Paint and Powder

A Star Trek anthology by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager et al are the property of CBS Television, and creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.

FRONTIER DAY: Captain Boimler and the USS Roon

Frontier Day, 2401

USS Roon (Pathfinder Class)

"Like a blackened dagger, the ship reflected no glint of light as it slid into the Sol System, a dagger that could plunge into its unsuspecting heart. It carefully approached the unknowing Earth, ready to—"

"Roon! Honey? Have you seen my Fourth Pip? I can't find it anywhere!"

In the captain's quarters of the USS Roon, the gynoid belonging to its AI stopped narrating and jumped onto the bed, arranging herself seductively. "I have it here, oh Captain, my Captain."

Captain Bradward Boimler stepped in, fussing with his uniform. "Thanks, you never know, Admiral Shelby might call on us for something and I—urk!"

For several seconds, Boimler's brain shut down as he took in the image of his lovely wife in her party dress, one that left very little to the imagination.

"Oh, but surely we have a little time to… play, first?" Roon purred, slipping Boimler's fourth rank pip into her cleavage.

To his credit, Boimler looked torn for a second between duty and his wife, but it passed. Grinning, he started to lean down to…

"Oi! Boims! You ready?! Oops!"

Roon's eyes glowed Abyssal yellow as she glared at Rear Admiral Beckett Mariner who had just barged into their room like she owned it. The "skin" on her hands turned black and scaley, with long claws growing out of the fingertips as she prepared to—

With the ease of long practice, Boimler kissed her, hard, and did not let up until her now normal hands began stroking his back. "We'll play later, dear," he said, with a silly growling trill on the final r.

"Yes, Captain," Roon said breathlessly.

"Ooookay," Beckett said, placing her hands behind her head and whistling innocently. "Look, Shelby's started her speech. I left Rutherford, Tendi, and Jennifer minding the store, but the Captain should really be out there."

"Right!" Boimler said. He held out his hand and, after a little wiggling, Roon put the rank pip in it. "Let's get dangerous."

"Pretty sure that's trademarked, Boims."

"Seriously? All the good catchphrases are taken!"

The Roon settled into its position in the Fleet as Admiral Shelby droned on about Frontier Day's importance.

"Blah, blah, blah," Roon said before kissing Boimler on the cheek. "I'll see you after I listen to Enterprise's speech in the new Borderlands."

"Not in front of the crew, Roon!" Boimler hissed, but Roon just gave him a saucy wink as her gynoid settled into the chair on his left. Her face went blank as she turned her attention inwards.

"We should go have dinner at Sisko's," Mariner said as she sat in the chair on Boimler's right. Usually his XO sat there, but rank hath privileges.

"That place is way too spicy."

"Wimp!"

"I'm not—"

"Wimp! Wimp!"

"Stop calling me that—"

He stopped as his Comm officer spoke up.

"Sir, we're getting an emergency fleet message… it's from Admiral Picard!"

"On screen—"

The aging admiral appeared on screen, desperately talking to Admiral Shelby. Something about… the Borg? And then the message was gone, replaced with a shrill trilling sound, like a transporter going through a food processor.

"Red Alert!" Boimler called out, but none of his younger crew members moved.

"Ensign!" he barked, trying to put his full command voice into effect. "Put us on red—"

He stopped in horror as the ensigned turned. Black veins throbbed across his face, and he spoke four words.

"WE ARE THE BORG."

"Roon! Wake up! We've got—"

Roon was expressionless as she backhanded him across the face. Her eyes had turned completely black. "WE ARE THE BORG," she intoned.

"Oooooh, shit nuggets," Mariner said, whipping a hold-out phaser out of her admiral's jacket and stunning the nearest ensign. "We are soooo fucked now."

"Roon…" Boimler said as she stalked toward him, her hands once again sharpening into claws.

Fortunately, Boimler believed in preparing for eventualities that most people considered almost impossible. "Computer, override Boimler-PURGE-74656."

Even with the Borg corruption spreading throughout the ship, this dedicated command went through. Deep in the most secure heart of the ship, where Roon's black box lay, an emergency replicator suddenly filled the room with a greenish-white ooze.

Roon blinked, her eyes returning to normal. "What-? What is happening? Boimler?"

"Roon! We've got trouble! Everyone is going Borg!"

Roon turned and glared at the younger crewmembers as they approached, chanting "Capture the Unassimilated."

"No one takes my Boimler from me!" she screamed. Suddenly a long black tail extended from her back, turning upward and forming a fierce red and black dragon's head at the end. It snapped at one poor ensign.

"Oooh, that's going to leave a mark," Beckett said, turning a little green as Roon unleashed mayhem on the bridge. "I think I'm going to be sick…."

"No time for that!" Boimler said, dragging her to the emergency escape ladder. "We gotta get to Tendi and Rutherford!"

"But the Borg had Roon! What did you do to her?"

"Something I prayed I never would need to do," Boimler said, looking extremely serious as he keyed open the hatch and shoved the admiral inside. "I cheesed her."

"What?"

"I got the recipe for Neelix's cheese from Voyager. It's filling her black box right now!"

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! FOLD! SPINDLE! MUTILATE! BWUHAHAHAHA!"

"Man, that's kinda hot, in a sick sort of way."

Boimler frowned at her and kicked her down the Jeffries Tube.

Written by jhosmer1.