ST:TOS Writing Meme pinched from .com

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.

Star Trek TOS

2. Turn on your music player and set it to "shuffle".

3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the timeframe of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!

4. Do ten of these, and post them!

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Millennium – Robbie Williams (I've Been Expecting You)

'Ah, Captain.' Spock nodded formally. Everything about him was formal. 'You are ready for the – celebrations?'

Kirk nodded, in a much more relaxed fashion. 'Fireworks, feasting, great music – sure I'm ready, Spock. You don't sound too happy about it, though?'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I – do not believe I understand the point of celebrating a 'millennium' – a nano-second a time, relevant only to a particular section of society's calendar, changing from three thousand nine hundred ninety nine to four thousand. Why should this merit the explosion of gunpowder?'

'Because it's *fun*, Spock. It's a party. People like parties.'

Spock exhaled. 'Must *I* like parties? After all, I have no association with the Malindrians, or their deities.'

Kirk grinned. 'Yes, Spock. It's an order. And you *will* wear a party hat.'

Happy Jack – The Who (Then & Now) (ach, that was only two minutes long!!!)

'Ah, Jack. May I call you Jack, Mr Spock?'

Spock looked sideways at the woman who was draped against his shoulder, her head uncomfortably close to him.

'My name is not Jack,' he complained.

'Oh, but I *like* Jack,' she giggled, touching a fingertip to his ear. 'Jack's so – nice. So happy. Be happy, Mr Spock!'

'I believe, Miss Chapel, that you are quite happy enough for both of us,' Spock said in a controlled voice. 'You are – quite prodigiously drunk.'

Ticket To Lie – Texas (White on Blonde) (made more difficult by kittens on the keyboard, and then fast-forwarding the track with their paws!)

'So, you don't have emotions at all, Spock?' McCoy asked. 'Nothing ticking over there in that oddly shaped little heart?'

'I have no emotions that currently trouble me,' Spock said. *Apart from my concern over the health of my father. Apart from the consideration that I am unbonded, and quite alone. Apart from the fact that there is one on this ship who loves me, whose love I constantly deny.*

'Ah, nothing,' McCoy sighed. He took another sip of his brandy, and tapped a finger at Spock's chest, just over where his heart lay. 'Funny. Doesn't sound hollow, does it? How about the fact that Jim's currently M.I.A.?'

Spock sighed.

Dile Kolay – Ajda Pekkan (The Rough Guide to the Music of Turkey)

'Oh, what a beautiful city!'

Spock turned impassively to Lieutenant Uhura. 'It is simply a city, Lieutenant,' he said flatly. 'It does, perhaps, resemble certain traditional cities of Vulcan – but it is, simply, a city, with all the attendant problems.'

'There are cities on Vulcan that look like Dile Kolay?' Uhura asked wonderingly, choosing to ignore Spock's pessimistic dismissal of her statement. 'It must be a beautiful place, Mr Spock.'

Spock's gaze turned momentarily inward as he recalled the exotic skyline of Shi'Nala, the setting sun burning red on iridescent metal domes, the natural stone cobbles seeming to incandesce and melt in the light. Vulcan was, indeed beautiful. In his mind he stood there as a sixteen year old, gangly, ill-formed, uncertain, clutching his lyre under his arm, waging an internal war over whether to enter to building before him and compete against ranks of pure-bred Vulcan musicians, or not.

But he had won. He – had won. And Vulcan was, indeed, beautiful.

Savoy Blues – Louis Armstrong (The Classic Jazz Collection)

'I assure you, Lieutenant, that it is quite impossible to recreate early twentieth century jazz on a Vulcan lyre,' Spock said smoothly.

Lieutenant Uhura's dark eyes met with Christine Chapel's blue ones, sparkling mischievously.

'Are you – afraid, Mr Spock?' she asked in her most seductive voice. 'I would never believe that a Vulcan would be afraid of trying something new!'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I do not understand how you can extrapolate a reaction of fear from my response, Lieutenant,' he said.

'Sure sounds like it to me,' Uhura smiled. 'Doesn't it, Chris?'

Nurse Chapel faltered for a moment, smiling briefly, saying, 'Oh – er – ' Then she looked down, and up again, and seemed to have collected her courage in that moment. 'It does sound like it, Ny. Would you – play it for me, Mr Spock?'

Spock found himself faltering.

Hocus Pocum – Jools Holland and his Rhythm and Blues Orchestra (Sunset Over London) (26 seconds long!!!)

'Hocus *pocum*, Mr Spock?' McCoy asked him incredulously. 'I've heard you accuse me of using beads and rattles, but never hocus *pocum*! Where *do* you get your cultural references?'

Country Life – The Watersons (The Rough Guide To English Roots Music)

'Ah, this is the life,' McCoy said happily, leaning against a tall, shady tree, sipping at an iced, alcoholic drink.

'The rustle of wind in the wheat,' Kirk nodded dreamily. 'Sunshine through leaves. A bird or two calling in the distance.'

Spock stared at the pair. They spent their lives in the hermetically sealed environment of a starship. Kirk professed the Enterprise to be his first love. And yet he could demonstrate such irrational nostalgia for a field of grain. Humans were, truly, illogical.

Strange Boat – The Waterboys (Fisherman's Blues)

It was dark all about.

All Spock could see was a few bare inches of wooden plank around him. He could hear the creaking of the ship, the lapping of the water against the hull. He had absolutely no idea how he had come to find himself here, lying prone on the floor of an anonymous boat, naked, and tied tightly by ropes. He was cold – almost too cold to struggle against the bonds. He did not know what he might discover if he escaped. He was not fond of swimming, and if the water temperature reflected the air temperature he imagined it might be quite dangerous to try. All he could do was lie here, on the rough wooden planking, in the enveloping darkness, and wait for what may come…

Deborah's Theme – Enrico Morricone (The Classical Chill Out Album)

'Ensign Deborah Montana,' Spock said to himself in an iron tone. 'Again.'

He had seen the name flash up on his alert sheet far too often this month. The Ensign was new to the ship. So far she had managed to readjust the sensors, almost to the point of causing the Enterprise to impact with a star, break two replicators in rec room three, accidentally fire off a phaser in the weapons bay, and kill fifteen experimental tribbles in a minor lab explosion. Those were only her major offences. She had managed to tote up at least two marks against herself a day so far.

'I wonder,' Spock continued to himself, 'What Ensign Montana has managed to break, dismantle or kill this time.'

He touched the screen where her name sat, opening up the corresponding information.

His face, always blank, became a little more unreadable as he read.

*Ensign Deborah Montana. Killed in action, defending a fellow officer. Recommendation for highest bravery award. Please familiarise with case, and inform family.*

Junk [Take] – The Beatles (Beatles Anthology 3)

'A garbage scow! Would ye believe that, Mr Spock? A *garbage* scow.'

Spock sighed almost imperceptibly. Scott had told him that piece of information sixteen times now. The frequency of repetition increased with each whiskey that he consumed.

'Yes, Mr Scott,' he said patiently. 'I do, indeed, believe that the Klingon said such a thing. I also believe that he was attempting to rile your worse nature. He appears to have succeeded.'

'Aye, well,' Scott muttered. 'It wasnae so much that, Mr Spock. But when they said the ship should be – '

'Hauled away as garbage,' Spock nodded. 'Yes, Mr Scott. I know. You have my greatest condolences on the matter. But I believe that it is time that you retire to your quarters.'