Riker's Story: Mirror Cracked!
By Steve2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Trek series or Married with Children series. This is simply a story for fun. No profits are being made. Enjoy the humor.
Chapter 5: Ahoy! Babes In Sight!As Lt. Worf massaged a sore thumb, Commander Al assumed command, sitting in the big comfy captain's chair. He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating his moves, his new avenues of command. Then, "Anyone got any suggestions?" he asked.
Lt. Worf, standing at his station, wrapping a large bandage around his thumb, muttered, "...never saw his thumb... ...never lost one of... hmm? Oh. Uh, well, sir, we could launch all the photon torpedoes, jettison as much plasma as we have in the engines and then self-destruct, hoping to take the Borg with us."
Commander Al gave his Security Officer a look he usually reserved for his wife when she said something monumentally stupid, such as asking him if he were in the mood for some midnight hanky panky. It was a look he had used many times. "Any other good suggestions? From anybody else?"
"Well, I'm just an ensign and all, your lordship," said Ensign Parker from his station at Ops. He looked relatively young, but had that Starfleet look about him that said, 'Yes, I'm young and since I'm wearing red I 'Il probably be killed in this episode when the Borg attack soon, but this is my one chance to impress agents galore into getting me new and better parts.' He wore the traditional sideburns that came down to his jaw and his black hair was slicked back.
"Let's hear it," Al prompted.
"Well, since the Borg are just sitting out there and didn't destroy us when they had the chance, how about opening communications with them and seeing what they want. Oh, and calling down for Dr. Crusher to come up and administer medical treatment to Captain Picard here." Picard was still unconscious behind his chair.
Commander Al looked at him, weighing the option. "You see, Worf," Al commented dryly. "You should come up with more suggestions like that. Someone open communications! And call Dr. Crusher up here." He turned to Counselor Troi and whispered, "By the way, did we manage to beam up all the colonists in case we do have to make a run for it?"
"I'll get back to you on that," she replied, not knowing the answer but fearing that it was "No" regardless.
The viewer crinkled to life and Commander Al was supplied with a view he would have rather done without. After spending a week on Risa and seeing enough bare skin to make him wish he had gone to medical school to study dermatology, Al was startled to see a woman wearing enough spare parts to look like a car had exploded on her.
Her hair had color, but Al couldn't really tell what it was. It did have a metallic sheen, he could tell that. She was wearing a basic gray-black outfit that seemed to extend from her head to toes, leaving only her face exposed.
But not for long as large, cumbersome pieces of machinery covered the left side of her face from forehead to chin. Essentially the only part of her that looked organic was the right side of her face. A few slips of hair had managed to get loose from her cap and could be seen on her face.
Gulp. "Howdy, ma'am," started Commander Al, rising out of his chair and tugging his tunic down.
"Surrender now. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile," she stated immediately.
"You sound like my wife," Al winced.
"That statement is irrelevant. You are of the Federation starship Enterprise. You have battled the Borg before and defeated us. We wish to know why. Surrender now." Her tone and delivery were flat and her expression had not changed.
Commander Al thought long and hard on this for approximately five seconds before he realized there was only one way out short of blowing the Enterprise to little itty bitty radioactive pieces. "Um. Say, miss. Has anyone ever told you that you are one hot babe?"
Counselor Troi's eyes bulged as she sensed Commander Al's plan. She had to stop him, take over the ship and get everyone out of there before the Borg attacked!
"No. I am regulating my internal temperature and have never approached critical heat levels. The Enterprise is a threat and will be dealt with accordingly. Surrender now and be assimilated or be destroyed."
Counselor Troi approached Commander Al and said, "Al. Let me take over from here."
Commander Al ignored her and walked towards the viewer. "You know, miss. I have to admit I find you very attractive. Your eyes are a very lovely shade of metallic." He smiled a smile he had not used in years, ever since high school when he had first tried wooing his wife-to-be. What the hell; it worked once and got me into trouble so it ought to work again, he thought.
The Borg smiled a timid smile. "You really think I'm good looking? The plastic and metallic compound gizmos on my face aren't distracting?"
"Absolutely not," assured Al. "In fact, they only highlight your naturally pale face and pale lips."
"Oh," she almost blushed. "You're just saying that."
"Ke152," said another Borg female who came into viewer sight. "What is amiss? The Enterprise has not surrendered. We must assimilate it. Why have they not been assimilated?"
Ke152 turned to the new Borg and replied, "The human leader of the Enterprise just said I was cute, Jen143. I admit to feeling an attraction to him. Isn't he just the dreamiest?"
Jen143 turned to the viewer and looked at Commander Al. Unlike previous chapters, his posture was upright, his hands weren't down his pants, his overbite was in his mouth where it belonged, and his gaze was all animalistic lust. Al arched an eyebrow towards her.
"He is radiating an animal attraction. I would consider him a suitable mate once he is assimilated."
"You would consider him a mate? I saw him first!"
"He radiated lust towards me. My eye sensor recorded it. Therefore, he is mine."
"I disagree more profoundly. His lust was for me!"
"Ladies, ladies," Al calmed. "Let's be reasonable here. For one thing, if I'm assimilated will I still have an animal lust for either of you? Maybe you should consider coming over to the Enterprise where we can get to know one another. We could go out on a date."
"What is a date?"
"It's where human males and females dress up and pretend they want to get to know each other mentally when all they really want to do is hop in the sack and do the nasty," supplied the ever-factual Counselor Troi who knew a thing or two about dating.
"Sounds wonderful," the two Borg replied in unison.
"But I have no other dress clothes," said Ke152.
Al smiled his warm smile and said, "That's not a problem. Counselor, if you would mind replicating them a dress, shoes and cosmetics and beaming them over there."
Counselor Troi, amazed that her initial belief that Al's idea would fail, promptly got on the ball and beamed the materials over to the two Borg women. Jen143 took the eyeliner brush and began brushing her nose. Ke152 applied lipstick to her teeth.
"We heard through the net that something new was going on here," came the voice of another female Borg.
She came into viewer range and was just about a mirror clone of the other two. Behind her were four more Borg females who all decided to see how they could make their teeth red and their nose hairs stand up on edge.
"Ke152, you are relieved," came the voice of a male Borg. He came into viewer range and Al noticed that the male was dressed the same as the females with a black-gray outfit, leather skull cap, and plastic-alloy gizmo on the right side of the face instead of the female left side. The female Borg looked at him, at the still smiling Al, back at the Borg and then they did the most amazing thing. They all lifted their noses in the air and stormed away in a snit. "Humph!" they humped together.
A second male stood behind the first one and made sure the females left.
"You are of the Federation starship Enterprise. Rank: Commander. Surrender now and prepare to be assimilated," said the first male Borg. The second male, having made sure the females left the scene, turned his attention to the viewer.
"You know," Al said as he paced back and forth. "It seems to me like you are missing the really big picture here. You should try to bargain to get us to surrender instead of just telling us to do it."
"Why should the Borg bargain for you to surrender? It will do you no good to resist as you will be assimilated, and all your knowledge will be shared."
"Oh, I've heard about what you plan to do with your assimilating people into a telepathic web. I know my individual will would be suppressed. However, I want you to know one thing. If you try to assimilate us against our wishes, before you do I will destroy this!" Commander Al stopped his pacing and produced a copy of COSMIC SQUEEZES mag.
"It appears to be a source of information," said the second Borg to the first, who stared intently at the cover.
"Someone has apparently read the information source," said the first Borg to Commander Al. "That information will be shared."
Commander Al let centerfold drop.
Borg #2's eyebrow shot up. He looked back towards the area the female Borg had left. "You mean those creatures look like that under their gizmos?" he asked.
"Yup."
Borg #2 again took a gander at the centerfold and then gazed at the Borg females.
"The picture is meaningless," said male Borg #1. "You will be assimilated."
Borg #2 again took a gander at the centerfold and then gazed at the Borg females.
"Do you mind if I borrow that?" Worf asked, coming up behind Commander Al. He handed it over and Worf walked back to his station, idly flipping through the text and pausing at the pictures. He noticed Ensign Barton's stare from the science station. "Um. I'm just interested in the articles," he explained.
Borg #2 had followed Worf's flipping of the pages and when the centerfold came down again and he could not see it, his eyes strained to see any glimpse. Not seeing anything worthwhile, he spied the Borg women again.
"Prepare to be assimilated," Borg #1 said in his monotone way.
"Aw, c'mon. We can bargain, can't we?" Al whined, momentarily reverting to his pre-Enterprise days. "Ahem. Excuse that. Listen, bub. I scored four touchdowns in a single football game. If I could do that, I can do anything. "
"What does that mean?" Counselor Troi asked quietly.
"I don't know. I'm just trying to buy time until I can think of something better."
Borg #2's gaze finally stayed on the female Borg. A slight smile formed. He lifted his right mechanical hand and marched off towards her.
"You will be assim..." Borg #1 began and stopped. Suddenly several female Borg ran by, giggling. Borg #2 ran after them, his longer mechanical arm trying to goose them.
"You will be..." Borg #1 began again and stopped again. Several more female Borg ran by, giggling. Borg #2 ran after them, his longer mechanical arm trying to goose them as well. By this time several more Borg males had joined the fray as they had been alerted to what was going on through the Telepathic Input Device they all shared which allowed them to stay in communication with one another. They were glad for the diversion as assimilating other species was getting to a real drag.
Borg #1 did not like the situation, nor did many of the others on the cube. Borg #1 held out his hand and stopped Borg #2. "Do not do this anymore," he commanded.
Borg #2, his eye wide open, looked back towards a smiling Borg female, slugged Borg #1 and ran off.
The screen went blank
Commander Al and Counselor Troi looked at one another in disbelief. Who would have thought a nudie mag could cause so much trouble.
Dr. Crusher's gang finally got to the bridge and hauled off the still unconscious Captain Picard. At least that was one less thing Counselor Troi had to wonder about.
A CRACKED MIRROR REALITY AWAY
Thirty minutes after stranding the Dodge 2610-X women on asteroid M65-0145-GAD-402, Riker successfully rendezvoused with SpaceWays Bus 11302-D56. He dialed up the visual space-phone and a few discreet inquiries later ascertained that the bikini-clad women indeed needed a lift to the Space-bikini finals near the Klingon boarder. Riker offered them the use of his spaceship. They of course accepted as he knew they would.
"What are you doing?"
Jefferson stopped narrating and looked at Commander Riker. They were standing in the lounge, Jefferson looking out a window gazing at the stars while playing with his sandy-brown hair and unconsciously inspecting his teeth for anything unsightly caught in them. Partially constructed lava lamps littered a table near the liquor cabinet.
"I'm, ah... narrating," Jefferson confessed.
"Is that what it is? I've been wondering about that. How do you get those cool voice effects?"
Jefferson, on familiar ground, perked up and answered the question without hesitation. "When you decide to take on Narration duties, Will," he said, "you gain some incredible powers as well as a microphone at your disposal whenever you need it. Your voice naturally resonates louder, knowledge just seems to pop up in your head, and best of all, get this, nothing bad ever happens to a Narrator. Only people who affect life and not report it are the ones who did when, say, a ship crashes. Narrators never die. If a narrator died, who would tell the story then? Huh? Huh? Pretty good reasoning, eh?"
Riker cocked his head to the left, then to the right, weighing what Jefferson had just told him. Then, "Knock it off, Jefferson. Now get your lazy butt up to the bridge and take your station. Sheesh. Narrators. What will he think up next," he muttered, leaving Jefferson to follow in his wake.
They took a turbo lift to the bridge, all of two floors up, got off and Riker walked directly to the captain's chair. "Report?"
Ensign Bud looked up from his long-range scanner console, took off his cool red and green glasses (which Riker knew he had to get a pair just like that one day) and said, "We're within visual range of the space bus now and in a few more minutes we'll be within transporter and tractor beam range."
"On screen," Riker commanded in a commanding way, sitting down and immediately slouching to the left. Jefferson flipped a button and the bridge lights went out.
"Ooops, heh, heh. Sorry about that." Jefferson flipped another button and the monitor flickered to life, showing a SpaceWays space bus with its patented logo of an asteroid hitting a space car on the side. The bus was falling, which wasn't anything new since everything was falling in space, but really had no place to go but down.
"Ready tractor beam, Bud. Let's bring that bus in closer."
"Oh, hey!" exclaimed an excited Jefferson. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Look what I see." He flipped another button and the image of the bus was replaced with an image of a bus window with two bikini-clad women looking out and blowing kisses. Behind them Riker could just barely make out the festivities of a wet T-shirt contest going on in what looked like an Engineering section of the bus.
"Skip the tractor beam, Ensign. Bud. Ready transporter. Let's get them over here. How many of them are there?"
Bud looked up from his scanner and answered gloomily, "Transporter ready. I can energize from here. And there's... about... 20 women and what appears to be a broken driver robot model F6-013456.2134. I guess he shorted out. Probably from when that Bunny babe sprayed water on the bridge. That model was always susceptible to water. That's why they phased them out of general gardening use 40 years ago and let the bus companies have them. "
"Energize them straight to the lounge, Bud. Then put the ship on auto and come on down and join us." Riker got to his feet, jumped a railing, and pushed a button for the lift. Jefferson was right behind him, frantically pushing the button in a vain effort to call the lift faster.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Bud said in defeat as he went about his task.
It was party time on the Dodge 2610-X "Dart". Vulcan insult calls were ignored. Police reports of a missing busload of beauty pageant contestants were ignored. Early warning indicators of engine overheating problems due to unusually high demands of replicator usage were ignored while Riker and Jefferson danced with some scantily-clad babes in the lounge. Hastily constructed, leaking, lava lamps illuminated a scene of drunken debauchery, as if they cared about me at all.
Bud, however, was a little down as the bikini-clad women were not clamoring his services. In the lounge, he noticed Jefferson's microphone on a table and picked it up.
The power-rush was enormous.
HMMMMM. I could get used to these cool voice effects, he thought as his mind adapted to the narrative. HELLO—Hello—hello. ECHO—Echo—echo.
Maybe I could pick up chicks with this power. Man, this must be what Jefferson felt when he started doing his narrator bit. Whoa. I can feel telepathic Overview powers kicking in. I can sense the awesome responsibility of being a narrator and sacrificing the right to participate in a story. I can sense the lava lamps in the lounge boiling wax back and forth. I can sense the approaching curse field.
Uh-oh.
As Commander Riker and Lt. Jefferson danced with, and stuffed dollar bills in the bikinis of the babes we picked up, little did they know the Bundy curse was bearing down on the Dodge-2610X Dart. Apparently, unable to follow its current recipient, Al, to another dimension, it instead found its way to me. I've known for some time that once the old man kicked the bucket, I was next in line for the curse. I've known it ever since Riker first barged in on me when I was wearing my red and green curse-field locator glasses back in Chapter 2. But even the curse field pales against two other events.
The first is that Riker is scoring with all the chicks; with Jefferson picking them up next. As expected, I've only received cursory glances—after all, the babes would exclaim that I was just a boy whereas Riker was a man.
Then they'd swoon. As if they hadn't done that before.
The second event was that my little feelings of jealousy turned to a full symptom of terror when my telepathic narrator senses picked up the returning shapes of mom, Kelly and Captain Marcy.
They had been picked up by a passing MegaTrucker SC1067-X5, which housed 100 roving mercenary Intergalactic Woman's Bowling League leaguers. And they had just lost a playoff game. Their ship, while originally designed to go Warp 5.2 max, was refitted up enough to go Warp 7.3—a favorite to charge down on unsuspecting men and bash them, which they've done, or so I heard from a survivor of the infamous Ridcalas 11 Bar Brawl. He was lucky to get out of the establishment with no major injuries other than losing a few bowling fingers. And all because the women had found their opponents fooling around with bar-floozies when they showed up to the match unannounced while looking for their bowling husbands.
I sensed the curse field expand with pent up energy. It was a pulsing neon puke-yellow/green gaseous cloud similar to other bad effects. Behind the Woman 's Bowling League was another space bus which, as I just knew it had to have, contained the mothers of the space bikini babes. They were each 300 kilos easy with a permanent snarl on their face as they looked for the perverts who had picked up their "innocents. "
Ahead of all of them was the curse field. Typical. Just my luck after all the work I'd put in to prepping Al.
In a doom gloom, Bud wandered the ship, now uninterested in the bikini-babes around him. As he walked down a corridor two giggling babes ran past, their wet t-shirts glistening in moisture as Jefferson came running behind them with another bucket of water.
As he turned a corner he noticed several babes dancing the groove in a cage suspended over the floor. Each wore white calf-high boots which did not go at all with their space bikinis, as if any self-respecting ogling teen-ager would object. Bud was uninterested.
As he headed for the door of the lounge Jefferson came running by, his head perspiring as he wheezed on past, the two giggling babes he had been chasing now chasing him with a bucket of water as a retaliatory strike against his getting their hair wet.
He entered the lounge and noticed that Riker was dancing with several girls at once, doing the kind of dance that didn't require physical contact other than to bump chests every now and then. He was all smiles, especially as they tore off his shirt, giggling as they did so.
Jefferson was also dancing with some bikini babes as the two women chasing him entered the lounge, their wet hair all poofed out from a quick blow drying, which was, after all, a well-kept secret when attending bikini beauty pageants.
In the center of the lounge were three lava lamps: blue, yellow and red, all gyrating up and down, as if dancing the hot wax dance to the music blaring out of the speakers Jefferson had hastily fastened to the recesses that had held them to begin with, prior to him taking them off for his own use several years ago.
"Umm," he began. "In case anyone is interested." He looked around. No one was interested.
He turned the music station blaring out the speakers over to polka. They listened now. Or would moments later when he turned the blasting sonics off and they removed their hands from their ears.
"In case anyone is interested," he began again. "In a few minutes I'm going to be cursed for life as the approaching curse field hits the ship. And since my life will effectively end five minutes after that as I will probably meet the girl I will marry, have ungrateful children and grow old and bitter while never amounting to anything, I'm going out with a fling."
Jefferson sidled over the Riker, who was busy balancing two women in a complicated dance move that required concentration and lots of kissing.
"Any idea of what he's talking about?" Jefferson asked.
"Nope. Do you even care?"
"Nope. Just checking."
While they watched, Bud approached one of the most gorgeous bikini babes Will had ever seen and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around to look, Bud grabbed her and planted a big smooch on her delicious lips.
"I guess we should check, though," Riker said after kissing his dance partner.
"What are you talking about, Bud?" Jefferson and Riker inquired a minute later.
Coming up for air, Bud said, "There's an approaching curse field that'll hit the ship in just a bit."
Bud's kissing partner was not unhappy at being kissed by a good kisser.
"When is the field supposed to hit the ship?" asked Riker, some of his Starfleet curiosity coming back to him.
Bud looked at his watch. "In a few seconds."
"Does that mean anything to you?" Riker asked Jefferson.
"Nope. Don't care either as long as it's hitting Bud and not me."
"You said it." Riker replied, going back to his dance with a new partner.
The approaching curse field pulsed a neon light through the lounge windows. The party stopped and the group went to catch a glimpse of what was going on. They noticed the green/yellow curse field cloud heading their way. The cloud condensed on itself as it approached the ship so that it was as large as three people, then two people, then one person.
The curse field not being a constrained by the physical laws of science, didn't bother answering to the physical walls of No-Entry and slid through the ship's hull as it entered the ship. It was searching for someone. Bud backed up against the wall, the cute bikini babe near him. Both watched the cloud in awe.
The rest of the group watched the cloud in fascination. The cloud touched one of the space babes, Monica (at least that's what was stenciled on her wet t-shirt), and a mustache quickly grew on her upper lip. Not a thick mustache, but one that would not allow her to win a bikini contest. She instinctively knew the only way to combat this terrible affliction was to eat candy and drown her sorrows. Almost immediately a pudge developed.
The field approached Bud. His space bikini babe screamed in terror! She didn't want a pudge yet! Not until she had bagged a rich husband!
"Is this the end of the Budman?!" Bud wailed.
Actually, it wasn't. The field took an abrupt right turn and closed in on... Riker!
"Oh, joy. The Budman's gonna get some," Bud realized out loud as the cloud enveloped Riker and then shrank in on him. The cute bikini babe, Kandi, smiled back and kissed him.
Hummina. Hummina. Hummina, stammered narrator Jefferson so loudly that new narrator Bud, me, had to take over. HELLO—Hello—man, I just love that echo effect. Commander William Riker. He came to this universe with Al 's bio readout. The curse field, initially confused, figured out that Al's bio filter was still Al's bio filter, regardless of who was wearing it and it promptly grabbed Commander Riker. The poor sap. Heh, heh, heh.
Monica, sensing there was more candy near the dashing Commander Riker, made her way towards him, pushing the other girls out of the way, her mustache thickening. Riker, who was babe-less as they had fled the curse field noticed Monica's look. She looked hungry. And he didn't know what for.
She approached him and smiled. There were bits of chocolate and peanut butter stuck between her two large, seemingly expanding front teeth. He was unable to do anything but stare openly at her.
She took that as in invitation and jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a big kiss, lips only for a few seconds before going for the tongue maneuver. The boys back home always liked that, she remembered.
Commander Riker managed to get Monica off him. "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh-haaaahhhh-haaaahhhh!" he screamed in terror as he had to defend himself from the depraved look of a love starved girl he was not attracted to (and just when was the last time that happened?).
"Jefferson!" To Monica: "Get back, you!" Then, "Jefferson! Bud! Haaaalllp!
Jefferson and Bud watched as Riker defended himself from one Monica lunge after another. They didn't help. They were too busy laughing and scoring with the other babes. However, after the third unsuccessful lunge the ship's sirens wailed like a geezer who had just forgot to get Jell-O in a cafeteria line.
His Starfleet training asserting himself, plus this giving him ample opportunity to get away from Monica. Riker grabbed Jefferson and Bud away from their kissing partners and dragged them out of the lounge and towards the lift.
"C'mon, Riker, let me go," whined Jefferson. "It's not like the ship was under attack or anything."
Bud woke up in a flash of terror. "Oh no! I forgot all about it because I thought the curse field was going to hit me!"
The lift doors opened on the bridge. "What is it?" Commander Riker asked, heading for the command chair. "Cardassians? Romulans?"
"Worse!" Bud supplied, taking a seat at tactical. "It's the mothers of the bikini-babes in the lounge! And they are not alone!" Bud aimed the viewer at the approaching ships the men noticed two spaceship closing fast. They recognized the shape of a space bus. Bud explained who and what the Intergalactic Women's Bowling League ship contained.
Fortunately, Commander Riker knew what to do in a situation like this. "Fortunately, I know what to do in a situation like this. Jefferson! Ready photon torpedoes," he said calmly, a sly grin on his face.
"What's a photon torpedo?" Jefferson replied.
"What are the ship's weapons?" Riker snapped.
"Phasers and Al's food."
"Ready phasers," commanded Riker, a sly grin on his face.
Jefferson punched the correct buttons and said, "No can do, Commander."
"Why not?"
"Phasers inoperative. There's something blocking the power deployment access area."
"What is it? Space debris?"
Jefferson looked out a bridge window. "If I'm not mistaken, it looks like a giant spaceship-bra."
Commander Riker and Jefferson looked at Bud. He shrugged his shoulders and said "Hey, man. Chicks think bras on cars are cool, so why not on a spaceship? If chicks think it looks cool, it therefore acts like a chick-magnet."
Jefferson and Riker looked at each other. "Sounds good to me," Jefferson said.
"Right. Can't fault the logic there. Well, there's only one thing to do now. Arm yourselves and prepare to repel boarders!"
Behind Jefferson three women bowlers materialized in a blue sparkly special effect. He whipped around to see a gruesome sight. Three 2.5 meter tall women, wearing flower printed blouses to cover their large chests, and spandex bike shorts to cover the rest of their bodies snarled at him. In their hands were blood-red bowling balls.
In their eyes were red contact lenses to offset their murderous intentions towards these sleezebag male humans! Attached to their hips were bowling balls linked to chains which they used to swing above their heads and hurl in a deadly manner. Or so Jefferson heard.
"I give up," he squeaked immediately.
Next to Bud two bowlers materialized wearing the same outfit as the ones next to Jefferson with one slight difference. While the other bowlers had short blonde hair to offset attractive facial features, these had long brown hair to offset attractive facial features. Bud would have been in love had they not noticed his gaze not meeting theirs and immediately whipped their bowling balls off their hips and began twirling the chains around and around and around.
"I give up," he squeaked immediately.
Next to Riker materialized four women bowlers. Lt. Kelly, Lt. Peggy, and a miffed Captain Marcy Darcy (hahaha). Riker would have laughed at her name except that one of the women bowlers intimidating Bud had started twirling her bowling ball on a chain and it accidentally knocked him in the noggin, knocking him out for a moment.
.. .glllaaaaaahhhh..." he glllaaaaaahhhhed, immediately slumping to the floor.
"Well, this is just fine, Jefferson," his wife started acidly, hands on her hips. The women bowlers were enjoying the males being in discomfort.
Riker began to stir to consciousness.
"Ladies!" Captain Marcy Darcy (hahaha) said in a shrill voice even they had come to despise. "Inform the mothers to come and get their daughters from this ship. We have subdued the males!"
They cheered not only for the words "subdued the males" also that this technically ended their working relationship with Captain Marcy Darcy (hahaha—even they thought the name funny). They beamed out, leaving a dutifully cowed Bud and Jefferson behind. Riker was still groaning his way to consciousness.
"Jefferson. Bud. William," Lt. Peggy began. "I'm disappointed in all of you. Leaving us on that asteroid like that. Why, if we hadn't found the hidden Intergalactic Women's Bowling League ship buried there while it was hiding from the law we might still be there now."
"Let's punish them, mom," Lt. Kelly said crossing her arms.
"Good idea, Kelly. Punishment is needed. But who should get punished? Obviously, we can't punish Bud—he's the one who runs the ship."
"And Jefferson's smile is too nice to punish," Captain Marcy Darcy said.
"That just leaves William," Peggy concluded.
Riker had gained consciousness, had heard what was said and wished he were dead.
