The Story of Mr Snoodles

by Borg 2 of 10

Chekov's tribble wasn't always a member of the Enterprise crew and the much beloved pet of the navigator. But getting to become a part of the crew isn't hard wen you're small, cute and it'll only cost you your siblings being transported to a Klingon ship (you never could remember all those names anyway) and the death of several redshirts. (It's better than it sounds, I promise!)

A/N: I know, the last thing I wrote was before Christmas. This hasn't taken all 5 months, I promise. I work faster that that! But it's "Star Wars" day. *throws phaser on overload at R2D2 and BB8 with no mercy* which means to me... absolutely nothing. Nah, I'm more of an April 5th kind of person. COOKIE IF YOU GET THAT REFERENCE! NO GOOGLING! ahem ahem

Lieutenant Uhura's personal log, stardate 4573.4

I beamed down to Deep Space Station K-7 with Chekov today, he'd promised to come with me to look at the shops. He did, but he never actually got anything. In the end, we found ourselves wandering into a bar where one of the many traders on the station was trying to sell the bartender what looked like, at first glance, a ball of hair. Anyway, we ended up talking to the trader, and looking at something that Chekov called quadrotriticale. That part I believed, the part where he said it was "inwented in Russia" I didn't. Eventually, we went on to talking about the animal in the trader's hand.

"Oh, it's beautiful! What is it?"

"That, my dear lady, is a tribble,"

A tribble. It looked simple, but I couldn't help loving it. It was so friendly, and the sound it made was comforting.

"How much?" I asked.

"For you, my lovely lady, it's free." And, with that, he gave it to me. The bartender began to argue, but I wasn't really listening, and neither was Chekov, who was petting the small, furry creature and smiling. I think he liked it more than I did.

Ensign Phaservictim's log, stardate 4574.6

Six redshirts. Six of my friends have died since that first tribble came on board with that immortal redshirt, Uhura. I think she gave it too much to eat or something, because it started breeding like a rabbit. No, faster. A lot faster. And they eat faster than they breed. Consequently, there's poo. And that's what all six of them slipped on and how all six of them died. I just hope that there isn't another incident like this. The captain doesn't really notice, neither does Chekov. He seems t have fallen in love with one of the hairballs in particular, a small one with black and white fur and seems to make a loving trilling noise whenever he's near. I can't tell it from any of the other black and white tribbles, none of us except him can.

Lieutenant Commander Scott's personal log, stardate 4574.7

Tribbles be crawlin' thru tha vents! Agh, tha wee things be infestin' tha ship an' there's not'n we can do 'bout it! I'll whack 'em wiv me bagpipe all tha way to me favourite pub 'n Aberdeen where tha scotch is strong enough to make yer eyes water and back! They be in me poor, poor engines!

Ensign Chekov's personal log, stardate 4574.9

Uhura let me have ze twibble I love! I shall name him Meester Snoodals and he shall be mine. He vill be my Meester Snoodals. He's small like me and black and vhite and cute and fluffy! He doesn't like quadrotriticale zhough, quadrotriticale was inwented in Russia!

Lieutenant Sulu's personal log, stardate 4575.1

Chekov woke me up just to show me a tribble. I swear, if he ever does that again I'll lock him in the arboretum in the middle of the day just so he has to go to his shift with his hayfever playing up! After the last few days, I think I know what a tribble looks like. Everyone does. And no, Chekov, naming it 'Mr Snoodles' doesn't change anything about it. I want to sleep.

Lieutenant Uhura's personal log, stardate 4575.4

Chekov came to me with his tribble this morning, followed by a very tired, very annoyed Mr Sulu. I don't know what's wrong with him, but it doesn't matter. Don't listen to him, Pavel; I think Mr Snoodles suits it. Much better than Sir Flufflemunchkin does, anyway.

Lieutenant Commander Scott's personal log, stardate 4575.4

THE TRIBBLES BE EATIN' ME HAGGIS!

Ensign Deadalready's personal log, stardate 4577.6

tribbles... are...s-suffocat-ting...me...

Ensign Chekov's personal log, stardate 4578.6

Uhura accidentally threw Meester Snoodals vhen I started a twibble fight on ze bridge and then I vas enveloped in balls of fluff, it all went so quickly! Now I can't find him anywhere! Oh yeah, and ve lost two more redshirts. Phaservictim and Deadalready, Deadalready died of unknown causes and Phaservictim was inspecting the veapons locker when one of the phasers discharged onto his foot.

Weeks passed before Chekov saw his tribble, Mr Snoodles, again. In that space of time, there was another tribble infestation, which meant that the young Russian checked every small, furry animal he saw (all 1,771,561 of them) trying to find the one he had grown so fond of. He insisted that the whole crew checked their quarters, giving them a picture of what was supposed to be his tribble, but looked like most other tribbles to go on. Did he ever find it? Who knows? He claims he did, but the tribble he carried round called 'Mr Snoodles' just looks like any other small, black and white tribble to me.