The main door of the stately mansion gently opened before Captain James T. Kirk to reveal the silver-haired, dignified features of Prefect Jaris, the highest government official on planet Argelius II. "Captain Kirk," Jaris said, "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, come in."
Nodding respectfully, Kirk stepped across the threshold, Jaris closing the door behind him. "Prefect Jaris, I'd just like to offer my apologies," he said. "It seems like murder occurs on Argelius II whenever the Enterprise calls here." It had been two years since the Enterprise's last visit to this world, and that time chief engineer Montgomery Scott had been accused of savagely killing two Argelian women - one of whom had been Jaris' own wife - as well as one Enterprise crewmember. Fortunately, the true culprit, a non-corporeal lifeform, was soon discovered and dealt with...at least that was what Kirk sincerely hoped.
"Your apologies are not necessary, captain," Jaris told him. "I personally have no doubts regarding your man's innocence in this unpleasant matter. Now, here we are." Passing through a doorway, Kirk and Jaris emerged in the large, circular main chamber of Jaris' home which Kirk remembered from his last visit. Two men were already there: The new chief city administrator, the replacement for the unfortunate Mister Hengist; and ensign Pavel Chekov, who rose from where he had been sitting the instant Kirk appeared.
"Keptin," the young Russian quickly said, "I give you my word, I had nothing to do with those killings. It is ridiculous to think otherwise!"
"Just stay calm, Chekov," Kirk told him. "I just want to hear your account of what happened. Can you start at the beginning?"
With a sigh, Cchekov sat back down. "Well, I suppose it all began when we were at the inn..."
OOOOOOOO
The night on Argelius II was young, and already the establishment in which Kirk, Chekov and several other Enterprise crewmembers had found themselves was fully alive with laughter, cheering, sensuous music, and more sensuous dancing girls. Sat on cushions around two tables, the Starfleet crew watched with appreciation as the Argelian women swayed and gyrated, every curve of their bodies showing through their thin dresses, and with a twinkle in the eye and a smile for every customer.
Nearly every customer, that is. The Enterprise crew were not the only customers enjoying shore leave at the inn that evening. Apart from native Argelians, there were some Andorians, some Rigellians, even an Orion couple. And then there were three Klingon men seated at one table, and the girls seemed to avoid looking at them, or dancing too near them. Unusual behaviour for Argelians, a people widely known for their overwhelming friendliness towards just about everyone, Chekov thought. He also noted that when he and the rest of the Enterprise party had beamed down, no Klingon warships had been reported in the vicinity, so this trio must have arrived on a civilian ship. Unlike other Klingons he had previously encountered, they did not wear Defense Force uniforms.
The dance ended in a triumphant note from the musicians, and the lamps on the tables blinked rapidly to signfiy the applause of the spectators, among whom the dancers now mingled, offering their company. It was much to Chekov's pleasure that one particularly volumptuous and beguiling young woman, her deep red hair spilling over her bare, lightly tanned shoulders and her firm breasts straining tantalizingly against the tight bodice she wore, came and sat on her knees right in front of him, grinning alluringly. "I am Losna," she said. "What is your name?"
Grinning at his fortune, Chekov replied "Pavel!" As he spoke, he saw the three Klingons suddenly get to their feet, glare murderously at everyone present, then stalk off through the main doors and out into the street. Taking note of Losna's vaguely fearful attitiude as she watched them go, Chekov said "I thought Argelians liked everyone."
"Those Klingons came to our world a year ago," Losna told him. "I worked at a different place at the time. We were friendly to them, as is expected, and gave them what they wanted...but Klingon ways are so rough...and painful. And later, when a friend and I were with other visitors to our planet, they tried to force us to go with them. They became very unpleasant; my friend and I were hurt. It was not serious, no one was killed, and we did not wish to make enemies of the Klingon Empire, so our government let them go, and permitted them to return. But now no one will go near them."
"Kossaks!" Chekov sneered angrily. "Serves them right, bullying such a lovely creature as yourself. Where I come from, such swine would not be tolerated!"
The girl's features once again brightened into a smile as she shook off her dark thoughts. "Let us go somewhere else together," she said to him. "Just for a short while. Perhaps...my house, not too far away from here?" Chekov looked around at the rest of his shipmates; all were presently occupied with the friendly natives. Even Captain Kirk was getting quite intimate with a seductive beauty. With a shrug, Chekov got to his feet, Losna with him, and they both strode arm in arm outside.
OOOOOOOO
The planet's moon had risen high in the starry sky a few hours later when Chekov and Losna emerged from Losna's home and began walking back to the inn. Both were relaxed and happy, just when large, hard hands suddenly reached from behind them to clamp over their mouths, stifling their cries of alarm, and they were dragged into a nearby alley. His eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness, Chekov saw that their captors were the trio of Klingons from earlier that night. Chekov watched helplessly, unable to break free and fight, as one of them approached him, gnarled teeth showing in a sadistic smile, a savagely sharp knife held out in his hand. "Now, Earther," the Klingon snarled, "First we spill your blood, then we satisfy ourselves with the woman!" Losna gave a strangled cry and struggled vainly against the man who held her.
"Oh, Kliiiiingonnnns!" At the sound of the new voice, everyone looked up to see a figure squatting on top of the wall behind them, looking down at them. The light was poor, but he appeared to be humanoid, dressed in a tight red and black costume. A mask of the same material and colors covered his head, his eyes pure white...and were those the hilts of two swords proruding over his shoulders? "Hey," he said with a cheerful wave of his hand. "I'm Deadpool, in case you didn't know, which I'm assuming you didn't - different franchises, and all. I see you three guys are currently rocking the Mexican bandit look with the Fu Manchu facial hair - that is so racially insensitive, you know that! Oh well, the movies and TNG'll fix it."
The Klingons looked at one another, dumbfounded by the appearance of this bizarre, talkative stranger. The man who called himself Deadpool then reached with both hands behind him and drew his swords, menacing katanas with blades that glinted in the starlight. He continued talking: "Thing is though, fellas, you're not gonna get to enjoy any of that, 'cos it just so happens that you're all on my naughty list. And peeps on that, see, I quite often wind up killing in gloriously gross fashion. But you're Klingons, so you probably wouldn't find it all that shocking, what with your whole macho, ultraviolent, rip-your-enemy's-heart-out-of-their-chest-and-eat-it warrior thing you got going on. So, bitches, who's the lucky one who gets it first?"
"bIjalh 'e' yImev!" the lead Klingon roared (In case you're wondering, that translates as "Shut up!" I get it said to me a lot - D.P.) just as he drew a disruptor gun from his belt holster and took aim. He did not even have time to pull the trigger before his intended target - Deadpool - leapt from the top of the wall and, landing right next to him, swung downward with one katana to sever the hand holding the disruptor at the wrist. The stump had only just started to spurt blood, and the Klingon just had time to begin a roar of rage and pain, before Deadpool brought his other blade slicing with astonishing precision through the middle of his head, causing the top half to slide off and bounce a few times on the ground seconds before the rest of the body collapsed with a thud.
Bellowing, the other two Klingons shoved their captives aside and, drawing their daggers, rushed Deadpool. Chekov held Losna's trembling form and watched, ashen-faced, as their would-be assailants were reduced with shocking speed to a pile of twitching, blood-gushing limbs. Removing his blade from the skull of one Klingon with a meaty sound, Deadpool said "This was a good day for these Klingons to die. Was the violence a bit much for this franchise though? I mean, I know Trek always has been family friendly - for the most part - right? Ah, hell, it's just some dumb fan fic anyway, and besides, look at some of the stuff Discovery is doing now!"
Watching and listening to this person, Chekov was struck by a growing conviction that this strange man was near-totally insane. He looked at Losna, and saw she had fainted...maybe for the better. "Oh, hey!" Deadpool now exclaimed, skipping jubilantly over and sheathing his swords. His masked face mere inches from Chekov's, he said "Big fan of yours, Chekov! You are Chekov, right, and not that creepy telepath guy from that other sci-fi show? Yeah, of course you are. You are so much better without that Monkees style hairpiece, you know? Well, love to stay, but - " He held up his hand with his fingers parted in the traditional Vulcan greeting/farewell gesture. "Live long and prosper, bro! One last thing, don't ever let Spock do the Hobbit song, okay?" And with that, he was gone. Right before Chekov's wide eyes, the man who called himself Deadpool totally vanished without a trace. Looking at the pile of bodies left behind, he began to call out for help.
OOOOOOOO
And now a word from Mr. Deadpool himself...
Hi! Deadpool, everyone's top merc' with a mouth, here - though you probably already gathered that. Me and the author of this little fic would just like to thank you for reading...though I sincerely hope the author remembers to pay me for participating in this, like he promised, otherwise those katanas of mine may wind up someplace VERY uncomfortable for him. I know I viciously slaughtered some guys here, but in the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger in True Lies: "Yeah, but they were all bad!" Trust me, they were honorless assholes. Anyhow, before I go, if anyone's interested, why not check me out more? There are tons of comics and graphic novels out there starring yours truly. And if that isn't your thing, I also have two movies, where I am portrayed by only-slightly-less-sexy-than-me Ryan Reynolds. So see ya, and remember to drop a review for this story, as it'll make both me and the author very happy. Toodles!