Star Heck: Irregardless

"Research Log Stardate 52630.4. We are on planet Klee-Shay II to study the
idyllic society of the Ba'mboo here. I have sent out 10 agents to observe
the hacky-sack tournament." Commander Meltfrond sat back, sighing. What
else was there to say? This planet was about as boring as anything she had
ever imagined. The only interesting things were the curses and exclamations
that their workmates, the Son'a'bitch, yelled when they stubbed their toes
about every five minutes.
Suddenly, her Emergo-insto-matic-mutino-blaster (tm) sounded its alarm
siren.
RREEEEEUUUP! RREEEEEUUUP!
"What is it? What's going on, you no-good Starfleet worm?" yelled Rueful,
the leader of the Son'a'bitch.
[Hmmm, he sure does seem to have a bee up his butt! I wonder whether he's
evil? Naaaaaaahh.] "I don't know, sir. No, wait! It's the android! He's
going ballistic!"
On the Super-Techno-Viewer (tm), they could see Special Researcher Data, the
token non-asshole of their team, running around stunning everybody. Then he
started reaching for the zipper of the inviso-hat he wore.
"Oh, no!" Meltfrond wailed. "He's going to...it'll be...!" She spoke
frantically into her communicator. "Commander Data! I order you to keep
your hat on! The consequences could be...."
Commander Data removed his hat. Everybody in the station screamed. "Oh,
no, hat hair!" they all yelled.
While they were cowering in fear, Lt. Commander "Yes! I have no promotion"
Data beat up all the other super-secret agents and took off their
inviso-suits, thoroughly disrupting the hacky-sack tournament, the taffy
pull, *and* the quilting bee. He then destroyed the cloaking device on the
science station. All the Ba'mboo stared in shock. Then everybody stood
around looking at each other.***
"Just one moment, Commander, let me practice it again. Clatter, brady
nicotine."
"No, sir, that's Klaatu Barada Nikto." Commander Deanna Troi wondered why
Jean-Luc Picard was getting so senile all of a sudden. He wasn't *that*
old! Why, on Betazed he'd just be entering puberty.
"Klaatu, baritone necktie."
Deanna sighed. "Sir, if you don't say it right, the Blorkanians will
bombard our ship with ping-pong ball bombs."
"Never mind. I'll figure it out when I get there," he complained. "Merde!
Why is this damn uniform so tight? Oh, valet!"
Beverly Crusher ran up to him eagerly and grabbed his collar, trying to
fasten it.
"Beverly, why aren't you in Sickbay? And what have you done with my valet?"
"Oh, he's *very* happy with the drugs I gave him," Bev replied. "Anyway, I
don't get the chance for screen time too much, so I figured I'd do up your
collar. How in *stars* did you get such a fat neck?" she bitched.
"Klaatu-Brad-Niktor," Picard whispered. Troi shrugged. The way this
movie was going, death by ping-pong ball was looking better all the time!
All three of them hurried down the hall to where they were to meet the
Blorkanians. They rounded a corner, and Picard bumped right into Worf!
"Worf! What in hell is your problem?" Picard asked. "Can't you stay on
Deep Space Nine where you belong and quit bugging me?"
"Uh, well, sir," Worf paused, obviously embarrassed. "My mother lives on
Blorkania now, and she *really* needed to get her toilet fixed. And she
says I'm the best plumber in the quadrant. Anyway, I heard the Enterprise
would be stopping by Deep Space Nine on the way to the Gory system, so I
thought I would...hitch a ride."
"Well, you might as well be Security Chief while you're here. We need some
help in that department."
"Aye, sir."
At that moment, the current Security Chief of the Enterprise was walking by.
"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" he whined. As his first duty, Worf threw
the insolent underling in the brig.
***
Picard finally made it through the crowds to the meeting hall. There stood
the Blorkanian ambassador, a bulbous lifeform. He wracked his brain for the
proper greeting, and, in a rush of adrenaline, managed to get it right.
"Klaatu, Barada Nikto!" [Whew!] At least *that* was over.
"Oops, I forgot to tell you," came a frantic whisper. "You need to wear
their sacred ritual greeting garment." Jean-Luc gave Troi a dirty look.
And sure enough, Her Majesty the Ambassador was holding up a funny-looking
beaded strap.
"It's an honor to associate with the illustrious Federation," she bleated,
"and I'm certain we'll be able to help you in your war with the Dominion, as
they flee in terror from our ping-pong-ball bombs. Now, if you would honor
us by allowing me to place the ceremonial sacred ritual greeting garment."
She held it up toward Picard's head.
Smiling at her ingenuous charm, Jean-Luc bent down to have the garment
placed on his head. But, to his surprise, she reached back and draped it
over his neck. Then, with a strength and speed he had not expected from one
so small and portly, she unzipped his trousers, yanked his willy and balls
out, and pulled the beaded strap down, tying a slipknot that would have made
a Boy Scout proud. His privates so ensconced, she buckled the strap
ever-so-tightly up to his neck.
Picard was *shocked*! Shocked and *stunned*! "Madam Ambassador!" he
protested. Of course you must know that we don't *have* zippers in the 24th
century!"
The bloated lifeform was now taking a file to her teeth, and they looked
pretty sharp already. Luckily, Picard heard the voice of his Chief Engineer
on the communicator.
"LaForge to Captain."
"Excuse me, Your Majesty; it may be a serious emergency." Picard shuffled
into a nearby alcove, helped by Troi and Beverly.
"Mon Dieu!" he breathed as Bev released the strap. Then he spoke to Geordi.
"What is it, Commander?"
"Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt you...i-i-in the...mid-middle of an
important-"
"Really, Mr. LaForge, it was NO interruption. Believe me." Picard rubbed
his balls to get the circulation back.
"It's just that....(sigh)."
Picard heard sobbing over the commlink. "Mr. LaForge, are you well?"
"No, sir, I'm not! (sob) It was Data's and my anniver-versary yesterday,
and, and, (sniff)-"
Picard slapped his forehead. He was always forgetting important occasions!
"I'm sorry, Mr. LaForge. I, uh, I would've sent an email, had I known, but
what with the ping-pong threat and all..."
"Oh, no, sir!" Geordi said. "It-it's not like that (sob) at allllllll.
It's just tha-at...(sob)...Data didn't even ca-allllll me! A-and you *know*
he ca-an't forget...."
At this time, the Chief Engineer's communication broke down into an
unintelligible series of sobs and moans. Great, just what he needed. He
cast an exasperated glance at Beverly.
"Jean-Luc?" Beverly suggested. "You didn't *really* want to go to the Gory
system, anyway, did you?"
A smile lit Jean-Luc's features. She was right! This would be a great
excuse to get out of his trip to the boring old Gory system!
"LaForge?"
"Y-yes, sir." Geordi had apparently been trying to compose himself.
"Don't you worry about Mr. Data. We'll be en route to the Fudge Pot with no
further delay!" Picard was genuinely happy for the first time that day. He
happened to see his former Chief Of Security, now released from the brig and
working as a busboy. "Lieutenant! Dinner is over. Kick Her Majesty off
the ship as soon as possible." He then started for his quarters to remove
his dress uniform and soothe his injured appendage.***
The Fudge Pot: a nasty part of space that nobody liked to visit. Each
starship that traveled through its murky depths was required to prepare by
shielding itself with special, super-secret devices that only a few people
in the Federation knew about. Picard looked out the window of his quarters
at the bubbling sludge, wondering what information Will Riker would unearth.
He took a sip of Earl Grey and shifted in his chair to rub his bare butt.
Will was a good officer. They would certainly be at Planet Klee-Shay II
very soon.
His commpanel bleeped. "Priority message from Admiral Doughy, sir!" said
the attractive Trill manning the Bridge.
"Patch him through." Picard waited for the connection to be made, thinking
about Admiral Doughy. At the academy, he had been a complete asshole. And
he probably hadn't changed much. The fact that he was now stationed at
Planet Klee-Shay II couldn't bode well for Data. Then the Admiral's face
appeared onscreen.
Doughy's image recoiled, squinting. "Picard, can't you put on some clothes
when speaking to a superior officer?"
"Ha, you're just jealous, Doughy!" Jean-Luc scoffed. "Hey, don't you want
me to stand at attention?" He cracked up laughing.
Doughy looked mighty PO'ed. "Picard, I've scanned your ship at the edge of
the Fudge Pot. You know it's none of your business to be here! So get!"
Picard sat up straight. "Admiral, I have good reason to be worried about my
Second Officer. I believe he may be in some kind of serious trouble. And,
mark my words, I will find out what's going on."
"Ha! Go ahead and try it, Picard. We have special, super-secret shielding
material just to be *in* the Fudge Pot! Your puny ship would never survive
the pounding!"
"We'll see about that, Doughy. I have my best officer working on that
problem right now." Picard stuck his tongue out at Doughy and cut the
connection. [Hmmmm, wonder whether I have time to call Bev?]
Apparently he did not, for just then his doorbell chimed, "beedee boodoop."
"Come."
Commander Riker walked in, PADD in hand, then stopped abruptly at the
threshhold. "Uh, Captain, did you want me to come back later?"
"Not at all, Commander." Picard studied the PADD momentarily, then looked
to Riker. "Number One, what did you find in your study about the Fudge Pot?
Can we get through? Admiral Doughy informs me that we need all the latest
high-tech gadgets."
"Uh, I called in a few favors, sir, and I have it on good authority that all
Doughy's crew did was..." Will looked a bit embarrassed.
"Go on, Commander."
"Um, rubbed Crisco all over their ship."
Picard clasped his hands. "Ah, excellent work, Will." He hopped up to get
his uniform. "Have the crew start synthesizing Crisco and begin lubricating
the ship immediately. Then I would like you and Commander Troi to brush up
on all information about these Son'a'bitch that Doughy's working with."
"Aye, sir." Riker left.***
In the library, Riker and Troi worked at their monitors. "Hmmm, these
Son'a'bitch are a very interesting species. They're known as the klutziest
people in the entire galaxy."
"I see here they're also very bitchy for some unknown reason," Deanna added.
She looked at Will then. Wow, did he look cute! She studied the muscles
that rippled under his tight uniform and found herself getting incredibly
horny. Then she noticed she was staring at him and forced herself to look
back to her monitor. "Ahem, uh, Will..." she began.
Will sidled over to her. "Yes, dear?" he whispered, his breath tickling the
side of her face.
"Uh, did you see any mention of the Fudge Pot putting out a raging horniness
field or anything like that?" She felt the heat in her loins; the tension
was building, the ache almost unbearable. She looked straight into Will's
eyes-his unbelievably clear, blue, intense eyes.
"No, I didn't see any mention of that," he replied. Deanna saw his chest
heave with quick, deep breaths. He was incredibly hot-looking with that
beard! "Maybe we've just gone too long without sex. Neither of us had any
in either previous movie."
"Fuck me! Ohhhh, fuck me now, Imzadi!" she screamed. They both ripped off
their clothes and started wildly boinking away as fast and hard as they
could, Deanna moaning and squealing every two seconds. Other patrons of the
library sat back to watch the incredible show.
"This is better than that T'Pamela and Stommyk file we downloaded!" Ensign
Smeeeeeep remarked to his companion.***
On the Bridge, Picard stared at the view screen. Not much was visible
through the brown, yucky lumps of the Fudge Pot. Then Ensign Blrb spoke up.
"Captain, we're being hailed by Admiral Doughy aboard the Son'a'bitch ship."
"Put him on-screen, Ensign."
The Admiral showed up on the screen. Behind him were a whole bunch of
bruised-looking people: the notorious Son'a'bitch. They seemed to be
tripping over the furniture quite often, muttering curses as they walked.
"Picard!" The admiral's sharp voice pulled Picard from his thoughts. "I
can't believe you showed up here after I told you not to. Why don't you
just leave?" But before Picard could answer, a crafty smile appeared on
Doughy's face. "Then again, your arrival could be beneficial. Why don't
you go ahead and beam up your android?"
"Why would you want me to do that, Admiral? Has his performance not been
satisfactory?" [*Now* we'll get to Data's real problem.]
"Of course not; his service has been exemplary." Picard could easily tell,
by the shifty eyes, that Doughy was lying. Good thing he was so
transparent, because Deanna had called the bridge and said that she was "too
tired" for bridge duty. Funny, Will had said the same thing!
He turned his attention back to the admiral. "So, Admiral, why do you want
us to pick up Data?"
"I believe he is...lonely and...homesick. Why should I make him suffer
further?"
Picard decided to play along with this stupid story. That Admiral
Doughy-what a card! "All right, Admiral. Have him beam aboard, and we'll
leave immediately." He crossed his fingers behind his back as he said it.
"Ummmm, welllll, there's a little problem with that...."
BOOM! Everybody jolted to the left. ZZZZAP! Everybody jolted to the
right. ZZINGO! Everybody fell down. Sparks founted from sundry panels.
"Mr. Worf, report! What is it?"
Worf beepity-dooped a few boopity-boops. "It's a Federation scout ship,
Sir. Last assigned to...Admiral Doughy." Everyone looked accusingly at
Doughy, and they noticed that the Son'a'bitch ship, too, was being attacked!
"Okay, Picard, I'll tell you the truth." Doughy looked scared shitless.
"Your android's on the blink. He tried to take out the whole observation
post. Now he's obviously decided to go after the ships. Saaaave me!
Pleeeeeez!"
"Certainly, Admiral." Picard was all business. "Mr. Worf, Mr. LaForge,
I'll need you to make a gizmo to paralyze Mr. Data."
Worf and LaForge worked like crazy at two of the aft stations.
"Come on, I don't have all day!" Picard bitched. Five seconds later, Worf
and Geordi turned around with a fancy device, complete with colored blinky
lights and beepy-boopy sounds.
"Here it is, Captain," Geordi said.
"It's about time," Picard grumbled. "Mr. Worf, you're with me. Let's get
in a shuttle and capture Mr. Data." Jean-Luc smiled gleefully; for once he
got to go on a dangerous mission without old mother-hen Riker bitching about
his safety. Good thing the Commander had been "too tired" today.***
"Nothing on my sensors, Sir," Worf reported. "Maybe he's using the planet's
rings for a cloaking..."
BAM! They were hit by phaser fire. Stuff started exploding in the shuttle.
Worf fixed it, then sat down.
"Beam him out!"
"I can't, sir, he has shields up."
"Okay, let's go into the atmosphere. That should fuck his shields up good."
They dove into the planet's atmosphere at breakneck speed, Data following
behind them, shooting constantly. Then the phaser fire stopped. Data
calmly pulled up beside them so Picard could see his face right through the
window! Picard was mesmerized by the sight. Data then, slowly, stood up
and turned his back to the window. He bent over, dropped his uniform
trousers and waggled his butt to the window, thoroughly mooning Picard and
Worf. He sat back down, and they could see him cracking up with laughter.
Then he pulled away.
Worf stepped on it, and pretty soon they had caught up to Data and fastened
the docking clamps onto his scoutship. The next thing they knew, they were
spinning wildly through the atmosphere as Data tried to shake them.
[What in stars is wrong with that android?] Picard saw Worf open a panel
and get out a barf bag. [Oh, *wonderful*.] They were spinning toward a
nosedive now. This had to stop! But what to do? Then an idea hit him.
"Mr. Worf."
"Yes, (urp), Sir?"
"Did I ever tell you about the poker game where I asked Data to sing a
song?"
"Uhhhh...no, Sir."
"Well, he got so confused that he made all kinds of stupid mistakes! I beat
the pants off him! He lost his shirt!" Picard chuckled.
Worf looked disgusted. "With all due respect, Sir, *What the fuck* does
that have to do with anything?"
"I think that Data's music chip causes an override in his cognitive
centers."
"What variety of amazing targshit is that stupid theory?"
"Just a convenient plot contrivance, Mr. Worf. Go with the flow."
"Yes, Sir." Worf looked doubtful, but at least he no longer seemed
nauseated.
"Now, look, Mr. Worf. I'm punching up the sheet music of a song that Mr.
Data has been practicing lately. Just sing it with me; I'll start." He
cleared his throat and began in a hearty baritone:
Picard: Sit down, John. Sit down, John. For God's sake, John, sit down.
Sit down, John. Sit down, John. For God's sake, John, sit down.
He elbowed Worf in the ribs.
Worf: Someone ought to open up a window.
Picard: It's ninety degrees. Have mercy, John, please. It's hot as hell in
Philadelphia.
Worf: Someone ought to open up a window.
They stopped singing and waited expectantly. Sure enough, the scheme had
worked, as Data burst out in song.
Data: I say vote yes, vote yes, vote for independency!
Worf: Someone ought to open up a window!
Data: I say vote yes!
Picard: Sit down, John!
Data: Vote for independency!
Worf: Someone ought to open up a window!
Picard: No! No! No! Too many flies, yes! Too many flies, but it's hot as
hell in Philadelphia!
Suddenly, the crazy flying stopped, and they levelled off about two meters
above the ground.
Worf: Are you gonna open up a window?
Worf got up and opened the ventral access hatch, blinky beepy at the ready.
Picard: Can't we compromise here?
Data: Vote yes!
Picard: No! Too many flies here!
Data: Vote yes!
Picard: Oh, for God's sake, John, sit down!
Data's head and shoulders appeared in the shuttle as the android, in a
trancelike state, opened his dorsal window. Worf activated the blinky
beepy, and Data hit the floor of the scout.***
Picard docked with the Enterprise and looked back to find Worf hoisting Data
through the sunroof. Surprisingly, his Second Officer was clad only in a
frilly white shirt and some shockingly revealing white tights! "Hmmmm, so
*that's* why Geordi was so worried about missing their anniversary,"
Jean-Luc mused.***
After delivering Data to a grateful Geordi, Jean-Luc decided to beam down to
Klee-Shay II with Bev, Deanna, and some goldshirts. [Might as well snoop
around a little and see what set Data off.]
They materialized on the flattest planet Jean-Luc had ever seen. There were
no cliffs, mountains, or trees in sight. Natural-looking humanoids sat on
the rocky ground around circular quilts, eating what looked like moss.
Indeed, he observed huge patches of moss growing on the rock all around him,
being tended by the docile beings. The bare bedrock that composed the
ground was as smooth as glass. A few meters away, other people appeared
from buildings shaped like perfect bell curves, gradually rising out of the
ground like organic forms. And everywhere, peaceful citizens engaged in
wonderful, wholesome pastimes. They all looked so healthy, fit, and
perfect, Jean-Luc almost cried! Then Deanna whispered to him, "Captain-be
careful. I've never encountered a species with such huge ego problems!"
"Oh, pish tosh, Deanna. Just look at them!"
Crowds of children were gathered around a hacky-sack game, and others played
softball. Picard watched as a girl hit a fly ball, and there was something
strange about its flight path. Then he knew: it moved in a perfect
parabola, unimpeded by the laws of fluid mechanics. All the planet's
inhabitants were a sight for sore eyes, he decided.
"Sir!" Picard was distracted by a young commander running up to him.
"Commander...?"
"Meltfrond, Sir. I was in charge of the duck blind." She looked sidelong
at a bunch of the good-looking folk who were milling around behind her.
"Please, sir, you have to get us off this planet. The people here are
so...smug and so perfect. Egos the size of Jupiter! Most of my crew are
behind that house puking right now. We could all die of dehydration if you
don't act quickly."
Picard absently tapped his badge, motioning her to gather her moaning,
retching officers. "27 to beam up." They disappeared.
Just then, a man with a crooked nose, a bruised cheek, and several broken
toenails shuffled up to him. [Hmmmm, my first chance to see a Son'a'bitch
in person. Mighty ugly.] Without giving Picard a chance to speak, the guy
started bitching. "Starfleet scum, get your butt off this planet. It's
*ours*! Ours, I tell you! Ours!"
[He looks evil,] Picard thought. "Security! Take all the Son'a'bitch
prisoner." They were all hustled off.
"But it's time for my pedicure!" one of them wailed.
As he watched the Son'a'bitch hauled off, Picard heard a gentle step behind
him. He turned and encountered a vision of loveliness, carrying herself
with the grace of a princess, looking like a goddess dipping her holy toes
planetside for the first time, everything she touched blossoming into a
shimmering delight of gold and rainbows, before she would float away into
Heaven, never again to grace the eye of mortal man.
"Greetings." Her voice floated to Jean-Luc in a chorus of a thousand harps,
cascading like a limpid waterfall into his entranced ears, penetrating and
seeping his whole brain in a wash of sweet pomegranates, of rose petals, of
myrrh.
"I am Abitcj, leader of the Ba'mboo. And you must be the leader of the
Offlanders who infest my planet so."
Troi rolled her eyes at Bev. [Woo, what an asshole!] Picard gave her a
dirty look. "Counselor, please refrain from broadcasting your opinions
around, or I shall send you to your room without any supper!"
She blinked, chastened. "Oops."
Jean-Luc turned his attention to the vison of radiance and beauty. "Yes, I
am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise."
"And where is the evil golem with whom you Offlanders have afflicted us?"
"Ah, you refer to Lt. Commander Data, my second officer. He has
malfunctioned but is being repaired at this very moment."
A generic guy behind Abitcj piped up. "Yeah, I tried fixing his positronic
matrix. I scanned it and reinitialized the diametric inhibitors, but it
didn't work."
A second generic guy yelled at the first one. "How did you reinitialize the
diametric inhibitors? You must be hiding a negatronic resonator in your
hut! That's a *machine*! To the whipping post with him!" A bunch of guys
took Generic Guy to the whipping post.
The starry personification of love and zenith of vibrance spoke again to
Jean-Luc. "He said the strange, bruised Offlanders were our enemies. Is he
correct?"
"Well, what do you think?" Bev interrupted, annoyed. You're all incredibly
good-looking, and they're ugly as sin. Whom would *you* peg as the bad guys
in this film?" Abitcj said nothing, only giving her a dumbfounded stare.
Picard was still puzzling out how these primitives would know about
diametric scanners. "Do you people know how to fix positronic matrices?"
Ah, smart as well as beautiful! How much better could it get?
"Of course, we know all about your primitive machines," Abitcj replied.
(Wow, was she haughty! And the haughtier she got, the hornier Jean-Luc
got.) "But we choose not to build them. We believe that when you build a
machine to do the work of a man, you diminish that man. And we refuse to
humiliate ourselves in such a gauche manner. Now, why don't you get off my
planet before I have to get Medieval on your ass?"
As enticing as that prospect sounded, Jean-Luc didn't complain when Bev
contacted the Enterprise for beam-up.***
Irregardless 2/4
Deanna was working in her office when the door chime sounded. "Come in."
It
was Will Riker, and he looked just as hot and sexy now as he had the other
day.
"Hello, Will." She eyed him coquettishly. Why was she still so horny? She
was a Starfleet officer, after all, trained from day one of the Academy to
be wholesome, to go without sex for years and years if necessary. [Ah, Will
Riker,] she told herself, [betcha can't have his meat just once.]
"Hi, Deanna." Will walked toward her, carrying a can of Crisco (tm)
all-vegetable shortening. "The maintenance personnel had a few cans of this
stuff left over after they greased the hull, and I just need your
professional opinion on what to do with it." He wiggled his eyebrows at
her.
"Mmmmm-hmm."
"It seems...such a waste...just to throw it out the airlock, doesn't it?"
He fingered the lid suggestively. "Butter-flavor, too, you know."
"Computer, lock door," she ordered. She jumped up and dived for his buff
bod; the Crisco can clattered to the deck.
They both landed on the counseling couch and clinched tight for a while,
hands everywhere, lips and tongues sucking and licking every inch of bare
skin. Then they parted just enough to rip off their uniforms. Will grabbed
the Crisco can and opened it, taking Deanna's hand and forcing it into the
golden surface, sending greasy goo squishing between her fingers and out
over the top of the can. He rubbed his hands against hers to get them
super-slimy.
By this time, Will had an absolutely desperate hard-on. Rubbing one greasy
hand down to Deanna's hairless Betazoid crutch, he massaged her there,
eliciting a moan of relieved tension. [Ah, so she's just as horny as I am!]
Encouraged by her passion, he gently pressed down on her neck with his other
hand until she finally got the hint and went down on him.***
[Oh, so he wants *that*, does he? Some things never change,] Deanna
thought. Oh, well, she'd give him a quick one, then he'd have to
reciprocate. She dipped her hand down and greased him up. Then, playing
gently with her tongue at first, she quickly escalated to no-nonsense
sucking on his hot, hard, buttery willy. His fingers clenched spasmodically
in her hair; finally he gasped and came, hot fluid spurting down her throat.
She coughed and swallowed.
After a moment, she slid up the couch, trailing greasy hands through his
chest hiir. "My turn," she whispered. Will smiled and kissed her, then
lowered his mouth, leaving a trail of kisses slowly, slowly down her throat
(hmmm), breast (ouch!), belly (ugh), to her nub-licking, kissing, sucking,
his prickly whiskers setting off alarms in her head, preventing her from
nearing orgasm.
"Yuck!"
Will looked up, confused. Deanna kicked him off the couch.
"Yuck?" He was so flabbergasted, she managed to kick him right out the
door, into the hallway.
At that moment, Ensign Smeeeeeep was walking by, but Will didn't notice.
Troi opened her door briefly to throw out Will's uniform. He didn't even
realize he was buck naked in the corridor. "I give you a blowjob, and you
say 'Yuck'?"
Ensign Smeeeeeep tiptoed around the corner. Life was sure interesting
lately!***
Picard and Geordi walked toward Engineering. "So, what exactly *was* wrong
with Commander Data? Was it his emotion chip?"
"No, sir, he didn't take it with him."
Picard stopped in his tracks, shocked. "Didn't take it *with* him?
*Didn't* take it with him? But Data went through so much with that chip,
and he was just learning about emotion. He even knew how to turn it on and
off at will. Why in stars would he suddenly take it out?"
"Well, sir, I tried to talk him out of it. But somewhere in his studies, he
found out about the idea of 'cooties.' He became convinced somehow that the
chip was full of Lore's cooties, and it had to come out. He was frantic,
ready to go in there himself with a mediphaser. So I removed it. I took it
for safekeeping because he wanted to vaporize it immediately."
"Hmmm, interesting. I'll have to have a paternal talk with him later."
They started walking again. "So what *did* happen to Data?"
"Undoubtedly it was his anti-smug-haughty-asshole filters that overloaded.
Here they are." He showed Picard several burnt chips. "Unfortunately, Dr.
Soong built the circuit in a fail-closed configuration. Instead of killing
the assholes, he started protecting them."
"Protecting...?" Picard was confused. "You mean...the Ba'mboo?"
"Well, they're the only assholes around, besides the Son'a'bitch. And the
Son'a'bitch are mainly just stupid, not assholes." They got to the door of
Engineering. "Anyway, I installed an extra-strong fuse in his new circuit.
He'll be able to handle a whole crowd of Ba'mboo now."
But Picard wasn't listening. He tried to imagine the Ba'mboo as assholes,
but the only image that filled his mind was the fair visage of the
beautiful, alluring Abitcj, pouting at him in her snooty, imperious, and
very hot way. Geordi tapped him on the shoulder.
"Uh, here he is, sir."
Data was in a closet, his arms and legs encased in duranium clamps.
"Have you repaired him?"
"Yeah, he should be fine." Geordi reached behind Data's back and flipped
his switch. His dead eyes sparkled to life.
"Data!" Geordi was anxious.
"Geordi." Data twitched his head. "Are these not the new restraints you
manufactured for my return from Klee-Shay II?" He glanced at Picard.
"Intriguing! Does the Captain wish to join us in a 'threesome'?"
Geordi rolled his eyes. "Later, Data." He sighed and took his friend's
hand. "How *are* you?"
"Accessing.... You have installed new, improved anti-smug-haughty-asshole
filters! What has happened?"
Picard interrupted with a question of his own. "What's the last thing you
remember?"
Data opened his mouth, paused, shut it again. "Do you mean before all the
singing?" He turned to Geordi. "Geordi, you must upgrade my music chip
sometime."
"Later, Data," Picard said. "Yes, I mean before the singing."
"I was exploring by a lake and found unusual radiation. That is when a
large crowd of Ba'mboo appeared. I must have overloaded then."
"You're beaming down with me, Data."
"But, if I may ask, why, sir? Certainly you are overdue for your
archaeological dig."
"Um, well, uh," Picard couldn't think of an excuse because thoughts of the
glorious, angelic Abitcj filled his mind. "I sex, er, suspect a breast, uh,
breach in protocol may have been laid, um, made by the Son'a'bitch."
"Aye, sir."
"Sir?" Geordi interrupted.
"Yes, Mr. LaForge?"
"I really need to, um, run a few more tests, uh, to make sure Data's still,
er, fully functional. It should only take about five minutes."
Picard wondered why Geordi looked so desperate. "Very well, five minutes,
Mr. LaForge." He left Engineering.
***
"We are near the lake now, sir," Data said after 50 kilometers of walking.
"Sir. May I ask why we had to beam down into the village square? I knew
the coordinates of the lake."
Jean-Luc glanced back at the ever-curious, ever-voluptuous Abitcj, who had
insisted on accompanying them. "Because...." He sighed. "You wouldn't
understand, Data."
Picard saw an adorable little boy run up beside Data. "Hi, Mr. Robot man.
My name is Artoo."
"Hello." Data looked as if he were trying to ignore the young sprout, an
unusual response for him-especially when Artoo looked so endearing. "Here
is where I detected the radiation. Beginning scan...."
Everyone stood with bated breath while Data scanned the area.***
Will sat in the hot tub, waiting for Deanna to shave him. She reached
behind her pile of clothes and pulled out-a straight razor! He was
*shocked*!
"Get that thing away from me, Deanna!" Will was trembling.
Deanna smiled. "Why, Will, I didn't know you were afraid of razors."
"Get your butt out of this hot tub," he ordered. "Go to Geordi's quarters
and get his Remington Micro-Screen. I'm not letting you back in until you
have it."
"Okay, but it's not programmed for a perfect shave," she pouted, wrapping up
in a towel and leaving.
(chrpety-chrp) "Worf to Riker. Admiral Doughy on line one."
"Okay, Worf, I'll take it here." He reached over to his communicator.
"Riker here, Admiral."
"Why the fuck are you still here, Riker?"
"Ummm, Captain Picard wanted to check someone, ah, something out on the
surface."
"He better leave soon, or there'll be trouble!"
"Whatever." Riker yawned and closed the channel.***
Doughy got done with his conversation and looked at Rueful. Man, was he
totally gross! He was getting yet another pedicure to fix the broken
toenails he always got from bumping into stuff. He was also getting his
nose fixed again.
"Well, Admiral? Are we going to have some exposition here or not? We're
the bad guys, and we haven't been in this story hardly at all!"
"What's the point? You guys are just stupid and boring. So am I. Anyway,
we showed your horrific pedicure chair." Doughy yawned and took a nap.***
Irregardless 3/4
Picard was feeling great as he, his officers, and the Ba'mboo walked down a
slope so gentle it was undetectable to all-[except Data, Jean-Luc
mused]-until they reached a point where the water lapped quietly on the
stone.
"As I had suspected, Captain," Data said, "There is Snergblat radiation in
this lake." He walked toward the lake and kept right on walking, straight
into the water!
Artoo watched with trepidation. "Won't he get water up his nose?"
Picard smiled at the innocence, yea verily, the sweet ingenuousness of this
dear, adorable, lovely, towheaded sprite, who was perfect in every way but
had a cute-as-a-button lack of knowledge about androids. He shook his head
knowingly.
"Data doesn't have a nose," he replied, tousling the li'l sweetie's mop top.
Artoo looked to Bev. "But, but I just saw...."
"Shhhhh, child," Bev whispered. "It's canon now." A few seconds later,
Data appeared, walking out of the water.
"Mr. Data, report," Jean-Luc ordered.
"The fish says 'hi.'"
Picard groaned. "No, about the radiation!"
"Ah, yes. There is a cloaked vessel in the middle of the lake."
"My! Let's investigate!" Picard started toward a dock where a rowboat sat.
Data, his amazing techno-drip (tm) uniform already bone-dry, followed.
Abitcj ran after them and Artoo tried to follow.
"We're not interested in such things," said Generic Guy 2, grabbing Artoo.
"I am," Abitcj bitched over her shoulder. She budged in front of Data.
Picard got to the rowboat and grabbed a paddle. Abitcj followed, setting
her lazy ass down imperiously in the middle of the boat. Data got to the
boat, processed for a few seconds, and then sat down next to Abitcj, leaving
the other paddle. Abitcj glared at him. "What are you waiting for, Robot
Boy? Christmas?"
Data twitched his head in confusion. "But...I have often heard your people
say that when one builds a machine to do the work of a man, one diminishes
that man. Does one not? Or does this dogma not apply to females?"
"Oh, shut up," she bitched, grabbing the paddle.
They got to the middle of the lake. Data booped some doops on his
tricorder, and a cloaked ship appeared! Inside the door could be seen a
replica of the Ba'mboo village. They climbed in.
"Don't worry your pretty little head with the details, Abitcj," Picard
schmoozed, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. "These are called
'Ho-lo-grams.' Can you say 'Ho-lo-grams'? We'll learn to spell it later."
"Fuck off, Baldy," she bitched. "I know all about your evil technology."
The statement made Picard even hornier than the last time he'd seen her.
"Isn't she a fox, Data?" he whispered.
As Picard studied the hologram, Data discreetly put his foot out and tripped
Abitcj at just the right moment, sending her plummeting into the lake. She
splashed and gibbered far below, but Picard didn't hear her; he was too far
into the ship.
"This is a good hologram," Jean-Luc commented. "Data, go over there and see
whether you can find anyone."
"One moment, Sir. I must now create the best part of the whole movie."
Data checked the angle of the sun and aligned himself just right. The light
glanced sharply off his butt, outlining tight twin domes of android
pulchritude. He leaned back so his uniform stretched tautly over his
derierre, completing the shiver-inducing effect and making the movie worth
the price of admission. If you like that sort of thing.
Suddenly, a Son'a'bitch jumped up from behind something, shooting at them
with atrocious aim and impolitely spoiling the lighting of Data's butt.
Data picked him off with no problem.
Jean-Luc looked around. "Abitcj! Abitcj, where are you?? Data, how long
has Abitcj been gone?!"
"Approximately 0.8 minutes, Sir, ever since I tripped her and made her fall
into the lake."
"Data!" In a fit of rage, Picard ripped out Data's intelligence chip,
turning him into a complete idiot. He dived into the lake to save Abitcj.
Data, not knowing any better, followed.
Picard tried to save Abitcj, but she was too panicked. Then Data surfaced
with a hiss of gas. And he was singing again! "I like beans, woo-woo-woo!
I
like beans, how about you? High in fiber, low in fat. Bet you did not know
that."
Holding onto Data's inflated uniform, they started for the boat.
"When I eat beans, I sit in my own little cloud. No one comes to visit
meeeee in my little clooouuuuuuud...."***
Picard and Data beamed up and were met by Worf in the transporter room.
"Report, Mr. Worf!" Worf collapsed in a heap on the deck.
"Merde! What's wrong with him?"
"Duh?"
Picard put Data's intelligence chip back in. "Now: what's wrong with him?"
Data examined the Klingon. "Apparently narcolepsy, Captain." He woke Worf
up.
"Are you all right, Mr. Worf?"
"I will be, sir. We needed to have another laughingstock at this point."
"I see. Do you have any plot with the Son'a'bitch to tell me about?"
"No, sir, they wouldn't talk."
"Okay, release them all." They were going to the turbolift when Riker met
them. He looked different somehow, but Jean-Luc couldn't tell what it was.
He saw Data fingering Riker's chin and figured it out.
Riker smiled at Data's examination. "Smooth as an android's bottom, huh,
Brent?"
Data smirked like a smartass human, shaking his head "no."
They both blinked. "Oops." Riker saved face by talking to Picard. "Doughy
wants us to leave or we'll be in big trouble." Then he noticed Worf, who
had collapsed in the turbolift. "What's his prob?"
"Narcolepsy, apparently. Isn't it hilarious?" Picard grinned. Data woke
Worf up.
"Hi, sleeping beauty! Boy, you sure looked stupid lying there!" Riker
taunted. Worf was going to beat him up, but just then Picard's communicator
beeped.
"Crusher to Picard. If I can't have any screen time, could I at least talk
to you on the communicator?"
"Negative. Sorry, doctor. Picard out."
"ButIneedtotellyouaboutGeordi'seyes..." He closed the channel just as they
reached the bridge. "Mr. Worf, I want to speak with Rueful about the plot."
"Aye, sir."
Picard went into his ready room to play with blocks. He loved building
little castles and cities out of them. Today, for some reason, he passed
over the cubes, the pyramids, the cylinders, and used only the flattest
blocks. He built gently-sloping structures, like the ones the Ba'mboo had.
Then he made a little walking guy out of his fingers and ran his hand around
the desk, sliding, dancing the mambo. No, his little hand-guy would never
stub his toe around the Ba'mboo village.... Stub his toe? A vision of
Rueful came to his mind, his toenails all broken and his nose crooked. So
*that* was it!!
He ran out of his ready room without picking up his blocks, something he
just *never* did! He had to beam down to the planet as soon as
possible-with this revelation, he knew he could ingratiate himself to
Abitcj and get a piece now. "Captain!" Worf called. "Didn't you want to
speak with Rueful?"
"Forget it, Worf. I'll be back later." Picard ran to the transporter room
and beamed down.
He went to Abitcj's house. She was there with Artoo, Generic Guy 2 and
Generic Guy 3. They told him all about their society.
"Long ago, we had sharp corners on our planet, just as you Offlanders do,"
Abitcj explained over a cup of moss soup. "But we kept stubbing our toes
and breaking our toenails. Then we decided to get rid of all sharp corners
and have only curves. It's much more scenic that way. Of course, since
machines usually have sharp corners, we outlawed them too. Yes, *some*
malcontents wanted their machines back, but we, um, well, they're not a
problem any more."
"The Legend of Lorbschoot tells of a man who walked into a tree and broke
his nose," said Generic Guy 3 earnestly. "So we killed all trees too. We
pulverized all rocks."
"And now you will find no angles on our world. And we would like it to stay
that way." She was so beautiful, so glorious, that Picard didn't bother to
point out her elbows and knees to her.
"Yes, and that is why the Son'a'bitch want your planet. It's all so *clear*
to me now!" he exclaimed. "But don't worry, we'll save you, somehow. If
Admiral Doughy won't agree, I'll *find* a way!"
"Oh, by the way, I want to show you something else, just so you know how
superior we are to you scum."
"Anything!" Picard follwed Abitcj outside, and they sat on the ground.
"Hold my hand and concentrate." Picard concentrated, and he suddenly felt
himself turn flat as a pancake, no, flat as a piece of paper, no, flatter!
He was completey two-dimensional. Fountains looked totally weird, what a
trip! Then he was back to normal.
"Wow, how do you *do* that?" he asked incredulously.
"You've always had the power within you. Just tap your heels together three
times and say, 'There's no place like home.'" Now I have to leave,
Offlander scum." She went into the house.
Picard wandered around for a while, until he got to a bridge and, for some
reason, saw Geordi. "Geordi! I haven't even seen you for most of the
movie." He sat down and examined his Chief Engineer more closely. "Why,
Mr. LaForge...have you lost weight?"
"Huh? Uh, no, Captain, you see...."
"Oh, of course! You're using Grecian Formula, aren't you? Sneaky, sneaky,
Mr. LaForge!"
"No, Sir, no Grecian Formula. Remember when you were talking to Dr. Crusher
in the turbolift and..."
"Hmmm, did you used to have a beard, Geordi? I know there's *something*
different about you."
"It's my eyes, Captain. They regenerated." Then he muttered under his
breath, "You'd never know about it from reading the novelization, though."
"Oh, *that's* why I didn't know. I always read the book before I go to the
movie." He suddenly changed the subject. "Say, Mr. LaForge, I think I
liked your neato blue optical implants with the squiggly lines better.
Maybe you should change them back next time."
Geordi sighed. "Yeah. Whatever."
"Did Dr. Crusher have any theory about why your eyes regenerated?" Picard
was secretly mighty PO'd at Bev. Why didn't she keep him informed of
important developments like this among his crew? This lack of knowledge was
so embarrassing!
"Well, you know how I fixed Data?"
"Yes, go on."
Geordi's brand-new eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind Picard. The edges
of the picture got all fuzzy, and Geordi started to reminisce.
Geordi watched Picard leave Engineering, then turned to Data. "Now to check
whether you're fully functional."
Data twitched his head to one side. "Intriguing! What method do you plan
to use?"
"This method!" Geordi unsealed Data's trousers in one fell swoop. He
grabbed a tube of lotion out of his pocket and rubbed it onto Data's
beautiful golden penis.
"Ohhhhh, innnntriiiiguinnng," Data moaned.
Geordi delighted in simply studying Data's innocent face as he stroked his
good friend's smooth shaft more and more quickly-the tiny "o" formed by
Data's pale lips when Geordi changed his rhythm for a moment-the way Data's
eyes drooped, half-closed, toward the end-the sound of Data's
usually-regular breaths turning into ragged gasps, his mild voice becoming
hoarse with passion as Geordi rubbed harder-the clanking sound as Data's
powerful arms and legs strained against the duranium clamps-the final
crying out when Data could stand it no longer, synthocum soaking Geordi's
uniform as Data lost control-his sigh as he relaxed, spent, in the metal
resraints-the sated lethargy that relaxed Data's lips as Geordi pressed his
own mouth tenderly to them-the....
"All right, that's quite enough flashback, Mr. LaForge." The Captain stood
and gave Geordi a brusque slap on the cheek. "This is a movie, not
Treksmut, you know!"
Geordi coughed, embarrassed. "Anyway, you know how they say if you do it to
yourself, you'll go blind?"
"Yes, that will be all, Mr. LaForge. I understand. Dismissed." Picard
felt quite uptight.
"But I was sitting here first!" Geordi protested. Then he suddenly looked
east, quite upset. "Oh, rats! During that flashback, I missed the dang
sunrise!"
Picard patted Geordi on the shoulder. "Whatever, Mr. LaForge. Carry on."
He left.***
Jean-Luc walked onto the bridge. "Mr. Worf."
"Aye, sir?"
"Invite Rueful and Doughy over for Earl Grey and cucumber sandwiches."
"Aye, sir."
He went into his ready room and punched up the refreshments. Pretty soon,
Rueful and Doughy showed up.
"I know what you're trying to do, Rueful. Don't think I'll let you get away
with it." Picard glared at the Son'a'bitch, then his expression lightened.
"Oh, where are my manners? Cucumber sandwich?" He proffered the tray.
"I'll have my way, Picard, whether you like it or not. Don't try to stop
me, or you're dead meat!" He rampaged out of the room, tripping over a
chair and bapping his nose on the doorjamb as he left.
"Well! How impolite!" Picard whispered. Then he continued, addressing
Doughy. "Doughy, I can't believe you're involved in this crazy scheme to
get rid of the Ba'mboo. And Starfleet? *What* in space were they
thinking?"
"They feel sorry for the Son'a'bitch, just as I do," Doughy responded
fervently. "These people have *BROKEN TOENAILS*, Jean-Luc. They have
*STUBBED TOES* and *BROKEN NOSES* and *BRUISED CHEEKBONES*! They're
entirely too klutzy to live on a normal planet. They *MUST* have planet
Klee-Shay II!"
"Can't you wait? Maybe the Federation scientists can terraform another
planet to the right specifications."
"Did you see Rueful? Any minute now, he could *LOSE A TOENAIL*! Captain,
the Son'a'bitch do not have much time, can't you see that?"
"But what of the Ba'mboo? Exiled?" Picard fought back sobs as he thought
of the stellar apex of beauty, the radiant, queenlike nymph, Abitcj, living
on some lousy irregular planet with lumpy bits and other unaesthetic stuff.
"There are only 600 of them, Jean-Luc. Certainly the needs of the many
outweigh the needs of the few."
Jean-Luc looked down, musing. No, he had to do it, there could be no other
way. Feeling sorry for everyone involved, he hit the super-secret button
under his desk.
"WOOOOOOOOOOP! WOOOOOOOOOP!," bleeped the ship's computer as mauve lights
flashed on the walls. "Mauve alert, mauve alert! All hands to thoughtful
stations! This is not a drill. Repeat, mauve alert, mauve alert, all hands
to thoughtful stations! This is not a drill. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!
WOOOOOOOOOOOP! Or if it were a drill, we wouldn't tell you, anyway."
Picard strode decisively out to the bridge, Doughy following. "Mr. Data,
please turn off the klaxon."
Data deactivated the siren. All through the ship, people stopped what they
were doing and looked expectantly toward the ship's PA system, hands on
chins, fingers tapping thoughtfully at temples, eyes wide.
Data booped some beeps on his station. "Captain, I am detecting a large
moral bearing 000 mark 0. Collision in ten seconds. Should we take evasive
action?"
"Negative, Data. All hands pose! Brace for close-ups!"
"Aye, sir, collision with moral in 3...2...1...."
"Throughout the history of Earth, societies have been relocated, cultures
destroyed! It is *evil*, Admiral Doughy, *evil*! I will have no part of
it. I can and will cite many examples from that most relevant of all
planets, Earth! When you move a people off their native land, the cultural
impact...."
Picard droned on and on. All hands were at thoughtful stations. Data
stared straight ahead, his face blank, thinking about the human species.
Riker looked down slightly and rubbed his chin. Worf glowered. Troi bent
her head and wept at the sheer emotion soaking the ship. Bev glowed
adoringly at Jean-Luc. Geordi didn't get a close-up.
As Picard finished speaking, Yar and Wes popped in through a wormhole. Yar
put her hands lovingly on Wesley's shoulders. "And remember, don't ever use
drugs, Wesley," she said. They popped back through.
Picard stalked off the bridge.***
Irregardless 4/4
Later that night, Riker, Data, Troi, Worf, Geordi, and Beverly were all
sitting around Riker's quarters. Riker stood up and spoke. "A few minutes
ago, I was trying to get a decent radio station. As you all know, there are
none in this boring part of the galaxy." They all nodded in agreement.
"Anyway, I found this instead." And he hit his commpanel.
Doughy could be heard, speaking to Rueful.
Doughy: Are you sure there's no other way? I mean, couldn't you live on the
other side of the planet or something? With their limited technology,
they'd never know the difference anyway.
Rueful: No, it wouldn't work. They'd be able to smell us. The only answer
is-the Fudge Device.
Doughy: Not the dreaded Fudge Device!
Rueful: We'll try to beam them all up first, of course. Since they will
undoubtedly head for the hills, which are laced with Kelvinite and
Farenhite, we'll use Rubber Cement Limpet Broadcasters to lock onto them.
But if we can't beam them up by morning, forget it! It's the Fudge Device!
Doughy: But the Fudge Device...
Rueful: Yes, it causes fudge to break out of the planet's fudge rings and
smother every person on the planet. The next day, the fudge evaporates,
leaving the planet inhabitable.
Doughy: I beg of you, Rueful, please...!
Riker stopped the recording. "Now you know what they plan."
Everyone was taken aback. Worf was the first to find his voice. "But,
but...they intend to *beam up* the Ba'mboo? To *rescue* them? This
atrocity must be stopped!"
Geordi spoke next. "True, but I feel kinda sorry for the llamas. They
didn't do anything wrong, but they're stuck living with the Ba'mboo. And
now they're gonna get smothered by fudge."
"An honorable death, however, and preferable to life with the Ba'mboo."
"Worf, how can you say that?" Bev asked. "No, we have to find a way to
save the llamas while preventing any Ba'mboo from getting beamed up."
Data was scanning with his tricorder. "Sir. Six metric tons of weaponry
has just been beamed into Cargo Bay 4."
"Computer, location of Captain Picard," Riker ordered.
"Internal scanners disabled."
"Whose authorization?"
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
"Yes, I feel his determination. He's going to the planet to...prevent the
Ba'mboo from being beamed up." Troi looked totally confused.
"But why would he want to do that?" Geordi asked. He *likes* the Ba'mboo.
To see him drooling over Abitcj is truly disgusting."
"I don't know," said Riker, "but at least we can work together-for now.
But we may have to mutiny later if he tries anything stupid."
They hurried toward Cargo Bay 4.***
Picard was getting the weapons ready when all his senior officers walked in.
"Hmmmmm, took you long enough to figure out what I was doing. You're losing
your touch, Data."
"And you are acting irrationally, Captain."
"But don't worry, Sir, we're behind you," Riker lied. "One for all, and
all for one, eh?"
"I must beam down to save Abitcj from certain death," said Picard. "I'm
going to hustle them all out of the village, where they could be captured by
transporter, and get them to the hills, where the minerals will inhibit
transport."
"I do not understand," Data whispered to Worf in his adorably innocent way.
"It is possible to beam the Ba'mboo from the village, correct? There is no
Kelvinite or Farenhite there."
"Yes," Worf whispered back.
"Then why does he simply not beam all the Ba'mboo to the Enterprise, thereby
rescuing them?"
"Bad android! Shut up!" Worf rasped, slapping him. "Do you want him to
get ideas?"
Meanwhile, Riker was pretending to go along with Picard. "Yes, we must save
them." Then he turned to Data. "But, Data, you're the rational one. What
do you think?"
"Sir? I am, um, going to help you, er, save the Ba'mboo."
"No, Data, that's not what you're supposed to say," Bev scolded. "We need a
catch-phrase."
"A what?"
"A highly-memorable sound bite."
"Why would one wish to bite sound?"
"For the trailer?"
"How does a two-wheeled device designed to be pulled behind a ground vehicle
apply to our current situation?"
"Boy, Data, you really *have* gotten stupid lately. No, I mean a clip.
That they can play on ET."
"On an extraterrestrial? I do not understand."
"Just look straight at the Captain. Then say, 'Saddle up. Lock and load."
Data was still confused. "Captain? Do you wish me to fetch your saddle?
My estimation of the girth of the llama-like hooved mammals on Klee-Shay II
is much less than the minimum circumference of the cinch on your saddle. I
could modify it, of course, but I fail to see how riding one of them...."
"No, Data, he doesn't need his saddle."
"Ah. And how does 'lock and load' apply? I had thought that you knew this
already, Captain, but we do not load phasers. They are permanently charged
from the ship's power supply. Therefore, 'load' is not a term that applies
to them. As to 'lock,' I do not understand what...."
"Maybe I can explain this," Geordi interrupted. "Data, remember in the last
odd-numbered movie, you said 'Ohhhh, shit!' and 'Yessssss!'?"
"Of course, Geordi."
"Well, this is the same thing. Just say it."
"Ah. I understand now." Data looked with determination, straight at
Picard. "Saddle up. Lock and load."
"Okay, now *that's* over with." Picard looked around at his officers. "I'm
in a good mood tonight, so I'll give assignments based on clothing. Will,
Geordi, since you're wearing uniforms, you can take the Enterprise back to
the nearest Starbase and explain to them how *wonderful*, *beautiful*, and
*perfect* the Ba'mboo are, and how they should not be destroyed. That way
nobody will have to bother changing clothes."
Will and Geordi exchanged high fives. Was the captain really sending the
big, heavily-armed Enterprise back to Starfleet? This would handicap him
immensely!
"The rest of you are with me. We'll take the Captain's yacht, because the
fans are clamoring to see what it looks like after all these years. Let's
go!" Happily, they dispersed.***
Data was trying to set up the last of the transport inhibitors that would
keep the Ba'mboo from being beamed up while they were in the village. Just
then, Artoo came over to him and started to bug him again. [What was that
kid's problem, anyway?]
"Hi, Mr. Data. What's that thing you're putting up there, huh, huh, what is
it, huh?"
"Transport inhibitor."
"What's it for, huh, huh, what's it for?"
"Inhibiting transport."
"Wow, that is so cool, Mr. Data!"
"Your people are going to the hills, where there is more Kelvinite and
Farenhite. You should go with them."
"But I want to stay with Yoooooou, Mr. Data!" One of the adults yanked him
away by the shirt collar. "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"***
Aboard the Son'a'bitch ship, Rueful was bitching at Doughy. "I haven't done
enough nasty things today. I think I'll send a couple ships to destroy the
Enterprise."
"But, but...Starfleet wouldn't like it!"
"I don't care about Starfleet, I just like to be nasty!"
"Yes, dear."***
On the planet, it was midmorning. Everybody was walking up the hills toward
a place where the ground was soft enough to dig foxholes. "Data, the
Ba'mboo are getting tired of all this walking. Call a rest break."
"Yes, sir. REST BREAK!!" Data went to sit on a rock, wondering when the
Son'a'bitch would send their limpet broadcasters. This was getting
completely boring! Unfortunately, Artoo took the rest break as an excuse to
start bugging him again.
"Do you like being a machine?"
"My construction does offer certain advantages."
"Like what?"
"Like, if someone is bothering me, I simply shut myself off, thusly." Data
reached back and flipped his off switch. The next thing he knew, he was
lying on the ground. Artoo was still there.
"I was worried about you, so I turned your switch back on."
"Oh, wonderful."
They got back up on the rock. Artoo tripped while climbing up.
"Does it not bother you to be such a klutz?" Data asked companionably.
"You are almost as bad as the Son'a'bitch. In fact, I have seen many of
your people trip and fall on our way here."
Artoo looked offended. "We're perfect, Abitcj says so. Anyway, don't you
ever trip?"
"No. My programming is too sophisticated. I will never know what it is to
trip."
"Well, hoopty-doo for you!" Artoo bitched, leaving. Data felt strangely
satisfied, in a totally non-emotional way, of course. He had succeeded in
alienating the Ba'mboo boy!
Bev and Deanna walked past, looking particularly foxy. "Hello, ladies.
Nice titties!" They both slapped him. Maybe he *should* have kept that
emotion chip after all.
Worf walked by. Hmmmm, the females hadn't liked what he had said,
so..."Hello, Worf. Nice titties!"
It took a while for Data to find and reattach his scattered, crushed
genitalia.***
Further along the trail, Picard sat with Abitcj. "Oh, Abitcj, you are built
like a brick loo. I'm soooooo horny!"
"Me too, Jean-Luc. Let's go behind this rock and shag, baby!"
They sneaked behind the rock. They removed each other's clothes, and
Jean-Luc's aching willy pressed against her firm thigh. It felt so
*wonderful*! Suddenly, they both turned two-dimensional again! It
distracted Jean-Luc from being horny, but at least the hummingbirds looked
really cool. "But you said..."
"Okay, I lied. You don't have to tap your heels together three times and
say, 'There's no place like home.' I was just pulling your leg."
"Hmph." They put on their clothes and got out from behind the rock. "REST
BREAK OVER!!" Worf's voice boomed throughout the hills.***
Riker was on the way through the Fudge Pot, hoping the Crisco shield would
hold long enough so they wouldn't end up as cosmic dessert.
"Captain," Lt. Trill said. "I'm picking up two Son'a'bitch vessels in
pursuit."
Sure enough, there they were on the screen! They started shooting at the
Enterprise. Due to various considerations, the Enterprise had to conserve
their weapons like usual and couldn't fight back much. Lots of cool stuff
blew up real good on the bridge. The Son'a'bitch released a Space-Zipper
weapon! The Enterprise had to eject the warp core to zip it back up. It
blew up real good. But the Son'a'bitch were back for more, and Riker
couldn't bring himself to fire phasers. Luckily, they were able to suck up
a pocket of super-buttery greasaton gas that had formed in the fudge. But
how would they shoot it?
Riker knew it was time for the big decision. "Mr. LaForge, prepare for...."
"No, not that!" LaForge gasped. "Anything but...."
"Yes, LaForge. PHALLIC OVERRIDE."
"WOOOOOOOOOP! WOOOOOOOOOOP!" the computer screeched for the second time
that day. "All hands, prepare for phallic override!" The floor of the
bridge split open, and a huge penis on a pedestal emerged, standing up tall
and proud with all the manliness of the Federation embodied in its stiff
form. Riker grabbed it with all the gusto he could and started rubbing and
massaging it. Lt. Trill turned the Enterprise toward the Son'a'bitch ships.
Riker worked faster. The phallic override lever grew larger. Riker started
trembling.
"Buildup of greasaton gas at critical!" LaForge yelled through the smoke
and steam that were appearing on the bridge. "Release imminent!" Panels
burst into flame, showering sparks everywhere. Lt. Trill was knocked to the
ground by the sheer manliness of it all. Riker rubbed harder, moaning with
frustration. Then he screamed-
"AAAAAAAAgh!" The greasaton gas spurted from the Bussard collectors, all
over the Son'a'bitch ships. They were immediately deep-fried to a
beautiful, golden crisp.
Everybody on the bridge smoked cigarettes.***
The rest of the Enterprise officers were walking with the Ba'mboo toward the
foxhole area. Just then, little drones appeared, shooting Rubber Cement
Limpet Broadcasters at the Ba'mboo! All the officers started shooting them.
Worf bashed one with his phaser and managed to shoot all the llamas. They
disappeared. The Ba'mboo got to the soft ground and started digging
foxholes. Our heroes, in a broad display of bravery and gallantry, shot all
the drones. They set up forcefields over all the foxholes so no more drones
could get in.
Data walked up to the Captain. "How many?" Picard asked.
Data scanned. "Forty-three are missing, sir."
"Dang!" they both said, but for different reasons.
Suddenly, a bunch of Son'a'bitch marched over the nearest hill. Our gallant
heroes stunned all of them. Bev walked over and scanned one. "Jean-Luc,"
she called, "over here." Picard went to her, followed by Data.
"Look at this DNA. It's almost the same as the Ba'mboo's."
"Hmmm, yes. Now we know why the Ba'mboo were as klutzy as the Son'a'bitch,
Data. Good work, Doctor."
"Call me Bev," she cooed, but Picard was on his way to share a foxhole with
Abitcj. The other officers started digging their own foxholes.
After a few minutes, Son'a'bitch shuttles flew overhead, dropping bombs.
Worf tapped his badge. "Worf to Captain. They're trying to collapse the
foxholes, sir. To force everyone out to where they can tag them. What
should we do?" But all Worf heard in response was a bunch of moaning and
groaning and shrieks of delight. He sighed and closed the channel, then
turned off his forcefield and crawled out on his belly to observe the
battlefield.
Ba'mboo were escaping from collapsed foxholes and being beamed up in droves.
He could see Crusher, Troi, and Data lying near him, shooting as many
Son'a'bitch vessels as they could, but it would not be enough. Pretty soon
the vessels left, and there were no Ba'mboo to be seen. Data walked up to
him. "Mr. Worf, I am still showing two lifeforms nearby. One is very
faint."
They searched and found a foxhole collapsed with the two lifeforms inside.
[At least two of the Ba'mboo will be around when the planet is destroyed,]
Data thought.
"Sir!" Worf said. "Where is the captain?"
As they were looking around, however, two thin-looking lifeforms floated up
out of the rubble. They then blew up to normal thickness; it was Picard and
Abitcj! Picard was giggling. "I did the 2-D trick all by myself!" he
bragged. "Abitcj was unconscious, but I did it!"
Bev scanned Abitcj. "She'll live," she bitched sullenly.
Troi happened to be looking the other way. "Oops, we forgot one drone," she
said. She, Bev, Data, and Worf dove for cover. Picard, who couldn't move
as fast while carrying Abitcj, got beamed up.***
Picard sat in the Son'a'bitch brig, comforting the Ba'mboo. He also told
them that they and the Son'a'bitch were the same species.
A Son'a'bitch came in. Picard made him feel very guilty, and he spilled the
whole sad story about what the Ba'mboo had done to him. Then he felt so
sorry for Picard that he let him escape.
Rueful beat up Doughy and killed him by squishing him in the pedicure chair.
He set off the Fudge Device, but it turned out that he had been tricked! It
was all a hologram! He got real mad and started trembling.
"Mr. Riker," he called into space, "I'm ready for my close-up!"
Riker's disembodied voice called back. "Okay, Roll 'em. And-action!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Rueful yelled, for no good reason.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The audience yelled back. "Isn't
this movie over with yet?"
Then Rueful boarded the Fudge Device himself, determined to set it off
manually.
Picard beamed in with his gun holstered, an easy target. Too bad Rueful had
such bad aim. They chased each other around the Fudge Device for a while,
shooting at each other with atrocious aim, always missing.
"You've beamed up all the Ba'mboo, Rueful. There's no one left to kill! So
you don't have to set off the Fudge Device!"
"I know, but it looks so cool going off in simulation, I just want to watch
it."
Rueful set the activation sequence. They got to the top, and Picard set the
self-destruct.
It started blowing up at the bottom of the ship. "Picard to Enterprise.
One to beam up."
"Sorry, Captain," Riker's voice came back through the commlink. "I know our
transporter range is normally 10 000 kilometers, but this time we have to
get right smack next to the Fudge Device before we beam you up. Dramatic
reasons, you understand."
"Of course, Commander. Carry on." The flame got closer. He saw the
Enterprise whip right by his window (it *did* look pretty cool), and then,
at the last second, he was beamed up.***
Data, Worf, Bev, and Troi were in the Captain's Yacht, flying around.
"Pretty good trick we did, shooting the Son'a'bitch and tricking them with
the hologram, huh?" Bev commented.
"Too bad it didn't get into the story," Troi complained.
"What else is new?" asked Worf.
"Look out the window!" said Data. Everybody looked. The Enterprise flew
right by the Fudge Device, then it blew up real good. But, strangely, one
little bit of it was still working. It zapped the fudge rings, and soon
they were falling on the planet, blopping huge globs of gloppy fudge all
over everything.***
The next day, everyone was back on the Enterprise, and everything was back
to normal. Geordi was giving his report to Captain Picard in the
observation lounge, with all senior officers present.
"...and it looks like the Son'a'bitch miscalculated. The planet's not going
to be inhabitable again right away; it's going to take about 300 years for
the fudge to evaporate."
"Then the Ba'mboo will be living with the Son'a'bitch on their planet."
"Yes, sir, as far as we can tell."
"That should be a suitable punishment for the Son'a'bitch," joked Riker.
Everybody laughed except Picard.
"I took the liberty of beaming over some crash helmets and steel-toed boots
for the Son'a'bitch," Data said. "It seems they should have some
compensation."
"And I had all the llamas beamed into Cargo Bay 2," Troi said. "I could
feel their pain most intensely."
"Awwww, that's too bad. Is it better now, Imzadi?" Riker patted her hand.
"Yes, much better."
Picard was confused at his staff's behavior, but decided not to think about
it for now. "Everyone is dismissed." He was happy, because he had a secret
plan!***
Picard went to Transporter Room 1 alone and dismissed the operator. Then he
transported the one of his desire to the Enterprise. Her lithe form
materialized, causing a glow of great appreciation and ecstasy in his soul.
"Hello, Abitcj. Let's go to my quarters, shall we?" They left.***
Data and Geordi were in Engineering. "Come on, Data, please, let me put the
emotion chip back in. I cleaned it with Lysol and Ajax, see?" He held up
the chip for Data to examine. "There's no cooties left, honest!"
"Well, all right, Geordi. If you think it best."
"And I'll put that new music chip upgrade in, too, you'll see. It'll be
better than ever!"
"Proceed." Geordi switched Data off, put in the chips, and switched him
back on. Data blinked and looked around. "Strange. I have felt no emotion
yet."
"I bet I can make you feel one!" Geordi kissed Data passionately on the
lips.
"Ymmmms, M ammmmm nmw fmmlmmg lmst."
"That's a start. Let's go back to our quarters."
They walked down the corridor and were surprised to find Abitcj, face-down
in a drinking fountain. Apparently their advanced technology and her
natural bad luck with water had gotten the best of her. They called Bev
(who happened to be lurking in a nearby doorway), but it was too late to
save her. Or that's what Bev *said*, anyway. Jean-Luc was heartbroken, but
Bev promised to make him feel better.
Data and Geordi stood in Sickbay, looking at Abitcj's body. Data started
trembling, then shaking, then spasming. Geordi held him tight. "What's
wrong, Data?"
"I believe...I am...experiencing...another emotion," Data sobbed with tears
in his eyes.
"What would that emotion be?" Geordi worried that the chip might be
malfunctioning.
Data took a deep breath and blinked the tears from his eyes. "Humor-I love
it!"

END