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The Search for Plot
Star Trek: The Wrecked Generation
Episode One: The Search for Plot!
By Those Dudes.
Space, the prime-time frontier. These are the voyages of the
Starship Enterputz, its never-ending mission: to explore
improbable new worlds, to seek out new life and surrender to it,
to meekly go where no sentient being(s) has bothered going
before!
"Captain's log, First Officer Smirker recording. Captain
Thickhard has yet to board the newly commissioned N.A.I.U.S.S.(1)
Enterputz, first of the line in the Galaga Class. I have heard
of his prowess under strain, his piercing wit and his youthful
ingenuity! I look forward to meeting him. First Officer out."
First officer Smirker snapped off the recording device and
turned to again admire the shiny new bridge of his brand new
starship, smiling annoyingly. Gone was the old archaic design
based on the outmoded warships of the early Fetteration. The
new design reflected the current image of the New and Improved
Fetteration - it looked like a cheap late twentieth-century
lounge. He frowned in mild annoyance that his chair was not
higher than the captain's chair as his post warranted. The
heads of some engineers he'd paid off would roll for this.
"Commander, Lieutenant Wart reporting for duty, SIR!" said
a large, dark, bulbous-headed Klingon stepping out of the new
and improved turbo-lift.
"Klingon your post Mister, the Captain is due at any
minute." said Commander Smirker, starting to salute but
remembering himself quickly.
"Aye aye, SIR!" barked Wart, snapping to attention so hard
you could hear it. He goose-stepped over to his communications
station and turned to face Smirker again. "What shall I do now,
SIR?"
"You might get yourself acquainted with the new and
improved equipment. Sit down and look busy Mister Wart." said
Smirker, smiling.
"There appear to be no chairs, SIR." pointed out Wart.
"But chairs are only for the weak, SIR!"
"Well carry on." said the First Officer, crossing his arms
and looking away with an air of indifference.
"Interesting." said Lieutenant Ratings from his post near
the big projection screen. "All the high ranking officers have
chairs. And if we accept Lieutenant Wart's hypothesis that
chairs are for the weak, then it follows logically..."
"Don't you have something to do Mister Ratings?" snapped
Smirker, rising to pace.
"Actually sir, no I don't. I point out that we are in dry
dock Commander. That leaves little for a helmsman to do." He
half-turned in his seat to face the Commander. "Do you have any
suggestions to occupy my time sir?"
----------
(1) N.A.I.U.S.S - New and Improved United Star Ship
The First Officer glared at the Lieutenant and muttered
something under his breath.
"Indeed?" said Ratings, "That would be anatomically
difficult sir, but perhaps if Lieutenant LaFudge was to..."
"Belay that! Damn your android ears!" He smiled and posed
reflectively as the android looked around perplexedly,
apparently trying to get a look at his ears. Lieutenant Ratings
was performing his single most important function on the ship -
comic relief.
Just then the turbo lift doors swooshed open and an
elderly, balding man doddered out and surveyed the bridge with
hands on hips and evident displeasure.
"Zut Alors! What a cheesy looking bridge!"
"Hey old man! The civilian decks are downstairs!" said
Commander Smirker, wiping off his grin. "Wart, get this old
fool off the bridge before Captain Thickhard shows up!"
"What is dis ting! Insubordination from my First Officer
on my first day!" he said in a heavy French accent.
"Captain, SIR!" bellowed Wart, whip-cracking to attention.
"Oh, Captain Thickhard." said Smirker in consternation,
running quickly to lick his boots. "I did not recognize you. I
had not expected somebody with so many many years of
experience."
"Hien? Why is dere a cresty-headed Klingon on my bridge
Number Two? Are we under attack? Have we been invaded?"
"Uh, number ONE sir, and no. Lieutenant Wart is our
Communications officer."
"You say? But are we not at war with the Klingons?"
"No sir, not since the G.E.E.K(2) agreement some years ago."
"Ah yes, I recall. We nuked their home world." He glanced
down. "No bootlicking on my bridge, Number Two." he said
walking away.
"Number ONE sir," said the First Officer, smiling thinly
and following. The Captain stopped in the center of the bridge
and said,
"What is out of place here?" he said, looking straight at
Lieutenant Ratings. "Sacre Bleu! There is a tin man at the
helm Commander Smirker!"
"That is Lieutenant Ratings, sir. The first android ever
to go through Starfleet academy." He smiled condescendingly.
"At your service Captain." said Ratings.
"Well I suppose that should make me feel better." muttered
Thickhard. He leaned over to his First Officer. "A tinkertoy
and a Klingon on my bridge. I suppose you are going to tell me
now that my navigator is blind or some'ting."
"He is also black sir." interjected Ratings helpfully.
"That's S.W.E.L.L(3), isn't it?" said Thickhard.
"If you say so sir." responded Smirker, turning to sit in
the middle chair, but quickly changing his mind as the Captain
----------
(2) G.E.E.K - General Elimination of the Expansion of Klingons
(3) S.W.E.L.L - Super Wonderful Equality Liberalization Legislation
cleared his throat.
All heads turned to the turbo-lift doors as they opened to
admit a young negroid officer to the bridge. Around his eyes
was what appeared to be a pair of funky wrap-around sunglasses.
"Lieutenant Gorky LaFudge reporting for duty, sir." he
intoned, snapping his heels crisply and turning to face the
water cooler.
"Very well, man your post." said the Captain with an air of
resignation.
"Huh?" said LaFudge, looking about questingly. He shrugged
and proceeded to bump and stumble his way to his chair, swinging
his console/keyboard into place in front of himself.
"Why is he waving his head about like Stevie Wonder,
Commander?" asked Thickhard. "Oh never mind. I do not tink I
want to know. Lieutenant LaFudge, plot us a course out of the
system. Lieutenant Ratface, engage."
"That is Lieutenant Ratings, sir." said the android
amiably.
"What a silly name! What kind of a name is dat?"
"I chose my name myself, sir. It reflects my essence, my
true form, for ratings are my purpose in being."
"Oh. Well then dat would explain your red bulb nose,
spinning bow-tie and funny greasepaint makeup. Zut alors! Zat
is all I need, a comedian on the bridge."
"CAPTAIN!" cried Lieutenant Wart. "I am detecting an
unauthorized energy flux on deck nine!"
"What is it?" cried Smirker, shoving the Captain out of the
Way.
"It appears to be a small nuclear powered craft. And it's
approaching the bridge!" said Wart. "Permission to prepare for
attack, SIR?" he pleaded.
"We don't even know what it is, Wart." said Smirker.
"That makes it all the more dangerous, SIR!" said
Lieutenant Wart.
"I'm sure that we can deal with whatever it is in a
peaceful and enlightened manner..." began the First Officer,
smiling in a peaceful and enlightened manner, when the side door
to the bridge snapped open and a wimpy-looking kid on a powered
skateboard shot through. He careened across the bridge and,
just before impacting on the far wall, attempted a rather
radical change in direction. Unfortunately the skateboard had
other plans and left him flat on his back while it rocketed
towards an unsuspecting LaFudge, who had somehow missed his
entrance. There was a hollow 'thump' sound.
"Merde!" said Thickhard, springing to his feet. "What is
this little rug-rat doing on my ship? Is he a stowaway?"
"Hey, neat!" said the kid, leaping up and pushing the limp
form of LaFudge out of his chair. "An unmanned navigation
console! Gee Captain sir, can I play with it? I've eaten all
my vegetables and cleaned my room, so can I? Huh?" He began
pressing buttons with wild abandon.
"Wart!" cried the Captain. "Restrain him!"
"Ruarrgh!" bellowed Wart, clocking the kid in the noggin.
"Sir, I believe this child is one of the civilian
passengers." said Smirker earnestly.
"Well what is he doing on my bridge?"
"Unknown. However, if we question him, we may get
answers."
"Good idea." said the Captain. He turned to where Wart was
pounding the unconscious youngster against the wall. "Wart! I
said restrain him, not dismember him!"
"Sorry SIR." said Wart, stepping away from the limp lad.
"Doctor Lusher to the bridge!" said Smirker to his chest
intercom-bangle. In a few moments the Doctor, dressed in a
tatty blue nightgown, staggered drunkenly out of the turbo-lift
and over to the kid.
"Nestle! My poor baby!" she cried, flinging herself down
on the boy. She turned and glared venomously at Thickhard.
"You couldn't be satisfied with my husband, you had to kill my
boy too, didn't you Thickhard!?"
"Who iz this woman Number Two?" said the Captain.
"That is Doctor Lusher, sir, the Chief Medical Officer for
the Enterputz." said Smirker, nostrils flaring in annoyance.
"You say I killed your husband?" said Thickhard.
"As if you don't remember!" said the Doctor between
crooning over her boy and administering healthy doses of
painkillers. Some even to the kid.
"Lusher, Lusher..." mused the Captain. "Oh yes, I remember
him. It was an accident or something, just like all the
others."
"Oh, well that's okay then." said the Doctor, smiling at
him. "And here I've been holding such an attractive man
responsible for something he didn't do. How about dinner
tonight after I give you a complete physical?"
"Hmmm." said Thickhard. He stepped aside as two orderlies
carted out LaFudge on an anti-grav slab.
"Interesting." said Ratings, examining the skateboard. "It
appears to have been super-charged with a small fusion reactor
sir."
"Is it stable, Ratings?" asked a worried Smirker, his
melodramatic pose faltering a little.
"Relatively so, sir. However, I cannot guarantee that it
will stay so indefinitely."
"Good, we need a sub-plot." said Thickhard approvingly.
"But SIR," said Wart, "What about our plot?"
"We'll worry about that when we get one." snapped
Thickhard.
"Engaging warp drives, Captain." said Ratings. There was a
pause.
"Did I tell you to do zat?" said Thickhard in a strained
voice. "I 'tink not."
"But you did, sir." said Ratings. "Approximately 15.2134
minutes ago."
"Well yes, but I didn't expect this delay..."
"It takes 14.523 minutes to warm up the warp drives from a
cold start, Captain."
"Did it not occur to you, Ratings, that we do not have a
navigator?" said Thickhard in a patient tone.
"But sir, there is a course laid in." pointed out the
android. Thickhard turned to Smirker.
"Well, First Officer? Explain this." Smirker's face
slowly lost it's annoying grin.
"Uh... Me? Oh, me. Well, I guess the kid, Nestle, must
have laid one in while he was at the console."
"In that short time?" said Thickhard. "What was 'is name?
Nestle? Quick kid. Make him an acting ensign or someting when
he gets out of traction dere." He turned back to Ratings. "So
Mister Ratings, can you tell us where we are going?"
"I shall ascertain the course laid in, sir." said Ratings.
He leaned across to the navigation console, pushing Gorky's
cracked sunglasses off the panels. There was a pause. "Oh
dear." he said.
"Hien? What do you mean? What iz dis 'Oh dear'?"
"Well sir, it would appear that we are heading into
uncharted space at warp nine."
"Well then, just turn us around." said Smirker pompously.
"I'm afraid it will not be that easy, sir. There is a
lockout code programmed into the console. Until Lieutenant
LaFudge can correct our course, we are helpless."
"What a silly plot device!" said the Captain angrily. "You
mean to zay that if a wrong course is entered on one terminal
the whole ship is on a one way roller coaster trip to hell?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Ah. Number Two - explain!"
"Well Captain..." said Smirker. His voice trailed off.
"I'm waiting." said Thickhard, tapping his foot.
"Uh..." he waffled, stalling for any interruption.
Suddenly Lieutenant Wart called out:
"SIR! I'm picking up an unknown form of energy on the
scanners!"
"What do you mean?" asked Thickhard. "If it's unknown, how
come we have instruments built to detect it? Number Two..."
"I DON'T KNOW! Ratings, you explain."
"Well sir," began Ratings. "Perhaps... forethought?"
"I zuppose zat will have to do." said Thickhard.
"Lieutenant Wart, where is zis energy coming from?"
"From that ominous looking space cloud up front there,
SIR."
"N'est-ce pas! Or whatever. Mister Ratings, what is dis
ting dere?"
"It appears to be a class-R glowing sentient anomaly,
Captain. I shall perform further analysis with the ship's
computer to learn it's form of communication."
"THAT WILL NOT BE NECESSARY." boomed a voice from above.
"I AM OMNUS, AND I HAVE HAD DEALINGS WITH YOUR KIND BEFORE."
"Oh. Good." said Thickhard. "Zo you know us to be a
kindly, peace-loving..."
"PREPARE TO DIE."
"I say we fight, SIR!" cried Wart, diving for the phaser
controls.
"Mr. Omnus, what have we done to deserve such harsh
treatment? Surely in your dealings with the Fetteration..."
began the Captain again, but he was rather rudely cut off when
the ship shuddered and bounced like a cheap circus ride.
"FETTERATION SCUM! I, OMNUS, WAS ATTACKED AND NEARLY
DESTROYED BY TRICKERY ONE HUNDRED OF YOUR EARTH YEARS AGO BY
YOUR VERY SHIP, THE ENTERPUTZ!"
"But how can this be? I was assured this was a new ship."
said the Captain.
"Sir," began Ratings. "I have found records in the ship's
computers relating to an intelligent cloud-being called Omnus,
who was encountered and supposedly destroyed by an early
Constipation-class ship also named Enterputz, Captained by an
obscure, relatively unknown officer named James D. Jerk."
"JERK!" bellowed Omnus, rattling the ship like a can in a
paint shaker. Once Thickhard located his hearing-aid and
plugged it in again, he faced the screen and peered intently at
the glowing being.
"Number Two, who is our alien contact specialist?" he
asked.
"Tryme, sir." responded Smirker with a smile.
"I'd rather not." said Thickhard.
"No, no, I mean Councillor Deanna Tryme. She's the
resident psychic and crew sexual morale officer. She is also
our N.I.F.Ty(4) expert."
"Well get her up here!" In short order, the turbo-lift
doors once again swooshed open and a gorgeous female in a
slinky, low-cut gown undulated out.
"Hubba hubba!" said Thickhard, his eyes bugging out. "Is
that babe the Councillor?"
"None other." she breathed sultrily, gliding up to him.
"And you are the one and only Thick... Hard..."
"I like the way you say that. You sit here up front from
now on." said Thickhard.
"But Captain..." began Smirker.
"Shut-up Number Two, there are plenty of other places I
could stick you."
"Really?" said Smirker eagerly, but the Captain was
ignoring him and staring at Deanna's insignia rather intently.
"Zo, Miss Tryme, how can you help the situation?" said
Captain Thickhard.
"Sir, she gets feelings." said Smirker helpfully.
"Yes Number Two, she's sure feeling mine."
"DIE!" bellowed Omnus, blasting energy bolts at the
Enterputz. The ship rocked and reeled, the crew being wafted
back and forth for minutes.
"Captain," said the Councillor, "I feel... anger. Great
anger. I feel... violence. I believe the violence and anger go
together. I feel... nauseous."
"Wow! Right on all counts! Fantastique! Sit right here
by my side and tell me all about it." The ship was jolted again
by another blast that made the first feel like a gentle breeze.
"Captain, I am sensing... greater violence. So much
violence! So much anger!"
----------
(4) N.I.F.Ty - New and Improved Treaty
"SIR! Shields are buckling!" shouted Wart.
"Do you see that? Right again! Is she not amazing? Tell
me my dear, does my hand bother you there?"
"SIR!"
"What is it Lieutenant Wart? Oh, the shields. Well,
divert more power from somewhere. I shall deal with dis upstart
alien." said the Captain. He crossed his arms importantly and
stepped forward to confront the image on the screen.
"Omnus! I am Captain Hard-Luck Thickhard, of the NAIUSS
Enterputz. Why do you wish to destroy us?"
"WHAT? ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? HMM, THIS IS GOING TO BE
HARDER THAN I THOUGHT. OBVIOUSLY THIS SHIP IS NEW AND IMPROVED.
NO MATTER. I CAN WAIT A YEAR OR TWO FOR YOU TO WEAKEN."
Ratings turned to the Captain.
"Sir, I do not believe our shields will last anywhere near
that length of time."
"How long have we got?"
"At the present rate of drain... two minutes, forty-nine
seconds?"
"Then I see we have no choice in the matter. We
surrender." There was a choking sound from Lieutenant Wart.
"There," continued the Captain, "That was easy. Come my dear,
let us retire to my cabin to go over the terms..."
"I AM OMNUS! AND I ACCEPT NO SURRENDER!"
"What? Not even a little one?" said Thickhard in
annoyance. "Comme-ci, Comme-ca, then we don't surrender. C'est
la vie."
"Or in this case, death, sir." said Ratings.
"So we must out-think this whatsit." said the Captain.
"'Whatsit', sir?" said Ratings. He cocked his head in
puzzlement. "Ahh yes, Whatsit. See also: article, entity,
thingamajig, dingus, widget, gadget, thingamubob,
whatchamacallit, dat 'ting dere..."
"Yes, yes." said Thickhard in impatience. "Can you scan
Omnus there for weak points?"
"It will take a few moments sir... yes, now I have it.
There is a glaring weak point off to one side, there. Right
where it turns pinkish."
"Wart, can you fire a phaser blast into there?"
"I suggest photon torpedoes, SIR!" said Lieutenant Wart,
eagerly fondling his weapons console.
"Oh? And why is dat?"
"They provide maximum damage and blast radius SIR. Also, I
took the liberty of having them overcharged for just such an
emergency SIR!"
"Just zo, just zo. Put yourself down for a commendation
and fire when ready." Scarcely were the words out of his mouth
when a dozen torpedoes were rocketing towards their mark.
Thickhard whistled at the brightness of the explosion on the
screen. He turned to Commander Smirker, who was hunkered down
in his chair and looking rather green.
"You know, I tink I like dis Klingon fellow after all."
said Thickhard to him, but Smirker merely gave him a weak grin.
"Captain," said Ratings slowly, "I believe we have just
violated several space treaties, including S.P.I.F.F.Y.(5), as
well as the Prime Directive."
"Bother." said Thickhard, stopping as he was assisting
Deanna out of her chair.
"Yes! That's right!" cried Commander Smirker excitedly.
"You broke the treaties! You did! I saw you!" He was beside
himself with glee. "I can relieve you of command now!"
"Not so fast dere buster!" snapped Thickhard. "You forget
the N.I.C.E. clause." The bridge crew exchanged glances.
"N.I.C.E., sir?" said Ratings.
"Notwithstanding Invincible Cosmic Entities." said
Thickhard smugly.
"Ahh yes... of course." said Ratings. "A natural
corollary." Smirker stomped off the bridge in a tiff, while the
Captain began to escort Deanna to his office. There was a
painful sounding:
"OHHHHhhh..." from Omnus.
"A la mode!" cried Thickhard. "Iz dat ting still alive?
Lieutenant Wart, fire off some more torpedoes!"
"We're all out, SIR!" said Wart in great annoyance.
"Well den fire off some phasers or someting! If dat ting
iz still alive when I come back tomorrow morning your
commendation shall be in question."
"Understood, SIR!" said Wart, snapping to attention again.
As the Captain left, Lieutenant Wart stabbed a finger at his
intercom.
"Engineering! Divert ALL power to phasers!" Then he dove
at his phaser board.
Thickhard was nearing his cabin and chatting with the
Councillor when the lights dimmed several times and then the red
alert signs all shut off.
"Dat's dat." he said to Deanna. "Now ma petite chou-chou,
you go on ahead and wait for me. We have much to... discuss.
Duty calls me away for a moment." He left her and strolled to
the sickbay.
"Ah Number Two, I see you are visiting Nestle also." said
the Captain as Smirker got hurriedly to his feet and wiped his
hands surreptitiously on his pants.
"Captain!" he said with forced good humor. "How nice to
see you. Solved the whole problem did you?"
"Well, If the good Doctor has my blind navigator fixed I
will have. Ah, madam Doctor." Doctor Lusher stumbled in
clutching an I.V. bottle.
"Well hello Captain." she crooned, weaving over to him.
"Come to see me finally have you? Oh how I've missed you.
You've missed me too, haven't you?"
"Sacre Bleu! I hate romantic sub-plots!" He pushed the
overly affectionate doctor away. "I have no time for zis,
madam! Where is my navigator?"
"Oh. Well, he's actually much better than he looked at
first."
----------
(5) S.P.I.F.F.Y. - Special Prohibition and Interdiction of
Fusion-weapons Flying Yonder
"You mean he's alive?"
"I mean it looks like he may come out of his coma."
"I'm sure Nestle didn't mean anything by it." interjected
Commander Smirker anxiously.
"How is the boy?" asked Thickhard, poking the inert figure
on the bed.
"Resting comfortably. I gave him something to help him
sleep." said Doctor Lusher dreamily.
"Indeed." said Thickhard glancing askance at his First
Officer who was standing at attention and sweating profusely.
"Anyway, I have business in my cabin, which cannot wait any
longer." And with those words the good Captain strode out.
Back on the bridge Lieutenant Wart was grinning demonically
at his readouts, which showed the messy demise of the being
called Omnus (in slow motion from three angles). Suddenly his
console crackled with energy. He frowned crestily, kicking the
console solidly.
"Lieutenant Wart," began Ratings, studying his panel with
alarm. "The entity has vanished completely. Not even any
residue. That is extremely odd." Back at Wart's station,
glowing tendrils of energy were crackling up the Klingon's arms
from his hands, which were clutched to the console.
"It appears that the last remnants of the creature were
headed in this direction when they vanished." continued Ratings,
punching a few lit sections of his board pensively. "Odd."
Lieutenant Wart, at this point, had released his controls and
was stumbling back whilst sparks shot from the ridge on his
skull. He stiffened and toppled over like a felled tree.
Ratings turned at the noise and regarded Wart.
"Lieutenant Wart, are you entirely well?" asked Ratings
finally.
The turbo-lift doors swooshed open and Lieutenant Commander
Yargh sauntered onto the bridge. She paused on the threshold
looking dazedly about before she strode forward, carefully
stepping over the prone form of Lieutenant Wart. She hesitated.
"Lieutenant Wart, what are you doing down there?" she
inquired airily. Then she walked over and flopped down in the
captain's chair, hooking one leg over the arm.
"I am unaware of the cause for Lieutenant Wart's
disposition." said Ratings. "He was not in that state when I
last looked over there."
"Oh wow! I can't deal with this now. Like, there's a new
Captain on board and everything." she prattled vacantly. "I
think maybe I'll go off to my cabin and flake out or something.
Do you like what I have done with my hair Ratings? It's all the
rage on Cerebellum III."
Ratings regarded her regulation bowl cut without any overt
distain.
"It is better than mine Lieutenant Yargh." he observed,
referring to his lank, greasy plastic toupee. "But shouldn't
you do something about the state of Lieutenant Wart? You are,
after all, Chief of Security."
"Oh yeah, right." She stood and sauntered over to the
turbo-lift. Looking at her reflection in the chrome panel next
to the doors dreamily she said, "I guess I'll call sickbay or
something." The doors opened and she traipsed out.
Later in sickbay, Doctor Lusher examined Lieutenant Wart
who was pad-locked down to an examination table. She was
holding a rather complex looking instrument covered with lots of
neat flashing lights. Commander Smirker stood watching over her
shoulder the whole time. He looked at her, then at Lieutenant
Wart, then at the instruments, then he did a quick mug at the
camera. He rested one foot on the edge of the bed, planted his
elbow on the knee and rested his chin on the fist theatrically.
"How is he?" he intoned melodramatically.
"He would be better if you got your foot off his leg."
snapped the doctor. "Where is the Captain? Are you sure you
called him?"
"There is nothing I can't handle here as second in command
and First Officer of this vessel." He smiled. "Why I can even
beam down to a planet while the Captain has to park his
hemmoroids up on the bridge..."
"What is dis you are saying?" asked the Captain, coming up
behind them, buttoning up his smoking jacket and wiping a
lipstick smear off his left cheek. "Dis here had better be
important. The Councillor and I were engaged in delicate
discussions about de crew morale!"
"Thickhard!" spat the doctor tempermentally. "Just look at
what you've done to Wart! Allowing your officers to be mowed
down like this borders on criminal negligence!"
"What iz dis daffy female talking about Number Two?"
"Number One sir, and it appears Lieutenant Wart was found
in this condition by Ratings."
"Did he zee what happened to him? I ... wait a minute. I
count you, and me. Lieutenant LaFudge is in a coma over dere and
here iz de Klingon." He held up six fingers for emphasis. "So
tell me Number Two, who is running my ship?"
"Lieutenant Ratings I suppose."
"And...?"
"Just Lieutenant Ratings... sir." said the First Officer,
beginning to fidget.
"S'il vous plait! You mean to tell me that mechano-set
monstrosity is running my ship unattended?" He stomped his foot
angrily. "I left you in charge. Why are you not up dere?"
"Who, me? I was left in charge? Me?" Smirker smiled.
"Oh boy, my own ship! I'm in charge! Thankyouthankyouthankyou
sir, you won't regret this!" he cried, running out.
"I am already regretting dis." muttered the Captain. "How
long is dis stupid mission?"
"With plots like these..." began the doctor gloomily, when
Wart began to twitch violently and drool.
"Oh good. Signs of life. What is it dat your instruments
show doctor?" asked Thickhard.
"Odd, I have never seen anything like it." mused the
doctor, waving her silly apparatus over the Klingon once again.
"My instruments show nothing."
"Well dat is better than instruments that detect unknown
substances I suppose. Can you do anything with zem madam
Doctor?"
"Perhaps the med-scanner is malfunctioning..." began Doctor
Lusher, when there was a scurrying sound from the other
room.
"All right!" cried Nestle, leaping off his guerney and
racing into the room. He snatched up the device and had it
apart in seconds. "A real Starfleet instrument to repair! I'll
need some parts from engineering, but I'll have this thing fixed
before you can say puberty!" He raced off as Thickhard tried to
get a word in edgewise.
"Zut! Madame Doctor, can you not control zat little ankle-
biter?"
"Now now, Thickhard," said Doctor Lusher. "You wouldn't
want to inhibit his mental growth."
"I wouldn't?" asked the Captain. "Already he's a pain in
the deriere, and he's not even out of puber..."
"I'm back!" cried Nestle, who was trundling in a metal cart
filled with glowing and beeping devices (several of which
shimmered with unguessable power). "I had to cannibalize the
transporter circuits, but this baby should have a range of fifty
parsecs now!"
"Nestle, it's a hand-held med scanner." said Lusher,
peering at it closely. "It doesn't need that great a range."
"Aw gee, mom, you didn't think I'd fix something without
improving it, didja?" wailed Nestle.
"Vat do you mean, you cannibalized my transporter circuits?
If you damaged zem you little tete-de-merde, I'll have you
shot!" Thickhard made as if to throttle Nestle, but the Doctor
stood him off with a hypo.
"Gee Captain, it'll be alright." said the kid. "Besides,
now you can examine Lieutenant Wart, right mom?"
"That's right dear." said the Doctor, moving the cart of
instruments closer. "Now, do I just push this button?"
"NO!" screamed Nestle. "You'll drop the shielding on the
core and kill us all!" Doctor Lusher recovered quickly and
stepped away from the unlikely contraption as if it had bit her.
"You operate it dear." she said. "After all, you are
working on your medical degree too, aren't you?"
"Aw mom! That was last week!" cried Nestle. "I'm into
Galaga-class starships now!" Never-the-less, he began spinning
knobs and pushing buttons.
"Thickhard to Engineering!" said the Captain, who had
retired to the all-purpose wall console. "I want whoever is
Chief Engineer this week to get down to the transporter and
examine it for damage. And if it works, reserve a space for one
petit garcon on wide-beam dispersal!"
"Captain!" cried the Doctor. "Come look at this."
Lieutenant Wart was sitting up (having snapped his restraints
like rubber bands) and was gazing about the room. His eyes
pulsed with a shimmering light that no-one seemed to notice.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant Wart?" said Thickhard,
shouldering aside Doctor Lusher and Nestle.
"I - am - well." said Wart in a robotic voice. "Thank -
you - for - your - concern - humanoid - life - form."
"Zat is well." said the Captain. He turned to Doctor
Lusher. "Can he return to his post? I don't like the idea of
Smirker and Ratings running my ship."
"Other than mild testosterone poisoning, he appears to be
functioning normally." said the doctor, noting idly that Wart
had picked up a tongue-depressor and was sniffing it curiously.
"Gee mom, I don't know..." said Nestle, who was gazing at
several flashing red lights on his contraption. "I'm getting
some pretty radical readings here."
"Now son, don't try to tell your mother her job." said
Doctor Lusher sweetly. "Now run along to the cabin and I'll
talk to you later."
"I really think you should see this..." began Nestle again,
but just then Wart turned and looked at his machine and several
components exploded musically.
"Dere! What did I zay? Dat kid, he is a menace!"
spluttered Thickhard. "Lieutenant Wart! Come along!" He
strode out of sickbay, followed jerkily by Wart, who seemed to
be fighting each step at first (though he soon settled down).
On the way to the bridge they ran into the Councillor, who was
wandering about in Thickhard's upper tunic (and little else).
"Oh there you are, Thicky." she purred, slinking up to him.
"Madam, dis is improper." snapped the Captain. "You cannot
wander about like zis. Here, step into dis unoccupied cabin and
return my uniform."
Half an hour later, they emerged in the proper regulation
spandex jumpsuits that passed for uniforms and continued on
their way.
As they entered the bridge, Commander Smirker was just
finishing off with,
"...and furthermore, it will improve efficiency."
Ratings looked puzzled, then said,
"Perhaps sir. But I fail to see how addressing you as
Supreme Commander whenever the Captain is not on the bridge will
prove any more..."
"Vat iz dis?" snapped Thickhard, doddering over to his
command chair. "Chattering on my bridge? What's going on here
Number Two?"
"Actually, sir," said Smirker, laughing nervously, "I was
trying to teach Ratings a new joke to add to his repitoire."
"Indeed?" said Ratings, with a puzzled look on his face.
"Then which part was the punchline, sir? Was it the the part
about Captain Thickhard and the cane?"
"Enough, Ratings!" said Smirker dangerously.
"And what is an 'old fart', Commander? My data banks..."
"I said ENOUGH!"
Thickhard had been listening to this exchange with muted
interest, while humming the 'Marseillaise'. Commander Smirker
turned and fell to his knees deferently.
"I can explain sir..." he began, but Thickhard waved him
back.
"No time for that Number Two. We must get de ship off her
present course before we encounter major diplomatic
difficulties."
"Such as?" asked the Commander, rising to his feet and
dusting off his regulation sweatpants.
"Such as infringing on Yiblian space!"
"But that would be a violation of P.O.O.E.Y.S.!(6)"
"P.O.O.E.Y.S? What a stupid acronym. What does dat mean?"
"I believe you'll find it in the footnote sir." said
Ratings.
"Dis iz getting silly!" stormed Thickhard. "From now on, no
more acronyms on de bridge. Dat iz an order!"
"As you wish sir." they all mumbled obsequiously.
"Better! Now Mr. Navigator, please..." he leaned forward
and peered at the empty navigation console. "Flocons de mais!
Has not the Doctor released Mr. LaFudge from intensive care yet?
Did I not emphasize that I needed him?"
"I do not believe he is conscious yet sir." said the
Commander, seating himself in his seat next to (and a bit below)
the Captain.
"Captain - I - believe - I - can - operate - the -
navigation - console." said Lieutenant Wart mechanically.
"Go to it den." said Thickhard, waving him forward
nonchalantly.
"Lieutenant Wart." said Ratings, turning from his helm
console. "I do not recall you ever having trained on
navigation. How is it then..."
"Be - still - humanoid - mechanical - device." said Wart
sharply. "I - am - fully - cognizant - in - the - operations -
of - this - vessel."
Ratings cocked his head in a puzzled manner. He turned to
the Captain.
"Captain, I am concerned about Lieutenant Wart. He is not
behaving within acceptable Klingon parameters."
"Oh? How so?"
"Well, he has not yet uttered the expression 'death first',
nor has he said 'I say we fight sir' within the last hour."
"Chez nous! How could we not have noticed!" He leapt out
of his command chair and paused to let his heart palpitations
get under control. "Mr. Smirker, you have been fooled by a
devious decoy acting as Lieutenant Wart!"
"Me?" said an astonished Commander.
"Yes! Now do someting about it."
"Me?"
"Get somebody up here den. Just deal with it!"
"Aye sir." said the First Officer, snapping into action.
He punched the button on his insignia fiercely. "Ouch! - I
mean, Lieutenant Yargh, get up here and restrain Lieutenant
Wart. He's gone berserk."
"Nothing doing <click>." came the quick reply.
"Sacre Ment!" yelled Thickhard. "Do I have to do everyting
myself?" He pulled the board out from under his seat cushion
and whanged the Klingon across the back of his cresty noggin.
Lieutenant Wart slumped obediently. The Captain then shoved him
aside and sat down in front of the vacant station.
----------
(6) P.O.O.E.Y.S. - Prohibition Of Others Entering Yiblian Space
"I haven't done dis in years." he cursed. "Where 'ave all
de knobs and dials gone?" He punched a few glowing patches at
random, eliciting a few 'poink' sounds from the console.
"Captain, the helm is responding now. You have done it
sir!" said Lieutenant Ratings, his bowtie spinning in
astonishment.
"I have? I mean, of course I have!" said Captain
Thickhard.
"LOOK!" bellowed Smirker, jumping up on his chair and
pointing at the prone form of Lieutenant Wart.
There was a glowing, sparkling vortex of light streaming
from the Klingon's nostrils. The swirling, glowing cloud
solidified suddenly into a tall, aristocratic looking human
dressed in non-regulation pajamas. He turned slowly and
regarded the bridge, completely ignoring the crewmembers
standing about him.
"Ahem." said Thickhard. "Who are you and what are you
doing on my ship?" And then, without waiting for an answer, he
strode up and thrust his beaky nose into the alien's face. "You
can't just walk onto any ship you tink. Dere are rules and
regulations! Number Two, arrest this man."
"Ahh, so this is what it is like to be a carbon-based life
form. How inferior to my own true form as Omnus. To require
food, air, 'I Love Lucy' re-runs..." The alien regarded
Thickhard with evident amusement. "Ah, the Captain, no doubt."
"Omnus?" said Thickhard angrily. "Pommes des terre! You
are one hard to kill creature!"
"Captain!" said Tryme. "I sense that this is not a human,
but an alien. I feel curiosity, perhaps some amusement..."
"Amazing!" muttered Thickhard, turning and gazing fondly at
her cleavage. He dug an elbow into the alien. "Is she not
amazing, I tell you?" The alien too was staring at the
councillor.
"Truly an interesting effect. Is it a weapon of some
sort?" Then, losing interest, he turned and began wandering
about the bridge poking and prodding at the controls.
"Captain, shouldn't we stop him or something?" asked
Smirker anxiously (noting that Omnus had opened a service panel
and was rooting through the circuitry beyond).
"Non, non, Number Two." said Thickhard, tearing his eyes
away from the councillor with a visible effort. "I tink you are
over-reacting. Perhaps you should take dis Omnus fellow on a
tour of de ship. Particularly de Shuttle Bay... and demonstrate
the meaning of explosive decompression to him... savez-vous?"
Smirker looked blank for a moment then one of his patented
smirks slowly spread across his mug. Thickhard turned away,
slightly revolted.
"I see, sir!" smarmed Smirker. "I'll deal with him,
Captain." He winked obviously. "You can count on me, sir!"
"Don't lay it on too tick, Number Two." muttered Thickhard.
"Now get going." Smirker strode up to Omnus, who was sniffing
at the bemused councillor.
"This one is... different." said Omnus suspiciously.
"That one is a female." interjected Ratings helpfully. "I
too am different, you will notice." His bow tie spun for
emphasis.
"You're not different, you're weird." said Omnus, to which
Ratings squeezed his red bulbous nose - giving a loud honking
sound.
"Weird?" said Ratings in a puzzled tone. "Do you mean
weird-funny?" he asked hopefully.
"Number Two, if you don't mind..." said the Captain
testily.
"On our way, sir." said the First Officer with an annoying
smirk. He snaffled Omnus' arm and led him off into the turbo-
lift. Omnus dragged Councillor Tryme along 'to study further'.
"Vell, dat should take care of dat." said the Captain with
an air of dismissal. "Mr. Ratings, see if you can revive
Lieutenant Wart, will you?"
"He is not responding to physical stimulus, Captain." said
Ratings, slapping Wart's face ringingly and chafing his wrists
gently.
"Zut." swore the Captain, thumbing his chair intercom on.
"Doctor Lusher, to the..." as he spoke, the turbo-lift door
swooshed open and the doctor strode out, looking like she had
just woke up in her smock with a massive hangover. "...bridge."
finished Thickhard. "I just cannot get used to how new-and-
improved everyting is nowadays."
"Oh Hard-Luck, we are finally alone!" gushed Doctor Lusher,
sliding up close.
"Madam, you are forgetting yourself!" said the Captain
stiffly. "Lieutenant Wart and Ratings are with us!"
"Oh but Wart's comatose again and Ratings is just a
machine." said the doctor huskily, loosening her blouse.
"Do not mind me, sir." said Ratings obsequiously. "I shall
merely take take notes. You will hardly notice me."
"Doctor, I wish you to see to Wart immediately and stop
this nonsense!" fumed Thickhard. "I have no time for these
tiresome romantic sub-plots, I have a real plot to deal with
(for once)."
"Very well." said Doctor Lusher as she fussed over Wart.
When her enthusiastic slaps had failed to rouse him, she dug
through her medi-pack and produced a hypo of noxious-looking
chemicals. She goosed Wart with this and stepped back to
observe the results. For almost a second nothing happened, then
Wart's eyes snapped open and he sat up. When his eyes had
stopped spinning like a slot machine he jumped up and began
running in place, crying out,
"I feel WONDERFUL! One-two! One-two!" He switched to one-
handed military push-ups as Thickhard stared.
"Madame Doctor, vat is dat you gave my klingon? And is
dere enough dere for me too?"
"Oh no," said Lusher. "It's much too experimental to give
to humans. I just wondered what it would do." She regarded
Wart (who was running laps of the bridge) guardedly. "It seems
to do wonders for klingons, barring long-term side-effects."
"Indeed." said Thickhard. "We must mellow-out dis hyper
klingon before he destroys my bridge. Ratings! Grab an arm,
and we'll take him to the lounge." He was referring to the
forward lounge of the ship, which was nicknamed 'LaGrange' and
staffed by the amiable Guinness. It was also councillor Tryme's
pet project. "Madam Doctor, return to sickbay and fix my
navigator, if you please."
On the way down to the lounge they rounded a corner and ran
into Nestle, who had a wall panel open and was re-routing
several gigavolt lines.
"Gee Captain sir," said Nestle annoyingly as he dropped the
power line he was splicing. "Are you taking Wart to the
LaGrange lounge? Can I come, huh, can I?" He stepped aside as
the overloaded power cable arced its way through the reinforced
decking.
"Nestle, mon petit carpet rodent, what are you doing out of
sickbay? Does your mother not have chores for you to do down
dere?"
"No Captain." Nestle said, smiling precociously.
"Um, Nestle, do you know what the 'LaGrange' nickname
stands for?" asked Thickhard carefully.
"Sure! The LaGrange points are orbital locations, that..."
"Dat's enough. You can't go."
"Aw pleeeeze!" whined the kid. "Mom will never know I was
there!"
"Captain," interjected Ratings. "Nestle is an acting
ensign, and as such is allowed to enter the lounge."
"Very well," conceded Thickhard, hard pressed to restrain
the hyperactive Wart. "But don't expect me to answer your
stupid questions while we are dere, young man."
Nestle was bounding up and down and repeating over and over
"Oh boy, oh boy!" as they walked off down the corridor. They
proceeded with little incident until they approached the
Holodeck. As they passed, the door snapped open and a badly
mauled crewmember was flung out to impact resoundingly on the
far wall. The door swooshed shut again.
"Have dey not fixed dat ting yet?" said the Captain as they
stepped over the twitching body.
Soon they could hear the raucous music emanating from the
lounge and Thickhard brushed past the bouncers.
"Wow!" said Nestle. "This is neat!" They found themselves
a table and fended off an overly amorous drunk who made a pass a
Nestle.
"Get away, monsieur!" said the Captain, then he doubletook.
"Commander Smirker! Vat are you doing here?"
"Urrp!" said the Commander, facing himself on the table and
passing out cold.
"Merde! Why is it dat my officers spend more time out cold
than at their stations?!?" He snapped his fingers. "Guinness!
A pick-me-up, a put-me-down, a Napolean brandy and a..."
"Fizzy-cola!" piped up Nestle. A dark-skinned woman glided
up eerily and regarded the group.
"Captain, how nice to see you again." she said. "Isn't the
boy a little..."
"I don't want to get into dat again." said Thickhard
quickly. "Just get us our order." Guinness shrugged.
"Its yo' liver, honey." she said to Nestle, who was too
occupied with staring at the exotic dancers to notice.
"Gee Ratings, is that a real boa constrictor?" said Nestle
with awe.
"Yes." said Ratings, who was looking around the large, dim
lit room. Several junior councillors in regulation low-cut
cocktail dresses were soliciting drinks from the junior officers
and leading not a few to the many unmarked doors. Suddenly
Ratings' nose lit happily. "Captain! I believe Lieutenant
LaFudge has been released from sickbay. He is seated over
there." Indeed, Gorky LaFudge was stationed in a 'portable'
traction unit a few tables away. The attached life support
module blinked and bleeped merrily.
"Already? Ah, bien!" said Thickhard. "Dat is the first
good news I have heard in dis episode! Ask him to join us
mister Ratings."
"I do not think that would be possible for his extension
cord to reach this far, sir." said Ratings, noting the long
yellow cord snaking between the tables to a wall outlet.
"However I shall ascertain his condition."
"Make it so."
As he spoke a rather spirited phaser fight began off in one
corner. Thickhard craned his head in that direction and
squinted through the smoky haze. Spying Lieutenant Yargh
sipping a beer at the bar he stood with his hands on his hips
and called out to her.
"Lieutenant Yargh, should you not be dealing with dis
situation?" he asked.
"Oh, this happens all the time." she replied absently.
"They'll settle down in a moment or two." With a crackle one of
the combatents disintegrated leaving behind naught but the scent
of frying bacon. The survivors scattered. "See?" said Yargh.
Ratings meandered across the lounge, stepping over couples
locked together on the floor and dodging the occasional thrown
beer bottle. When he got reasonably close he called,
"Lieutenant LaFudge, over here!"
LaFudge looked over and groaned in what Ratings took to be
a greeting sort of way. He stepped across the last table in the
way and seated himself next to the perspiring Lieutenant.
"You look like you need cheering up, Gorkie." said Ratings
practically. He pushed his nose, causing his ears to sproing
out and snap back in again. LaFudge groaned in terror. "I have
learned five-thousand, one-hundred and eighty-two new jokes
since my last recital. I shall regale you with them."
"Uhhhng!" gasped LaFudge, his life support signs jumping
ominously close to the terminal level. Ratings seemed not to
notice. Instead he meticulously cleared a square on the table
and stood upon it.
"Computer, spotlight please." he called. "Thank you. I
shall now begin my recital. It seems there was a Klingon, a
Rabbi and a Transvestite..."
"Zo, Lieutenant Wart, 'ow do you feel?" asked Thickhard,
sipping on his brandy.
"Mellow, SIR!" said Wart, teetering to attention. Nestle,
meanwhile, after one swig of his 'fizzy-cola' slammed over
backward with a half flip.
"Excellent!" Nestle coughed, getting to his feet. He
staggered to the bar for a second.
"...I do not know.' replied the rabbi." continued Ratings.
"'Please elucidate me. Why does it take ten Romulans to screw
in a light bulb?'..." He ducked a Arcturan tomato. "Thank you,
you're beautiful. As I was saying..."
"Now Mister Smirker, seeing as you are once again
conscious, have you dealt with dis 'Omnus' fellow?"
"Oh yes sir." said Smirker, saluting sloppily. "I did it
just like you told me to shir - uh - sir."
"Good! Zen you have safely blown him out to ze space,
non?"
"Yes - uh, I mean no! You told me to give him a tour of
the ship!" said Smirker uncertainly. "I left him down in
engineering!" As he said this the ship shook violently,
knocking one of the exotic dancers into Nestle's lap and shaking
Ratings off his table (to general applause).
"You WHAT!" bellowed Thickhard, leaping to his venerable
feet. "You imbecile! You left a hostile, omnipotent alien
alone in engineering?"
"No sir, not alone. Chief Engineer whatsisname was there."
"You mean 'whats'ername' don't you?"
"Uh, no sir." replied the first officer. "That was last
week."
"Ca va! Whatever. Come Number Two, we must get down there
before dis alien ting does some real damage to my ship!" He
grabbed his first officer's arm and pulled him toward the door,
brushing past Tryme and a crewman whom she was leading toward
the unmarked doors.
They rushed out into the corridor and raced aft toward the
nearest turbolift. As they approached the Holodeck they
overtook a security squad in battle armour who sported an
impressive array of weapons. The squad leader punched the
manual over-ride for the Holodeck door and rolled in a photon
grenade. There was flash of light and the deck rocked with the
explosion. A greasy grey tentacle snapped out, grabbed him
about the throat and dragged him in screaming. The others
followed, firing a barrage ahead of them. The heavy door rang
shut behind.
"Ah good." murmered Thickhard. "De technicians are finally
doing someting about dat."
They proceeded to engineering without further incident.
When they arrived they were greeted by a scene of mild panic
with junior officers running amuck. There was a faceless Chief
Engineer standing placidly in the middle of it all, seeming to
have given up all pretense of control.
"You dere, Lieutenant... uh..."
"Generic, sir." supplied Smirker from aside.
"Funny, dat was de name of our last engineer too." mused
the Captain. "No matter. Where is dat Omnus ting dere got to?"
"He vanished in a flash of electrical sparks right over by
that computer terminal sir." said the faceless one, pointing
over to a still smouldering box.
"Oh, don't tell me." groaned Thickhard, clutching at his
head as if it had suddenly taken the notion to ache furiously.
"YES THICKHARD! I HAVE TAKEN OVER YOUR COMPUTER AND I NOW
CONTROL YOUR ENTIRE SHIP!"
Thickhard glared at his first officer, who dug his toe into
the deck.
"Well you did tell me to show him the ship, and I saw no
reason not to show him the complete technical readouts when he
asked for them..." whined Smirker sheepishly.
"I don't believe this!" yelled Thickhard, whacking Smirker
with his cane. "What do dey teach you young snots in de
acadamie!?"
"Well they don't cover situations like this!" cried Smirker
defensively. "Besides, I don't see you doing anything about it
you old fart... oops, I don't belieeeve I said that."
"Let me show how we did it in de old days, punk." said the
Captain stiffly. He turned and looked up. "Computer!" he
called crisply. "Calculate, to the last decimal, the value of
pi!" There was a moment's pause from the computer and then,
"Three."
"Drat!" cursed Thickhard. "It took much longer in de old
days!"
"IT'S NO USE THICKHARD. I HAVE YOUR SHIP AND I SHALL DO
WITH IT AS I PLEASE. BY THE WAY, YOU ARE ALL TO WORSHIP ME
NOW."
"Nevair!" shouted the Captain. "We still have a few tricks
up our sleeves. Mister Generic, can you rig a power line from
de warp engines into the main banks of de computer?"
"Captain, that would be bad." warned the Engineer.
"What do you mean?" asked Thickhard, "How bad?"
"Amazingly, stupidly, incredibly bad."
"Well what else can we do?"
"Perhaps we can isolate it without actually killing it
sir." offered the first officer.
"Oh shut-up Number Two..." began the Captain reflexively,
then he did a double take. "Hold on, dat's actually a good
idea. Well done Number Two."
"Number ONE sir." corrected Smirker through clenched teeth.
"Whatever. Make it so."
"Well not me Captain, I was thinking that perhaps
Lieutenant Ratings could conduct the intricate programming
involved. I shall contact him." He started to punch his
insignia, then thought better of it and strode over to the wall
intercom. "Commander Smirker to Forward Lounge. Ratings report
to engineering immediately." he called into it importantly.
"He's busy." said Guinness. "But you shouldn't have long
to wait." In the background Smirker could hear the android
delivering a rather matter-of-fact punchline,
"...but not with Donny Osmond." There followed a
computerized drum roll and a chorus of boos, rising to catcalls
and phaser blasts.
"Okay, he's finished." came the voice at the other end.
"He's being pushed out the door now... Leave the kid alone
Trixie, you know he can't afford you. <click>"
The Captain looked pointedly at Smirked and pointed at the
intercom.
"Was dat... No! It could not have been. I am mistaken."
Presently Lieutenant Ratings arrived in engineering, still
wiping bits of vegetable matter from his checkered coat and
polkadot tie.
"You called for me sir?" he asked, turning to the
commander.
"Yes." said Thickhard, stepping in front of Smirker before
the former could speak. "Omnus has taken over the ship's
computer and I have come up with the idea of isolating him
before he can do any real damage to us or the ship. Can you do
it?" Ratings tilted his head to one side and 'parped' his nose
in thought.
"A tall order sir, but I believe it can be done." He moved
over and sat down at the nearest (still functioning) terminal
and began to type at blurring speed.
"NO!" bellowed the voice of Omnus. "DO NOT! I FORBID IT!"
The Enterputz shook and for a few seconds the artificial gravity
fluctuated.
"Oo la la! Mister Generic, can you make de gravity do dat
again?"
"Not without blowing the engines to confetti sir." replied
the Engineer.
"A shame." lamented Thickhard, a smile playing at his lips.
The first officer, meanwhile, had staggered greenly off to a
corner to sit down.
"I SHALL DESTROY YOU!" screamed Omnus. "I shall destroy
you! I shall destroy you!..."
"It's gone sir." said Ratings, standing up abruptly.
"Well done." said Thickhard in approval. "Where did you send
it?"
"Sector C3F5A bank CF address..."
"Wait a minute." said Engineer Generic. "That's the
Holodeck, isn't it?"
"Why I believe you are right, Mister Generic." said
Ratings, spinning his bowtie yet again in agreement.
"Give me dat!" snarled Thickhard, grabbing the tie and
giving it a tug. As he pulled the bowtie, a line attached to it
stretched taut from the Lieutenants collar and a stream of
lubricating oil shot from his insignia and caught the Captain
square in the face. He dropped the bowtie and it snapped back
into place on Ratings neck, spinning gaily.
"But Captain!" objected Smirker, stepping quickly between
the fuming Captain and the blithely ignorant android. "You
can't just leave it in there!"
"Just watch me!" growled the Captain, untucking the front
of Smirker's shirt and wiping the oil from his face with it.
"But sir, think of the ship's safety."
"True Number Two, but tink of de ongoing plot device dis
ting will be. Now come along all of you to de bridge for de
tag."
Later, all officers were gathered in the bridge, nudging
for elbow room (except for Tryme, who found herself pushed up
tight against the Captain).
"What are we all doing here, SIR?" asked Wart, towering
over the rest.
"We are waiting for someone to say someting witty, warm or
philosophical concerning de episode." Suddenly there was a
feminine shriek from the back of the group.
"Nestle! You stink of cheap perfume! What happened to
your hair! Were did you get that boa constrictor! And how did
you get that lipstick on your ... THICKHARD!!!"
"Good enough." said the Captain.
DE FINIS
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