The Secret Origin Of Ben Sisko’s Baseball

Under a burning red sun the mighty planet Aaron orbited, unaware that the Fates were conspiring to thrust it headlong into the annals of galactic history. Deep in the heart of the world’s greatest city, the famous scientist Mant-El lived and worked. Many were the wonders Mant-El had invented, convenient were the, uh, conveniences he had created.  From the amazing self-cleaning ice cream scoop and the fabulously successful pocket fisherman to the atomic battery-powered personal bidet’, Mant-El’s inventions had ushered in a new era of greatness, peace and contentment, and general all around good times for the population.

Yet the seeds of destruction had been sown in the very core of the planet Aaron. Forces churning within the molten heart of the giant world prepared to reap a bitter harvest.  Mant-El, his momma having raised no fools, detected the coming disaster with his keen scientific knowledge and “Mr. Wizard” home chemistry set. Still the people of Aaron refused to heed Mant-El’s warnings, turning their collective backs to the truth. Only Mant-El’s faithful wife, Margg-Shaatt believed his dire predictions.

Mant-El made a solemn vow to preserve the legacy of the planet Aaron. As he stood in his laboratory, surrounded by his past glories, pondering the unponderable, he was struck with sudden inspiration. Gripped by a determination beyond understanding, Mant-El set to his labors. Wordlessly, he took his small flyer out over the vast plain west of the city.  Out over the towering Dee’Mah’Gee’Oh Mountains he guided his little craft, across the raging river of Mare-Riss, through the vast Soh-Sah forest with its nearly impenetrable stand of beefy Makk’Gwyre trees, finally reaching the far-flung Plain of Gerr’Rigg.  There he single-handedly, armed with no more than an ancient ceremonial butter knife, stalked, slew, and skinned one of the fierce equine beasts that roamed the grassy veldt.

Returning to his sanctum sanctorum, the scientist quickly fashioned a round core of the rare Aaronian element corkonite, and wrapped the animal hide around it. Then, as arcane energies swirled around him, Mant-El infused the small round object with the very essence of Aaron- the memories, the experiences, the knowledge of countless millions upon millions of Aaronians. The tiny sphere pulsed with power as Mant-El gently placed it in the space capsule he had prepared. He tenderly touched the little object and said a silent prayer to his god, the almighty Ruuth, to guide the ball in its journeys, to protect it from the unknown, to see it safely to its destination.

Thus, with his beloved Margg at his side, Mant-El launched the final legacy of the doomed planet Aaron skyward just as the ground around them began to violently quake.  Mant-El drew Margg close to him, knowing the end was near, and together they watched their gift to the Universe begin its voyage into destiny.

Arriving unharmed on the planet Earth, the small ball was adopted by a kindly elderly couple, Martha and Dizzy Dean. On their tiny middle American farm, the Deans instilled in the ball more homespun niceness and solid middle class values than in the average Norman Rockwell painting. Yet, still the ball yearned for greater things. Power from a source it could not name surged within it. When the Deans were tragically cut down before its eyes by a street thug, the ball swore on their graves to avenge all evil, wherever it may be encountered. To that end, it signed a Major League Baseball contract. Hey, just who do think it was that blew the whistle on Pete Rose anyway?

Over the years, the ball continued its fight for truth, justice, and $15.00 hot dogs. Many were its adventures- frozen for forty years in a block of ice, being doused in lightning-charged chemicals, bombarded with gamma rays, given a fantastic ring of power by a dying alien, being bitten by a radioactive spider, and winning the Miss America pageant. When mankind ventured into space, the ball went with it. As the first (and only) baseball in Starfleet, the ball has strove to serve with distinction, proud to uphold the long tradition of honor and honesty that has for so many years been the hallmark of the members of the Service.

Now, at long last, it has earned a rest. And so it garnishes the work place of one Captain Benjamin LaFayette Sisko, steadfast commander of Space Station Deep Space 9, keeping the galaxy safe from the evils of desktop clutter!

GAME OVER!  THE END!!

Back to the Titanic Tower of Top Tens!

Back to The Rohn'Mohr Chronicles!

(Note-- this story was written by me.  Any resemblance to any superheroes, living, dead, and living again is strictly coincidental, I assure you! <g>  You are welcome to quote it or link to it at your discretion, but please credit me when you do.  Trust me, I'm one big, mean, bad ass dude, and you do NOT want to cross me, Pally!)