Star Trek: Madagascar
by Galaxy1001D
The Penguins of Madagascar television series and the movies Madagascar and Madagascar 2: Escape to Africa are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.
Chapter One: Space Marines
The starship drifted peacefully through space as the voice of Ben Stiller was heard. "Ship's log, stardate 2009.2, Commander Alex Alakay, first officer of the NCC-2005 USS Madagascar, reporting. We are patrolling along the edge of neutral territory. Our mission: Looking for Romulans, doomsday machines, any darn trouble we can get into."
Inside, seated in the command chair in the center of the circular bridge was a vaguely anthropomorphic lion wearing a Starfleet uniform. Instead of wearing boots the paws that he used for feet were exposed. The lion's forepaws were almost handlike and had opposable thumbs.
"Guys, I'm really nervous," the lion in the command chair admitted meekly. "When the captain went to that conference on Vega he left me in charge. I just know that I'm going to mess up."
A strange zebra-like alien at the helm seat pivoted on his chair and smiled back at his commander. "Hey, don't sweat it Alex," the zebra assured him. "We don't even have to do anything. All we gotta do is drop the first contact team off at the planet Lemuria, then we drop that squad of marines off at Colony LV-426 for their suicide mission, and after that we rendezvous with the Hood for underway replenishment. It's not like we've gotta save the universe or anything."
"Thanks Marty," Alex sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't watch a lot of Star Trek."
"At least you're an official Star Trek alien," Marty grumbled good-naturedly. "I don't even know what I am. Am I a black alien with white stripes or a white alien with black stripes?"
"I'm an official alien?" Alex asked the zebra. "Since when?"
"Back in the seventies they came out with an animated version of Star Trek," Marty explained. "Six of the episodes had a lioness in a uniform who was a member of the crew who filled in when Uhura beamed down or something. These cat guys might have showed up in Star Trek IV and Star Trek V too."
"Really?" Alex smiled in spite of himself. "So I'm official? What are my people called?"
"Lemme look it up," a feminine voice came from the hippopotamus-like creature at communications. She studied a readout on a computer screen. "It says here you're a Caitian."
"A Caitian, huh?" Alex gushed. "Wow! Does it say anything else, Gloria? Do I have any alien powers, like Spock?"
The hippo squinted at the screen. "Uh, it doesn't really say that much on 'em," she admitted, "but it does say that you guys don't need to wear shoes."
"Oh, yeah, don't need shoes," Alex looked down at his bare feet and spread his toes apart. "Yeah. Well that's something I guess…"
Marty burst out in laughter. "You never know when that will come in handy!" he mocked. "Four hundred and thirty lives!" he brayed melodramatically. "The ship is doomed! Wait! Alex! Can't your people operate without footwear? The ship is saved!"
"C'mon Marty, knock it off," Alex groaned.
"What are you complaining for?" Marty shrugged. "At least you're the first officer. You get something to do in an episode. As chief helmsman all I ever do is sit in this chair, day in and day out… Standard orbit, captain! Warp factor three… warp factor one… I hardly ever get any lines. I wanna beam down and see the wide open spaces…"
At the back of the bridge a set of elevator doors hissed open and a giraffe staggered in. "Hey guys, what's going on?" it asked the others. "Why are a bunch of zoo animals in charge of the starship Enterprise?"
"It's a Star Trek parody, Melman." Alex explained. "We're not animals, we're aliens that resemble animals. And this isn't the Enterprise, it's the starship Madagascar."
"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Melman conceded. "Uh, not to wreck things or anything, but how do I do anything on this show? I don't have opposable thumbs."
Gloria pivoted her chair to look up information on her computer. "It says here that you've got telekinesis. Those horns on your head are really antennas that boost your psychic powers. You can levitate objects just by concentrating. Go on give it a try."
"Way to go Melman!" Marty cheered. "You've got alien powers! Go on, use the force! Pick something up!"
"Yeah Melman!" Alex nodded enthusiastically. "You've gotta levitate something for us!"
The giraffe blushed uncomfortably. "Hey guys, it's not me, it's the special effects guys. I don't do nothin', you know that…"
"Ah c'mon Melman," Gloria chided. "Levitate something. Here, use this clipboard." She waved it enticingly. "Pick it up using the force. Come on, you can do it."
"Okay," Melman chuckled ruefully. "Here goes."
The clipboard shot out of Gloria's hand and hit Alex in the face.
"Ow!" the lion clutched at his face with his hands. "Right in my eye! What is wrong with you, Melman?"
"It wasn't my fault," the giraffe protested. "The special effects guys messed up! This show doesn't spend enough on special effects. For crying out loud the set is being held together with spit and bailing wire!"
"It's no big deal, Melman," Marty assured him. "It's not like we're going to be doing much anyway."
"Really?" the giraffe asked. "What's our mission?"
"We're dropping off a first contact party at a distant planet, dropping off some marines at another planet, and delivering supplies to another starship," the zebra replied. "Just standard issue, boring stuff."
"I just know I'm going to mess this up…" Alex moaned.
"Marines?" Melman blinked. "Since when are there marines in Star Trek?"
"I dunno," Marty shrugged. "The Navy has marines. Why not Starfleet? Just because we didn't see 'em didn't mean they weren't there. We did see them in that Trek show with the Quantum Leap guy in it…"
"But I thought that Starfleet was dedicated to peaceful exploration," Melman insisted. "Why have marines? They're strictly military. Why have people who specialize in hurting people and breaking things?"
"I guess that's why we never saw them on the first four Treks," the zebra shrugged again. "In the enlightened and peaceful future we don't need 'em as much. Don't worry about it. These guys are being sent on a suicide mission to a colony that has been overrun by flesh-eating monsters. No need for finesse on that one. Just be thankful that marines are considered more expendable than Starfleet personnel or it could be us who has to go down there."
"Wow Marty, you sure know an awful lot about Star Trek," Alex said.
"I'm the chief helmsman," the zebra grumbled. "All I ever do all day is sit on the bridge watching the big screen TV in front of us. By now I must have seen every episode of the original series twice!"
In their quarters on deck five, two Chimpanzees from the planet Chimpanz were rehearsing their presentation.
"On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, we are moved by your hospitality and present this gift…" the one on the left said in a solemn Oxford English accent. The one on the right was using American Sign Language for the benefit of the hearing impaired.
The door hissed open and Commander Alakay stepped in. "Phil? Mason?" the lion asked them. "Are you guys ready? 'Cause this is an important mission and the captain is counting on us!"
"Have no fear, Commander," the Chimp on the left assured him. "Phil and I have mastered every nuance in Lemur etiquette. We have studied the planet's history and know their culture better than the inhabitants do. I dare say that Lemuria will love us!"
"Okay," Alex tried to hide his misgivings. "If you say so. But just remember that diplomatic missions are always tricky. You never know what will offend the natives."
"Not to worry," Mason assured him. "We do know what will offend the natives. Phil here has compiled as list of three hundred and forty different things that offend them."
"Okay," Alex nodded and backed out the door. "Just don't do anything weird, all right?"
As the door hissed shut, Phil signed a query to his counterpart.
"Yes of course we're going to fling poo at them!" Mason exclaimed. "Honestly Phil, how could you even ask such a question? If we have to accept every nuance their strange culture, the least they could do is accept the fundamental principles of ours!"
The squad from the United Federation Marine Corps was quartered on deck eighteen, in the secondary hull that was under the main saucer. It was almost as if a group that specialized in combat were considered 'unclean' and were kept away from the cream of the Madagascar.
The lion entered the cabin to see four birdlike aliens from the planet Pengu disassembling and reassembling their phasers. "Uh, Sergeant Skipper, are your men ready?" Alex asked hesitantly.
"Affirmative," the flat-topped Penguin assured him in a curt military tone. "Kowalski has memorized every detail about the objective. Rico has managed to jury-rig the special equipment we'll need."
"What do you think your chances are?" Alex asked hesitantly.
"Better than we thought it would be," Skipper admitted. "It seems that the private they sent to replace Manfredi and Johnson really knows his stuff. We've been training during the entire voyage and I think that we're finally able to gel as a team. Don't worry, Commander. We'll find out what happened to the colonists on LV-426 and live to report it."
"Okay," Alex nodded. "I'll let you guys get ready. I don't want to jinx you but I want you to know that all of us who are cleared to know about your mission know what a risk you're taking. You guys deserve a medal."
The lion put his paw to his eyebrow and in turn the Penguins returned his salute. They did it so quick and snappily that Alex could hear the air swishing. They all saluted at the exact same time in perfect coordination. Alex was impressed, and a little intimidated. These Penguins were focused and disciplined, he had to give them that.
After the first officer left, Skipper turned to address his subordinate. "Kowalski!" he barked. "Have the battle dress uniforms been delivered yet?"
The tallest and slimmest of the Penguins waddled up to him. "Yes indeed, Skipper. They came with the antigravity belts. As you ordered, the front of the BDU is the same ash white color of LV-426's sky. The back is the same ebony color as the ground on that world."
"Excellante," Skipper put his flippers on the sides of his portly body the way a human would put his hands on his hips. "They should give us natural camouflage in addition to being invisible to conventional sensors. We should be able to maintain the element of surprise while we're in the air."
"Are we going to be flying?" the shortest and most egg-shaped of the Penguins asked in a high-pitched English accent.
"Of course," Skipper barked. "Why else were we practicing maneuvers in zero gee all this time? Now get dressed soldier; we beam down into Hades in two hours!"
As a group, the Penguins went to their lockers and removed their dappled UFMC uniforms. They put on the battle dress uniform that would give them maximum camouflage during flight as well as be radiation resistant, temperature moderating, and completely fireproof.
After they dressed, the turned around simultaneously to survey each other before they put on their combat webbing. It was the private who voiced their observations first.
"We look like we're naked!" the private gasped.
Rico, the Penguin who had a Mohawk style crest of feathers on his head and a scar on the left side of his beak smiled cheekily.
"Keep your heads in the game, men," Skipper ordered. "This is a suicide mission we're on so if any of us want to make it through it, we better stay focused. Remember what happened to Manfredi and Johnson."
The private clasped his flippers uncomfortably as Rico, Kowalski, and Skipper all looked down at the floor sadly. He turned and reached into his locker to extract a box of candy labeled 'Winkie Snacks'. He hugged the box and murmured, "If I don't come back, know that I've always loved you," and gave the box a single chaste kiss. As he smelled the chocolate and peanut buttery goodness the young Penguin perked up a bit. "Hm, sugary," he smiled in satisfaction.
In precisely one hour and fifty-nine minutes the four Penguins were in the transporter room. Over their BDUs they wore the straps, belts, and baldrics that were known as 'combat webbing', a series of harnesses to hold weapons and equipment where a soldier could get to them in a combat situation. The four stout flightless avians were covered with weapons and durable-high tech equipment. Nothing had been left to chance. If they didn't take it with them, they would simply have to do without.
All of their gear was stowed in pouches and pockets that had been sealed shut, checked and rechecked. If they were maneuvering in the sky with their experimental antigravity belts it would do them no good if a vital piece of equipment like a communicator or a tricorder fell out of their pocket and tumbled away into space.
Alex, Marty, Gloria and Melman were in the transporter room to bid the Penguins farewell. "Good luck guys," Alex waved at the birds on the transporter pads. "You're going to need it!"
"Okay," the zebra muttered as he studied the controls to the transporter. "Now how do you work this thing?"
"Ooh! Ooh! Let me!" Melman cried as he used his incredibly long neck to look over Marty's shoulder. "I want to use my telekinesis to work the controls!"
"No dice," Marty huffed. "All I ever do is sit around and push buttons. At least let me use the cool controls!"
"Any time you're ready guys," Alex said nervously.
"Okay," Marty muttered as he used his forehoof to tap on the control panel. "On the show they push some buttons, and then use these three sliders over here to make 'em beam out…"
"Ooh! Ooh!" Melman gasped. "You're doing it wrong! Let me try! I can do it! Lock on the coordinates!"
"Do you boys want to let me try it?" Gloria offered.
"I can do this, Melman," the zebra said testily as he moved his head back and forth to block the giraffe's view.
"C'mon you're doing it wrong," Melman moaned as he used his long neck to maneuver despite Marty's efforts. "You're going to beam them out into outer space or turn them inside out or something!"
Sergeant Skipper used his flipper to slap his forehead. "Sweet Mother Macarthur!" he cried. "Just do it all ready! We're not getting any younger!"
The zebra and the giraffe stopped struggling with each other and stared at the irate bird on the transporter pad.
"Are they allowed to talk to officers that way?" Melman asked.
"Search me," Marty shrugged. "If they're in a hurry to throw their lives away, I'm not going to stop 'em." With that the zebra used his front hoof to tap some buttons on the control panel and then move the three sliders.
On the transporter pads, four meter-sized Penguins glowed luminously and vanished. Unfortunately, their equipment and weapons didn't. Four sets of combat webbing, full of gear but empty of Penguins fell to the ground with a number of quiet thuds.
Four sets of eyes stared at the piles of combat gear in horror.
"Uh-oh," Alex moaned.
"I think the risks of their suicide mission just went up," Melman added.
Next: Welcome to Lemuria