Hey, everyone! I've never written a Star Trek fic before, but this one has an unusual story behind it.

See, today is my sister's birthday, and two weeks ago I promised her I'd write some manner of fanfic for her present. She chose Star Trek, and I'm like, 'fine'. Then she specified Enterprise/Narada.

And yet, I goddamn wrote it. Nothing explicit in here, but still, weird prompt, sister, weird prompt. Anyway, here it be.

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High above the planet Vulcan, the USS Enterprise weaved its way through the broken remains of six other Federation starships to the great tentacly mass of the Narada. Leaving the tomb of the vessels, the Enterprise at first flew right, but then seemed to drift, careening oddly close to the other ship.

"Mr Sulu," said Pike, "keep our distance."

"I can't, sir," said Sulu, grappling with the controls, "the ship seems to be acting on its own."

"Acting on its own?" asked Spock. "Is the Enterprise fitted with an artificial intelligence advanced enough to take control of the ship?"

"No," said Bones. "It does ask if you want to send a message to Landru whenever it has an error, though."

"Weren't they testing the NOMAD system?" asked Sulu.

"They were," said Bones with a great deal of weariness. "Until Kirk made it explode."

"I did not make it explode!" Kirk protested. "Whatever engineer thought it'd be a great idea to attach fireworks to the instrumentation, that made it explode!"

"And those questions you asked it?"

"Worth it," said Kirk. "Any computer that can't deal with basic logic puzzles-"

"It committed suicide!"

"Well, it's better that happened now in the testing stage! That's kind of a major weakness, isn't it? What if a Klingon or something walks into one of our databases and tells it 'All Klingons are liars'?"

"They'd die," said Sulu. "Because of the fireworks on the instrumentation."

"Enough," said Pike, waving a hand. "Uhura, prepare to broadcast to that ship in all known languages."

Uhura pushed a button.

Then, thinking better of it, Pike added:

"...except Esperanto."

Uhura pushed another button.

"Captain," she said, "We're being hailed."

The screen before the crew changed, a starfield replaced by the image of a bald, tattooed man.

"Hello," said the man.

Pike frowned.

"I'm Captain Christopher Pike, to whom am I speaking?"

"Hi, Christopher," said the bald man merrily, "I'm Nero."

He then added, with a hint of confusion:

"What are you doing?"

"What are we doing?" asked Bones incredulously. "You're the one who seems to be fishing for Vulcans!"

"I meant your ship," said Nero. "It seems to be drifting awful close."

Nero turned to Ayel.

"Plan six," he said.

Ayel nodded, and then quietly muttered to himself as he mentally counted through the plans.

"Plan six," hissed Nero, a little more desperate in the looming face of the Enterprise.

"But sir," said Ayel, "where would we find a tribble at such short notice-"

"PLAN SIX!"

"I DON'T REMEMBER PLAN SIX!"

"Look, it's perfectly simple," said Nero. "Plan A, plan B, plan Epsilon, plan Futhark, plan &, plan Sigma, plan six."

"Plan Seex is not the seexth plan you mentioned," said Chekov.

"Did I ask you?" shouted Nero.

A look of hurt marring his Russian face, Chekov said to Pike:

"Keptain, they're getting snippy."

"I know, Chekov," said Pike.

"I thought you might want-"

"I can hear them myself."

Chekov pouted.

Someday, he thought to himself, albeit in Russian, someday, there will be a place on a Federation ship for people who relay to the Captain what's just happened!

"Urrrrgh," said Nero, who got up from his chair, leaving the bridge of the Enterprise to watch his vacant seat as they heard him mutter in the background.

"You want something done properly, you have to steal Borg stuff and weld it to your ship and persuade everybody to shave their heads and go back in time and wait in prison and work out plans which nobody can remember..."

There was a garbled frenzy of arguing in Esperanto, and then Nero returned to his seat.

"It has, uh," he said, "come to...my attention that my ship is not working."

He clasped his hands.

"At all."

He drummed his fingers.

"So...how are you?"

The bridge stared at him incredulously until Kirk said:

"Well, I just had numbtongue-"

CRASH.

The ships had made contact, and yet the crash had been oddly gentle, as if the Narada and Enterprise were pleased to be in contact. The air was filled with metal scraping sounds, and the Enterprise sounded like it was...

...humming.

Kirk frowned in confusion, then ventured the unthinkable.

"...are the ships-"

"Chekov, go to your room." said Pike.

"But Keptain-"

"Now," said Pike.

Fuming, Chekov stalked off in a huff, muttering "I don't even have room" as he left the bridge.

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Scotty laughed with glee as he stared at the jerry-rigged binoculars from his snowy base on Delta Vega. Hmm, he'd never thought he'd see something like this out here, not in a million years, but there it was. Tearing his eyes away from them for a brief moment to grab more popcorn, it was only after another happy look at the scene that he realised Keenser was staring at him.

"Um...ah...I was, uh, just looking for the...Mutara Nebula!"

He swivelled the binoculars.

"Mmm!" he said, "Aye, that'd make a fine place for a starship battle! Ye-esss..."

Keenser shook his head, and left Scotty to his strange predilections.

Checking to make sure he was gone, Scotty swivelled the binoculars back. The engineer was many things, but of one thing he was certain:

He was a dedicated shipper.

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Why yes, the entire fic is a lead-up to a terrible pun.