A/N: Sorry about the wait, I had a lot of stuff to do, and a serious case of writer's block etc…
But I have some good news! I somehow managed to persuade myself that giving up reading fan fiction for Lent was a good idea, so I now should have more time to write (instead of reading when I really should be updating my stories…)!
Anyways… Enjoy the chapter!
Spock: *whisper whisper*
Me: Oh yes, thanks! Nearly forgot to do the disclaimer. I own nothing to do with Star Trek, however much I would like to, and if I did, it would be completely about the adventures of Spock.
…
After he had finished glugging down the alcohol, the doctor looked around the room. There was nobody there. He had nodded to himself and put the now empty bottle down on his desk before he realised anything was wrong. Looking down, he saw that both his legs were tied together, and the ends of the ropes led to the grinning mouths of the Fangirl-bunnies, Ensigns Richards and Richards. They simultaneously gave a huge tug on the ropes, which sent McCoy tumbling to the ground.
Oh ****, was his last coherent thought before his head hit a hard surface and all became black.
All five rabbits wasted no time in bounding out the door and down the corridor, revelling in their new-found freedom. They had formulated a plan before leaving, and they now made their way to the various stations they needed to be at to carry it out: Ensigns Richards and Richards would take out the security officer guarding the storage compartment , using their various dastardly means, while the other three bunnies would attempt to type in the code and get inside…
…
The redshirt standing on guard around the storage compartments had had a very long day - it was surprising how tiring standing around could be. So, he was not at all surprised when he saw two small, blue rabbits trotting round the corner, with smug grins on their little faces. He put this down to him being so tired that he was beginning to hallucinate; after all, everyone knows that you don't get blue rabbits… right? But anyway, the hallucinations were persisting, and they were now butting him on the leg.
Huh? B-bu-but… h-hallucinations… they can't touch you. So why can these? thought the confused security officer. Suddenly he felt a sudden urge to look up, and soon regretted it, as what he saw was not something he had ever wished to see again. There, stuck to the ceiling was a smeared trail of ice-cream. And making its way slowly towards the ice-cream was…
A tribble.
The next thing he knew, tribbles were raining down on top of him, and before long he was neck deep in a pile of tribbles. It had been funny when it had happened to the captain (although the redshirt never would have admitted that to Kirk himself), but this was just ridiculous.
Well, it could be worse, he thought to himself. I could be completely buried in the little fur balls. It is never a good idea to tempt fate (or at least, to tempt the Richards bunnies), as this redshirt found out the hard way. A few seconds later, two-point-one-four-six-nine-three seconds, to be exact (thank you, Spock), an avalanche of tribbles occurred, and he soon was completely covered in them. He mentally facepalmed himself, before passing out due to sheer exhaustion and stress.
With the security officer safely decommissioned, Ensigns Richards and Richards made their way over to the other three rabbits, who were attempting to type in the captain's override code. Yes, they could type in the numbers - that wasn't a problem; the actual problem was that Jim-bunny couldn't remember his code, and given that he was the Captain, nobody else knew it. So it was that they were too busy trying and failing to break into the storage compartments that they didn't notice the two small blue bunnies creep up behind them with evil smirks on their faces…
…
Chekov-bunny groaned in frustration (as well as a rabbit can) as he attempted to remove the paint from his fur. He didn't know how he had not noticed those two Ensigns creeping around with those evil smirks and pots of paint, what with his now improved hearing (from his long rabbit-ears), and general perceptiveness. But he hadn't, and they had paid the price when a large bucket of paint - of varying colours - was tipped all over him, Mr. Spock-bunny and the Captain-bunny.
A satisfied noise interrupted his paint-covered ruminations as the two ensigns in question managed to open the door to the storage compartment. (Aside from being murderously irksome, Ensigns Richards and Richards were actually quite useful - the elder could crack almost any code, and break in to almost any place, especially if doing so would benefit them, while the younger was a master of distraction, deception, disguise, destruction, anything beginning with a 'd', and the dreaded puppy-dog eyes, making them the perfect pair, so it was no wonder that it had only taken them a matter of minutes to hack into the ship's computer system and open the door.) Chekov followed the other four rabbits into the storage compartment, and gasped. For before his eyes was the largest pile of carrots he had ever seen.
And they were going to eat them all.
…
Black fuzziness was all he could see. His head was pounding and felt like it was about to explode. Sitting slowly up, the blackness began to clear away, and his vision steadily improved, but the pounding still continued like a herd of elephants on a stampede. Once his sight was finally clear and the pain in his head was vaguely bearable, he took a deep breath.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT TAKES, BUT THOSE RABBITS ARE GETTING BACK TO NORMAL, NOW. And when they do, I will have plenty of hyposprays on hand to stab them with!" shouted an enraged Doctor McCoy before falling back down to the ground unconscious.
…
A/N: Mwah ha ha ha…
As usual, reviews are very much appreciated, and if you give me one, I shall give unto thee a pocket-sized random-crew-member-of-the-Enterprise doll (because cookies are overblown. And they also cost extortionate prices in the school tuck shop). If you're lucky, you might get one of me…