The disclaimer will soon be laid off, because this is the last chapter.
'Tis a pity, since Sarai and I had lots of fun writing this. Thanks to all
the reviewers, present and future. Enjoy! Oh yeah, I forgot, we don't own
Star Trek TNG or any other Star Trek (this is the purpose of a disclaimer,
is it not?)
19) substitute security guards
" Who in their right mind leaves only one engineer to take care of Engineering?" Barclay thought as he strode quickly down the hall. Our poor, stuttering friend had no idea that the ship was being overrun by tribbles or that a Romulan boarding party had just, well, boarded. All he knew was that for most of the shift he'd been fixing the table-thingy, and when he finally looked up he was all by his lonesome. The bridge wasn't answering the comm., so he was forced to go right up there to seek an explanation. He was so nervous that he almost didn't notice as a light brown fluffball scurried through his feet. He did notice when several others and a phaser bolt immediately followed it. He also heard a yell. "Come back here, you!"
"W-what--?" he blurted out, turning around, but he didn't finish the sentence before someone crashed into him and both tumbled to the deck in a heap. Barclay found himself pinned flat on his back by someone with long dark hair sprawled flat against him.
"Are-are you alr."
His words died on his lips as the person moved to get up, without their precious towel. "Umm." he barely managed to gasp before the said person, Deanna Troi, screamed and ran away, snatching up 'the precious towel' on her way.
Barclay was so stunned by having been in his dream position for just a few seconds that he also barely noticed as he was trampled by three frantic Romulans, a horde of bloodthirsty tribbles, and a phaser-wielding Crusher, cackling inanely. Poor Barclay. Poor, poor Barclay.
20) barricade
"All hands to battle stations," Picard's voice blared over the console, "We're under attack. Also, we have intruders. Security to deck Five, section whatever, you know the drill."
As said security arrived at the section, so did the Romulans. Who smacked right into a forcefield. Ouch. Security decided to mock them (lazy bums) from the other side of the forcefield. The Romulans didn't have time to care about this though, nor to fix their normally perfect bangs, for a dark shadow loomed behind them. It purred ominously. They turned around to find themselves cornered by an undulating mass of fur. Of course, we all know what cornered Romulans do. They fire. With every shot the barricade rippled, but it regenerated and started to growl. Realizing the ineffectiveness of their weapons, the Romulans stopped and just stared. The wall suddenly bulged and opened to reveal a lone blue-clad figure. The red-haired doctor's gaze was more menacing than any demon from any fable as she stepped through the gap. It closed behind her with a soft purr.
Needless to say, the Romulans were terrified. And we all know what terrified Romulans do. They fire. The tribble barricade extended tentacles at lightning speed to intercept each disrupter bolt before it could strike the doctor, and to the Romulan's horror she was totally unsinged. The weapons fell from their frozen hands in slow motion and thudded uselessly on the floor. What was this creature of fire hair and ice eyes, which could bend this abomination to her will? The demon (for in the Romulan's minds she could only be a demon) turned and stroked the wall affectionately, murmuring,
"Excellent work, my minions."
Then she turned those terrible cold eyes back to her prisoners, with a glare that could destroy the courage of the staunchest centurion, and addressed them.
"You're mine now. Onward, my minions, attack!"
The Romulans disappeared under a massive pile of tribbles. The security guards, meanwhile, had procured a couple of lawn chairs and a bag of popcorn to watch the show.
Barclay had just dragged himself to a turbolift when the sound of far-away screams and maniacal laughter floated down the hall. The sheer terror of the screams sent a shudder down his spine as he entered the lift.
"B-bridge." he stammered, and the lift started moving.
The ship shook as he arrived at the bridge.
"Return fire!" Picard yelled. Work smashed his hands through the tactical console in a typical display of Klingon temper and barked, "Phasers offline! We are out of torpedoes!"
Barclay's all-too-recent trampling seemed to have been beneficial. He had an idea.
21) (yes the last one!) furry torpedoes
"Fire!" Picard yelled. Fortunately, Worf's temper tantrum hadn't wiped out the fire button, and four torpedoes streaked towards the Romulan ship. How, do you ask, did they find more torpedoes? These torpedoes were special, for you see, they were brown and furry and growled when they were loaded into the torpedo tubes. Upon striking the Warbird the torpedoes fragmented into little pieces, and the Romulans discovered just how dangerous furballs can be. Their shields were being consumed by tribbles! The Enterprise fired again and again, and each furry torpedo exploded into a mass of hungry tribbles. They had eaten the shields in no time.
In the middle of the battle, Barclay ran onto the bridge, gasping, "W-we need-d m-more ammo!" He immediately espied the tribbles masquerading as Ensign Crusher. Barclay scooped up the ensign/tribble protestors and wordlessly ran off the bridge. Picard just shrugged.
"We don't need Wesley anyway."
The Enterprise kept firing until the last torpedo (with small placards hanging out of it) Impacted with the Romulan Warbird. Within seconds, the famished tribbles had stripped the Warbird clean, eaten the insides, and finished off the skeletal structure.
"So what do we do now?" Riker asked his captain.
"Umm.. set a course for thataway, warp 5.4" Picard told the nameless person now at the helm. The Enterprise streaked away into space, leaving behind all the tribbles.or did they?
Epilogue
Beverly Crusher was not pleased. Her minions were now floating in space! This was all Barclay's fault. She stroked one of the five tribbles she'd managed to hide (stuffing them down her shirt had not been a picnic).
"Mean old Barclay, shooting my poor minions into space like that." she murmured to the tribble, who promptly reproduced, "We'll get him my minions, yes."
Quiet time with her minions was interrupted by the sickbay doors. It was Geordi who walked in, all alone.
"Uh, I have a problem." he began, then a squirming lump suddenly appeared on his forehead. Dr. Crusher smiled.
19) substitute security guards
" Who in their right mind leaves only one engineer to take care of Engineering?" Barclay thought as he strode quickly down the hall. Our poor, stuttering friend had no idea that the ship was being overrun by tribbles or that a Romulan boarding party had just, well, boarded. All he knew was that for most of the shift he'd been fixing the table-thingy, and when he finally looked up he was all by his lonesome. The bridge wasn't answering the comm., so he was forced to go right up there to seek an explanation. He was so nervous that he almost didn't notice as a light brown fluffball scurried through his feet. He did notice when several others and a phaser bolt immediately followed it. He also heard a yell. "Come back here, you!"
"W-what--?" he blurted out, turning around, but he didn't finish the sentence before someone crashed into him and both tumbled to the deck in a heap. Barclay found himself pinned flat on his back by someone with long dark hair sprawled flat against him.
"Are-are you alr."
His words died on his lips as the person moved to get up, without their precious towel. "Umm." he barely managed to gasp before the said person, Deanna Troi, screamed and ran away, snatching up 'the precious towel' on her way.
Barclay was so stunned by having been in his dream position for just a few seconds that he also barely noticed as he was trampled by three frantic Romulans, a horde of bloodthirsty tribbles, and a phaser-wielding Crusher, cackling inanely. Poor Barclay. Poor, poor Barclay.
20) barricade
"All hands to battle stations," Picard's voice blared over the console, "We're under attack. Also, we have intruders. Security to deck Five, section whatever, you know the drill."
As said security arrived at the section, so did the Romulans. Who smacked right into a forcefield. Ouch. Security decided to mock them (lazy bums) from the other side of the forcefield. The Romulans didn't have time to care about this though, nor to fix their normally perfect bangs, for a dark shadow loomed behind them. It purred ominously. They turned around to find themselves cornered by an undulating mass of fur. Of course, we all know what cornered Romulans do. They fire. With every shot the barricade rippled, but it regenerated and started to growl. Realizing the ineffectiveness of their weapons, the Romulans stopped and just stared. The wall suddenly bulged and opened to reveal a lone blue-clad figure. The red-haired doctor's gaze was more menacing than any demon from any fable as she stepped through the gap. It closed behind her with a soft purr.
Needless to say, the Romulans were terrified. And we all know what terrified Romulans do. They fire. The tribble barricade extended tentacles at lightning speed to intercept each disrupter bolt before it could strike the doctor, and to the Romulan's horror she was totally unsinged. The weapons fell from their frozen hands in slow motion and thudded uselessly on the floor. What was this creature of fire hair and ice eyes, which could bend this abomination to her will? The demon (for in the Romulan's minds she could only be a demon) turned and stroked the wall affectionately, murmuring,
"Excellent work, my minions."
Then she turned those terrible cold eyes back to her prisoners, with a glare that could destroy the courage of the staunchest centurion, and addressed them.
"You're mine now. Onward, my minions, attack!"
The Romulans disappeared under a massive pile of tribbles. The security guards, meanwhile, had procured a couple of lawn chairs and a bag of popcorn to watch the show.
Barclay had just dragged himself to a turbolift when the sound of far-away screams and maniacal laughter floated down the hall. The sheer terror of the screams sent a shudder down his spine as he entered the lift.
"B-bridge." he stammered, and the lift started moving.
The ship shook as he arrived at the bridge.
"Return fire!" Picard yelled. Work smashed his hands through the tactical console in a typical display of Klingon temper and barked, "Phasers offline! We are out of torpedoes!"
Barclay's all-too-recent trampling seemed to have been beneficial. He had an idea.
21) (yes the last one!) furry torpedoes
"Fire!" Picard yelled. Fortunately, Worf's temper tantrum hadn't wiped out the fire button, and four torpedoes streaked towards the Romulan ship. How, do you ask, did they find more torpedoes? These torpedoes were special, for you see, they were brown and furry and growled when they were loaded into the torpedo tubes. Upon striking the Warbird the torpedoes fragmented into little pieces, and the Romulans discovered just how dangerous furballs can be. Their shields were being consumed by tribbles! The Enterprise fired again and again, and each furry torpedo exploded into a mass of hungry tribbles. They had eaten the shields in no time.
In the middle of the battle, Barclay ran onto the bridge, gasping, "W-we need-d m-more ammo!" He immediately espied the tribbles masquerading as Ensign Crusher. Barclay scooped up the ensign/tribble protestors and wordlessly ran off the bridge. Picard just shrugged.
"We don't need Wesley anyway."
The Enterprise kept firing until the last torpedo (with small placards hanging out of it) Impacted with the Romulan Warbird. Within seconds, the famished tribbles had stripped the Warbird clean, eaten the insides, and finished off the skeletal structure.
"So what do we do now?" Riker asked his captain.
"Umm.. set a course for thataway, warp 5.4" Picard told the nameless person now at the helm. The Enterprise streaked away into space, leaving behind all the tribbles.or did they?
Epilogue
Beverly Crusher was not pleased. Her minions were now floating in space! This was all Barclay's fault. She stroked one of the five tribbles she'd managed to hide (stuffing them down her shirt had not been a picnic).
"Mean old Barclay, shooting my poor minions into space like that." she murmured to the tribble, who promptly reproduced, "We'll get him my minions, yes."
Quiet time with her minions was interrupted by the sickbay doors. It was Geordi who walked in, all alone.
"Uh, I have a problem." he began, then a squirming lump suddenly appeared on his forehead. Dr. Crusher smiled.