a wacko spoof you probably won't understand

Captain's Log, Stardate 1992.4, Captain Marc S. Rodriguez reporting:

We are en route to the Agri system to answer what is believed to be a Federation distress signal emanating from the Planet Fores 101. For such a routine rescue mission, Starfleet could only sacrifice our ship at such short notice. I only hope this mission will be routine, but I foresee complications. Starfleet intelligence has reported heavy activity surrounding this system.

Captain Rodriguez strolled up and down the bridge of the Plagiarize impatiently. He looked over at the Communications station, where Lieutenant-Major Vic Vitayaudom stood bouncing back and forth with his hands resting on his belt and his eyes closed. Apparently, this was Vic's idea of dancing. Marc strolled over to Vic.

"Uh, Vic?"

Vic continued dancing, oblivious to everything.

"Vic?"

He just kept dancing. Marc leaned over and pressed an 'all-speakers' button on the station. Instantly loud high-energy music filled the bridge, the speakers blaring with the lyrics:

"Cocaine, cocaine and sex... cocaine, cocaine and sex (grunt)... cocaine, cocaine and sex..."

Everyone on the bridge winced and clasped their hands over their ears. Marc pounded his hand down on the button and stopped the music, but Vic just kept on dancing.

"Vic?"

Vic, oblivious to the fact that there was no music, continued to bounce.

"VIC!"

Vic looked around, and took the antennae device out of his ear. "Huh?"

"I turned off the music a minute ago."

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Would you mind dancing on your own time?"

"Oh, no problem."

"Now, could you monitor that distress signal to see if it hasn't changed lately?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem, Marc."

He looked over at the science station, where Commander Mackay, the Chief Science Officer, sat, obviously engrossed in some important project or another that Rodriguez couldn't see. There was nothing exciting happening on the ship at this time, so the Captain assumed MacKay was performing standard system analyses on the ship. Finally, Mackay stood up and revealed a complex playing card house set up on his console. Yes, everyone on the ship was quite bored, Marc thought as he approached the Science Officer.

"How far away are we?"

"Our ETA to Fores is approximately one day, two hours, thirty-six minutes and eighteen seconds, Marc," MacKay replied.

"Approximately?"

Pete shrugged. "Well, it's just a rough estimate. I don't know! Why don't you ask the helm? They've got nothing to do but check how long we have. I mean it's not like the computer doesn't take care of everything, all they have to do is lay in the course. I've got an entire ship's computer system to worry about, and running on Unix! It must crash at least five times a day!"

Marc gave him a wry, grinning look. "Shut up, you big doof!"

"Aye, aye, Captain," Pete responded stoically.

Lieutenant Frank Wang interjected from the helm, "Captain, we're approaching the Agri system now."

Marc looked over to the helm, and then whipped his head back to Pete with a confused look. "I thought you said it would be one day?!"

"Well, give or take a day."

"That's not a very good 'estimate,' Commander!"

Pete scowled, "How should I know? I haven't checked the ship's status in three days; I don't know where we are." He gave Marc a "don't look at me" look.

"What have you been doing since we left Starbase 6?"

"Oh, I've been reprogramming the ship's holodeck. I'm working on creating an entire separate universe in there."

"Really? Cool."

"Yeah, it should take up only half of the entire ship's memory banks once it's done."

"Ummm..."

"But so far it's a big hit! A lot of the crew have tried it out by now..."

"So that's where everyone's been the past few days..."

"Of course there are still a few bugs in it that I have to work out - that reminds me, I wonder if Ensign Kimm is out of sickbay yet."

Suddenly the intercom chimed, "Engineering to Bridge."

"Yes, Jon, what is it?"

Lt. Commander Wierer's voice piped up, "Captain, can we turn off the warp drives and coast for a while?"

"Coast!? What the heck for?"

"It's too hot in Engineering. We all took a vote and decided we wanted it cooler."

"What? Too hot!? Look, Grimmy -"

"OOOOOOH! Don't say that! I hate that," Jon's voice whined through the intercom.

"Cool your engines, Jon!" Marc snapped.

"I'm trying to!"

"Look, we'll be in orbit soon, and you can disengage warp then. But until then, maintain Warp 6."

An audible sigh came over the intercom. "Okay, Marc," Jon resigned, "Wierer out."

Marc turned back to Pete. "Now what were we talking about? Oh, hey, you wanna get the whole crew together and paint the hull of the Plagiarize?"

"What the hey-ha?" yelled Frank. He was suddenly hunched over his console very studiously. "Captain, there is a high amount of energy coming toward us at warp speed from the planet Fores."

"Evasive, Mr. Wang!" Marc snapped automatically. Frank's hands played the helm as if through innate talent. "It's no good, Captain..."

"Oh, no...!" Major Fraund's soft voice sounded at Weapons. The main viewer screen lit up with a bright flash, and the bridge shook with impact, sending Marc and Pete flying across the bridge.

"Great gonzo!" exclaimed Frank.

"Wow, impact," moaned Phil.

Marc got up and ran to Pete, who was still lying on the floor. "Pete! Pete! Are you okay?"

Pete looked up groggily, and stared at Marc dazedly for a few seconds. "Green?"

Frank smiled, "he's alright."

The intercom blared to life. "Engineering to Bridge! Marc, what's going on up there?!"

"Something apparently hit us. Did anything get damaged?"

"No, but I spilled Orange Hi-C all over the warp-flux terminal," Jon whined, "It's gonna be a pain to replace. Why don't you guys take it easy, this isn't a toy, you know!"

"Okay, Jon, just be careful."

"Engineering out," Jon announced resignedly.

"Damage report," Marc snapped.

Vic swiveled around in his chair at communications and took the antenna out of his ear. "No casualties, sir, but one man got a charley pony -"

"You mean a charlie horse?"

"No, a charley pony."

Marc waved his hand and stammered, "n-never mind; continue."

"One of those fisty-thingies got stuck in a bulkhead, you know..."

Clearly Marc didn't know. He was looking at Vic with that "what are you talking about" look of his and shaking his head as if to clear the confusion.

"And all powers are out on decks 233-235 -"

"What?! We only have 48 decks!"

"Hmm. That must be why there's no power there... oh, and the fire alarm was set off on deck 8."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Must be the fire on deck 7..."

"Fire?!"

"Oh, and the Rec Room on Deck 23 reports a man disappeared - fell into the service shaft."

"Fell into the...?" Marc stared into space, confused. "Well, where is he now?"

"They don't know."

A muffled voice came from the general direction of the main viewer, "Help! Help!"

Horror showed on Marc's face. "Oh, no, he was sucked into space!"

"No," came the voice, "help! I'm trapped in your TV!"

"What? You mean you're INSIDE the main viewer?"

"You're TV! I'm trapped in your TV!"

"That's ridiculous! Security, go into the service shaft and get him out!"

"Sure, Marc," Phil muttered and got up from his chair. He walked over to a little-used service panel, opened it, and crawled in. The entire bridge held their breath while noises and crashes of movement came from within the service ducts of the Plagiarize bridge. A few minutes later Phil emerged, carrying a rather shaken up red-shirted officer, and announced, "hey, look, it's Tom!"

Now standing on his own, Lieutenant-Major Tom Shekleton, Chief Recreations Officer, smiled at the bridge crew and brushed himself off. "Er, sorry about that. That turbulence must have tripped off the intra-ship transporters. Heh."

"That's okay, Tom, just be more careful next time. Oh, by the way, have we received that new game, SimStarship, yet?"

"No, it should be coming to us over subspace in a day or two. While I'm here, I should find out what happened to all the ship's memory. You know I can't load Moria because there's not enough memory? The Astrophysics department is going crazy!"

Pete tried to look innocent while Tom walked over to the nearest empty station and began to run checks.

Lieutenant Wang turned to the Captain again. "Captain, we've reached Fores 101. Standard orbit, or should I do something nutty?"

Marc went back to his chair and looked thoughtful for a second. "Hmm, what other kinds of orbits do we have? Oh, go ahead, be nutty!"

"Aye, aye, sir, entering a wacko orbit now."

"Good!" Marc looked pleased. "What's down there, Pete?"

"Huh? Oh, uh," Pete moved the hair out of his face and looked down at his viewer, "Surface scan shows, uh - hey, neato!"

"What?" Marc asked curiously.

"Well, class M planet, normal vegetation, two polar regions..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, cut to the chase, don't just leave us in suspense, sheesh!"

"Well, sensors detect humanoid life down there."

"Of course! Someone had to send a distress beacon."

"No, no, I mean lots of life."

Marc exploded from his chair, yelling, "But that's impossible! This planet's supposed to be uninhabited!"

"Well, apparently not, sir."

"Let me see!" Marc jumped to the science station and looked in the viewer. "What does all this mean?"

"It means there's life on the planet," Pete mumbled.

"Where?" blurted Marc.

"There, see?" Pete pointed at the screen, "Look, the little picture of a stick man with the words LIFE YES right by it."

Marc looked up. "That's funny, I thought this ship was pro-choice."

"Yeah, well, I reprogrammed it."

Marc shook his head and looked decisively around the bridge. "Well, we're gonna have to investigate this. I'll need a landing party, let's see, you, me, Dr. Bertoncini, Phil, Frank, a-aaaand... Tom."

Tom looked up from his console in surprise. "What, me? B-but I can't go down there!"

"Why not?" asked Marc.

"Because I have a red shirt!"

"But we need a red shirt. Red shirts always accompany us down to the planet!"

"But the red shirts are always the first to die! I don't wanna die!"

"Oh, come on! Phil's wearing a red shirt, you don't see him complaining!"

"Well he's a part of the bridge crew! Of course he's not going to die!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Tom, go down to the planet with us, come on, it'll be fun!" As he walked over to his command chair, Marc said, "Vic, send the coordinates of the distress beacon to Transporter Room 3 and tell them to stand by. And notify Dr. Bertoncini to meet us there." He reached his chair and pushed the intercom button. "Bridge to Engineering. Jon, you have the conn."

The intercom crackled to life. "I don't want to command this hunk of garbage!"

"Jon, take the conn."

"Aye, sir," came Jon's voice with a very sarcastic tone.

Marc closed the channel, turned and headed for the turbolift shouting, "Landing party, be ready at Transporter Room 3 in five minutes," and walked right into the door with a "thud." Slowly, he composed himself and turned around, steaming mad and suppressing an urge to strangle the nearest person. "What is wrong with the turbolift doors?"

Pete spoke up, "Oh, I just finished reprogramming them. Here, let me show you." He walked over to the doors, stopped, jumped, clicked his heels together three times, spun all the way around on his left toe, and said "squid." The doors promptly slid open with a whoosh.

Marc stood at the doorway to the turbolift, staring at Pete. "Did you, uh, reprogram every door on the ship?"

"Well, yeah."

"And were you planning on informing the rest of the crew?"

"Oh, yeah, hey Vic?"

"I'll tell them," Vic said as he pushed a few meaningless buttons on the communications console.

Marc finally entered the lift with Pete. Frank and Phil got up from their stations and joined them, having completed their checks on the ship's orbit. Two gold-shirted ensigns appeared as if from nowhere to take their place at the helm. "I'll meet you in the transporter room," Tom said resignedly as the lift doors whooshed shut.

Most Federation turbolifts have small side viewports allowing the passengers to see the light from the decks as they go by. The crew of the Plagiarize decided this was useless since they knew where they were going and no one could keep count of which deck they were passing anyway. So, all Plagiarize turbolifts had, in place of the little windows, monitors that played cartoons while the lift was moving.

The monitor on this turbolift started up an old 1970's Tom and Jerry cartoon as soon as everyone had entered and the doors had closed. Marc ordered, "transporter room," then turned to Pete. "Opinion, Pete?" The turbolift motors whirred to life as it started.

"On what?"

"What do you think's down there?"

"Oh, well, some plants, maybe an ocean or two."

Frank interjected, "I hope a McDonald's. I'm tall hungry."

"No, no, what do you think the readings meant? And who attacked our ship?"

"Oh, I don't know, an intelligent life form of some kind, I guess."

Marc rolled his eyes and said emphatically, "Obviously, Pete, but how advanced?"

"Well, advanced enough to send a 'high amount of energy' at us."

"Yeah, okay, whatever."

The lift stopped and the doors slid open to reveal a hallway outside. The four crew members started down the corridor without delay, with Frank cutting off Pete every five meters. Pete, annoyed but used to it, tried to stay as far out of Frank's path as possible.

From the shipwide intercom, Vic's voice could be heard announcing, "Attention all personnel. There have been some, uh, modifications to all turbolifts. For the correct entry procedure, you now have to go up, do the Wizard of Oz thing, imitate Michael Jackson and say "squid." Please be advised of these changes."

The four continued into the transporter room where Transporter Chief Tab Patni was on duty and Dr. Dave Bertoncini was waiting for them.

"Hey Guys!" Dave said with a vaguely Italian accent, "You ready to go down to the planet? Ohh, I tell ya, I sure am!" He was grinning from ear to ear.

Marc looked at his landing party. "Well, we're ready, but where's Tom?"

"I'm here, I'm here," Tom cried as he rushed into the room, tucking in a gold shirt.

"I thought you wore a red shirt?" Phil asked.

"I did, but I'm not taking any chances."

Marc gave Tom a stern look, then nodded to Tab as everyone took their place on the dias. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yeah, cool. Oh, if this planet has any good pizza places, could you bring me back one?"

Marc smiled a big, toothy smile. "If you can beam us back before we eat it all."

"You mean before you eat it all," Tom corrected.

Tab finished adjusting the settings. "Okay, we're ready."

"Energize."

The Plagiarize disappeared around them in a flash of red sparkles, to be replaced a few seconds later by a forested landscape. Instantly Marc, Phil, and Frank had their phasers in hand, and Pete was studying his tricorder. "The source of our distress signal is over there." He pointed to their right, then continued to scan a circle around them. "Hmm," he muttered. At an inquiring glance from Marc, he explained, "this tricorder must be all messed up. It says five hundred meters that way," he pointed to their left, "there are about one hundred and fifty life forms, all of them the same entity."

Marc looked thoughtful. "Analysis?"

"I don't know, it could be a number of things."

"Collective intelligence?" suggested Frank.

Dave emphatically put in his two cents worth. "Check it out, man. This planet's got a lot of symbolism! One is many, many is one. Hey Tom, did you notice how red this planet is? It's symbolic of something, I just know it!"

Tom looked around. Dave had a point; the planet was indeed very red. He made a mental note of it and continued scanning the horizon worriedly.

"Maybe I shouldn't have taken this tricorder apart yesterday," Pete mused.

"Man, stop it, you guys are freaking me out!" Phil protested softly.

"Suggestions?" Marc inquired.

"Why don't we go that way." Pete pointed to a random direction.

Tom raised his hand. "How about if we go back up to the ship and watch movies? I just got the latest copy of Heathers on 3-D holovision."

Phil looked to the right. "Let's find the person who's in distress. It's better than running into a hundred and fifty things."

"Agreed." Marc stated. "Maybe whoever's sending the distress signal can explain this... anomaly. Let's go."

The party moved on along what seemed to be a well-worn path, Marc in the lead, Pete second, studying his tricorder, Frank bumping into Phil along the way, and Tom trailing behind. Dave was right ahead of Tom, talking to him behind his back. "Just look at all the red, Tom. I tell ya it's symbolism. It's red planet imagery." Suddenly Marc stopped, and motioned for the others to do so as well. A noise could be heard ahead of them.

"Tom, check it out," Marc whispered.

"Oh, no. This is the part where I get it. Well, count me out!"

Marc looked back at Tom. "How 'bout if I ordered you, then?"

Pete gave a start. "Marc -"

Marc looked forward again. Ahead of them, along the path, stood a haggard, disheveled man in a torn-up starfleet uniform, his face blood-streaked and his blond hair drenched in sweat. He stared at them, wide-eyed. "Federation. You're from the Federation. I can't believe it. Finally..." The man started falling in a faint.

Marc rushed up and caught him. "Easy," he coached, and snapped, "Bert!" Instantly Dave was at the man's side and going over him with a medical scanner. Marc noticed the man had markings on his shirt which designated the rank of Captain.

"I'm Captain Marc S. Rodriguez of the Federation Starship Plagiarize. Who are you? How did you get here?"

"Marc, he's a little fatigued right now. Why don't you let him rest?" Dave suggested.

"There's no time for that. We need to know what's happening..."

"My name," groaned the unknown Captain, "is Captain Mike Nolan, of the U.S.S. Weston."

Marc stared in astonishment. "Mike Nolan!? But the Weston was lost three quadrants from here over two months ago!" He stared at Dave.

"Whoah, that's pretty heavy," Dave replied.

"Wow, lost starship," muttered Phil.

"Gonzo grapes! We've got quite a mystery here," exclaimed Frank rather excitedly.

"What happened, Nolan? We've got to know!"

Nolan stirred, and muttered, "hundreds of them... my entire crew... killed... I'm the only one... left..." He came to full alertness almost instantly. "We've got to get out of here! They're still out there! Captain, you've got to beam us back to your ship!"

Dave looked at Marc. "He's delirious, Marc."

Marc patted the other Captain on the shoulder. "It's okay, take it easy, we're safe."

"But you don't understand! They'll kill us all! They're horrible, they're... not human... Rodriguez, we can't stay here!"

"Who are they?"

"There's no time for that!" Nolan was frantic. "They'll be here any minute. They know you're here. They - oh, no," Nolan was looking over Dave's shoulder, "it's them!"

The landing party collectively turned around. Standing a few meters behind them on the path were about twenty men who looked exactly alike.

Marc stared in horror. "Oh no!"

Tom spat out in absolute disgust, "it's a race of Roberts!"

Quite some time ago, the crew of the Plagiarize ran into an enemy called Robert. Alone, he caused quite a bit of pain and suffering for the entire ship before Pete found out direct sunlight was harmful to his eyes and used that to imprison him on the third planet in the system Carr. Now, they were face to face with ten of them, maybe a hundred more, all wearing terminator sunglasses and grey paper-and-cloth fedoras. The closest one took a step forward, and opened its mouth. "We demand an explanation."

All phasers were out and readied, although the entire party knew they were useless. They remembered the last time, when they had shot it with phasers on kill, and it just smiled stoically and kept coming...

Marc offered, "We are here to rescue our friend, who was shipwrecked on this planet. We mean you no harm. We come in peace, and would wish to leave in... one piece." Regardless of the content of his message, his phaser was still at the ready.

The lead Robert got angrier, if that was at all possible. "No, that is not the explanation we seek."

Marc stretched his arms out and gave him a look that said he didn't know any further explanation.

"The computers you sold us do not work," another Robert from behind explained.

Marc looked bewildered. "We didn't sell you any computers. Captain Nolan, did you sell them faulty computers?"

Captain Nolan shook his head. "Federation smugglers were here before us. They're blaming us because we represent the Federation."

Marc turned back to the Roberts. "We're sorry. We didn't sell you any faulty computers. You have us confused with smugglers and thieves -"

"You sold us bad computers. You will fix them, or die." The Robert advanced on Marc, brandishing a thick foot-long rod threateningly.

Marc had his communicator out and opened instantly. "Marc to Enterprise. Tab, seven to beam up, now!"

Nothing happened.

"Tab, energize!" Marc yelled into his communicator.

The communicator piped up with Vic's voice. "I think he's asleep, Captain."

"Asleep?! Well, wake him up, now!"

"Captain, we've tried. He just won't wake up!"

One Robert approached Marc, waving its rod. "You will fix them now," it said laconically.

"Vic..."

"May I suggest waiting until 6, Marc. 'Cheers' comes on then and he'll definitely be up."

Staring at the Robert, Marc looked exasperated as he responded into the communicator. "Okay, Vic, notify us as soon as he's awake." He flipped the box shut, slowly put it away, and motioned for the Robert to lead the way.

The Roberts took them to their computer lab, where about thirty tiny computer terminals awaited them. Pete gasped in astonishment as they entered.

"Oh, gad, they're all Macs!"

Marc leaned over to Pete and mumbled, "can you fix them?"

"Well, I don't know, I'll have to check." Pete walked over and hesitantly sat at one of the terminals.

"They're so small,"' Tom exclaimed in wonder, "I could fit three of them in my pocket."

Marc's communicator beeped, and he grabbed it and flipped it open. "Marc here. Yes, Lieutenant Commander?"

Jon sounded a little nervous over the radio. "Captain, we're picking up a Klingon ship approaching the system."

"How much time have we got?"

"About five minutes."

"Is Tab awake?"

"No, we still can't wake him."

"Well try harder!"

"Marc, do you realize how hard it is to wake Tab?"

"Reset the ship's computers; make him think it's six o'clock. Tell him 'Cheers' is on now."

"Aye Captain, Plagiarize out."

"Pete, how are you doing?"

Pete threw down the keyboard and looked up. "It's screwed."

The Robert spoke up. "Then you will die." They all started coming towards the Plagiarize landing party, brandishing their rods.

"Wait!" Marc shouted. "If you kill us, you'll never get your computers fixed. Let us beam back to the ship, and... we can call the local Macintosh Department." Marc knew this was the worst bluff he had ever made.

"Your science officer said they are beyond repair. You will die for your mistakes."

"I didn't say they're beyond repair. I said they're screwed. That doesn't necessarily mean they can't be fixed. Now if I had said they're gone..."

"That's enough, Pete," Marc interrupted. "Roberts..." Marc gave them his best pleading look, "killing us won't accomplish anything. Why don't you just admit you've been shafted?"

"NO! You must die!" They continued to come forward, their rods held high in the air.

The communicator beeped again, still in Marc's hand. Vic's voice came over the speaker. "Plagiarize to Captain Marc, it worked, sir. Tab's awake." Tab's voice sounded on cue, "hi, guys, what's up?"

Marc responded instantaneously. "Tab, seven to beam up, lock on and energize, immediately."

The Roberts were almost upon them, as the planet disappeared and the comforting deck of the Plagiarize materialized around them. Klaxons were sounding in the corridors, and the light on the transporter console gleamed red. A bleary-eyed Tab stood at the console and tiredly mumbled, "hey guys. How was your trip?" They all let out a breath, and Tom declared, "I made it! I don't believe it! This must be history, or something!"

Marc scrambled off the transporter dias and ran out the door for the bridge, followed by Nolan and the rest of the landing party. As they ran for a turbolift, the corridor was buffeted by the impact of a torpedo hit, sending them grabbing for handholds. Marc was the first to exit when the turbolift reached the bridge.

"Report," Marc snapped.

Jon gladly stepped down from the command chair. "Klingon Bird of Prey uncloaked 4000 meters off our port bow just as soon as we had you transported. We took the hit in decks 10 and 11; life support is failing on those decks, and the galley reports two casualties." The Klingon ship was clearly displayed on the main viewer.

"They'll be needing me in sickbay then," Dave muttered as he turned back into the turbolift.

Phil and Frank quickly relieved the ensigns at the helm. Marc eased into his chair, just as another torpedo could be seen racing toward them. The bridge shook as it hit them.

Pete was already scanning at the science station. "Shields are down forty-three percent."

Jon headed for the turbolift. "I better get down to Engineering."

Tom and Mike Nolan just stood behind the command chair.

"Hail the Klingon vessel," Marc ordered.

"Aye, Captain," Vic responded, and in a few seconds the screen switched to a view of a Klingon bridge, the walls littered with pin-ups of naked Klingon females. Queensryche was playing in the background, and a familiar long haired, shifty-eyed, arrogant face stared back at the crew.

"K'eric..." Tom gasped. It was his old arch nemesis, a Klingon he was forced to share living quarters with back in the Europa colony.

"Captain K'eric," the Klingon growled back, "...and soon to be Sysop K'eric."

"K'eric, you are interfering with Federation business that is no concern or threat to you. We request that you kindly shove off," demanded Marc.

"I will make the demands, Captain Rodriguez. This planet is to be the site of my new computer network. It is part of the Klingon Empire, not the Federation. Why are you here?"

"We were answering a Federation distress call."

"Don't play games with me! What were you doing on the planet?"

"Why don't you go down there and find out?" Marc jeered.

K'eric roared with rage. "You do not scare me! I am better than you! I can crush your puny starship! Say your prayers, Plagiarize." K'eric laughed evilly and the bridge crew heard 'Enter Sandman' playing in the background, just before connection was cut off. The screen only showed the words 'Connection closed by foreign host.'

At the push of a button, Marc called Engineering. "Bridge to Engineering, Jon, give me full warp on my mark!"

"Sorry, Marc, I can't do it. That last torpedo hit blew out a spark plug in the warp drives. I'm afraid we're gonna be here for a while!"

"Spark plug?! One spark plug and the entire drive is incapacitated?"

"Can I help it if this ship blows?"

"Can't you replace it?"

"That was our last one. We were running on a spare already until we reached a Starbase."

"Grimmy -"

"OOOOOOH! I told you not to say that! I'm soo mad!"

"Okay, Jon... Can you fix it?"

"How should I know? I hate Physics!"

"Just fix them, okay?"

Jon sighed. Marc could almost see him running his hands through his hair. "Okay, Marc, but I'll need Pete's help."

Pete straightened up and started heading for the turbolift before Marc could say anything.

"He's on his way. Marc out." Marc closed the line with the flip of a switch.

Frank tensed. "Captain, the Klingon ship is moving forward on impulse power. Sensors detect they're charging their phaser banks."

"Mister Fraund, lock on phasers. Stand by to fire on my mark!"

Phil's fingers hesitated over the console. "Are you sure? They're highly dangerous."

An blue arc of energy shot out from the Klingon ship to the Plagiarize's hull, causing the ship to rock violently.

"Yes, Phil, fire all phasers!"

"Aye sir." Within seconds, the bridge heard the whine of the phaser banks from several decks below, and saw the bolt of energy on the screen connect with the enemy vessel. Phil cried out, "direct hit, sir!"

Vic swiveled to face Marc. "More casualties on decks 32, 27, and 35, and we've lost central air conditioning."

"Central air?" Tom exclaimed. "We're in space!"

"Klingon firing photon torpedoes!" yelled Frank.

"Fire phasers!" Marc automatically snapped.

Phil responded instantly, and the torpedoes exploded right in front of the ship's cylindrical hull. Frank continued to monitor the scanners. "The Klingon vessel is veering off and recharging its phaser banks."

Jon frantically called over the intercom without formality. "Marc, shields are almost gone, one more hit and this ship is history! It's out of control! I told you we should've had the hull rust-proofed!"

"Phil, ready torpedoes, fire when ready."

"Weapons station reports something wrong with torpedo tubes, sir."

"Phasers?"

"Still re-charging."

Frank updated, "Klingon ship has charged its phasers, locking on to us now."

"Phasers, Phil?"

Frank interjected, "wacky fun!"

A blue arc lit up the area between the two ships. Marc could just barely hear the whine of the Plagiarize's own phasers and see the explosion on the Klingons' hull as Phil yelled, "All right! Got him," and started to dance.

"A direct hit has cut a hole through their forward shield and incapacitated their weapons system," reported Frank. On cue the enemy ship disappeared from the screen, leaving only stars. "Apparently their cloaking device still works, though. Residual ion traces suggest they are remaining in the area and are heading for an orbit opposite ours."

Marc jumped up. "Now's our chance to get out of here! Bridge to Engineering!"

"Pete here, Marc."

"Are the warp engines fixed?"

"Well, sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

"Maybe you better come down here and see for yourself."

"Oh - okay. I'll be right there. Marc out. Tom, let's go to Engineering."

Tom joined Marc at the lift. "What do you need me for? I'm the Recreations Officer."

"Yeah, and this should be entertaining." Marc looked over the bridge for someone to place in command, and realized Vic was the highest-ranking officer remaining. Marc flinched at the thought of leaving him in charge of anything important for more than two minutes. Next to Vic was a diminutive blue-shirted female ensign who replaced Pete at the science station. "Umm, Ensign Kimm, you, uh, have the conn." He walked over to her, added in a low voice, "just don't let Vic touch anything," and left with Tom.

"Thank you sir," said the ensign.

In engineering, Marc said hello to Ensigns Ryan and Simms as he passed by their stations, and greeted Pete and Jon with, "Now what's the matter?"

Jon replied, "Could you do something about the air conditioning? It's getting awfully hot on this ship."

"But we're in space!" Tom protested.

"I'll check it out," Pete mumbled.

"Never mind that, what did you call me down here for?" asked Marc.

Jon answered, "Maybe Pete better tell you."

Marc turned to Pete with a smile. "Pete! How'd you fix the engines?"

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain without getting all technical and everything."

"Never mind that. What did you do?"

"Basically we just built a new spark plug."

"And? That's all?"

Jon added, "well, um, we kind of had to scrap a few things for parts."

"Kind of? What 'things' did you scrap?"

"Here, maybe you should take a look." Pete led them to a bedsheet hanging down from the ceiling which separated one section of Engineering from the rest. He grabbed the sheet and pulled it aside to reveal a huge mountain of electronics as high as their heads. Among the many items which made up this machine that Marc could identify were a food processor and microwave, a stereo, several computers, and a TV set. Hanging from a pipe at eye level was a sign which said 'Main Drain.'

Tom reacted violently to the sight. "That's the TV from Ten Forward! What did you do to Ten Forward's TV?!"

"Take it easy, Tom," Jon coaxed.

Marc gasped, "that's a spark plug?!"

"But my TV! How are we gonna watch Heathers now?"

Marc asked, "how is Tab gonna watch Cheers?"

"Relax Tom," Pete tried, "everyone had to sacrifice something. My computer went into this machine, and I had to gut out Jon's keyboard."

Jon jumped. "You did what!? You didn't tell me you used my keyboard!"

"Well, no."

"How could you? Oh, my poor keyboard! I thought some parts looked familiar!"

Marc kept peering into the machinery. "Isn't this Tab's stereo? He's gonna be awfully pissed!"

Pete offered, "But it'll go, I mean, with a few modifications."

"Like what?"

"Well, you can use the warp drives, just as long as you don't hit Warp six. You can go any other speed over or under that, just stay away from Warp six."

"Why?"

"Well, I programmed the computer to think six is an imaginary number."

Marc's voice raised about a notch. "Pete, will you stop re-programming everything?!"

"Oh well, sure, take all the fun away."

"Just as long as it works. Prepare the - spark plug for Warp eight on my command."

Jon and Pete both responded, "aye sir."

Tom stepped forward. "Capt - Marc?"

"Yes, Lieuten- uh, Tom?"

"Do you think it's a good idea to just leave like this? I mean what about the Roberts?"

"What about them?"

"Well we can't just leave them here. I mean they're still a threat and all. What if they develop space travel or something?"

Pete stepped forward. "I think I have a solution."

"Oh?" Marc inquired. "Let's hear it."

"Well, I think the Roberts would be a great, um... resource to the Klingon Empire. We should introduce them to Captain K'eric."

Tom smiled. Marc grinned evilly. "Yeah... I'll work out a plan. Keep this thing plugged in."

* * *

Captain's Log, supplemental, Ensign Susanna Kimm reporting.

I, uh, well I just wanted to enter a log.

Ensign Kimm hit the switch and shut off the log, just as the turbolift doors opened and Marc stepped out. Disappointed that she didn't get more time in command, she stepped down from the Command chair and let Marc take over.

"Vic, hail the Klingon vessel," Marc said as he quickly made for his chair.

A combination of high-pitched tones emanated from the communications console, and seconds later the main screen switched from the planet below to Captain K'eric's ugly face.

"What do you want, Rodriguez?"

"Captain K'eric," Marc greeted in a fake congenial tone, "we - have an offer for you."

"Cut the bull, Rodriguez!"

"The civilization on the planet below does not wish to be a member of the Federation. They have no need for a new computer network on their planet, but they do, however, need a Computer Systems Operator."

"Really? I might be interested."

"We will send the coordinates to you. Just be sure when you meet them to tell them you're here about the computers."

"I will keep that in mind. Now you will leave the system as soon as this transaction is completed."

"Acknowledged. Marc out."

The screen blacked out, to be replaced again by a view of the planet. "Dweeb," Marc muttered. "Okay," he said in a louder voice, "let's get outta here, Warp six - uh, make that eight."

"Aye, sir." Frank punched in coordinates, and they were on their way.

Marc flipped the intercom switch. "Bridge to Engineering. How's our spark plug holding up, Jon?"

"It's doing just fine, but we do have one problem..."

"What's that?"

"Tom tried to rescue the TV from the machine."

"Er, what happened?"

In the background of the intercom, Marc could softly hear Tom's voice: "Help! Help! I'm trapped in the..."