wait until after I'm elected to make my preparations. I think you'll find the machinery is already in place to ensure a smooth transition of power.

GILES: Not the-- erm-- neural implants?

GARAK: Of course not. I'm kidding! There are no neural implants! My first act in office will be teaching humans how to take a joke.

GILES: That's a relief.

GARAK: But really, Giles, duckies on your underwear? Tsk!

GILES (staring): Well... I'm suitably terrified. How about you, Professor Dumbledore?

DUMBLEDORE: I think all of us have spent too many years living in fright. It's time to put the Palpatine era behind us. That is why my first acts will include bottomless magical feasts in all school cafeterias, a catchier Galactic anthem, and the introduction of Funny Hat Day on Fridays.

GILES: You've certainly got a clear agenda. But what effect will all those bottomless feasts have on childhood obesity levels?

DUMBLEDORE: Curing obesity! Thank you! That was number six...

GILES: Halfway home, then. Captain Hunt?

DYLAN (of Dumbledore): My first act will be to vote for him. You think it's easy, keeping this killer bod?

(This gets a mild chuckle, and Dylan gazes around with a “You really LIKE me” stare.)

DYLAN: Giles, I believe in surrounding myself with good people and letting them do their jobs, unless they're taking attention away from me. I'll bring in an executive team that-- well, you'd have to see them. You take my starship-- please!

(Scattered, slight laughter from everybody except ROMMIE, who has reappeared and is silently shaking her head.)

DYLAN: And then there's Harper. Look, I'm not saying the guy strikes out with women, but he took his last date to a silent movie.

(A bit more laughter, while Giles starts to look annoyed.)

DYLAN: And the Nietzschean, he's a prize. This guy is so mean... this is where you say “How mean is he?” Come on: How mean is he? He's SO mean...

GILES: Excuse me, I'm sorry: What are you doing?

DYLAN: What? Comedy works. I was on a roll.

GILES (sympathetically): You really just want to be loved, don't you, Captain?

DYLAN: It's because of my childhood. I was raised on Tarn-Vedra, where I was the only kid with two legs. They used to call me “Naked Monkey Boy.”

LEIA: Suddenly it all makes sense...

DYLAN: And-- and when the other kids went off to play their Vedran games? (sniffles) I didn't get to play Vedran games. I didn't get to play 'Kentucky Derby' or 'Pin the Tail on Myself.' But I vowed... I vowed that one day I'd show them. I'd build a government of my own-- one in which people with ALL number of legs would live in peace and freedom! One in which basketball-- NOT Riderless Polo-- would be the Galactic sport of choice! One in which...

Aw, who am I kidding? (chokes up) I'm still just a naked monkey...

(Dylan dissolves into SOBS. While Rommie tries to comfort him, the other candidates stand around awkwardly.)

GILES: Um... yes. There, there. Poor fellow. Let's move on, shall we? Mister Quark, I assume your first act will be to vote yourself a pay raise?

QUARK: What?! No, no, no... I mean, yes. But that's my second act. My first will be to put an end to the Empire's brutality. I'm going to repeal the death penalty.

(The other candidates all stare at him, shocked.)

QUARK: What? I can have real political opinions.

GILES: It just seems surprisingly... altruistic for a Ferengi.

QUARK: You see? Everyone misunderstands us. Ferengi don't want people dead. Ferengi love people. They're our customers! Our customers are like family!

NEW VOICE: And we all know how you treat your family... don't we, brother?

(A GASP from the crowd, as the most diminutive Watcher pulls back his hood-- revealing Quark's awkward brother ROM!)

QUARK: Rom! What are you doing here, you idiot? You're going to ruin everything! And who's minding the bar?

ROM: I'm sorry, brother! I tried to keep quiet, but I can't! You know you're not qualified to run the government!

QUARK: So you're telling me nobody's minding the bar?

ROM: You don't have the people's best interests at heart!

QUARK: It seems to me I had your interests at heart when I offered you that GENEROUS BRIBE to keep your mouth shut!

ROM: I'll give it back!

QUARK: You see? The man's insane.

ROM: Brother, this is wrong! You haven't been honest with them!

QUARK: Honesty? These are politicians! They wouldn't know what to do with honesty!

TONY: That's true, we wouldn't.

ROM (to Quark): So you've told about the terrible job you did as Nagus? About the kickbacks you're receiving from the Bounty Hunting Guilds? About your string of crooked business deals?

LEIA: He actually has told us about those.

GARAK: Bragged, really.

QUARK: HA! You see? I'm no more corrupt than anyone else. Now get back to the bar!

ROM: All right, I will! But from now on, I want nothing to do with your lies! I'm through working for your campaign. And I'm voting for Dumbledore!

(The crowd CHEERS while Rom stalks away. Dumbledore takes in their applause with all modesty.)

QUARK: Can I change my opinion about capital punishment? Can I favor it for him? Say, immediately?

GILES: Too little, too late. Captain Reynolds, I realize you've pledged to advance no new legislation... but you must have opinions to share? What would you like to change?

TONY: Wyatt Earp here probably wants to bring back the horseless carriage.

MAL: Har har. Matter of fact, I have a shiny thought or three.

LEIA: That many?

MAL (glaring at her): 'Course, if the room ain't feeling sociable, I could save it for another time.

GILES: No, please, Captain. You've annoyed me far less than the other candidates so far. The floor is yours.

MAL: Well, as a matter of preference... not law, you understand, just preference... I can't say I'm in love with the Companions' Guild.

GILES: Interesting. I wouldn't have taken you for a social conservative.

MAL (awkwardly): Well, it ain't that so much... it just happens there's some Companions I don't reckon ought to spend so much time... Companioning.

GILES: This wouldn't have anything to do with the rumors about you and Inara Serra?

MAL: What? No! Did she tell you that?

GILES: Er, no, I just thought--

MAL: 'Cause there's no truth to it.

GILES: If you say so...

MAL: You bring in a Shepherd, I'll swear on a stack on Good Books there ain't no truth to it.

TONY: Then he'll just swear, period.

MAL: Likely so.

GILES: One might suspect we've hit a nerve.

MAL: A nerve?! Da-xiang bao-zha shi de la du-zi...

TONY: Oh, see, there he goes again.

GILES: Very Reaganesque, Mister Stark. Finally, of course, we come to you.

TONY: Thank you, Jarvis.

GILES: Giles.

TONY: Sorry. I get little people mixed up. Anyway, I'm going to echo Mister Spock's earlier call for scientific progress. In the 616-- that's my world-- we have all sorts of cool things you've never heard of here. Helicarriers. Time machines. Radioactive spiders. If elected, I pledge to make these advancements available to all!

SPOCK: Impossible.

TONY (polite smile): I'm sorry?

SPOCK: Your world, sir, is one of comic-book fantasy. None of its principles apply in the context of real-world scientific law. Therefore you cannot keep your promise.

TONY: Did you just call my tech unrealistic?

SPOCK: I meant no insult. Logic suggests--

MAL: No, he's right. You insult a man's gear, you insult the man.

TONY: Thank you, Mal.

MAL: Especially if he's a duded-up slicker in chrome underwear.

TONY: HEY!

MAL: Wyatt Earp, my ass...

TONY: By the way, Spock, how's that Genesis torpedo working out for you?

SPOCK: The Genesis torpedo is based on sound scientific--

TONY: Technobabble?

SPOCK: Were I fully human, I believe my response would be--

GILES: Gentlemen, please!

LEIA: When you boys are done comparing phasers, is there any chance of finishing this debate?

TONY: And you people, with your pseudo-religious mumbo-jumbo! “I sense a Great Disturbance in the Force! What does it mean? Is it from the Dark Side? Is it the barbecue I had for dinner? I can't be sure! Let's all sit around meditating about it while the Galaxy falls apart!”

LEIA: Oh, you really are an insufferably arrogant laser-brain! And it is SO wrong that I find that sexy!

DYLAN: Really? Because I can act like a--

LEIA: On you, it doesn't work!

TONY: I'm just saying, we all have our dramatic cheats. You're living in some very thin glass houses when you call my Universe implausible.

DUMBLEDORE: Well, don't look at me. My Universe is supposed to work by magic.

GILES: Everyone, please, settle down. We're approaching our time limit, so I'm going to let each of you get in a brief-- I repeat with all my heart, BRIEF-- final statement before we close. Princess?

LEIA: ahem. Thank you, Giles. It's time for this Galaxy to have fair leadership. Compassionate leadership. Leadership with cool theme music. None of the other candidates have a personal theme composed by John Williams. None of them have fought stormtroopers while swinging over a randomly-placed chasm. None have withstood Imperial interrogation.

MAL: I once had a little part o' my ear cut off.

QUARK: I didn't need to know that.

LEIA: I've been fighting for the freedom of this galaxy since I was old enough to pick up a blaster, and if you'll allow me, I'll continue the fight as your new chief of state. Help me, registered Light-Side voters. You're my only hope.

TONY: Nice touch.

LEIA: I mean, as a princess, ruling stuff is all I'm trained for. It's either this or...

DYLAN: Bikini model?

LEIA (grumbles): Forty-seven consecutive hours meditating upside-down on a rock, and we couldn't spend fifteen minutes on that Force-choke thing. Stupid Luke.

GILES: Thank you, Princess. Ambassador?

SPOCK: Greetings. The algorithm by which I deduced myself to be the most logical choice is an elementary one, and should be easily verifiable by anyone with a basic knowledge of the Daystrom Probability Principle. Beyond the raw numbers, however, I stand before you as a candidate who has strenuously devoted himself to the principles of rationality. Emotion creates war, imbalance, and strife. Logic brings peace, equity, and societal advancement. It is time to bring Surakian philosophy to the masses. I consider the logic of our situation to be irrefutable.

And yet, I am advised by an irascible colleague of mine that, quote, “People don't give a crap about logic, you green-blooded nitwit.” I leave you, then, with this appeal: Vote for me, or risk the Vulcan Death Grip.

GILES: I thought the Vulcan Death Grip was a myth. Is there really such a thing?

SPOCK: As far as you know.

GILES: Er-- yes. And now it's Mr. Garak's turn, although believe me, I'd like to skip it as much as you would.

GARAK: If I hadn't said so yet, Mr. Giles, it's been a pleasure. Ladies and gentlemen: I'd like to tell a brief story to make my point. I once knew a young doctor: a good-natured, solid, courageous young man, always helping the less fortunate. This of course was a remarkably stupid attitude, as I endeavored to point out to him many times over the years. Eventually, of course, I was proved right. He lost many friends in a pointless war, whole planets were devastated, and by the time I left him, that young man had the makings of an outstanding pessimist. I hope I can do the same for all of you.

GILES: Make us... more pessimistic, you mean?

GARAK: And paranoid. Remember, if you don't think they're out to get you... you're just making it that much easier for them. Thank you and good night.

GILES (who seems to have a headache): Thank you, Garak. Professor Dumbledore, will you say a few words?

DUMBLEDORE: Certainly: Nitwit, blubber, odd--

GILES: Coherent words.

DUMBLEDORE: Oh. Then I've got nothing.

GILES: Nothing?

DUMBLEDORE: Not a thing. I won't drag this debate out one more second.

GILES (eyes welling up with tears): That's... that's the most wonderful speech I've ever heard... (drying his eyes) Yes. On to Captain Hunt.

DYLAN: Thank you. Once, in a time of crisis, I said to a friend of mine: “All that matters in life is that we try.” But screw that, losing sucks. We have to win this thing! People of the Commonwealth-- Republic-- whatever, this is your time to be heard! I know you want a change! I know you want a tireless candidate, a dedicated candidate, a candidate whose sole thought is for you and your well--

(He sees Leia and Tony Stark, still making eyes at each other across the room, and trails off.)

DYLAN: All right, seriously: WHAT HAS HE GOT THAT I HAVEN'T GOT?!

(As Leia opens her mouth to respond, ROMMIE REAPPEARS.)

ROMMIE: Let me take this one.

(She approaches Dylan and starts whispering in his ear, while he nods his head repeatedly...)

DYLAN: Uh-huh... uh-huh... uh-huh... (looks at Tony) Well, I don't think he's that much more... (Rommie whispers emphatically) Uh-huh. Uh-huh... (to Giles) You can go ahead without us. This might take a while. (listening) Uh-huh...

GILES: Mister Quark?

(Quark clears his throat, straightens his jacket, and addresses the crowd of Watchers like a preacher at the pulpit.)

QUARK: Friends... hu-mahns... other, less annoying species... lend me your undersized ears. There's been a lot of talk tonight on a variety of issues, but we've yet to talk about the most important: Campaign Contributions! Sure, you might want the Light Side to win this election, but how many of you are willing to say it with latinum? With Imperial credits? With quatloos and dataries and Rupees? With galleons, sickles, and knuts?

HEAR ME, PEOPLE! Don't you know what's at stake in this election? Freedom's at stake, that's what! And justice! You hu-mahn types like justice, right? Well, there's not going to be any more of it unless you cough up the cash! The future of the Buffyverse, the Universe... even the Multiverse depends on you! Honestly, I'd have to say you're a bad person if you don't contribute. When the forces of darkness overcome us all, you'll have only yourself to blame.

Send your checks and money orders to Quark, c/o Deep Space Nine, Bajoran Sector, Trekverse. For every second you don't make a contribution, the Jem'Hadar kill ten adorable Tribbles. I know you'll make the right decision.

GILES: Thank you, Mister Quark, that was... innovative.

QUARK: Every word was from the heart.

GILES: Mercifully, we are nearing the end. Captain Reynolds?

MAL (clears his throat): There ain't nothin' between me and Inara. Not a damn thing. Also, anybody here needs a ship for any job, Serenity's well-maintained and we don't ask too many questions. That's all.

GILES: That's all? You're certain?

MAL (pointing at Quark): Well... what he said about the money, too.

GILES: Thank you, gentlemen. Mister Stark, the last word falls to you. (silence) Er... Mister Stark?

DUMBLEDORE: I believe he's gone.

(Indeed, Tony Stark is no longer in his place.)

MAL: Him and the princess took off, 'round the middle of that fund-raising speech.

LEIA (still in her place): We did? No, we didn't!

GARAK: I saw them, too. He said something about showing her his armor's full functionality.

DYLAN: Yeah, like that's SO much cooler than my force lance line...

LEIA: Guys, seriously, I'm right here! I wouldn't cheat on my husband! Not in the middle of a campaign...

GILES: Then what--

(One of the WATCHERS hurries forward and whispers something to Giles. He makes a face.)

MAL: What's the trouble?

GILES: Oh, dear. I'm afraid Mister Stark has fallen victim to a rather Puckish doppelgänger demon, imitating the Princess.

LEIA: As though any demon could make this hairstyle work.

GILES: We ought to find them, before--

(FROM OFF, the sound of BLASTER FIRE and MUFFLED SHOUTING. Giles starts toward the door... but then ROMMIE APPEARS.)

ROMMIE: Never mind. Crisis resolved.

GILES: But what happened?

ROMMIE: Captain Solo found them.

(With a final WOOKIEE ROAR, Tony's helmet comes bouncing merrily into the chamber, sans head.)

DUMBLEDORE: Alas, poor Iron Man.

DYLAN (to Leia): Thanks for thinking I'm repulsive.

LEIA: Anytime.

GILES (sighs): On that note, I think we should call it a night. Thank you to our candidates, thanks to everyone in the viewing audience-- we invite you to tune in next time, when my colleague Grand Admiral Thrawn will be moderating the Dark Side debate from his Star Destroyer Chimera.

Remember to never dance with singing demons, and of course: Get out and vote. Short of building a lightsaber and dedicating yourself to the Jedi arts, it's the surest way to influence the politics of your sector.

(While closing music plays and the credits roll, the candidates shake hands. Just before we cut away:)

TONY (from off): I'm alive! Sort of. Vote for me!

(An offscreen THUD, as he collapses. Fade to black.)