The vid of "the pitch" by telecon kept Uhura and Carol Marcus rolling in laughter.

A Few Hours Ago...

Minutes into the telecon Komack lost complete control of his meeting to the calendar's producer/pitchman.

"Your reputations as defenders of the Federation - and the galaxy - will help -"

"Lemme in here, lemme in here. Jimmy K.," the mouth addressed an irritated Komack "you're a great admiral - real prince - but don't try to sell anything - knowwhatI'msayin'?"

McCoy typed Komack's new nickname - "Jimmy K." - into his PADD.

"Bo-ring, Jimmy K.! Borrr-rrring!"

"Cannae argue with you there, laddie!"

Scotty had sense enough to mute the room before raucous laughter broke out at Komack's expense. A sliver of Spock's teeth could be seen between the lips of that un-Vulcan Vulcan smile.

"Kirk! You got what it takes to make money, babe. I could get rich selling ass wipes with your face on 'em. KnowwhatImean?"

"Ass wipes? I like this guy, Jim. I really like him!" McCoy informed his best friend.

"Thanks, Bones. Remember that the next time you want a shuttle ride instead of a transporter trip."

McCoy shut up with great effort.

"And Spock. Spock-Spock-Spock - gals and guys all over the universes have been trying to find out why Vulcan guys are so HOT. Especially with that inferno you married. Where is the missus, by the way?"

This time Kirk and Sulu shed tears of laughter, pointing fingers at the forest-green tint of Spock's ears.

"Nevermind. I got another idea for you and her. Fly off the shelves, catchmydrift? So I'm thinking we get you guys someplace sexy - you know, your basic SOB: sand, oceans and babes of any gender or species - in some bikini trunks and oiled up and I'm hearin' 'cha-ching' on 30 planets."

"Mr.?"

"Trumpe. Donal T-r-u-m-p-e. Rhymes with toupee."

An interesting rhyme given the ridiculous obviousness of the fake hair "Donal" sported.

"You can call me, Don. We're gonna be doing a lotta business together, getme?

"Mr. Trumpe," Spock injected, "what remuneration should we expect for this endeavor?"

Don pointed at the display on his end while smiling at a discomfited Komack. The producer's finger almost jutted out of the Enterprise view screen in 3-D.

"Is he a find, or what? You can't make what he's got. Gen-u-ine. Couple of interviews and you won't have a bank big enough to hold the credits."

"Our payment details, Mr. Trumpe?" Spock injected - again.

"Starfleet gets 50% of every calendar sold."

"Donal -"

"You Sulu?" Donal asked, squinting into the display until his face filled it.

"Yes -"

"The master of ninjutsu weaponry, amIright?"

"Actually, it's saber and epee."

"Doesn't matter. You've got the voice - I bet you're beatin 'em off with a stick, rightagain?"

"Donal - it says your last calendar sold 8.5 billion e-copies," Sulu said, returning to the topic.

"Yup. Great calendar 'The Queens of Q'o'nos'. Couldn't keep the servers up."

"Cap'n -" Sulu sent to Kirk, after muting the comms.

"At 60 credits each that's -"

"510 billion Federation credits," Spock provided.

"Sweet saints preserve us! You cannae be serious! For a bloody Klingon calendar!?"

"What's it take to run the Enterprise in a standard Federation year?"

Leave it to McCoy, a man with perpetual financial issues, to cut to the chase.

The answer tripped off Spock's tongue before Kirk could type the calculation into his PADD.

"916,260,374.58 credits averaged over the last three years. That figure does not include space-dock or dry-dock sustainment costs."

"Call it 1.1 billion credits," Kirk simplified. "That gives us a comfortable cushion to take care of the crew."

All observed Sulu's comm button slap. On the other end, Donal Trumpe hadn't noticed the silence from the Enterprise. Komack's desperate expression told them Donal hadn't come up for air in the last 5 minutes.

"andsoIsaytomyself, 'Donal? Can you smell the money?'."

"Donal! I think the Enterprise officers, not Starfleet, should negotiate the contract. After all, Starfleet can't command us to do this."

Komack reared forward at Sulu's suggestion that he'd lose control of the money.

"Now just a minute, Lieutenant -" Komack roared.

"Hey, Sulu - that's between you and your masters. My company has noooooo problem cutting a contract with you guys directly. Makes it easier for us - no middle man."

"Captain," Sulu went on, "with your permission, I would recommend Donal's approach. We should split the gross -"

"Waitaminute-waitaminute-waitaminute! What's this 'gross'!? I got expenses! I got mouths to feed!"

"In deference to Mr. Trumpe's concerns, might I recommend we shoot the calendar on New Vulcan? There are two oceans, relatively unspoiled with the small population, two suns and longer daylight hours. And our collective coloring would contrast well with the reddish mountains that border both shore areas. New Vulcan will also provide cost advantages unavailable on any other Federation world with similar amenities," Spock summed up.

"Spock! Quit workin' for peanuts and come work for me! Komack, you're missing out here. Brains, looks and a wife who's listed as a legit medical cause of heart attacks in Alpha quad. The two of them are worth a million credits a day and you're wastin' 'em."

"I'm sure the admiral has his reasons..." Kirk suggested.

Komack's glare had no effect on Kirk. The admiral wasn't even an amateur compared to Uhura.

"Mr. Trumpe, we'll be in touch. Mr. Spock and Mr. Sulu will negotiate on our behalves. Admiral, once we have a deal in place, you and I can work out what we'll donate to Starfleet. If that's okay with you?" Kirk asked, all sweetness and light.

"Admiral? McCoy here. I'm calling Starfleet Medical - your blood pressure is off the charts. They'll be there on the double."

"Better send a dentist for those teeth he's grinding..." Scotty added under his breath.

"Call us when you feel better, Admiral." Kirk sent solicitously. "Mr. Trumpe! Look forward to working with you."

Grinning at his success, Kirk terminated their end of the comm.