Wizard in Space
Genre: Humor
Category: AU: random scenes
Fandom: Harry Potter x Star Trek Reboot
Author: Falling Right Side-Up
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or worlds mentioned herein.
Summary: Ideas of Harry Potter x Star Trek Reboot x-overs.
AN: Premise: Harry's spirit/ghost somehow combines with the Enterprise, but doesn't become fully conscious of his nifty new body (i.e. a space ship, lulz) until sometime during or after the confrontation with Nero.
No one but Jim and Scotty know about Harry right now.
RE-WRITTEN 6-08-2010 (several parts edited and new parts added. Please re-read if you read it before this date!)
Idea #1A
(Re-written 6-08-2010; new and edited parts)
Prompt: The Extreme Spaceship Makeover…that didn't happen
It had been about a month since the Enterprise had returned to Earth and a week since James Tiberius Kirk had been officially promoted to Captain. In that time, Jim had been extraordinarily busy making arrangements for their first mission—a diplomatic mission; ferrying an ambassador to a Federation powwow. He'd been meeting weekly with the heads of his departments, which included Bones, Spock, Uhura, and Sulu amongst others, but Scotty had been strangely absent.
Jim hadn't been worried, however, since repairs on the Enterprise were steadily making progress. It wasn't until Pike called Jim into his office to discuss the "flood of superfluous and surplus materials being requisitioned for the Enterprise" that the newly appointed captain clued into the fact that something was amiss.
Most of the materials requested, while pushing the budget, were within reason. A few were not.
Admiral Pike leaned forward as he pushed a pad across his desk to Jim. "I understand the request for extra narcelles but what the hell is 'bling?' And why is your Chief Engineer requesting 'enough bling to pimp' him out?"
Jim stared at the padd and highlighted terms openmouthed before he looked up at Pike hesitantly. "Uh, I have no idea."
Pike frowned. "Well, find out. No one knows what he's asking for so he hasn't been getting it. And now everyone's inboxes have been flooded with the requests—he's rather impatient. And pushy."
Jim had the niggling feeling that it wasn't so much his Chief Engineer that was spamming everyone but Harry. But he wasn't about to tell Pike that the Enterprise was alive and pissed about having his bits blown up.
Which was why Jim found himself tracking down his communications officer to find out what the hell "bling" and "pimp out" meant. [AN: pretend such terms have fallen out of favor by the 23rd century]
And why the hell wasn't Scotty answering his comm?
o.o.O.O.O.o.o
Jim cowered behind McCoy as Uhura approached, fuming.
"Kirk! Grow up!" She snapped and shoved a padd into his arms. Then she marched away with an infuriated sound.
"What did ya do now, Jim?" McCoy questioned warily.
"I don't know!" Jim replied and morosely perused the info on the padd with his friend looking over his shoulder.
...
...
1. Bling: [bling-bling or bling; n.] Term popular in the 20th and 21st century; used to describe the effect of sex appeal and wealth through flashy or gaudy jewelry; named for the sound generated when worn.
Addendum: The word "bling" refers to any unnecessary accumulation of metal or jewelry which impresses the simple-minded. Examples of bling-related activity include: driving a car with shiny platinum rims, arriving at a movie premiere in a hat made of glittering diamonds, or pointing at a big block of gold and cooing away for hours on end like an unforgivable moron whose mere existence ultimately cheapens us all. Bling is the single most shallow, boring and willfully superficial cultural phenomenon ever to excite humankind, which is saying something for a species already hooked on internet poker.
In recent months, collective guilt over the planet's future and the disparity of global wealth have exerted a cooling effect on bling's popularity, although genuine justice will never be achieved until everyone responsible for promoting, propagating, passively approving of, or even being ironically amused by any and all aspects of bling culture has been hunted down and jailed for a minimum of 37 years in a maximum security prison with no carpets, hot water or bog roll.
2. Pimp [n.] A man who makes a profession out of reducing women to commodities and convincing them to sell their bodies to clients. An oppressor of women.
3. Pimp [v.] A term used to describe massive modification of something to make it standout and look attractive. The term is derived from the way pimps modify their cars with various colors, lights and other hardware.
...
...
"Jim, what the hell? I'm starting to think you want her to hate you," McCoy commented wonderingly and started walking away.
"Bones, it's not what you think! The Enterprise, requisitions, it's—" Jim spluttered. He growled in frustration and stalked off, angrily activating his comm. "Harry!"
o.o.O.O.O.o.o
"Scotty! Answer the goddamned comm!" Jim roared right outside the locked engine room. He banged on the doors for good measure and angrily jabbed in his Captain's override. The door slid open and Jim stalked inside.
"Scotty! Why—fuck!" Jim cursed vehemently as he walked into a blinding, sparkly chandelier hanging off the catwalk he'd just walked under. Nursing the bruise on his forehead, he crouched and crab-walked around it, giving it nasty looks all the while.
Feeling far more cautious now, Jim straightened up uneasily and actually took the time to observe his surroundings. "Holy shit." The Captain gaped at the mounds of sparkling trinkets adorning every feasible surface of the engine room. Even the cat-walks were gilded with diamonds and the control interfaces had been lined in gold.
As he toed his way around the enormous diamond fountain sitting obtrusively in his path, he kept his ears open for any signs of life from his Chief Engineer.
"—wich," a dying moan reached his ears.
Jim hurried anxiously towards the sound. As he rounded the corner, he came across the Scottish man sprawled upon the ground, hand flailing weakly at the replicator sitting on the countertop above him.
"Sandwich," Scotty moaned, half delirious and heedless of his frantic captain crouching beside him.
"Scotty! What happened?" Jim questioned, bodily shaking his Chief Engineer when he got no response besides another ghoulish moan for a sandwich. "Harry! Harry!" The Captain called out, searching for the elusive spirit.
"You called?" Harry's voice echoed, bouncing off the myriad of sparkling surfaces.
"What's wrong with Scotty? He looks like he's dying!"
"Oh, well, that might, sorta, kinda be…my fault?" Harry answered weakly.
"Your fault? What did you do?" Jim demanded crossly.
"Er, well. I might have been a tad bit too enthusiastic about getting the engine room suitably adorned with bling…to the exclusion of all else…like…sleep…and food?"
Jim gaped, speechless with anger.
"Sandwich."
"Ehehe, oops?"
o.o.O.O.O.o.o
A month later, the Enterprise was bustling with activity, preparing to launch into space.
"Well then," Jim said, forcing himself to lounge back in his Captain's chair despite the anticipation thrumming through his body. "Maneuvering thrusters, Mister Sulu. Take us out."
"Aye, Captain," the pilot smirked, hands ghosting over the helm controls.
The Enterprise began to move slowly, and then jerked to an abrupt stop. The bridge crew eyed the ship warily.
Jim sighed explosively. "What now?"
"It's not the parking brake!" Sulu blurted out defensively, hands still pushing at the controls. The ship moved sluggishly forward, groaning.
The Captain eyed the helmsman strangely. "I didn't say it was. Commander Spock?"
Said Vulcan ran through diagnostics and turned to the Captain with a peculiar look on his face. "It appears, Captain, that the force of the warp drives is not powerful enough to counteract the relativistic mass of the ship."
Most of the crew, Jim included, stared blankly.
Ensign Chekov meekly raised his hand. "Keptin, I believe the Commander is saying that the ship is…too heavy."
Jim's eyes widened incredulously as his head whipped back and forth between his First Officer and tactical officer. The Vulcan's face was impassive as ever, but Ensign Chekov seemed apologetically serious.
The Captain sighed, rose from the command seat and made his way to the turbolift. "I'll be right back."
The bridge crew watched in puzzled silence.
o.o.O.O.O.o.o
"I am not too fat!" Harry exclaimed shrilly with indignation. Lights flashed ominously throughout the engine room, but Jim didn't back down.
"Yes, you are. You need to lose weight, Harry. Your sparkling accessories are holding us down," the Captain stated firmly. "Something has to go, and it's not going to be any of the crew or the supplies."
o.o.O.O.O.o.o
A week later, the Enterprise launched smoothly back into space to the crew's great relief.
Jim swept the bridge with a proud smile and then handed command to Spock before making his way to his quarters. There, he sat behind his desk and propped his feet up on it, threading his hands behind his head.
"Stop sulking, Harry." Jim spoke teasingly into the empty space of his room. He heard a disdainful sniff in response. Jim smirked.
"It's not fair," Harry finally answered petulantly.
"It was for your own good, you know that. Besides, what good would it have been to have all that crap in the engine room anyways?"
"It made me feel pretty," was Harry's childish reply.
Jim laughed. "Are you sure it didn't make you feel constipated?"
"Shut it, you."
Jim sighed, dropping his feet back onto the floor. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But don't you think you got enough revenge, what with Uhura thinking I'm some immature pimp-wannabe?"
"Heh. That was pretty funny."
Jim could practically hear the smirk in the other man's voice.
"Do you at least like your new warp drives?" Jim asked.
"…yeah."
"What's with the unenthusiastic reply?" The Captain frowned. "Is there something wrong with them?"
"Well, technically no. It's just…" Harry's voice drifted off.
"What?" Jim asked impatiently.
"Did you know that Scotty installed a distillery in the engine room?" Harry questioned, seemingly switching topics.
Jim smirked, thoroughly amused at his Chief Engineer's antics. "Is that so? Knowing Scotty, it's probably really strong moonshine. Bones will enjoy it. I'll have to go inspect sometime," the captain mused as he replaced his feet on his desk and tilted his chair back to rest on its hind legs.
"Yeah…" Harry muttered absently. "It's just…he hooked the distillery up so that it runs off the power that bleeds off from the warp drives, you know?"
"And?"
"Well, it's kind of ironic. And weird. I don't think 'It tastes like piss' has ever been quite so literal."
Jim toppled head over heels as his chair flipped back.
AN: Short silliness. I wonder if you got the last part. The Warp Drives = Harry's bits = Scotty's contraband alcohol that tastes like piss. Lulz. Crude humor. I apologize.
Those dictionary explanations? Those are real. I didn't make them up. They're from the urbandictionary. Lulz.
I actually read it, and then re-read it. Was hit with some new inspiration, so I changed it up a bit. You like?
Please, please review?