“Alright everyone, get that thing powered up, have you worked on the scripts at all?”

“Well, not really, I know how much you love to do it live…”

“I… just… just can’t with all of you..”

Andu shook his head as one of his “production assistants” walked away back towards the writing room, or what they had taken to calling the small kitchenette in the rear of the ship.

“Chief, Mr. Theta is ready, he wants to know what he should riff on.” A woman with a headset had walked up to him. “He’s getting impatient.”

Another call came from a large bank of scopes, power output notification, and subspace weather reports. “We are getting a clear band all the way almost to Earth, I predict it will last only a few hours at most, with all of the subspace deadzones now a days, it is hard to know how it is going to play out.” The woman at the controls turned towards Andu. “I’ve boosted the gain as much as I can.”

“Will have to do.” The man at the middle of the organized chaos, Andu Walker rubbed his face. “Alright, we go live in five minutes, since this is a test, let’s keep it simple, open with the station identification, cue Mr. Theta to do his thing, send the transmission. Close with Number Nine. I don’t want us to be on more than twelve minutes before we bounce the signal to the other beacons. I know that their resources are spread out, but the less time that the fleet has to track us the better.” The crew nodded as they moved to their assigned jobs.

A well put together Bolian coughed as he practiced. “This is, Mr. Theta… your loveable, lonely..” he coughed again. “Andu, this air is too dry in here, and I haven’t gotten my water, and when they brought me water, it didn’t have a lemon in it like I asked.”

“Get over it, you are only talking for about three minutes. I’ll make sure you have your lemon next time.”

“Alright, three minutes everyone.” The stage manager announced to the group. What once was the main cargo area of the ship now sported a studio. “Mr. Theta” walked over at sat down in a large, green, fur covered chair. A silver microphone sat in front of him. It caught the little wisps of light from the studio.

“Two Minutes, starting power to relays one through three.”

Walker smiled, this was going to be in his mind, the start of something new, something disruptive.

“One minute”

“One more thing before we go Mr. Walker, we never settled on terms for my fee. I am.. Mr. Theta after all.” The Bolian grinned almost falsely.

“Get through this and we’ll see.”

“Ten seconds places! Quiet on set!” the stage manager counted down.

“Five”

“Four”

She made the three, two, one, with her fingers before she cued the woman at the console. With the push of a button, the subspace relay that had been hotwired into the warpcore of the ship, sputtered to life, visibly dimming the lights in the cabin. A recorded message blared out across subspace.

All at once, a wide swath of subspace communication is taken over, or at least muscled out or interfered with.

Do not attempt to adjust your subspace dials, do not attempt to change the frequency, we are in control of all of it, left, right, up, down.

“You are now listening to, Radio Free Triangle, the only subspace station that can’t be beaten, subdued, or otherwise torn asunder, even if you tried. We now bring you you host, the one, the only, Mr. Theta.”

Cheering and shouting is heard

“Hello, Catians, and Klingons, and other bipedal or other such pedals, this is Mr. Theta, your loveable, if not a bit lonely host tonight. Now, you may be wondering, who the heck is this guy, why is he taking over subspace frequencies? How can this handsome devil pull off something? Why would he? Well, as we get to know each other, I’m sure we’ll figure that out together. I’m sure there is some admiral out there right now, yelling at some lacky, get this guy off my airwaves! I need to talk to my wife!”

Laugh track plays in the background

“Well, all you Cats and Klingons need to know is that for at least the next ten minutes, I’m in charge, and I will play what I want, when I want, and more importantly, who I want. We are going to start off with a track that goes out to all of you space pirates out here in the Triangle, really, the only free place left in the quadrant, this is a real banger from Authon Datonly, a very near and dear friend of mine, Trill, told me once in private that he had been through six hosts, wrote this diddy four hundred years ago to win a bet, and a round of drinks, anyways, here it is, a little data track called, Turn the Key”

“I always loved that piece. Oh how thrilling, gets the old blood pumping, now, for all of you fleeters out there, scratching your head, wondering what is going on, well maybe this is nothing, maybe we are ghosts, this is all a bad dream, maybe this is start of a beautiful friendship, maybe it is something that we can aspire to build on?

No?

Maybe?

Maybe he’s just loony, maybe this is a plot by the Klingons, who knows. Anyways, as I’m sure there is a huge contingent of operations and communications officers trying to trace this now, I’ll leave you with one last diddy, this if from what I understand it to be a group of large bugs that learned how to play instruments? No? I’m being told that they are not large bugs, but Terrans, Terrans that were turned to bugs?

I’m getting looks from the producer, anyways, this is a group called the Beats? No? Beetles? See bugs.

Oh… Beatles.. they changed their names, I don’t know, anyways, this is a just a taste of what is to come friends, for now, I leave you with what may be a revolution, or perhaps nine of them. Until next time friends, this is Radio Free Triangle, stay beautiful, stay funky, and, stay out of the Triangle.”

After the song ends, subspace frequencies return to normal.

“Theta baby! I love it!” Andu moved towards the Tholian and hugged him. “You’ve earned that lemon!”

“Thank you, I do it for the love of my fans, and well.. money.”

“Alright, get the stuff packed, we need to lift off this rock now, make sure to spin up relay five and six to bounce the frequency again, we are leaving.” Walker moved towards the cabin of the ship where the pilot was already making preparations for lift off.

“On to the next spot. Good work everyone! Triangle Radio lives!”