Star Wreck
[[[Captain's log (I found it floating in the river), star-date – or is it a prune? These are the voyages of the Scrap Ship Coke-'n'-Fries. Our mission: to seek out new worlds and new civilisations – to boldly go where no man has gone before: the women's toilets.
We have been knocked off coarse on our way to a picnic in the Delta-quadrant. Luckily, we encountered a strange alien being riding on a meteorite, who directed us to the nearest McDonalds. There must have been a glitch in the communicator, however, as the food in the restaurant actually tasted half-pleasant!!!
Stuffed full with ammo and supplies (consisting mainly of Snotty's doughnuts), we headed back for DS9 (Drug Store 9). We suddenly noticed a slight distortion of the starlight ahead of us…]]]
"Dr…Frock. What do…you…make…of this?" enquired Captain Birk.
"It seems almost certainly to be a Vegon cloaking-shield," replied his attractive Homulcan second in command.
Sure enough, a moment later, the Curd-of-Whey ahead of them came into view.
"You appear…to be correct…Mr. Frock," commented Birk.
"It's Miss," corrected Frock.
"Oh no…" muttered Birk. These conversations could sometimes take hours, as Frock spontaneously changed sex every few seconds.
"What do you… suggest we do…Mr. Vokcehc?"
"I have told you before, it is Count Vokcehc!" came the distinctly Russian reply.
"All…right, Count…What do you…suggest?"
"Ve should attempt to hail zem, Capitan."
Birk pulled out his comm-unit. After a series of beeping noises came the most annoying ring-tones imaginable. After a moment the noise stopped, and Birk, according to star-fleet protocol, greeted the Vegons in the fashion of all highly trained space-faring professionals:
"WHASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUP!?!!!"
The female Dr Frock sighed in a feminine manner, and then, upon metamorphosing into a male, stuck his (or was it her?) tongue out and joined in the chorus, "WHASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUP?!!!!"
The Vegons, obviously annoyed, replied in a posh English accent, "Why you little hooligans, you! You should respect us Vegons. Despite the fact that we have been banished from your sector of the galaxy, we still supply your planet with all of it's hippies, homosexuals and, of course, Anne Widdicombe…"
Over the intercom, Captain Birk, who was practically asleep in his seat, heard in the background, "Errrm… Captain, you should not have told them that - it's a secret… They always thought it was the digital watches which made hippies…"
"Oh, Shi…ugar," muttered the Vegon Captain. "Apparently I have just revealed classified information to the enemy… Sorry, but we're going to have to destroy you."
"Arm…the proton…torpedoes. Crew to…battle-stations," commanded Birk. "Prepare…for…war situations…and- Hey… Where's…the beautiful…girl…I'm supposed to…save? There's always…a beautiful girl!"
Then came a terrifying and blood-curdling call over the captain's comm-unit:
"Hello, this is Anne Widdicombe. I'll gladly be your 'beautiful girl'."
The captain's eyes opened wide with horror. He then, speaking for the first time in his life without huge gaps in between words, yelled, "Take evasive manoeuvres - NOW!"
He waited… Nothing happened.
"NOW!" he repeated. Still nothing.
Birk walked over and tapped the oriental pilot on the shoulder. "Mr. Sooloo?"
Sooloo looked up from his animé comic and gabbled a string of Japanese swear-words.
"Um…" said Birk, "yeeeeeeees… Anyway, we want…to go…left."
Sooloo looked up quizzically.
"Left," said Birk slowly.
The pilot said something in Japanese.
"Left, damn…it. LEFT!" Shouted Birk, pointing.
"Ah!" said Sooloo, a look of understanding entering his eyes. And with that, he promptly turned the ship to the right - straight into the oncoming barrage of Vegon missiles.
The ship jolted in the blast and (because, in the 24th century, no-one uses seat-belts) an unpopular young technician was thrown into the wall and broke his little finger. "Get…this man…to…sick-bay!" the captain ordered, and then added to Frock, "Why do…I even…employ…Mr. Sooloo?"
"He's, unfortunately, the only person who can operate the ship's controls, sir," the Homulcan answered.
The ship buckled again as another torpedo hit the hull.
"You…" said Birk to Frock, "try to…tell…Sooloo what to do, and…I will…pre-"
"I do believe zat I may be of use here, Capitan," interrupted Vokcehc. Birk looked at him quizzically. "I studied Japanese," continued Vokcehc, "for a short time during my education at ze University-of-Transylvania." There was a sudden flash of lightning and a crash of thunder, despite the lack of atmosphere outside the ship.
"You…see to…Mr. Sooloo…then, and I…shall…formulate…our attack." He turned to the rest of the crew, "Arm…the Mank-McCannon." A deathly silence descended the bridge. The few of the crew that still remained faithful to their religions, even in the 24th Century, crossed themselves.
The Captain walked over to the control-panel, and pushed the forbidden LRB (Little Red Button). The crew held their breath. Nothing happened.
Birk hammered the button a few more times, before turning to his comm-unit. "WASSSSSSSSSSUP!" he cried.
"WHASSSSS – [burp] – SSSSUP!" came the reply.
"Snotty, have you…been in…the ammo-room by…any chance?" enquired the Captain.
"Err… Would ye believe me if ah said 'ne'?" asked Snotty, stifling another burp.
"Snotty, you know…very well…that…those burgers…are for…ammo…only and are…absolutely…inedible."
"Ah know, Cap'n, but Ah were hungry. I couldne help it. Ah'm sorry, Cap'n. Ah'm [burp] sorry…" whimpered Snotty.
"Snotty, you could…be suffering…from acute…McPoisoning! Eating…of…any food with…a 'Mc' in it has…been proven…to…seriously affect…the eater's…health!"
"But Ah were hungry, Cap'n! Ah couldne help it!"
"What about…your…doughnut supply?"
"Ah've e't 'em all," explained Snotty, sulkily.
"What…all…of them?" asked the Captain, amazed. Snotty's rations cost Star-Fleet 590746000 credits a week!
"Yes…" murmured the forlorn engineer, and began to weep. The ship again jolted in the onslaught.
"I cannot seem to affect ze pilot's vill," said a voice by Birk's ear, "despite my extensive Japanese tutoring at ze University-of-Transylvania." There was another thunder-clap.
"All…right," said Birk to his crew. "There…is only one…thing to do." He turned back to his comm-unit. "Snotty…take us off…hamster-power…and fire up…the…Worp-Drive!" This came as such a shock that Snotty temporarily ceased sniffling.
"But Cap'n!" Snotty protested. "Don' ye 'member th' Tests? Th' poor wee hamsters…" Snotty began to cry again.
Birk tried not to think about the Tests.
***
The Worp-Drive had only ever been used on a human once. The Coke-'n'-Fries itself had only been fitted with one as a publicity-stunt. The idea behind the Worp-Drive was that the ship fitted with this Drive could simultaneously be in two places in once: the point of origin and the destination. The Drive had been constructed, fitted to a small ship (which had contained a test-hamster), and launched into space. The Drive had worked…in a way. The ship had been in two places at once, but only because the ship had stretched out like elastic over several light-years! And, again like elastic, the ship had sprung back together again, with enough force to cause both the ship and the hamster inside to explode into their separate atoms. The Drive's creator (as you can imagine) was not happy with this result and resolved to try again. The failure of the second attempt caused him to try again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and again… He had tried his invention a total of three-hundred-and-seven-thousand times by the time of his death (he committed suicide by attaching the Drive to his own buttocks). Since this 'unfortunate' incident, the experimental Worp-Drive had never been used.
***
The crack of his own head hitting the far wall as the ship jolted backwards brought Birk back into the real world.
"Snotty," he commanded, "fire…the Drive…NOW!"
"But Cap'n-"
"No…buts, Snotty. Fire…the Worp…Drive!"
"Cap'n, ah canne-"
"DO…IT!"
"Well, if yer sure…" said Snotty, signing off.
Deep inside the Worp-Core of the USSS Coke-'n'-Fries, Mr. Snott, engineer and hamster-care-forrer elite, held Hammy (mark III) to his oversized chest, and fired the experimental Drive…
The Coke-'n'-fries stretched out like elastic, and vanished into a point of blinding light.
***
Somewhere inside the nearby Vegon ship, a woman in a red dress with a ridiculously large chest gazed dreamily into the endless gulf of space. "Damn," muttered Anne Widdicombe.