Disclaimer: Star Trek isn't mine. It's Paramount's. I'm not sure Paramount would really want the rights to this particular chapter. Paramount's really too serious for it's own good.
Beedrill: Yeah, poor Jones. : ) As you will find out at the end, I didn't have time for binary code for this disclaimer. Next chap.
Skitz: I'm glad you like my stories. But, as I think I said in response to someone else many chapters ago, slash isn't going to be happening because I don't read slash or want to. Still glad you liked. : )
Eva: I love making people laugh!
Taskemus: That was the thing about Spock's phenomenal memory. They recreated the chemicals that were on the shelf.
Blynneda: I don't mind when you quote me, it tells me which parts were funny. : ) And all red-shirts are throw-away characters, by definition.
Emp: Y'know, we all ought to organize some sort of chapter-of-the-month contest story…just in general, it's a cool idea.
Solidchristian_88: I'm sure Spock did think it out more. Remember, McCoy interrupted his detailed explanation.
Silverfang: Cats are mysterious creatures…Everyone seems to be in favor of The Adventures of Ensign Jones, for which I'm very glad. Unfortunately, I took stock of everything I'm working on right now (React, an A/U TOS novel, hopefully posted soon, an original novel, and school) and decided adding a fifth thing would cause severe stress and possible breakdown. So, sorry if I got your hopes up or anything, but I think Jones' spin-off is going to be put off till I have more time. Summer, maybe.
In the meantime, after this loooong intro, enjoy the chapter.
Chapter Thirty-Six:
One Day on the Enterprise
In a random corridor of the Enterprise one afternoon:
"Hey, Jim," McCoy called. "Do you realize what tomorrow is?"
Kirk paused in his walking down the corridor, turned, and faced McCoy. He was about to say, 'no, what?' when some instinct of self-preservation kicked in. He'd heard this question before. From McCoy. A while ago, but still. He concentrated for a moment. There. He had it. The fourth Tuesday in November.
"Absolutely not," he said quickly. "No, I'm not interested, no, sorry, I don't want to know."
"Aw, come on, Jim. I'll tell you straight out, I promise!"
"Thanks, but no thanks." Kirk turned, and continued down the corridor at a slightly faster pace.
"You can't say I didn't try to warn you!" McCoy called after him.
Kirk ignored him.
* * *
The next morning:
When Kirk woke up, it was a perfectly normal day. It continued to be a normal day until he tried to go to the bridge.
The door opened.
And Kirk looked out on a steaming flood of murky brown liquid that smelled strangely of tea.
Kirk jumped back on instinct and the doors slid neatly shut. He rubbed his eyes, wondered what the galaxy was going on, and cautiously stepped forward.
The door opened.
No tea. Kirk looked suspiciously up and down the corridor. No tea. No sign that the tea had ever been there. He blinked three times, muttered something about not getting enough sleep, and continued towards the bridge.
Things remained normal most of the way. Except when he turned a corner towards a turbolift, and saw two security guards in capes shooting rubber bands at each other.
Kirk took a different turbolift.
Arriving at the bridge, though, put all thoughts of tea and rubber bands out of his head.
"We have a slight problem," Spock said from near the science station.
"That is an understatement," McCoy told him.
Kirk stared. The bridge was covered—literally covered—with tribbles. Not an inch of floor space was visible anywhere. In some places, they were knee-deep.
"What happened?" Kirk asked.
"We seem to be infested by tribbles," McCoy explained, idly petting a tribble.
"I can see that! How did this happen? We didn't have any tribbles yesterday!"
"Tribbles multiply very quickly," Spock said.
"Not this quickly!" Kirk argued, gingerly wading through the mounds of tribbles to his command chair. When he got there, he had to move half-a-dozen tribbles before he could sit down. Once he was seated, he called engineering. "Scotty, we've got tribbles all over the bridge! Can you beam them somewhere else?"
"Oh, aye, Captain," Scotty said agreeably. "I'll send 'em to the Klingon ship."
There was a pause. And then Kirk asked, even though he knew he didn't really want to know the answer.
"What Klingon ship?!"
"Why, the one right outside, Captain!"
Kirk looked at the viewscreen, and discovered that it appeared to be showing reruns of Gilligan's Island. Why hadn't he noticed that before? "Mr. Sulu, get me a view of the outside."
Sulu looked puzzled. "But this is a view of the outside. See, there's the palm trees, and the lagoon, and—"
"Outside the ship!"
"Oh. Yes, sir."
The screen reverted to normalcy, showing the familiar star-specked blackness of space. And the equally familiar but less pleasant Klingon cruiser.
"Hail the Klingons!" Kirk ordered.
"Hailing frequencies open."
The starscape vanished, momentarily showed the Professor and the Skipper, shimmered, and finally showed the Klingon captain. Koloth.
"Captain Koloth, you have taken your ship into Federation territory in clear treaty-violation—" Kirk began. He never got farther.
"That is no way to greet old friends, Jim!" Koloth interrupted, faintly scolding.
Kirk blinked. "Friends?"
"And it's not as though we're here for hostile purposes!"
Kirk blinked again. "You're not?"
"Of course not. We're here for the party!"
"Party?" Kirk was beginning to feel like an echo.
"Right indeed! It's Yeoman Rand's birthday, you know."
"Oh," Kirk said weakly. The Klingons were here for a…birthday party?
"So, we've come for the sole purpose of attending the marvelous party Khan is throwing in Rec Room Twelve."
"We have Twelve Rec Rooms?" Kirk murmured idly. And then it hit. "KHAN? As in…Noonien Singh, Khan?"
"No, Genghis."
"Genghis Kahn?"
"Of course not! Khan Noonien Singh, naturally. I hear it's a gala affair. Tell him we'll be by soon."
And with that, the viewscreen blinked back to Gilligan being chased by several natives. Kirk was somewhat stunned. The galaxy was not playing by the rules he was familiar with. And while he frequently made a habit of changing the rules himself, it was something else entirely when the galaxy started changing them on him.
"What's going on today?" he asked plaintively.
"I don't know, but I have an appointment with some pancakes," McCoy said cheerfully.
"This is no time to be eating breakfast!" Kirk snapped.
"Who said anything about eating?" McCoy demanded. "I said I had an appointment. I do."
"This I must see," Spock said.
The two of them climbed over the tribbles, to the turbolift, and left. Kirk barely had time to react to this when the turbolift opened again, and out came Ensign Jones. Jones saw the tribbles, and freaked.
"Aaaahhh! Tribbles!" Jones fled, shrieking, across the stage.
The tribbles, in a great purring mass, picked up and chased after him. Within moments the bridge was clear, and the only sign that they had ever been there was a distant scream, and a vague rumble of purrs, both of which faded into the distance.
Kirk was feeling very confused. But before he had time to sort out what exactly was so confusing, more trouble arrived.
"Captain! Romulan bird-of-prey decloaking off our port bow!" Uhura announced.
"Viewscreen," Kirk snapped.
"But…Gilligan's about to be in a spear-throwing contest to win the native girl…" Sulu complained.
"I don't care! I want to see the Romulans!"
"Grouch," Sulu muttered, but the screen switched over to the Romulan Commander.
Kirk blinked several times. "Sarek?"
"No, no, no," the man on the screen who looked an awful lot like Spock's father said. "I'm the Romulan Commander who doesn't have a name but looks an awful lot like Spock's father, and who's actually supposed to be dead."
It took Kirk a minute to process that one. "Um…okay. What are you doing here?"
"Well, we're not actually interested in you. We want to fight the Klingons. Do you mind if we use your ship as a site for hand-to-hand combat with the Klingon warriors?"
"Hand-to-hand combat? My ship?"
The Romulan Commander shrugged. "Neutral ground."
"My ship?!"
"Glad you agree. We'll be along shortly."
The screen jumped back to a shot of coconuts falling on a native warrior.
Kirk had the odd feeling that he was drowning. In madness.
"Has anyone else noticed that strange things are going on?" he asked rhetorically.
Any answer was interrupted by the entrance of McCoy, Spock, and several pancakes. The pancakes were large and golden, with legs, arms, and large blue eyes.
"And this is the bridge," McCoy was saying. "That confused looking guy over there is the Captain."
The pancakes blinked their blue eyes, and nodded, despite not having any necks.
"Walking pancakes…" Kirk said dazedly.
McCoy studied Kirk carefully. "Y'know, I think you better go back to the Mess Hall. He looks like he could snap at any moment, and things could get messy."
The pancakes hurried back into the turbolift. Spock and McCoy took up positions near the science station.
Kirk tried to sort everything out, and failed. "This has been…a very strange day…" he said slowly.
"There have been many illogical events," McCoy acknowledged.
"Well that's a helpful comment," Spock told him. "We know it's illogical."
"I was merely making a statement."
"A useless one."
"And what advice do you offer?"
Spock shrugged. "It's a strange day.
McCoy nodded sagely. "Yes, that is much more useful."
"Now see here," Spock said hotly, "you round-eared, red-blooded human—"
"That's it," Kirk interrupted. He'd had enough. Tea, rubber bands, tribbles, Klingons, Gilligan's Island, Khan, Romulans, walking pancakes…all these things he could handle. But McCoy and Spock switching personalities? That was too much. He'd have to give it up. He suspected there was one way to find the answer to all this, and much as he regretted it he had no further choice. He sighed. "All right, Bones," he said, resigned. "Go ahead and tell me."
"Tell you what?" McCoy asked.
"You know. So tell me."
McCoy was merciless. He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The day," Kirk said through gritted teeth. "Tell me what today is."
McCoy beamed. "Well, yesterday was March thirty-first. Which means today is April first. Commonly known as April Fool's Day."
I have no explanation. This is, very simply, an utterly random chapter with no connection whatsoever to the chapters before and after it. If you go looking for a logical answer to every event here, I pity you. This is just a pleasantly strange story for April Fool's Day.
It's been an interesting day. I spent much of it writing this story. Y'see, the idea of an April Fool's chapter didn't occur to me until this morning, roughly seven o'clock. I finished writing this chapter by eleven, posted later in the afternoon. Definitely the fastest chapter I've ever created. The next chapter, which took me considerably longer to write, is also just about done, and should be up soon. In the meantime, review. : )