once again I didnt write this. My friend did so give her all the credit! This a well... I can't think of a word... so it's a run off of my story. YA know, based with same characters and stuff. Whatever. Also, this is a story that doesn't really have to do with the main plot, but rather is a memory Jenny gained after fixing the whole time line problem thing. OF course she's not going to remeber it to well so it's from Becky's point of view. ENjoy. ALL SHOULD LEAVE COMMENTS! PLEASE! LLAP ;)

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the…Hey! Becky! Join in, ya' slacker!"

"No! I've told you once and I'll tell you again: no, no, no, no, NO!"

Dang, I thought, didn't think they'd notice.

Heh, of course Jenny would.

It was the break in between shifts for the main crew of the Enterprise, and I found myself in the Rec. room with a bunch of gold-shirted ensigns who liked to sing.

Unfortunately.

"C'mon. You know the words. Or do I need to write them down for you and give you personal singing lessons?" nagged Jenny, the most annoying ensign you'd ever meet. Excepting, of course, Ensign Chekov.

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Make me."

"Oh, we will, we will." she crooned, grinning demonically. Several other ensigns began circling me like vultures, until I was pressed up against the wall.

"You'd better do vhat she says, ehn-zhin-yer."

"Shut it, Loverboy. I can read your Russian like a book. And besides, this little incident is worthless. I outrank you all and I-"

-was rewarded with malicious laughter. Flattening up against the cold bulkhead, I attempted to melt into it. It didn't work. With nowhere to go, I spread my palms out on the wall, trying even harder to disappear. The sinister ensigns advanced.

"Sing." threatened Jenny, waving an imaginary knife in my face. "If you don't sing, I'll spread rumors about the time-"

Laughter cut her off.

My laughter.

"Does it look like I'll care?" I got out between spasms of snickering.

She paused, looking uncertain and confused. Regaining my composure, I grinned and continued.

"I've already gotten the ship on high-alert about you and your Loverboy over there." I cackled, pointing at Chekov, who reddened in the face, matching my uniform. "Besides," I continued, "you'd never believe how quickly us engineers can pass rumors. They must be flying at Warp 8! No, make that 10!"

Pausing to assess the situation, I noticed with barely contained amusement that both of the accused ensigns were the exact same shade of red.

"And besides, I wouldn't care. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."

Several ensigns groaned at the cliché, causing me to snicker. Jenny grimaced, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"Then have a stick and a stone, smart retard."

I chuckled. "I'm not retarded, I'm just…uhh…semi-retarded with a touch of stupidity. And a wee bit of awkward-confusing-dumb-moronic-insanity mixed in there somewhere…Yup."

I must have hit a raw nerve or something. Before I knew it, both Jenny and Chekov had tackled me to the ground face first and were crushing the life out of me.

"Gerroff me, dagnabbit!" I managed to grunt under the combined weight of the ensigns. They all giggled as they flattened all of the air out of me.

"You know what?" I mumbled between gasps. "I'm kill you, cook you, and feed you to the warp drive nacelles." I paused to regain my breath. "They have a hu-uge appetite, and the Chief threatens to feed "bloody trainees" aka ensigns to them whenever they-"

I choked on a final breath of air, giving up on my monologue.

A minute of silence passed, interrupted only by my strained intakes of breath.

Another minute passed, and the torture began. Not torture in the conventional sense, but hardcore mental torture.

Singing.

The entire group of command wanna-bees began an elaborate chorus of an improvised song; each individual had their own unique part.

Now, this would have been pretty interesting had it not been my death sentence; I wouldn't last more than five minutes in this torture.

Jenny had removed her person from mine to stand and join in the singing. Chekov still had me pinned, so I couldn't run.

Now, this blows, but it was totally worth embarrassing the lovebirds. I thought in my head, comforting myself.

However, the comfort didn't last long. The lyrics to the song, which Jenny was singing, were becoming extremely insulting to me and my life. Each goldshirt would burst out laughing at some random line in the song that pertained to insulting redshirts.

Slowly, but surely, I began releasing the ever-bottled anger that I confined to my insides and only showed on occasion. Like poor David Banner from the ancient comic and TV show "The Incredible Hulk", I transformed from a quiet, kind engineering lieutenant-

-into an angry, spastic lieutenant who wanted to beat the stuffing out of some certain ensigns.

With a mighty roar…er…grunt, I shoved Ensign Chekov off of my numb feet, which he had pinned for several minutes, and succeeded in kicking him into the nearest wall.

The singing stopped, and each ensign turned to glare at me as I stood up. As soon as I did, however, something snapped.

Golden chaos devoured me.

All six ensigns decided to participate in the age-old game of dogpile, all on top of me, the poor, lone redshirt.

With several hundred pounds on my frame, I began choking for air and I found none. I felt like throwing up the lunch I had eaten before the harassment began. Someone would have a nasty time cleaning out the stomach acid stains from their uniform. I could hear the jeers of the antagonists on top of me, laughing at the "redshirt's stupidity" and "uselessness".

Seeing how I wasn't feeling too great, this added insult to injury.

Several of the "goldies" shifted positions, making me gag some more. I thought that they had crushed every bone in my body. I was half dead when I heard the group exclaim something.

All of a sudden, the six peeled themselves off of me, leaving me drooling on the ground. My vision was extremely blurred, but I could make out fuzzy shapes if I tried.

All of the ensigns were fuzzy, yellow blobs standing at a stiff attention. Three officers, probably senior, were staring them down, causing an uncomfortable silence to settle on the goldshirts. Not just any officers, but…

…Redshirts! My heart leapt at the sight, until I realized it could be a figment of my imagination stained red by burst blood vessels in my eyes. I silently rejoiced when I heard one speak.

A slightly accented voice. British, I thought.

"Now what is this? Now, I know it's…" the voice rambled on, but I could no longer pay attention. After a minute or two, I heard the ensigns shuffle out, almost dragging their feet out of the rec room.

Footsteps approached, and I felt a person on either side of me grab an arm and lift me to my feet. A thin strand of drool arced from my mouth, still attached to the floor and my lip.

"Ugh, Lieutenant, that's just disgusting." spoke a voice to my right. I was walked/carried over to the nearest chair and sat down in it.

"Really, though. Get Doc to fix that rotten spit gene of yours. Nasty."

I heard someone snicker. Unable to think of a comeback, I sat there helpless, unable to see or answer.

"Knock it off, Kyle. We all know you still sleep with a nightlight." said another voice. The trio laughed. As I sat there in a fog, the world transformed before my eyes. The haze lifted and the world was crisp and fresh. Nyota Uhura was speaking.

"Try getting Doc to fix that 'rotten gene'."

Again, the room resonated with laughter.

I had finally recovered from the incident when they turned their attention back to me.

Someone slapped me on the back, nearly sending me to the ground.

"Good job surviving them. You handled them for...ah...approximatly thirteen point seven minutes.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what, DeSalle? I think I oughta'...oh, forget it. My empty threats aren't working anymore.

He laughed. "How long did it take you to figure that out, dufus?"

I snorted. "Shut it, 'Sally."

Looking extremely peeved, he complied. Uhura was about to open her mouth when the door to the corridor hissed open, allowing Yeoman Janice Rand to enter.

"What's up, Janice?" Uhura asked, smiling.

Rand grinned back. "Oh, nothing. Just a small delivery to you guys." Pausing, she tapped at the PADD she held, and then handed it to Uhura. "All the lists and rankings of the participating crewmembers." Again, she stopped, checking her pocket chronometer. "Well, I must deliver the stats to the other teams as well, or else the captian will have hy hide." Bowing curtly, she turned and left through the same door she had entered.

As soon as she left, everyone gathered around Uhura to read the PADD. Feeling left out, I went to join.

"What's this for?"

Everyone stopped reading and looked up at me like I was some strange new species of alien. I threw my hands up in defense.

"You mean, you don't even know why you're here?" Kyle asked, staring at me like I was crazy.

"Umm...because I'm here?" I answered stupidly.

"Or why there's been increased hostilities between each command group aboard the ship?"

"Umm...no."

"More riots, likethe one you got into, than normal?"

My face reddened, matching my uniform. "No! I have no clue. Seriously."

All three of the others began sputtering.

"But-tha..."

"Wha-isna-posibb-"

"You..."

"Don't..."

"KNOW?"

DeSalle had finished the line, screaming it in my ear. I returned the gesture with a resonating "NO!"

Each redshirt stared it me, mouths open, looking like they'd faint.

Uhura recovered first. "No one told you?"

Kyle was next. "Not even the Chief..? He told-"

"Us." That was the last word Vincent DeSalle said for the next fifteen minutes.

I began to get frustrated. "What is going on? What is all of this about? WILL SOMEONE TELL ME?" Once I recovered from my outburst, I added a quiet, "Please?"

"Tomorrow..."

"Is the..."

"Day where..."

The stopped, and I had a mental meltdown.

"WHAT? THE DAY WHERE WHAT?"

In my frantic state of mind, I didn't hear the doors hiss open, admitting a single person.

"Tomorrow's tha' day ta' be prou' ta' wear tha' engineerin' insignia, lass."