Star Trekking Hare

by RisingPhoenixWriting

What's up Doc? An unexpected storm and a experimental torpedo blast combine to take the Enterprise and it's crew into one of the wackiest situations they've ever found themselves in. It's a hare-y problem! A Star Trek TOS crossover

Star Trekking Hare

This story came to be when me and my best friend did a writing challenge from a writer's book she had where we had to write a story about A Famous Fictional Character in the Wrong Story. Later on I had this idea and just had to do it! Don't know why I chose to mix these two, but it just works so well for some reason.

Fun Trivia: There is 3 references to Star Trek episodes in here (I'll give one hint: one is from the animated series). What are they? If you answer correct I might be motivated enough to write another ST fan fic ;-) I only write stories from during the five year mission (because they're my favorite).

---

It all began when...

"Lieutenant Sulu?"

"Everything normal, Captain." The deep reply came. "Holding course at warp 3. All controls show green."

"Very good. Maintain course."

"Aye, Sir." The helmsman's fingers played over the panel before he sat back from the control module. He swiveled his chair slightly and began a casual conversation with the ship's navigator, Ensign Chekov.

Captain James T. Kirk leaned back in the command chair in the center of the bridge. Its soft leather back creaked as his shoulders expanded with a deep sigh of contentment and boredom. Everything was proceeding as usual and the Enterprise was well on schedule. So smoothly that the days had turned into a rather monotonous compilation of one very long day. A boredom nearly as exhausting as excitement could be. The soft bleeps, winking lights, and murmuring voices of personnel at duty stations encompassed Kirk in a near-hypnotic sound, almost a haze in his mind. Though had one voice or light become irregular or out of place he would have been aware of it instantly. On the large screen, glittering points of light swept by through a void of black as they sailed through open heavens; a mesmerizing scene of beauty. Had he really tried Kirk could have easily dozed right there, but it would have seemed improper for a captain, so he drummed his fingers on the chair's armrest to a tune in his head to keep himself from the temptation to nap.

Tearing his gaze from the screen for one moment, Kirk cast a casual routine glance around the bridge. Everyone at work; everything in place, just as it should be. And exactly the way it had been for nearly two weeks. He exhaled, though trying to disguise it as a normal breath instead of the sigh it was. Yes, it would be nice to have a little excitement. Nothing much: maybe discovering some unknown space anomaly, or perhaps finding a nova or other scientific fascination. But there was probably no sensibleness in rushing things. Excitement would come along soon enough – that was a guarantee in this business. And when it did, they were sure to get more than their fair share. For now, it was simply relax and enjoy the ride. Then again they were sure to at least have a little excitement when they reached their destination: the Gamma 4 sector where they were scheduled for a rendezvous with the Starfleet ship USS Triton.

Rambling thoughts were interrupted when he heard the automated hiss of the bridge doors sliding open. He turned his chair slightly to see over one shoulder. The thin, blue jersey figure of Chief Medical officer Doctor McCoy appeared from the turbo lift.

"Hi, Jim," the doctor directed to the captain.

"Hello, Bones," Kirk answered, using his pet nickname for the doctor. "Anything wrong? You're usually down in sickbay at this time of day."

"Eh." McCoy gave a wave of his hand as he stepped down to the lower deck. "Business was slow again today so I thought I'd come up here and see what's doin'." He came beside the captain. "So what's doin'?"

Kirk grinned. "Sorry to disappoint you, but things haven't been exactly jumping up here either."

McCoy leaned an elbow on the chair, a regular stance of his. "Better than being down there staring at computer monitors and log reports."

"Ah, so it's not boredom; it's dodging the preverbal paperwork."

"I am the doctor and I will do all the diagnosing onboard this ship if you don't mind." The remark came back smartly, but the smile that twitched at the thin lips told different.

Kirk half winked. "Well, stick around anyway. We'll be at the rendezvous soon." He twisted to see another pillar of blue jersey, bent intently over the science station above. "Mr. Spock, how long till we meet the Triton?"

The figure straightened and turned to reveal upswept brows and ears coming up to tapered tips. "In precisely 10 hours and 36 minutes at our present rate of speed, Captain," the Vulcan first officer replied.

"What? No seconds?" McCoy prodded.

One of the black brows tilted to a steeper angle. "Since my giving precise details has seemed to bother your kind in the past, I thought it only logical that I refrain from doing so and simply give the necessary facts that are required at the immediate moment."

McCoy opened his mouth to reply, but Kirk interrupted by bringing the discussion back to the main point. "Have all preparations been completed for when we reach the testing sight?"

"Everything is set and ready, Sir."

From behind, the elegant voice of Lieutenant Uhura answered from communications. "The USS Triton just contacted us, Captain. They report everything is proceeding as scheduled and will be ready to commence testing of the weapon when we arrive."

Soft leather creaked as Kirk leaned back comfortably, hooking a leg over the other knee. "Very good. Acknowledge their hail and tell that we have everything prepared here and will be arriving at our estimated time of arrival."

"Eye, Sir." Uhura put her receiver back in her ear. Her dark slender fingers danced over her console with the deftness that came from years of experience.

McCoy rolled his head towards the captain. "So just what kind'a new devastation bomb is this we've got aboard?"

"It is not 'a bomb' per say, doctor," Spock said as he stepped down to the command deck. "It is the T-X4 photon torpedo. A new type developed by a scientist on Agentinus 5."

"A torpedo is a torpedo," McCoy remarked dryly.

One of the dark upswept brows lifted. "Untrue, doctor. This type is equipped with a new type of reaction that expels a dissimilar type of radiation than that by standard issue when detonation occurs. This innovative technique results insignificantly reduced amounts of contamination, but with a far superior destructive capacity than any regular issue. A true breakthrough in weaponry science if tests reveal this data to be true."

A moment of silence, broken only by the routine sounds of the bridge. McCoy looked to Kirk blankly. "Can you explain in English?"

"Big punch; less mess."

"Oh."

Again the slanted brow rose. "I thought I explained it in most understandable terms."

The reply was sarcastically flat. "I'm a doctor, not a torpedo specialist."

Kirk rubbed a hand over his mouth as it brushing away an itch that had suddenly appeared. But it was quite unneeded as everyone on the bridge had amused expressions and grins upon their faces, though pretending not to have noticed the scene.

All merriment of the moment was abruptly forgotten when the sensors alert light began to pulsate brilliant red on the front of the control module.

"Captain!" Sulu's voice came tensely, whisking away any tranquility that still lingered. "Sensors picking up something dead ahead!"

"It's coming up on us fast, Sir!" Chekov's Russian accent added in.

Kirk sat forward. "Full sensor sweep, Mr. Sulu. I want to know what it is. Feed the information to Mr. Spock and magnify it on screen."

Sulu's flicked a switch. On screen, the field of stars shifted slightly as views changed. A splotch of light violet now appeared in the middle, rapidly growing in size. A madly swirling mass of deep fuchsia and purple hues. Flashes of white light flickered from within. An aweing, yet shivering sight.

"Mr. Spock?!" Kirk didn't have to state the question, it was common knowledge.

"A cosmic storm of some kind, Captain," Spock's answer came from the science station. "Cosmic dust. Some ionized gases. Presence of electromagnetic radiation, along with various space debris caught within the cloud. Traveling at near warp speed."

"Shall I plot a course around it, Captain?" Chekov asked without looking up from his board.

"It would be of little avail," Spock's deep voice cut in. "The storm is nearly 200 miles in length and half of that in height. We will not change course in time to completely allude it. We will come in contact in less than a minute and a half."

"Red alert! Shields on full!" Kirk's voice rang through the bridge though he didn't shout the command. No sooner had he spoke, Sulu's fingers were dancing over the console.

"Shields up," he announced.

His words ended in a blaring ring as the klaxon pulsated the alarm throughout the ship. Before its first echo had died away, corridors through the vessel were already echoing with the tramping of hurrying boots as personnel scurried to emergency stations. In one minute, all were at duty stations, preparing for what was to come. On the bridge, fixed gazes observed the swirling tempest's approach.

Chekov watched the controls, fingers tightening around the edge of the console. "Impact in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … brace yourselves!"

As if on a cued signal, the ship suddenly lurched as though having hit an invisible fist. Sulu and Chekov grabbed at the console as they were nearly thrown over it. Others grabbed at anything stationary as abrupt force lobbed them forward. The hull shook and quaked about them, ratting down to her very core. Kirk caught a glimpse of flying blue go by as the doctor made a grab for the railing. Though trying to brace against the shift, Kirk was nearly flung from his chair and thought for a moment he would go crashing into the astrogator. At the last second he managed to cling to the chair's consoles and avoid such a spectacle. He tried to return to his seat, but, as if purposely, the ship lurched again, this time bucking to starboard. His feet slipped from under and all he could do was keep his hold as the rest of him tossed to the side. All clung tight, fighting for balance and footing, both which were impossible at the moment. Kirk managed to drag himself into the chair.

"Mr. Sulu! Get us out of here!"

The navigator's finger's played across the controls. "The helm's not fully answering, Sir!"

"Instruments nonresponsive, Captain!" Spock announced from his half-keeled position, clinging onto the railing, knuckles a pale whitish green. "All ship functions are being heavily effected by electromagnetic pulses emanating from the storm!"

For strained moments all everyone could do was hold on while the ship bucked like a wild horse as she battled the storm. The Enterprise was tough, and Kirk had no misgivings that she would pull through, but knew there was sure to be some wounds that would need nursing when it was over – for both crew and vessel.

"Captain!" Spock's voice broke through. "Scanners at minimum working condition, but they are picking up an object – dead ahead."

"What is it?!" Kirk asked.

A second of playing with sluggish controls and punching blinking buttons. "It appears to be a piece of space debris. From what scanners show it is a large mass of planetary rock. Dense; nearly 4,000m in diameter."

"Can you magnify it on the screen?!"

The screen before them flickered, cleared, flickered again, and settled to remain a half-visible picture of wild static and streaks of confused grainy colors. All instantly squinted as nearly blinding flashes stung at their eyes, each lighting up the bridge in sharp outlines of white. Violent flares of light, bursting through dense veils of gray and violet hues from charged ions within the cloud. Kirk held a hand up, covering the majority of the screen. Through his fingers and the obscure image he could make out the form of the object ahead in the jumbled picture. A dark haze of a shape, silhouetted against the background, looming upon them.

"An asteroid, Spock?" he asked. He scrunched his offended eyes closed from the torturing flashes. But even closed, he could still see the blinding bursts through his eyelids.

"Undoubtedly. And it is on a collision course with the Enterprise." The first officer turned from the station, fingers whitened from gripping onto the edge of the console station, upswept brows drawn close. "Captain, with the present strain on the shields, we would never withstand a direct hit. The ship would be critically damaged – perhaps crippled beyond repair."

"Can we get out of the way?"

"Negative, Captain!" Sulu answered. "Not in time! It's taking nearly all we have right now to keep us from being swept along with the storm!"

"Do we have weapons control?"

"Aye, Sir!" Chekov spoke, studying the console. "We can fire, but we have nearly no aiming abilities!"

Kirk's fingers gripped the chair's arms tighter. "Then take a close guess, Mr. Chekov! Destroy that object!"

Before Chekov's fingers could set torpedoes, Spock's voice cut in. "It will have little effect, Captain. The asteroid it too large in diameter. A torpedo will only blast away a portion of its outer layer. It will still strike us with crushing force."

Not the news a ship captain wants to hear. Kirk's fingers were bleach white as they clamped down the chair's arm as though he were holding on for life. He was nearly doing just that. His brain whirled, working at top speed. He had to think of something quick or they could be destroyed. Then an idea.

"Spock! The T-X4! Could it have enough kick to shatter that rock?"

"I would have to make calculations."

"Forget calculations! Is there a chance it could work?!"

Dark alien eyes flickered back and forth, superior mind working at unhuman speed; weighing possibilities, comparing facts, calculating odds. The answer came only a second after the question. "I believe there is sufficient reason to believe so."

Kirk hit the arm panel comm switch with a fist. It switched on. "Scotty!"

A voice with a Scottish lilt answered. "Scott here, Cap'tin! The engines are under a tremendous strain! The shields are already down to–"

"The T-X4, Scotty! Load and get ready to fire it!"

"Aye, Sir! We're on it!"

"Captain," Spock's cool voice seemed a conflict to the surroundings. "The T-X4has a much broader effect range than regular issue. At this close of range, we may end up damaging ourselves as well."

Kirk's jaw tightened. "A risk we'll have to take!"

The next few seconds seemed an eternity. Through the jumbles, they could see the looming shadow bearing down. Then a Scottish voice sounded across the comm.

"Torpedo loaded, Cap'tin!"

"Ten seconds to impact!" Chekov announced.

Kirk planted his feet on the con plate, bracing. It was now or never; maybe survive or not survive. "FIRE!"

The switched flicked, the launch executed; all held their breaths. In the next second, the bridge was drenched in an unearthly light as the screen went burning white. Kirk threw an arm over his face, shadowing his closed eyes, hurting from what brief flash of wicked light they had been exposed to. Even through thick plating and bulkheads, a muffled BOOM reached their ears, vibrating through every deck and person aboard. Kirk felt his ship shudder beneath him, quivering like an animal when wounded. Her hull groaned under the stress, the forward taking the brunt of the shock. Then the blinding light eased back to the wild patterns, but now the dark shadow had vanished. Only small chunks of the asteroid remained, and what there was left of those were no serious threat, passing harmlessly by. Then as quickly as it had all started, the swirling cloud thinned to light pink, then the screen cleared. Points of soft light scattered the blackness of open space before them. Behind them the tempest swirled madly on its way. Down through the ship, through every space and corridor, a deadening quiet prevailed. Draping like a heavy fog over the shaken crew; the awful yet blessed silence filled all ears.

Chief Engineer Scott muttered to himself in Scottish terms which the other crew members couldn't completely understand. He pulled himself up from where he had landed after being thrown halfway across engineering, ending the launch by crashing into the impulse syncrotron unit in the middle of the room. A crewman in a blue jumpsuit hurried over.

"You all right, sir?" the man asked concernedly.

Scotty straightened, wincing as he stretched his aching back, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder where it had hit the unit. But that was the farthest thing on his mind. "Never mind me. What about the engines?"

"We're trying to piece things together now."

Already the men were getting back on their feet and at their stations.

"Alright. Have ah' full repair crew down here on the double."

"Yes, sir." The man hurried off.

Scotty moved directly to the main controls. He shooed one of the workers away from the computer, taking over himself, and began a diagnostics. Scotty sighed sympathetically, as readings began to sort themselves out. The large room echoed with the unsteady throb of the strained engines; as the mighty heart of the ship relayed their story of what they had just gone through.

"My poor lassies," he mumbled sadly, listening to the moaning engines tell their plight. He spoke to the panel again, this time with determination. "But don't ya' worry, lovelies. I'll have ya' back to workin' shape in no time." He picked up a datapad and began calculating repairs.

Just then a high pitched whistle sounded. Scotty moved to the comm, switching it on. "Scott here." The voice that answered was strained and excited.

"Mr. Scott! This is Ensign Davis in the transporter room! You'd better get down here! This thing's gone crazy! I can't get it to clear!"

Scotty sighed. More things to fix, but they didn't have to call him for every little problem. A technical crew could take care of that, but the urgency in the ensign's voice made him relent. "Alright. I'll be down in a moment."

He set the datapad aside, telling the crew to continue as he left the room. Only a moment later, he entered the transporter room. Ensign Davis was bent over the controls console, face puckered. The dutronic hum of mechanisms filled the room. Scotty stepped up.

"Alright, what's goin' on that you had to drag me down here when I got ah' pile of fixin' to do up there?"

The ensign indicated with wide eyes at the transporter console. "I don't know, sir. When we encountered that storm the controls began to go wild."

"That's expected. After all there was a lot ah' electricity in there."

"I know, sir, but after we came out I began to get the craziest readings! I've never seen anything like them before! Nothing's making any since, but the system's kicked on and it running! I couldn't stop it!"

Scotty stepped forward, nearly pushing the ensign back, brow lined. "What?" The lines deepened when he saw readings that should be impossible. "What?" he repeated in breathy bewilderment. Before him lights flashed crazy signals; beyond, the transporter began to softly hum as systems began to cycle.

Davis peered around the engineer's shoulder. "I know, sir. Apparently a short circuit recalculated the locking mechanism and it's locked onto some area in space, but according to these readings, it's actually locked onto something –and it's beaming it aboard!"

Scotty's hands flew over the console, but even his advanced skill wasn't enough. Whatever the device was doing couldn't be reversed. This was something the captain had to be notified on at once. Without hesitation, Scotty flicked the comm toggle for the bridge.

The deck stilled beneath their feet. Slowly, Kirk let out the breath he had been holding, but it came out in short gasps. He raised a hand to his forehead and wiped away the beads of apprehension that had formed there. Then, craning his neck, he scanned the bridge to find it strewn with crew members, slowly getting to their feet and returning stiffly to their stations, faces taut.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked anxiously pushing himself to his feet.

"Only if you call half a dozen bruises and scattered wits alright," a voice gripped. Kirk then noticed McCoy where he had landed, half sitting half kneeling on the lower command deck. The doctor winced as he pulled himself up. "And maybe a severe case of whiplash." He scowled as he persuaded his white fingers to release their grip on the railing, then scurried up to communications, rubbing the back of his neck.

Satisfied his friend and the others were quite uninjured, Kirk turned his attention to other pressing matters. "Damage reports."

Spock fit a receiver snuggly in his ear. "Coming in now, Captain. Will have full details in a moment."

Uhura turned from her console, strands of loosened black hair dangling about her temples and ears. "Communications suffered some minor damages, Sir. A few short circuits but transmission capability is still available on a low power."

Beside Kirk's chair, McCoy appeared. "Sickbay reports no serious casualties. Mostly bruises and minor injuries. They've got everything under control."

Spock turned, pulling out the ear receiver. "Damages minimal, Captain. Most caused by the repercussions from the torpedo blast. There are minor structural damages but there should be no problem in repairing them. The warp engines and shield generators have sustained the heaviest strain. It will be necessary to affect repairs before attempting to use them."

"Very well." Kirk turned to Uhura who was finishing putting the last of her hair back in place. "Lieutenant, tell repair crews began working immediately and tell Scotty to get the engines back on their feet as quickly as he can."

"Aye, Sir." Uhura swiveled her chair to her comm station, her voice like soft background music as she relayed messages.

"Mr. Sulu. Hold our position here until the necessary repairs have been completed."

"Aye, Sir."

Kirk looked around until his gaze rested upon the screen, the view suddenly so peaceful. Had it not been for the noise around him and the ache in his muscles, he would have sworn nothing had happened. He rested fists on hips. "Well, that was quite a ride." His words were for the doctor beside him.

"More like trying to ride a wild bronco in a tornado caught in a hurricane," McCoy quipped dryly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kirk grinned. "At least we're still in one piece."

"I'm still not sure about that either," the doctor gripped as he medically prodded a small bruise on his wrist.

Spock stepped down to the command deck. "It was a shame to have to destroy the T-X4 before we reached the testing sight."

McCoy's head snapped up. "A shame?! We might've all been space debris right now if it hadn't been for that fancy bomb of yours! You can't deny it saved us from being crushed into space junk."

Spock's voice was unchanged, unbothered by the sharp remark. "I am not disputing that fact, doctor. It would merely have been an interesting experience to test the weapon in the prepared area."

"We can always do that later."

"There was only the prototype. It could take months to rebuild another."

"You can always rebuild a torpedo! You can't rebuild lives!"

"I never said you could."

"Why you–!"

"Gentleman!" Kirk interrupted before the squabble got nasty. "This is solving nothing. Let's worry about our condition right now."

McCoy backed down, leaning again on the command chair's armrest, but not before he had shot the Vulcan a last dark glare.

Kirk turned to his first officer. "Mr. Spock, how long 'til we can affect full repairs to the warp engines?"

"I would estimate about twenty-five hours, Captain."

"Captain!" Sulu's base voice cut through. The excitement in the tone made Kirk turn swiftly. "Something coming on the screen! It just seems to be coming out of … of nowhere!"

Kirk looked to the screen. He blinked, rubbed his eyes; looked again. It couldn't be real. After all the weeks in space without shore leave and what had just happened, had it finally got to him? Had he finally lost it? Cracked? Gone loony? Space happy? He stared hard, concentrating as hard as possible; but it still remained there.

"What in the name of…" McCoy trailed off, staring with incredulous eyes.

On the visual screen, a rectangular shape appeared, fading in from black space. Colored, but with no shadows, no true depth. A rectangle within another and a knob on the inner one. All its edges were thickly lined in black; as though someone had drawn it hanging there in black nothing – and that wasn't far from looking the literal truth. Like something cut out of a comic book.

I must be going crazy, Kirk thought.

Chekov rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I must be seeing things!"

"Not unless I'm seeing the same thing," Sulu muttered.

"Then we both must be going crazy!"

Kirk let out a short breath, trying to pass off the relief it sounded to a type of curiosity. He almost felt a bit selfish at the feeling of gratefulness that he wasn't the only one who thought the same of himself.

Sulu half turned toward Kirk, wide eyes still glued to the screen. "Captain, that's a … a door!"

Kirk didn't know how to reply. Through all his time in space and dealing with the unknowns, he has never seen anything like this before. So he answered with silence. Then the door began to open from the doorframe. Chekov gasped something in Russian. All watched as it continued to open wider, revealing a shining brilliance within that made them all squint, but Kirk thought he could make out a slight picture inside. It reminded him of an overly brightened photograph, a photo of some kind of landscape matching the appearance of the door – unreal; as though having been drawn there.

He turned his head slightly in Spock's direction, though never taking his eyes from the odd spectacle. "Spock, what do you make of that?"

The Vulcan didn't answer directly as he gazed at the screen, upswept eyebrows drawn together in fascinated thought. "Curious," was all he muttered. "Very curious."

Just then the intercom whistled. Kirk tore away his gaze long enough to push the right switch on the chair panel. "Kirk here."

"Transporter room, sir," Scotty's voice came through. "I don't know what happinin', but the panels down here are goin' crazy! I've never seen anything like it before. The explosion played havoc with the circuits and the transporter beam just went wild. And, I'm not sure how, but we've accidently locked onto something and we're beamin' it aboard, sir."

Kirk glanced back at the screen, still having to squint from the brilliant light. He knew Scotty was watching from the computer monitor down there. "From that doorway?"

"Aye, that's the only possible explanation I can think of. And I'm daft if I know what it is. The readin's are like nothin' I've ever seen before. Nothin' makes any sense."

"Understood, Scotty. I'll alert security. Kirk out." He hit the toggle with his fist, switching channels. "Captain Kirk to security. Get a detachment to the transporter immediately. Repeat – Immediately! Phasers on stun. Something's beaming aboard this ship!" He pivoted to his two friends. "Bones, get back down to Sickbay. We may need your services yet. Spock, you come with me."

There was no need for affirming replies, he knew his orders would be carried out. Kirk spun around for the turbo lift, the two officers at his heels.

Readings gone wild, lights blinking like a Christmas tree; all relaying crazy messages. Frustration climbed as Scotty tried to calm down the board. Slowly the hum grew louder, turning into a trembling ring. The doors hissed open as three security men rushed in, phasers in hand. Automatically they took defensive positions around the transporter room. On the pad, something began to materialize.

"Well, here it comes whatever it is," Scotty muttered. He hated the feeling of not knowing what to expect to appear in his transporter. "Stand ready men."

A shimmering light appeared, a glittering glow that grew in brightness as whatever-it-was began to form. An outline, a shape, colors; they all came together. A moment later the ringing died away, the shimmering stopped, as the cycle completed.

Scotty's jaw dropped. He blinked twice, rubbed his eyes; but it was still there. "It canna' be!"

Just then the doors hissed again and Kirk marched in, followed closely by Spock. At first glance, Kirk's first reaction was displeasure when he saw his security men, trained to be alert and ready in all circumstances, with faces of blank expression, eyes wide and mouths agape. Phasers hung in limp fingers, pointed at the floor.

He frowned. "What's the matter with you men?" Without waiting for a reply he turned to Scotty behind the panel. "Scotty, have you–"

Kirk cut off when he realized Scotty wasn't paying any attention, in fact, Kirk would go so far as to say he didn't even notice his presence. The chief engineer stood in what could be described as openmouthed shock. "Scotty? What's the matter?"

"Captain," Spock's low voice called without changing it usual tone.

Kirk turned, but his eyes did not meet those of Spock's. The first officer was also staring off. Instinctively, Kirk followed the gaze to the transporter; his jaw dropped.

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Fascinating," he whispered indistinctively.

On the transporter pan stood a large rabbit, but not just any rabbit. Standing upright on two large hind feet, he wore a large pair of dark sunglasses. A suit case was in one hand and a half-filled glass of orange colored liquid in the other, a carrot top and a straw sticking out above the rim. The long slender body was a medium gray, white stretching up from the stomach and ending around two fluffy cheeks, two protruding front teeth, and white gloves on hand-like front paws. He seemed to have no depth, flatly colored with no shadows except the one he cast beneath him; just like the door in space. Not just any rabbit indeed, not even "real" in the certain term. Kirk remembered seeing things like it when he was a young boy, watching them on the monitor back home in Iowa. It seemed impossible, but there it was – a cartoon rabbit!

The rabbit looked around his immediate surroundings, peering through the dark sunglasses. "Saaaayyy, this is some new ship, Marvin. You're really getting' high class." He looked down around his feet. "Boy, what a crazy landin' pad."

He looked up and apparently realized that he was not with Marvin. He stiffened from ear tips to toes with a very noticeable BOING and his suitcase fell with a thump, bulging a bit with the impact. He lifted the sunglasses on top of his head, twisting and turning as he looked bewilderedly from one face to another.

"Hey! What's goin' on here? Who are you? Where am I? What–? But–? How–? Where–?"

Spock leaned in closer. "I believe he is as confused as us."

Kirk stared a full five seconds longer before awareness began to penetrate. "What? Oh, uh, yes I would say so." He also leaned closer, lowering his voice. "What do you make of …that?"

"This…," Spock began slowly, cocking his head, retrieving information from trained memory, "individual is similar, if not identical, to a popular old earth cartoon animal of the early 1900s. I have come across references to it in the library's history banks. I believe it was famously known as … Bugs Bunny."

Kirk looked incredulously at the first officer. "Bugs Bunny?!" He spoke nearly in a whisper. "Are you sure?"

"It is often very difficult to forget something that is so oddly abnormal."

"But how's that possible? Cartoons aren't real. It can't be real."

Spock looked at him. "Captain. Whether it is impossible or not – it is there. Unless we are all hallucinating the same thing at the same time. And that I doubt very much, especially considering what the … individual is."

"Oh." Kirk rubbed his palms together as he looked at the rabbit that still stood gawking at them from the pad. "Well, I guess we should … do something."

"That would seem in order, Captain."

Kirk approached the transporter. The rabbit watched him come, eyes wide in confusion, but with a friendly appearance. Kirk put out a hand. "We're not going to hurt you. You're among friends."

The large ears twitched forward, his cartoonish expression appeared now more curious. He spread his hands, the orange-ish liquid in his glass sloshing close to the rim but not spilling out. "But … how'd I get here?"

Kirk tried to find the best words to explain, figuring the rabbit was simpleminded. "We accidently, uh, picked you up from … wherever you came from, bringing you here. Where did you come from?"

The rabbit grinned with a carefree shrug. "I travel lots of places. Home is wherever you dig your hole."

Not the kind of answer he was expecting. "Oh, I see. I'm …"For a second, nothing came, Kirk nearly had to force his still dazed mind to think. "I'm … Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. And, uh…" Kirk briefly side-glanced in Spock's direction, "who are you?"

The rabbit's white chest puffed. "My name is Bugs Bunny, and," he grabbed Kirk's hand and shook it vigorously, "I'm mighty pleased to be makin' your acquaintance, Captain."

Spock's memory had prevailed again. Kirk smirked at how quickly the rabbit's mood had shifted. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you too." His voice bounced slightly with every hearty shake on his hand. The three fingered and one thumbed paw was warm; not the warmth of flesh, but warm nevertheless.

Bugs finally let go and looked around again, hands on thin hips. "A starship you say? Wow, a real genuine flyin' motel, huh?"

"Uh, yes. Of course," Kirk said slowly, massaged his hand. He turned, motioning the rabbit off the transporter. Bugs followed him, leaving his suitcase and glass on the pad. "These are members of my crew. Mr. Scott, my chief engineer," he motioned toward the openmouthed engineer, "three of my security team," he gestured to the men with open mouths, "and my first officer, Mr. Spock," he gestured to the stolid Vulcan, expressionless with hands clasped behind his back.

"Well, I'm mighty pleased to be makin' yer acquaintance, gentlemen." Bugs made a carefree salute to the others, but paused when he came to the first officer. His large eyes narrowed slightly in a confused frown as he looked at Spock again closely. He stepped up close to him (his head only up to Spock's middle), walked around him three times, then stood before him with hands clasped behind his back, mimicking Spock's pose. Both stared at each other in this manner for a time. Bugs turned back to Kirk, whispering loudly behind a paw. "Hey, Doc. What happened to your friend? He get his ears caught in a carrot picker or somethin'?"

Spock's expression remained unaffected, but his head and one brow inclined slightly.

"Mr. Spock is … shall we say, different from the rest of us."

Bugs rubbed his chin. "Yeah, I can see that, but, uh… what is he?"

"I am Vulcan," Spock answered for himself.

Bugs gave a laugh. "Well, what'd'ya know, a real goodness to honest space alien. Wait'll I tell the fellas!" He laughed again, holding his stomach. "Boy, will Marvin be green!"

Spock's head cocked as he looked to the captain. Conveying he found this most confusing – in an interesting way.

Kirk motioned for the security men to leave, which they did slowly as they filed by the rabbit, gawking until they had disappeared out the doors.

A high whistle sounded, making Bugs twitch his ears. "Bridge to Captain Kirk," a voice said, which Kirk immediately identified as Sulu.

"Hey, where'd that come from?" Bugs asked, looking about in what could be considered quite exaggeratedly, though somehow it seemed normal for him. "Your motel haunted or something?"

"That's the intercom. It's how we communicate aboard this ship."

"Oh I see. High-tech walkie-talkies, huh?"

"Uhhh, yeah. You could put it that way." Kirk moved to the panel, pushing the intercom switch. The light winked on. "Kirk here."

Sulu's voice came through again, excitement in his voice. "Sir! That door! It just closed and then faded away into nothing! It's gone! There isn't anything to even show it was ever there!"

Kirk's brows came together in a tight frown. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu." He switched it off, biting his lower lip in thought. He turned back, the deep expression having vanished for the moment. His tone took on a "let's get on with the next order of business" quality. "Well, if you'll come with us we can … discuss your problem that we seem to have. We can do it more comfortable in my quarters."

"Sure thing, Doc. Just let me get my things," the rabbit agreed happily.

The large feet made nearly no sound on the floor as he padded back to the transporter and brought his suitcase down to the floor. He opened it, took off his sunglasses, and laid them inside. Then Scotty's mouth dropped open once again as Bugs also stuck his glass –carrot, straw, liquid and all – inside and closed the lid.

He picked it up and came back over, looking up at the captain with a large grin behind the protruding front teeth and saluted. "I'm ready! Lead the way," he announced.

Kirk gestured toward the door. "This way."

Bugs started off, watching the doors in fascination as they squeaked opened for him, then stood looking wonderingly up and down the long corridor. Kirk looked to Spock with a sigh. He had a gut feeling that, for some reason, he would be happy when their uninvited guest was off his ship and back where he belonged – wherever that was. Spock's only response was an impassive expression and he followed the captain out.

Scotty scratched his head as the doors closed after them. "Now how'd that rabbit fit that glass inta' that case? And it didn't even spill ah' drop!"

Bugs sat with feet dangling over the edge of a chair before the captain's desk. Kirk sat across from him as Spock stood nearby. They had gone over everything again, but hadn't gotten much more than what they already learned in the transporter room.

Kirk leaned forward, resting his arms on the desktop. "Well, I must say you're quite a mystery."

Bugs put a finger to his chin. "I don't think I've ever been called that before." He put an arm up around his face as though holding a cap around him, peeking menacingly out above it. His long ears twisted about his head to take on the shape of a Sherlock Holmes like hat. "Bugs Bunny the Mysterious," he said in a husky voice. Then the act dropped and the grin returned. "Not bad. Good title for a movie."

Kirk smirked awkwardly. "Sure."

The rabbit put a finger to his chin again. "Say Doc, what's gunna happen to me now that I'm here?"

"You'll stay with us as our guest for the time being while we try to figure out what to do with you."

"I sure hope I ain't inconveniencing ya'," Bugs said honestly.

"Of course not. It was just unexpected, that's all. You're free to look about the ship as long as you don't interfere with its regular routine."

Bugs nodded, ears waving as he did. "Sure thing. I ain't ever been on one of these big star flyin' ships before. Marvin's ship ain't even half this size. And all you people live on this ship?"

Kirk grinned. "We like it."

Bugs shrugged one shoulder. "Well, I guess that's one way to get around property taxes."

Kirk tilted his head curiously, hands folded. "Just exactly where is it you come from?"

"From the United States of course." Bugs' stood in the chair with chest puffed out proudly. "I'm a genuine all-American rabbit." He began to march in place while whistling Yankee Doodle as his long ears took on the shape of a soldier's hat.

Kirk rubbed his forehead. "Yes, I can see that. Uh, Bugs. Bugs!" The whistling finally stopped as he got the rabbit's attention. "I still have a few questions I want to ask."

"Sure thing, Doc." Bugs flopped back down in the seat.

"Do you have any idea how you got here?"

"By your thingamajig in that little purple room I got into. The thingy that hums a lot. It must not know the words." Bugs chuckled to himself in a quick high manner.

Kirk cleared his throat awkwardly. Not that their guest was trying to be difficult, he was simply answering to the best of his simple knowledge. But this had the prospect of taking a while. "Maybe if you told us what you were doing at the time our transporter locked on it might give us a clue."

Bugs leaned with one hand against the wall as he prepared to tell his tale. "Well, I'll tell ya', Doc. It started out a pretty normal day: a good breakfast of carrot flapjacks and a brisk walk around the neighborhood. Then I packed my bags 'cause my friend Marvin the Martian was goin' ta' pick me up at 3:00 'cause we were goin' ta' shoot this scene on Mars we have ta' get finished by next Friday so we can show it on Saturday. I know it's only Tuesday, but you've got ta' git a head start on this kinda' stuff or those producer guys get real cranky. So I got packed and started on my way after picking up some extra traveling carrots at Warner's Store So, got a taxi to Tweety Street, caught a bus to Golden Gate Bridge, got off at Main Street, got a cab three blocks to Wile E. intersection, jumped on a bus to Daffy Square where I just made it in time to jump on the Roadrunner Express, then got a taxi from there to take me to High Mountain Road, but then I ran out of change so I walked the rest of the way, found the sign that said 'Tallest mountain in Montana: That way'so followed it all the way 'til I finally made it to the top where I sat down to wait for Marvin to pick me up. Though I may have been on the wrong tallest mountain." He put a paw up to his chin as he thought. "I probably should've takin' that right turn at Albuquerque." Then he shrugged. "Anyway, so there I am, just mindin' my own business, havin' a nice glass of carrot punch to pass the time, when the next thing I know – SHAZAM! I'm flyin' through space and – here I am!" Bugs spread his arms and smiled up at his audience.

Kirk blinked. Spock remained unchanged, except for the brow that had angled to a steeper tilt.

"You…" Kirk started slowly, "work for … producers?"

Bugs jabbed a thumb into his chest. "Hey, I'm a cartoon. That's pretty much the only job I can get."

"If this … Marvin the Martian has his own ship, why couldn't he have just picked you up where you were to begin with? Why climb a mountain?" Spock asked logically.

Bugs gave a shrug with one hand. "He's afraid of low heights."

Both brows went up. Finding himself at a loss for words, Spock withdrew a bit.

Bugs turned to Kirk. "Say, Doc, not that I'm complainin' about yer hospo'talily, but when do I get to go back home?"

Kirk couldn't help but grin as he beheld the innocence of the cartoonish face. "That's something we'll have to look into. We haven't much to go on but I promise that we will try to do everything we can to get you home."

"Thanks a lot, but I would appreciate it if you hurried it up, I've got a schedule ta' keep."

"Of course." Kirk grinned at the rabbit. "In the meantime make yourself at home."

"Boy, you guys are sure friendly around here." Bugs slipped off his chair. "I'll be sure to give you a good review. Of course I'll have to wait until I see the décor and cuisine before I can give you five stars though. Have to be fair to the little guys you know."

Kirk cleared his throat and turned to the first officer. "See that our, uh, guest gets suitable quarters, Mr. Spock."

"Just what would you consider "suitable", Captain. We have no rabbit holes on board," Spock replied.

Kirk's own eyebrows quirked up a bit, wondering if that had been meant as a witticism. "Well … just do your best. But first escort him to sickbay so Doctor McCoy can look him over."

"A–"Bugs gulped visibly, "doctor, you say?"

Kirk grinned. "Don't worry. It's simply routine when people– or, uh, guests are beamed aboard. I promise it won't hurt a bit."

"Oh! Well, that's different," Bugs cheered up and jumped from his chair.

Kirk saw the nonplussed expression on Spock's face and knew what it meant. "Bugs, would you wait out in the corridor for a moment? I have something to discuss with Mr. Spock. It will only take a minute."

"Sure thing, Cap'e'tan," Bugs said military like, giving an over exaggerated salute, and marched out. As the doors slid over him they heard him say, "Don't have doors like these back home. 'Cept on the elevators."

Kirk and Spock were alone.

"Is there something that you want to ask, Mr. Spock?"

"Captain," Spock started slowly. "We have never had any experience with anything of this nature. I do not believe Doctor McCoy will be of any assistance in this matter. This is quite out of his field as well."

"I still want his opinion."

"But I'm not sure what kind of an 'opinion' he will be able to give you."

A puckish grin came over Kirk's lips, creeping up to the brown eyes. "Which is exactly why I'm doing it. I wouldn't pass up this chance for anything."

Without answering, Spock's brow went up and he slowly turned to leave. He would never fully understand human behavior. He joined Bugs who was standing just outside the door

Before the doors closed, Kirk heard Bug's voice from the corridor. "By the way, you fella's got a kitchen on this here flyin' motel? I'm all outta carrots."

For a long minute Kirk stared at the doors. It all seemed so impossible, illogical if he dared use the word. He was still trying to convince himself he wasn't dreaming and thought about pinching himself, but decided it too childish. Kirk reached over to the intercom on his desk and flipped a toggle. "Sickbay."

A familiar voice answered. "Sickbay. McCoy here. What's up, Jim?"

"Bones, I'm sending a, um, a patient down to you. The passenger we accidentally beamed aboard a while ago. I want you to look him over and tell me what you think."

"Sure thing. Anything special?"

"Just give him the routine examination."

"I understand, Jim."

"I don't think you do."

"What do you mean?" The doctor's voice took on a suspicious note, as if he could hear the smile on the captain's face.

"You'll find out, Bones. You'll find out." Kirk turned the comm off before the doctor could ask anything else. The grin widened until he couldn't confine it to that. He began to chuckle gleefully like a little boy playing a prank. How he wished he could be there to see McCoy's face.

"Everything ready?"

Nurse Christine Chapel nodded as she set a tray of instruments beside the examination table. "Yes, Doctor. What kind of patient did the captain say this was?"

McCoy shook his head as he wrote on a datapad. "He didn't say." He frowned curiously to himself as he thought of the captain's mysterious behavior. It made him slightly suspicious. "So we'd better be prepared for anything. We'll start with a general scan. After we figure out what it is we're dealing with, we can reset the rest of the instruments for more accurate readings."

"Yes, Doctor." Chapel rechecked the panel above the examination table.

Just then the Sickbay doors hissed. McCoy looked up to see Spock enter. The first officer came only a step or two inside. "Your … patient is here, Doctor."

"Oh, good." McCoy set the datapad on the desk. "Send him in."

Whatever the doctor was expecting, it wasn't what ambled into Sickbay. A rabbit-like creature he might have been able to understand, but not the kind this was. McCoy stared with wide disbelieving eyes at the cartoon rabbit standing there munching contentedly on a carrot. Chapel's expression was not far off.

Bugs took another bite and chomped noisily. "Neeaa, what's up doc? Da' cap'e'tan told me ta' come up here for a 'simply routine'."

McCoy forced his mouth to open. "Nurse."

Chapel didn't react to the call for a full five seconds. "What? Oh, y-yes?" She continued to stare.

"Please tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing."

Spock spoke up from where he had been watching with mild amusement, "I am afraid you are, Doctor. I can assure you: you are not hallucinating, as I have told the captain and just about every crew member on the way down here."

Bugs wasn't listening as he continued to explore the room. "Saaaay this is some hospital ya' got here, Doc. Real fancy." He found the tray Chapel had placed next to the examination table. He picked up one of the small medical scanners and it came on. His long ears and body stiffened, almost stretched, with a start when it began humming. Then he grinned in delight as the hum changed in tone as it pointed to different things.

Still gawking, McCoy made his way over to Spock's side. He pointed. "You mean … that's actually a … cartoon?"

Spock nodded as he watched the rabbit. "More accurately known as Bugs Bunny."

McCoy's head snapped over to now gawk at the first officer. "You're joking."

"I do not joke, Doctor."

"But – but that's–"

"Impossible. An illogical surmising on your part; as the rabbit is here."

"But … how?!"

"A very appropriate question, Doctor, one to which I do not have the answer at the moment. But the fact remains that the rabbit is here and we must now deal with it. We cannot keep treating it as an impossibility."

"Hey, Doc, what's this? Bug spray?" Bugs asked.

McCoy looked to see the rabbit holding a hypo in his hands. He quickly pointed at it. "Put that down! That's a hypo-spray and it's filled with tranquilizer!"

Bugs looked over the instrument in his paws before Chapel took it from him. "Never heard of anyone putting the bugs to sleep. Back home we just use a newspaper."

"Sure," McCoy mumbled. He then marched to the doorway of the next room.

Bugs stretched forward, trying to see him around the corner as he disappeared. "Hey, Doc! Where ya' going? Is the 'simply routine' over with already?"

"I have to …call someone real quick," answered from the next room. "Nurse, I'll be back in a minute!"

Innocently happy, Bugs looked to Chapel and jabbed a thumb toward the door that was sliding shut. "Real nice guy you work for. A real sweetheart."

McCoy stomped through his office and up to the monitor and hit the switch harshly with a balled fist. "McCoy to captain!" He nearly shouted into the grid.

There was a few second's pause. A voice answered and McCoy would tell the speaker on the other end was speaking through grinning teeth.

"Yes, Bones?"

"There's a few things you failed to mention about this new 'passenger', Captain Sir!"

"Oh?"

"Don't give me that! You know what I'm talking about!"

"I failed to mention something?"

"Yes!"

"Like what?"

"LIKE IT'S A CARTOON FOR ONE THING!"

"Ooohh that." A brief pause. "So?"

McCoy scowled at the comm. "SO?! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is you could've at least given me a warning!"

"Would you have believed me if I'd told you?"

"Well … I … That's not the point! What am I 'spose to do with it?!"

"Same thing you always do with a new passenger. You give him a complete physical and give your report."

"Report?! What kind of a report do you expect me to get on that?!"

"You're a Starfleet doctor, you should be used to unusual patients by now." There was a faint snicker.

McCoy scowled deep at the grid. "This isn't funny, Jim!"

"I'm sorry, Bones. You're right."

McCoy gave a firm nod at the grid as though the speaker could see it. "That's better."

"It's not funny." The voice quivered, then sniggered. "It's hilarious!" A hearty laugh broke out through the grid.

"Jim Kirk I think that pesky excuse of a cartoon has contaminated you!"

The laugh continued until it was abruptly cut off as McCoy's fist smacked the switch again.

He continued to glare at the comm as he griped over the situation. As much as he hated it, the captain had given him an assignment and he must follow it out. For a second he toyed with the idea of submitting the idea that the captain was going space happy just to ease his ruffled ego. Giving the intercom one last glare he headed back.

He reentered and found Spock still at his post by the door, arms folded as he watched Chapel trying to keep the rabbit from picking up the medical instruments. Bugs was asking questions a mile a minute, curious about everything with erect ears swiveling.

McCoy strode to the examination table with a sigh. "Well, mis'well get this over with." He slapped the soft leather surface. "Up on the table."

There was no need to tip the foot end down as he usually did with most patients to make it easier for them to lie down. In one hop, Bugs was on the edge, large feet dangling over the edge. He noticed the medical panel above, which was dark at the moment. He looked impressed. "Now that's what I call high class. What picture you playing this checkup hour?"

McCoy blinked. "What?"

"On the funny lookin' TV screen there." Bugs pointed to the panel.

McCoy shook his head. "No. That's not a TV. It's a medical readout. It tells me what your insides are doing." He glanced over the rabbit. "And boy do they have their job cut out for them this time." He gestured. "Now I want you to just lay back and relax."

"Oh, well why didn't you tell me it was that kind of checkup?" Bugs laid comfortably down and put his hands behind his head and crossed his feet. "Well you see, Doc, it all started just after I was born and found out I was different from the other kids. I was a rabbit. Later when I was growing up–"

Shaking his head, McCoy waved a hand. "No, no, it's not a couch. It's … listen. You just do what I tell you to, okay?"

The rabbit nodded.

"Good. Then just lie back. And stay quiet."

"Okay, Doc." Bugs said cheerfully. He flopped back and laid straight as a board, his long ears having to trail up the wall behind him.

McCoy let out a breath. Somehow this had the feeling of trying to control a whirlwind. "Okay, let's see what we got." He turned the panel on. The bleeps that followed were a mixed mess of contradicting readings and crazy displays.

Chapel watched them with brow puckered. "I've never seen any readings like that before. A registered heartbeat but no heart it's coming from, respiration with no lungs, warmth of temperature but nothing to generate it…" She looked at the doctor, who stood staring, almost glaring, at the confused panel. "How's that possible?"

McCoy nodded grumpily. "If I didn't know what it was we were scanning, I'd say we had some bugs in our instruments."

"Bugs!" The rabbit jumped up on the table and snatched the hypo from the tray beside it. "I'll get 'em!"

McCoy nearly jumped back. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't you worry, Doc! I won't let any dirty creepy-crawlies contaminate your clean hospital! I'll just get 'em with this fancy bug sprayer!" He held the hypo almost like a gun, face determined. "Alright bugs! Meet your demise!" He began to squirt mists of the tranquilizer in all directions.

"No wait!" Chapel reached out and made a grab for the hypo. She happened to catch the very tip just as Bugs squirted and a dose of the tranquilizer injected into her hand with a light hiss.

Chapel's eyes fluttered sleepily and closed. McCoy leapt forward and caught her just as she began to fall. He struggled to hold onto the limp form when Spock suddenly appeared. The strong Vulcan easily picked up the nurse in his arms.

"Thanks, Spock," McCoy puffed, half from the sudden adrenaline rush and half from mounting frustration. "Put her on one of the beds in the other room. She'll wake up in an hour or so."

Spock simply nodded and carried his load into the next room.

Bugs watched curiously from where he still stood on the examination table. He looked at the hypo in his paws. "Gee, that's some strong bug spray. Good thing she ain't a bug, eh Doc?" Bugs giggled at his joke.

McCoy quickly took the hypo from the rabbit and set it less than gently on the tray. From the corner of his eye he saw Spock reenter. "Examinations over. He's yours," he announced brusquely.

Bugs hopped down to the floor. "Already? Golly, you guys sure work fast around here. Good policy ta' live by: don't waste time."

"Very well, Doctor," Spock acknowledged then spoke to the rabbit. "If you will follow me, please."

"Lead the way, pointy," Bugs said jovially. McCoy might have given a snicker had he not been in such a foul mood. Then Bugs said as he shook the doctor's hand, "Thanks, Doc. You've been swell. But I'd get an exterminator down here before your hospital's gets a bad reputation. Wouldn't like to see a nice place like this go out ah' business." He gave a friendly wave as he exited along with Spock. "See ya' 'round, Doc!"

The doors swished closed and the doctor found himself alone. Glaring, the only thing McCoy could think of was the parting laughter over the intercom. His scowl grew even deeper. "So you think it's so funny, huh?" he growled. "Just you wait 'til you come in for your next physical, Captain James Kirk."

Kirk hadn't dared leave his quarters after Spock and Bugs Bunny had left. He knew exactly how long it approximately took for a routine examination and he was going to be here when the report came walking through the door. He passed the time by going through some recent reports that hadn't been completely recorded onto the computer wafers. It was sooner than he expected when a high whistle announced someone beyond the door. The fact that it was early made him all the more pleased. Wiping the boyish grin off his face he lightly cleared his throat he bent himself over the computer terminal.

"Come."

The door automatically slid back to reveal the ship's chief medical officer, sullen face less than thrilled to see his commanding officer. McCoy sulked into the room. He noticed that the captain didn't look up as he came up to the desk, seemingly too occupied with transferring a report. He knew perfectly well why. It irritated him all the more, but he tried not to show it. He didn't want to let Kirk enjoy this as much as he could.

"Medical report, Captain."

Kirk waved a hand without looking up. "Sit down, Bones. I'll be with you in a minute."

Without a word, McCoy lowered himself into the chair indicated. Kirk continued to work for nearly a full minute more. During which he could feel the doctor's eyes boring holes him. Deciding he'd waited long enough, with a light sigh, Kirk sat up straight and turned from the computer. McCoy sat stiffly with arms folded, staring hard.

Kirk folded his hands on the desktop. "Well, doctor. What can I do for you?"

"I told you when I came in," came flatly back.

"Oh yes, your medical report. And what were your findings on our new passenger?"

"Nothing you didn't already expect."

Kirk leaned back in his chair. It was easy to see the puckish glint in his eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"

The tone turned sharply vexed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Jim! I don't know what to make of him and neither do my instruments!"

"You've come across odd patients before."

"I'm a doctor, not a cartoon expert! What do you expect from me?!" McCoy snapped. He sat forward, jabbing a finger in front of him. "And you've got a lot of nerve sending him down to Sickbay the way you did!"

Kirk couldn't help it. He began to chuckle.

"Laugh all you want but it was no laughing matter for me! That flat-footed lop-eared over energetic menace nearly broke a dozen things in Sickbay and put my nurse to sleep with a hypo!

"Put her to sleep?"

"Yes! Thankfully it was only a mild tranquilizer!"

Kirk put up a hand, chuckling. "Alright, Bones. Take it easy. Spock will be here in a few minutes, then we'll figure a way to get him back where he belongs."

"Good! The sooner the better!" McCoy crossed his arms tight against his middle, glaring at the wall. "And I thought my white rabbit was bad."

The door whistle sounded and Spock walked in. He noticed the ruffled state of the doctor and the highly amused expression of Kirk and computed the captain had succeeded in his human prank. Illogical. Why did humans think it was amusing to go out of their way to purposely annoy or irritate those who they called friend? And then, why did the one who was manipulated satisfy them by giving the very response the other was looking for? He knew no doubt the doctor would somehow find a way to retaliate the captain's prank. Why Jim would act on such a whim of provisional mischief when he knew it would later come at his own expense was something he couldn't logically comprehend. As he had thought hundreds of times before; he would never understand. Then again, he didn't particularly think he wanted to, or care to. It was simply something that had to be lived with. Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, his impassive expression never shifted in the few seconds it took to step to the desk. He stopped before it, hands clasped behind him.

"I have shown our guest to his quarters, Captain," Spock said calmly.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk nodded, bringing himself together and the prank to a satisfied end for now.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Our guest," he muttered bitterly.

"Am I in error in the use of the title, doctor?"

"Yes!" McCoy nearly burst. "For one thing he shouldn't even be our guest at all!"

"We did not invite him to come aboard. He is here by accident because of our doing, and, therefore, is our responsibility until we can replace him to wherever it is he came from."

"Fine. How do we replace him?"

"That," Kirk spoke up, standing to his feet, "is something I was hoping we might be able to figure out together." He rubbed his palms together as he paced to the wall and back. "We don't have a whole lot to work on though. And we don't know if there's a limited amount of time we have either. And if there is no deadline we can't just sit here until we find a way."

Spock then spoke. "Captain, I questioned our … passenger," McCoy put a brow up, "on the way and found out a few details that may help our situation."

"Yes?"

Spock didn't answer directly, seeming to take an unusually longer time to get to the point. "With what he has been able to tell me, along with the readings our sensors were recording at the time of his arrival, I have studied the problem and come up with what I can find as the only logical answer."

"Yes?"

"I believe there must have been some type of a dimensional shift."

"Dimensional shift?"

"Yes, Captain. The dimension that our guest arrived from. When the T-X4 detonated, the combination of its radiation and other components must have disturbed a focal point in space where the division between dimensions is weakest. One might understand this better as a 'weak spot'. One we happened to be close by at the time. When the explosion occurred, it created a chain of circumstances that momentarily broke through that 'weak spot', causing a shift. Thus creating an entry point or rip in that dimension, or in the more appropriate and literal term: a door. And our malfunctioning equipment at the time reached through that door, accidentally beaming him aboard."

McCoy stared, face a bit blank. He wasn't an engineer, but he understood most of what he had heard.

Kirk started to nod, "Yes. That sound like the most–" Then something struck him. He studied Spock's opaque expression. "Wait a minute. Just what are you saying this other 'dimension' is?"

Spock quirked an eyebrow. Even though the stare remained unchanged, Kirk could plainly read his face.

He gawked a moment of shocked amusement. "Are you suggesting … a dimension of …cartoons?!"

McCoy's head came down to rest on his hand. "Oh no," he moaned.

Silence filled the room for a full ten seconds.

"Spock," Kirk finally spoke, almost hesitantly, "is that ... logical?"

Spock took a breath in what could have been a type of sigh. "What is; is what is, Captain. We have already seen firsthand proof that other dimensions do, in fact, exist. An antimatter universe, a counter clock universe, and so on. The rabbit is here, so therefore it is logical to deduce that this kind of dimension does exist."

"But a cartoon dimension?" Kirk practically moaned.

The Vulcan's arms shifted from his sides to cross over his chest, head tilted to one side as he gave his deducted thoughts. "When I asked our guest about his origins, he told me that they are just simply there. They did not travel there, neither were they born there. He told me that he the other "fellows" just one day were there; they simply are not – then they are. He tells me that it happens often, many new ones can appear in a day or only a few in a month. I had him describe several of these characters to me and I stopped to check with the computer data banks on the way here. They are all true cartoon characters from our universe. Some of them dating as far back as the early 20th century." Spock cleared his throat, as though preparing for what was coming next. "It is my deduction that it is our dimension that creates their dimension. Whenever a cartoon is created here, it appears into existence there."

An awkward silence enveloped the room. Kirk reached behind him and felt for the chair. He limply sat down; mouth agape. Had not McCoy already been sitting he would have done the same. The captain and doctor stared at the first officer, eyes glazed in shock. Had it been anyone else telling them this, Kirk figured McCoy would have rolling on the floor laughing with ribs aching by now, but Spock was dead earnest. Such a theory coming from the Vulcan just sounded contradictory to his whole character. He didn't know what to think.

McCoy shook his head, still gaping. "I would've never believed it had I not heard it with my own ears. Of all the bizarre and silly…" He frowned, peering closely at the Vulcan. "When was your last physical?"

Spock remained composed. "No matter how illogical it may sound, we cannot dismiss facts simply because they sound, as you would say – silly. When you eliminate all impossibilities, whatever facts remain, however improbable, must be the truth."

Kirk took a recomposing breath, trying to shake the shock; though it didn't help much. "Well," he said slowly. "If you are correct, and this other … dimension … does exist, then I guess we have to figure a way to get our guest back to it."

"Agreed, Captain. Also since this must be where the division is weakest, I would suggest that for the present time, we stay here."

"Alright, Mr. Spock. I'll have lieutenant Uhura send a message to Starfleet explaining our delay to the rendezvous."

McCoy leaned forward. "And just what will you say to them, Captain?"

"That we had to use the torpedo to save the Enterprise, that we're undergoing repairs, and must stay here a while because the explosion created a dimensional shift, and we have accidently beamed aboard a … a … uh…" Kirk stuttered and trailed off, realizing the point.

Spock's brow rose to a steeper angle. He briefly wondered had he been human if he would find the moment amusing.

"Well, Jim?" McCoy prodded sardonically. "Are you going to say we got caught in a storm, accidently beamed aboard a cartoon rabbit, and are now trying to figure a way to send it back to a cartoon dimension through a literal door that appears and disappears in space?" He scowled. "They'd say that newfangled torpedo knocked more than just this ship around and come tow us all away to the nearest funny farm." He sat back with arms folded as he grumbled, "What a way to end a brilliant career."

Kirk scratched his cheek. "We'll just say … we've… come across some unusual problems and must stay here for a time to resolve them." The ending words came in a rush of air.

"Do you think that explanation will be satisfactory?" Spock asked.

"Whether it is or isn't, that's what we're going to say."

"What about the tests?" McCoy asked next.

Kirk almost laughed, but without much humor. "Not like they're much of a priority anymore. We blew up their torpedo, remember?"

McCoy gave a nodding shrug.

Kirk looked to Spock. "We'll stay here and effect what necessary repairs the ship needs. Hopefully by then we'll have figured out what to do with our guest or how to return him." He shook his head as he ran it all through his brain. "It's just all so … incredible. Crazy to a certain degree. I almost can't believe it."

"Do not be alarmed, Captain," Spock assured. "Such conditions are guaranteed to confuse the human mind to a certain degree."

"You don't say, doctor?" McCoy clipped insipidly at the "diagnosis", but Kirk sat forward, eyeing the Vulcan carefully.

"You're not confused at all?

"No, Sir," Spock said with calm confidence

"Not even a little bit?"

"No, sir. I have reasoned out all the facts and assessed the circumstances. The situation is quite clear to me. I have no reason for confusion."

"Give it time," McCoy muttered in his corner.

"Good." Kirk stood to his feet, addressing Spock, "Because I'm going to need your clear head to keep me from losing my mind." He went to the door. "Let's go find Scotty and see what he can do about sending our friend home to cartoon land. That is, after he gets over the shock first."

"Not me," McCoy announced as they stepped into the corridor. He headed in the opposite direction, finishing over his shoulder, "I'm going back to Sickbay and find a medicinal remedy for scattered nerves – a glass of brandy."

Yeoman Janice Rand walked down the corridor toward the guest accommodations. Reaching one of the doors, she stepped in and looked around. At first she didn't see anyone, then the door to the adjoining room swished open and the rabbit appeared. She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't get the chance as Bugs suddenly spun on his heels and walked back out. Janice stood there, slightly baffled. It grew even more when the doors squeaked open again and Bugs reentered. He walked in, stopped, and watched the doors close behind him. Then he stepped back, watching them reopened, and stepped back out watching the doors closing over him once more. Like a scene stuck on repeat, the scenario continued repeated itself. When Bugs came back in the room for the fifth time Janice awkwardly interrupted by clearing her throat.

"Uh … is there something the matter?"

Bugs paused and watched the doors slid shut once more. "Oh no problem. I just like to watch 'em."

"Oh."

Bugs turned and saw his visitor; feminine, blond, and blue-eyed. He bounced into the air giving a high whistle. "Wow!" He rushed over and took her hand, kissing it once, and made an elegant sweeping bow. "And what may I do for thee, oh loveliest, oh fairest of all maidens?"

Janice felt her cheeks warm, an awkward smile hinting at her ruby lips. "O-oh! My, what a little flatterer you are."

Bugs kneeled as he continued to hold her hand while gesturing dramatically with the other paw. "Ah my dear! My loveliest frailest flower! I only speak the words that are in my heart. The words that I cannot contain within anymore!" He put his arm across his eyes. "Only the fear that thou would not return this love kept it hidden! Nay, I can contain it no longer! Tell me!" The arm flung out wide as tears welled up in the large eyes that had turned dramatically sad. "Tell me, my beloved, my only one, what I must do to obtain thee for mine only! For my heart be bound to thine! Tell me that I may be forever yours!" He began to kiss her hand repeatedly.

"Oh for heaven's sakes!" Janice quickly pulled it in, cheeks burning with bright blush.

Bugs stood up and smiled innocently from behind the protruding front teeth, all tears gone and his jovial mannerism returned. "I won first place in drama at the Fudd Talent Show three years in a row."

"I don't doubt it." Janice cleared her throat as she pulled herself together. It took a second for her to even remember the real reason why she came. "I came to see if there was anything you needed."

"Wow! Even room service. This hotel's getting' better all the time! You got any carrot juice around here?"

"I'll bring some from the galley if you want."

"That'd be great! Thanks!" Bugs then looked at her uniform. "Say, I've been noticing those snappy uni'forms you space people wear. Where do you get 'em made up? ACME?"

"No. Their made right here. Our computer makes them up for us."

"Gee that would be a great time saver." Bugs clasped his paws before him as he shyly rubbed a foot over the carpeted floor. "Do you think … I could have one? Ya' know, as a souvenir. I love souvenirs. Pleeeeeeeeeeeese?" He looked up with large pleading eyes, blinking long eyelashes that had suddenly appeared.

Janice thought. "Well, we don't give out uniforms to just anybody…" she looked at the rabbit standing before her. "But then again you're not exactly "just anybody" either. Tell you what, I'll talk to the captain about it and see what I can do."

The shy act disappeared. He threw his arms out. "Yippee! Thanks! That captain of yours is a swell guy."

"Yes, uh, swell." Janice turned to leave. "I'll get your juice for you now. And if you want anything else just let us know. Okay?"

"I'll be sure to ring if I require your assistance." Bug jumped high in the air. He came down on the bed. The mattress bounced him back up into the air three times before he stopped. He stretched out on his back with hands behind his head and one knee crossed over the other. "They just don't make service like this anymore." He let out a contented sigh. "If I didn't have a contract I would say 'This is the life'."

"HAVE YA' GONE OUTTA YER MINDS?!"

Kirk clasped his hands behind his back as he looked steadily at his chief engineer. He and Spock had just finished explaining the situation to Scotty, and was, as Kirk predicted, in a wide-eyed state of shocking disbelief.

Scotty looked at Spock, seeking some kind of logic. "Mr. Spock! Has the cap'tin lost his senses?!"

Kirk pointed at Spock as he quickly said, "It was his theory."

Again, Scotty was taken aback. Looking first to one, then the other; the only sound was the steady throb of the engines that filled the large engineering bay. This continued until the Scotsman's gaze finally rested upon the first officer. "Yer's? Mr. Spock?" he asked almost hesitantly.

"Arrived at by logical reasoning," Spock said.

Scotty didn't look reassured. "Not that I've ever doubted ya' before, Mr. Spock, but this…"

Spock's upswept brow quirked.

"It may sound like a," Kirk cleared his throat, "hair-brained idea, but it's what we're going to go off of."

Scotty shrugged. "If you say so, Sir. But now that we are, what do we do now?"

"We return our guest to where he belongs," Spock said matter-a-factly.

Scotty almost grinned. "I know that part, Mr. Spock. I meant how to go about doin' that."

Kirk rested closed fists on his hips. "That is what I'm hoping you gentlemen can figure out."

Spock became involved in thought for a moment, which was the closest thing to a true expression Kirk had ever seen him really portray. He spoke with precise words, "Captain, we have already ascertained that the area from which the door appeared is the weak spot in the dimension. That may be where the key to our problem lies."

"In what way?"

"If we can recreate the conditions that occurred before, we may be able to reopen that door."

Kirk looked expectantly from one officer to the other. "Can it be done?"

Spock nodded. "Theoretically. The main problem will be the recreation of those circumstances."

"You do think we can do it though?" Kirk asked.

"We could build a device that might be able to give off the same effects as the T-X4 when it exploded. Then aim it at the exact spot where the T-X4 went off."

"Build our own torpedo."

"Precisely."

Scotty's face held doubt. "But we'd have to get the figures just right, plus all the components, an' then on top ah' that it'd have to be powerful enough to shift the dimensional if we figure a way, it'd be the wildest stroke ah' luck to get 'em all just right to make it work. And then there's no guarantee it'll even work at'tall."

"Nothing in life is guaranteed," Spock stated logically.

Scotty's face twisted almost into a cringe. "To be honest … it's all so wild I'm just … not sure."

"Well, don't feel bad, Scotty." Kirk patted his engineer on the shoulder and turned as if to walk away. "I guess I can't expect you to solve everything."

Scotty took a quick step forward as his tone took of a defensive air. "Now hold on, Cap'tin. I didn't say I couldn't do it. It'd just be … difficult." He squared his shoulders slightly. "But if that's what yer ordering, I'll do my best, Sir."

Kirk grinned at the success of his strategy. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Scotty. I want you and Mr. Spock to work together on making it happen."

Scotty looked off in thought. "It'll take ah' while to prepare. What we're talking about is goin' to take quite a bit of computations, but if Mr. Spock'll help with the calculations an' I can figure out substitutions for the components of the original torpedo…" Scotty paused as a determined, somewhat competitive, expression spread across his face. He gave a brief nod. "It may take some doing, but I think we might be able to come up with something, Captain."

"How long do you estimate it'll take?"

Scotty spread his hands. "Can't tell. With all the ship repairs in progress it'll take longer. I'd say ... 'bout two weeks."

Kirk nodded with face set. He didn't particularly want to sit here fourteen days trying to find a way to rid himself of a cartoon. "Well, keep thinking on it, Scotty, but, continue with the repairs to the ship. The Enterprise takes first priority. As soon as the worst of the damages are fixed, then you men can focus on our other problem full time. And let's see if we can get things done ahead of schedule."

"Aye, Sir. We'll work round the clock."

"Very good. Carry on."

With that, Scotty went back to adjusting one of the engineering panels as the captain and his first officer strode from the engineering room into the corridor.

"TWO WEEKS!" Bugs leapt into the air from his chair before falling back into the seat.

"I'm afraid that's the best we can do," Kirk replied, sitting behind his desk and facing the rabbit once more.

"But that'll be too late! I won't make the picture in time!" Bugs threw himself off the chair on onto his knees before the desk, ears drooped and paws folded beseechingly in front of his face. "Please, Captain! You gotta do something! I've got a contract! I'll be fired! Then what'll happen to me?" He slapped the back of a fisted paw to his forehead. "I'll never see my friends ever again! My life! My career!" Bugs wailed, tears flinging out from closed eyes. "I'll be ruined!"

Had Spock been human he would have rolled his eyes. But he wasn't; so he merely quirked an upswept eyebrow accompanied by a deep breath. Kirk quickly tried to calm the situation.

"But we may come up with something before then." He leaned forward to look over the desk's edge at the kneeling rabbit.

The bawling quieted and Bugs looked up with eyes still sad. He sniffed. "You (sniff) think so?"

"There are many difficulties that will have to be solved, first," Spock spoke up in his annoyingly honest way. "There are some doubt that it may work at all, the odds are slightly against it being operational."

At that the rabbit burst into a new flow of tears. Kirk shot the Vulcan a look of disgust before quickly adding, "But there is also a good chance of it working too." The wailing ceased again to sniffles. "My chief engineer is very good at … doing things like this. I'm sure in only a little while he'll figure out a way to get you back home."

A small hopeful smile appeared behind the protruding teeth. "You think so?"

"I do. And I promise we'll try to figure out something quicker if we can."

Bugs suddenly sprang from his seat and landed in the surprised captain's lap. He tightly hugged Kirk happily. "Oh thank you Captain! You're a swell fella! A real sweetheart!" His eyes became almost dreamy with long eyelashes.

"Yeah, that's me," Kirk muttered as he tried to discreetly push the affectionate rabbit off. He uncomfortably cast a quick glance in Spock's direction where he stood by the door with arms folded. As usual there was no expression, but both brows were raised, upswept tips nearly touching the jet black bangs cut short across the high forehead. Kirk succeeded in scraping Bugs off his lap, but he still clung tightly to the captain's legs.

"While I talk things over with my first officer, why don't you … um, go for a walk and look around the ship." Not that Kirk really wanted the rabbit running about, but it was better than getting smothered all day.

The soppy expression and lashes disappeared in the wink of an eye. Bugs perked up happily. "Say, now that sounds like a fun idea. Boy you sure are nice. Can I help run your flying hotel?"

"Uh…" Kirk hesitated, wondering if there was a nice way to say "hands off, buddy".

Bugs folded his paws. "Please?" There were those eyelashes again, fluttering. Why was it so hard to say no? After all it was only a cartoon.

"You may watch the crew," Kirk finally said. "And you may ask questions if they're not too busy."

"Oh, I get it. I gotta learn before I can help." Bugs pointed a finger at him. "No wonder you're a captain. You got brains." He turned and marched happily away. "Don't you worry. I'm a fast learner. I'll get the hang of things in no time!" The doors closed over him.

"I was afraid of that," Kirk mumbled.

Spock came over. "I believe this may prove a problem in the near future."

"I wouldn't've guessed." Kirk sighed. "At least that'll keep him busy for a while."

"What about you're saying that we would try to formulate a plan at an earlier date?"

Kirk just shrugged.

"Then you did not mean to act on that statement?"

"It was either say that or handle a crying rabbit for the two weeks." Kirk rubbed his jaw slowly. "I guess maybe we could take a little extra time to work on it to ease our guest. But like I said, the ship comes first. By the way, do you have a report on the repairs?"

The next twenty minutes were spent discussing the last few hours' progress that had been made getting the ship back in shape, and what should be dealt with next. They were nearly done when suddenly the Enterprise shuddered. Kirk didn't even have time to wonder what was happening when the entire room tilted in a steep angle as the ship bucked starboard. He glimpsed Spock suddenly disappear behind the desk a she tumbled out of his own chair to the floor and slammed into the wall behind him. For the next few seconds the room around him shook with such violence that it was impossible to stand. Then the quaking ceased and the floor gradually leveled out. More than a bit sore and irritated, Kirk gathered himself together pulled himself back into his chair. Spock reappeared from behind the desk, getting up from the floor, a hand massaging the nape of his neck.

Scowling, Kirk punched an intercom button. "Kirk to engineering! Scotty, what's going on down there?!"

A second later the Scottish lilted voice answered, a bit breathless. "I don't know, Cap'tin. The gravitational compensators suddenly shifted as though trying to stabilize the ship if she were banking. But everything was running smoothly here and nothing was malfunctioning. Whatever caused it was from the bridge."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott." He jabbed another button. "Kirk to bridge. Mr. Sulu! What's going on up there? The stabilizers suddenly activated and we're not even moving!"

What answered didn't sound particularly surprised. "Yes, Sir, I know." Sulu's deep voice made a weak attempt at a casual laugh. "It's, uh, nothing to be concerned about, Sir."

"Nothing to be concerned about?!" Kirk snapped.

Chekov's Russian accent cut in. "No, Sir. Everything's fine. Just had a little … uh … hiccup in the controls."

"I thought Scotty had maintenance already go over all helm controls."

Suddenly in the background another voice that was becoming all-to-familiar said happily. "Yee-haw! What a ride! This thing's better than a roller coaster!"

Kirk closed his eyes with a sigh. "Was that your 'little hiccup', lieutenant?"

Sulu answered, sounding as though he were confessing some terrible secret. "Uh, yes, Captain. He is. He came on a few minutes ago. He was asking all sorts of questions about all the buttons and switches on the console and we were explaining them to him and … well … he said something about he was a fast leaner and before I could stop him–"

"Right, Mr. Sulu. I got the picture." Kirk didn't need – or want – to hear the rest. He knew what had happened, his back still ached from it. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again." His voice grew firm. "Do you understand me?"

"Aye, Captain. It won't happen again."

Again the cartoonish voice in the background piped up. "Can I talk on the little thingamajig?"

"No!" both helmsmen said in unison. The comm shut off.

"I do not believe you're idea kept him busy for long," Spock stated.

Kirk didn't reply. The intercom switched on once again. "Security."

"Security here, Sir."

"I want a guard to follow that rabbit we beamed aboard at all times. Don't crowd him, but I don't want him out of sight or left alone outside his quarters for one second. Is that clear?"

"Clear, Sir. I'll dispatch a man immediately."

Kirk's fist limply came down on the button. It clicked off. For a long moment silence filled the room, he sat staring into nothing. Spock merely watched with clasped hands behind him.

"Spock." It came weakly, but decidedly.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Have that plan of yours put on top priority."

"What of the repairs?"

"They can wait."

"Yes, Captain."

Five days had passed since their animated visitor had come aboard. Starfleet had been messaged about their delay – minus mentioning the rabbit – and they had replied back saying they understood their situation and would inform USS Triton that the rendezvous would be canceled and rescheduled at a later date. With the torpedo gone it would be a month or so before another could be built. Kirk had quickly turned down their offer for the Triton to meet the Enterprise and help with repairs, saying his chief engineer had everything under control. It made his stomach fill with butterflies when he thought what that message would have said had he told the entire story.

Only the maintenance crew continued with repairs as Scotty and Spock devoted nearly their full time on devising ways of creating a close replica of the T-X4. Meanwhile, Kirk kept the rest of the ship running and watched over their strange guest. Kirk didn't know which of them had the harder job.

It was like trying to keep up with a whirlwind. Half the time the security guard dispatched to watch Bugs seemed to lose track of him. Kirk always knew when he had slipped away because Bugs would suddenly show up with that happy expression of his. Realizing one man wasn't enough, Kirk had finally ended up dispatching nearly the entire security team at strategic areas all about the ship. Even then, their job was still difficult. Had an uninformed person come aboard at this time, he might have thought they were trying to catch some enemy spy or raging lunatic that had gotten aboard.

Bugs on the other hand was having a time of his life. Content in the belief that the captain and others would soon get him home, even though they were quickly coming to the deadline of the "contract" he would occasionally talk of. What made it all the worse, was Kirk couldn't seem to get past the naive cartoon innocents Bugs seemed to possess. He would take what the captain said in either the literal terms or as compliments. Only once Kirk had harshly scolded the rabbit and had received such a hurt manifestation that he had suddenly found himself apologizing as somehow the position reversed and Bugs was forgiving him. Kirk just couldn't figure out how he did that so easily. He never got swept into things like that before. Wanting to avoid such situations if he could help it, Kirk had doubled his efforts to keep track of Bugs. But it always seemed like at least two or three times an hour he would have to stop what he was doing and go running to get the curious rabbit out of some problem or other. He was constantly getting into something or somewhere he shouldn't. There had been a few tense moments when Bugs had somehow slipped unnoticed into the armory and gotten ahold of a hand phaser which he innocently thought was a squirt gun. Luckily the safety had been on but with a cartoon you just never knew.

It seemed as though such things were happening more frequently and Kirk was beginning to feel run a little ragged. Even during the last half of this day he had all over the ship chasing him until, just wanting a break, Kirk had suggested to Bugs that he go to his quarters to wait there for him, promising to bring a surprise. It had worked and the excited bunny had flew to his room in a zooming streak.

Now here he was walking down the corridor, a uniform tucked under one arm. Kirk soon entered Bug's assigned quarters and found the rabbit laying on the bed happily drinking a glass of carrot juice that Janice had brought (for the nth time).

Seeing Kirk, Bugs' ears pricked straight up. "Hi, ya', Doc!" He slipped of the bed, setting the glass on the counter. He eagerly came up, reminding the captain of a little boy waiting for a reward promised him. Kirk couldn't decide if he liked the rabbit or not as Bugs looked up at him so innocent and trusting while feeling the weariness in his own body. "Did you bring me the surprise?"

Tired, frustrated, or not; Kirk couldn't help but grin at the eager voice. "Yeoman Rand told me you were asking for a special souvenir and I thought the least I could do was give you one." Kirk held out the uniform that was instantly snatched away. "I'm afraid this is the smallest uniform we have."

"Gee, that's awful nice of ya'." Bugs slipped the red shirt over his head and pulled the pants on. He looked down at himself. The sleeves hung way past his fingers, nearly touching the floor, and even his long rabbit feet didn't reach through the pants legs, leaving a good six inches past his toes. More like he was wearing a sack then a uniform.

"I'm afraid we'll have to program the computer to make one specifically for you," Kirk said apologetically.

Bugs confidently held up a paw, making the long sleeve flap. "No need, Captain. I'll have it fixed quicker than you can say 'precocious purple penguins pick pepper pickles preceding placing precautious puppies perfectly placed'."

Kirk blinked. "Huh?"

In a flash of grayish, Bugs was suddenly on the other side of the room and somehow out of the uniform too. Kirk just watched with wide eyes as Bugs laid it out on the table and somehow produced a pair of scissors from behind his back. He eyed it for a moment.

"Hmmm," Bugs muffled through the hand over his mouth, pushing the fluffy cheeks out to the sides a bit. He closed one eye, opened it, then closed the other.

What happened after that, Kirk wasn't exactly sure. There was a blur around Bugs' hands as they moved faster than the eye could see. Bits of cloth fluttered to the ground in a whir of snips for a few seconds. A flash of thread and needle was seen for a brief moment. Before Kirk could even see what he'd done, Bugs flashed from the room into the back, the uniform gone from the table. A grand total of three seconds elapsed, not even enough for Kirk to sort out anything in his mind. There was a whoosh, a flash, and Bugs stood before Kirk once again with the uniform on. Kirk took a double look and blinked dumbfounded. The sleeves and pants legs were shortened with every seam and edge now fitting the rabbit perfectly. It looked professionally made.

"Well? Whatda'ya think?" Bugs asked, twisting a bit with hands on his hips to give his guest a good view.

Kirk stared down at the rabbit looking up at him so proudly. He wanted to ask how he'd managed such an impossible feat so fast, but knew that was a silly question. He's a cartoon. They can do anything. It doesn't have to make sense. So he said, "Yes, you look fine."

A squeaking whoosh and Bugs was gone.

"Wha–" Kirk looked around. He spotted the rabbit now across the room, admiring himself in the full-length mirror.

"Gee. Wait 'til the other fella's get a look at me. It'll knock 'em dead." He turned enough so he could see his fluff of a tail sticking out through the back of the pants. It wiggled happily as he puffed out his chest, whiskers twitching with a suave expression.

Kirk's head was spinning. "Well, uh, I've got to get back to my ship."

Bugs gave a farewell salute. "Sure thing, Doc. Runnin' a space boat like this must be a lot of work." He returned to the reflection, perfectly delighted with what he saw. He stood ramrod straight and put on an important look as he narrated to himself. "Bugs Bunny! Intergalactic space rabbit of the universe!"

Kirk stepped from the room and the doors squeaked shut after him. He walked down the corridor in a daze. It was only when he reached a dead-end wall that he realized he'd gone the wrong way. Feeling a bit foolish yet trying not to look too conspicuous to the few crew members that passed by, he retraced his steps in the direction he'd intended to go in the first place. He finally reached the turbo lift and stepped in.

Silence enclosed him in the small area and he stood there with face blank. His head felt as though it was in high warp gear. He closed his eyes, rubbing a weary hand across his face. What am I going to do with that rabbit? he thought dolefully. He had to get him back where he belonged, the sooner the better too. He wondered about Spock's computations. A cartoon dimension: it sounded like something out of a children's science fiction. And if there was such a thing would they be able to get their cartoon back? He wondered about Spock and Scotty's plan. All those computations, numbers, and calculations they talked about; it sounded like a mathematician's nightmare.

Kirk sighed. It seemed like it was taking longer than usual to get to the bridge. He looked at the panel and saw it hadn't even moved yet. Then his shoulders sagged as he remembered he hadn't even told the computer where to take him yet. Boy, he must be tired.

"Bridge."

The lift whirred to life. Kirk again rubbed his tense forehead. Everything was still spinning; the lift only seemed to make it worse. He decided the bridge was not where he needed to be. Not that he was really needed there at the moment anyway; which was a good excuse not to go there. He needed a second to think.

"Halt."

The lift came to a gentle, almost undetectable stop. Kirk thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to relax, unwind a bit. Maybe he should just go to the auditorium, or maybe one of the rec rooms. No, too many people. He didn't want anyone to see him whirling like this. Maybe he should just go to his quarters and lie down, that didn't sound too bad, but still not quite appealing. What was wrong with him? He'd gone through weirder things then this before, why let this get to him? Maybe it was how that rabbit talked so quick or moved so fast. Or maybe it was just all these crazy goings-on's and bizarre theories that were jumbled in his mind. Kirk's eyes flicked open. That was it. He suddenly knew what he really wanted to do – he wanted to get everything off his mind. He just someone to unburden himself too, and he knew exactly who that was.

To the computer he said, "Sickbay."

Again the motors came back to life. A few moments later, on deck five, Kirk walked into the Sickbay. He looked around to find the entrance room empty. For some reason that didn't make him feel any better. He was just thinking about calling out or maybe just start rambling around to find someone when Nurse Chapel came from the next room.

She looked a bit surprised when she saw him standing there. "Oh, Captain! Is there something I can do for you?"

Kirk looked around again. "Where's McCoy?"

"In his office." She observed Kirk's oddly blank face. "Is there anything I can help with, Captain?"

"No, thank you," Kirk answered shortly and walked out through another doorway. Chapel watched him go, perplexed at the unusual behavior. She gave a small shrug and continued on to a near cabinet and began pulling out a few instruments for cleaning.

Passing through the next room, Kirk reached the Chief Surgeon's Officer's office on the other side and walked in. He saw McCoy standing with his back to him by the computer, a datapad in his hands and a small stack of wafer chips on the desktop. Kirk figured he must be making out the daily logs.

At the slight hiss of the doors opening, McCoy turned to see his new arrival. "Oh hi, Jim," he greeted.

"Yeah," Kirk flung out, then realized what an odd answer that really was, but didn't feel like changing it. Now alone with the friend, he suddenly didn't feel like maintaining the required captain's bearings anymore. He nearly dragged himself in and stopped before the desk and stood there, shoulders drooped. Quite a pathetic sight.

McCoy's eyes flicked over him like a tricorder taking a quick reading. "You look a bit … glazed."

Kirk leaned both hands on the desk. "You got anything for a spinning head?"

"The rabbit?"

"He moves way too fast."

McCoy set the datapad down and picked up as mall hand scanner from a near shelf. "Well, let's see what we can do."

"I mean maybe it's just the bizarreness of it all," Kirk said, almost picking up in the middle of a conversation that hadn't started yet. "We've gone through some strange things, but never anything like this."

"Mm hmm," McCoy grunted, the scanner hummed in his hand as he slowly ran his hand back and forth over Kirk's shoulders.

"I mean I thought we'd just about experienced everything there could be. Not like there isn't unknowns we haven't come across yet, but I always thought we kinda, you know, covered all the basics. I've always tried to keep myself prepared for anything, but how could you be prepared for something like this? How do you prepare for meeting a cartoon in the flesh? Well, maybe not flesh, more like … like … You know what I mean."

The scanner continued to hum.

"I'm suddenly feeling like I can't keep up. I'm trying to make sure the ship gets fixed, I'm trying to see that the crew stays organized while we're here, I'm overseeing a plan to open some dimension to a cartoon world, and I'm trying to keep up with a cartoon rabbit that's continuously running all around my ship while trying to keep him out of trouble at the same time. It all seems crazy. I'm running here fixing this, I'm running there working out that, I'm babysitting an impossibility. I … I just don't know." It ended with a deep despondent sigh. He looked pathetically at the doctor, still quietly taking readings. "What do you think?"

"I'll let you know in a second." A few more passes with the scanner and it turned off. McCoy straightened with his medical mannerism that always came when he was about to pronounce his diagnosis. "It is my duty, Captain, to inform you that you are suffering from a mild case of caricature malaise."

"What?"

"Another name for it is animation frenetic."

"What?"

"In layman's terms: cartoon overdose. A state of mind that occurs when one is exposed to an animated entity for the first time for a lengthy interval with no extensive breaks."

Kirk stared, eyes narrowed. "You just made that up."

"It's a new thing that's just started going around." McCoy strode over to a frosted glass cabinet. He touched the panel and it slid back. "Haven't had too much experience with it though. Came out into the medical books about twenty seconds ago." He took a tall-necked bottle from one of the shelves.

Kirk lightly rolled his eyes. "Well," he put his hands on hips, "I hope it's not too fatal."

"Not that I've heard of so far." McCoy took two glasses off a lower self and returned to the desk. "Though I have seen indications that it could bring on temporary insanity."

Kirk shook his head forlornly. "Dear me. Well, what can we do about it?"

"My prescription: eliminate the problem." McCoy filled both glasses from the bottle, setting one down near Kirk.

"I am trying my best, doctor, but it's not quite that simple. We'll have to find another temporary cure for now."

"My alternate prescription: Talk then rest." McCoy took the other glass as he sat behind the desk. He gestured to the vacant chair on the other side. His smooth actions told he was an old hand at this.

Kirk sat down. "You playing psychiatrist now?"

"Have to on this ship."

Tense muscles ached as Kirk pressed his spine against the chair's backrest with a long exhalation. He almost added in a slight moan, but didn't want to sound in that bad of shape so he just let the rest out in a quick breath. He picked up the glass of the brandy and took a drink. The liquid tingled his tongue and down his throat. It tasted good, relaxing as it warmed his insides. He looked up at the doctor whose eyes watched his every move. He grinned. "Good prescription."

"I know. And now," McCoy began matter-of-factly; friendly, but still with an air of business, "you just relax and tell the good doctor all about your troubles."

Kirk grinned. "Bones … you're a lifesaver."

McCoy took a sip. "That's my job."

Kirk looked around the briefing table. He took in a breath as he leaned on the plastic tabletop, lacing his fingers. "Well, gentleman," he addressed the two officers seated across from him. "As you probably already know, I called you here because you've been working on our problem for nearly five days. So what have you come up with?"

"Well, I must say you did'na give us an easy one, Sir," Scotty stated. "We did'na have some ah' the components we needed to duplicate the effects, so we had to try and find substitutes. And that wasn't easy either because–"

"Mr. Scott, I get the idea it was difficult. But we have only a matter of less than a week before we have a hysterical cartoon on our hands. Not to mention half the crew. So let's just cut down to the point and please tell me you have a brilliant plan."

The Vulcan beside Scotty spoke in his fluid composed manner. "I believe we have found a way."

Kirk leaned forward. "How?" It was harshly direct, but he didn't feel like putting on good manners at the moment. Neither men seemed to be bothered by it.

"The radioactive components tweren't much of a problem," Scotty explained. "But the T-X4 was armed by a special kind of explosive. Ditron-E1X. It's strong enough that just one pint could disintegrate nearly the entire mass of a class 4 asteroid."

Kirk nodded knowingly. "We've already seen a near example of that."

Spock continued where the engineer left off. "Since there were no ready available materials onboard that could produce such an effect we turned to the next available option. We will use a minor amount of subatomic particles from the ship's engines, along with their identical counterparts. Placed inside a torpedo casing with a specially designed detonator to intermix the antiparticles, it should produce a mutual annihilation of acceptable proportions."

"You mean create the power of the explosion with antimatter and matter?"

"I believe that is what I said."

Concern creased Kirk's face. "Just how little is 'minor'?"

Scotty quickly answered. "Nearly one thousandths of a percent."

"One thousandths and one point three," Spock rectified. Scotty shrugged.

A smile flickered but quickly vanished as Kirk wanted to know more. Something like mixing antimatter and matter wasn't something to be taken lightly. "Even so, can it be removed safely without endangering the ship?"

Spock's brows drew together. "There is always risk when dealing with something as unstable as antiparticles, but I believe these percentages are rather low in this instance. We have the equipment aboard that will allow us to extract what little we need and keep the dangers within acceptable limits."

"And if they don't we'll never know it," Scotty said and made an impression of an explosion with his hands. "Of course with what little amount we're dealing with it might only take off the back of the ship leaving the bridge pretty much untouched. That is unless it detonates the antimatter chambers before they can eject and then–"

"I get the picture." Kirk stared hard at his engineer.

Scotty smiled as Spock stared on with fascinated confusion. "Don't worry, Cap'tin. We can remove the antimatter while still maintainin' a high safety factor. I'm not about to let us go up in a ball ah' fire if I can help it."

"You could have said that in the first place," Kirk grumbled, though he knew it had been said only to get the reaction he had given. He knew Scotty would never agree to any plan that would endanger the Enterprise or its crew. "So what's the rest of the plan?"

Spock placed his elbows on the table, hands folded before his face with the index fingers extended. "When we set the torpedo off, it will give off an explosion of electromagnetic radiation, mimicking the same effects as the first torpedo. That should recreate the same amount of radiation and other factors along with the power of the blast which in turn should apply enough force on the weak point of the dimension division to reopen the doorway."

"Then we beam the little beastie back where he came from, we finish repairs, and continue on our merry way," Scotty finished like the ending to a fairytale story.

Kirk's head slowly nodded as he examined it all in his brain. It didn't take long for his decision. "Well, if you're in agreement that it's within safety limits and has a chance of working, then we'll go with it. How long will it take to get everything ready?"

"I believe we can have it built in about two days. And adding the time it'll take to check over a few things we can be tryin' it out within less than three if we start now."

Kirk looked impressed. "Very good. You know you're nearly a week ahead of your original projected date."

Scotty shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, sir. Well ... I did put my mind to it a little harder after…"

Kirk waited. He put a hand out, trying to help him along. "After…?"

"Well … after our guest visited my quarters. If you understand what I mean."

Kirk looked as though he were about to nod, then said, "No."

Awkward silence.

"Did something happen?" Kirk tried again.

"Cap'tin, you know I'd never be rude to or speak badly of any guest aboard, Sir. No matter what they may be or look like." Scotty's face suddenly turned to a deep frown. "But that it did, sir! That animated fumble-footed excuse for a rabbit broke a bottle of scotch I'd been savin' since I signed aboard this ship! And a very old bottle at that!"

Now it made sense. Nothing could make Scotty more upset then a wasted bottle of scotch, except maybe an insult directed at the Enterprise (but that was a whole different story).Kirk forced himself not to smirk too hard. "I see." The countenance sobered once again as the captain studied his hands as they folded and unfolded before him. "Not that I'm questioning your work, but just how good are the chances of this plan succeeding?" Kirk asked.

Spock answered as Kirk expected he would when it came to odds and percentages. "Though I cannot calculate an exact figure, the probability of getting all conditions precisely the same way they were before are somewhat fine and time consuming. But I there is a chance of total success."

"And what is that chance?"

"About 999,999.99 to 1."

"Good. At least it's not a million to one." Kirk slapped a hand on the table with a new determination. "Then let's get to it. The sooner the better."

Two and a half days later, Kirk sat in his command chair. He leaned forward with anticipation etched across his face, similar expressions on the rest of the bridge crew.

"Mr. Spock?"

"All systems show green, Captain."

"Scotty?"

"Nearly ready, Sir. They're loadin' our baby now."

On the view screen, studded diamonds on a field of ink black lay before them. It was almost hard to believe that such a bizarre scene had taken place in that very spot only a week before. And hopefully they would be seeing it again soon.

Spock stood at his science station, the instruments on his console on and ready to take readings as soon as the torpedo was launched. On the opposite side of the bridge, Scotty stood at his own engineering console, instructing the loading team that was below them through the intercom. He would control the firing and detonation from the bridge.

Their torpedo had been constructed right on schedule. The antimatter had been removed from the ship's engines with the most precautions care and the detonator made by the mechanically gifted hands of their own chief engineer. They had then been placed in one of their own ship's torpedoes, modified for the event. And now it was being loaded into the launchers.

To one side of Kirk, Bugs Bunny stood watching the commotion around him. Every once in a while he bounced with impatient excitement. His suitcase sat nearby.

"Is it time yet?" he asked for the tenth time in the last few minutes.

"Not quite yet," Kirk answered for the tenth time. "We're getting close."

Bugs bounced again. "Ooo! What suspense! I love suspense but I can't wait!" A few more seconds went by. "Is it time yet? Is it? Huh? Huh?"

"Just a little longer." The rabbit's eagerness only put Kirk more on edge, making his own eager impatience grow. There was something about the cartoon's moods that was catching. He decided it might be best for all if the distracting presence were not on the bridge at the moment, but as usual he couldn't just bring himself to tell Bugs to get lost. Kirk swiveled his chair toward engineering station. "Mr. Scott, do you have an estimate on the time frame the doorway will be open?"

"I can't rightly say. Judging from last time it may not stay long," Scotty answered without looking away from the panel of blinking lights and buttons. "So we'd better be prepared to move fast just in case."

"Right." Kirk rotated his chair slightly to face Bugs. "Why don't you wait in the transporter room? That way as soon as the doorway appears you'll be ready and we can beam you back right away."

Bugs straightened with a boing and overdid a military salute. "Aye, aye, Captain!" Grabbing his suitcase, he marched across the bridge with chest puffed out and disappeared inside the turbo lift.

With a light, almost relieved, sigh, Kirk returned his attention to the screen. Some of the anxiousness had dissipated, but he began to wonder if it was just his own eagerness he was feeling. He continued to display his usual composed barring though, sitting straight with shoulders squared. His eyes were brighter than they had been in days.

With his usual acute perception that only came from years of experience, McCoy noticed. He came down from where he had been watching to lean on the chair's armrest. "I think you're nearly as excited as that fur ball."

"Let's just say I'm expecting a good outcome."

"Head feeling better?"

"Much," Kirk whispered back emphatically. "By the way, your alternate prescription worked wonders."

"Good. If you start feeling symptoms of a relapse take it again."

"Whatever you say, doctor. I think it'll do till we can fill your first prescription."

McCoy leaned closer. "Any chance of that happening very soon?"

Kirk tightened his lips. "Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that."

"That doesn't answer anything."

"There's doubts involved."

"I didn't want that kind of answer."

A twitch tugged at the corner of Kirk's mouth. "I thought you were always 'spose to tell your doctor the truth?"

"And the only time you do it had to be a time like this," McCoy muttered.

"Think optimistic."

"How can I do that if you tell me the truth?"

Kirk put a hand near his mouth and spoke softly behind it. "Actually, Bones, I think this has extremely high chances of working. It can't miss and there's nothing to worry about. It'll be absolutely perfect."

"Don't overdo it." McCoy tried to preserve his light scowl, but the grin slipped through. Kirk chuckled with him.

Neither of them noticed Spock making his way toward them till he was suddenly beside them. "Is there something the matter, gentlemen?" he asked curiously as he had been observing their quiet discussion.

"No, Spock. Nothing wrong," Kirk answered casually, the remnants of a smirk still on his lips. McCoy quietly sauntered away to lean against the railing. "Why?"

"You seemed quite … involved in a quiet conversation."

"Something wrong with quiet conversations?"

Spock opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a second or two, as though he were trying to figure out how to phrase himself. "They tend to have a … shall we say … a disconcerting quality about them that tends to have an unsettling effect on one's curiosity."

Kirk stroked his chin with a finger. "Huh. That does sound rather disturbing."

"Indeed, Captain."

"Well," Kirk said with finality as he sat back. "I'll make sure from now on that I don't have any quiet conversations any more unless in privet. Will that be satisfactory, Mr. Spock?"

"I was simply trying to answer your question in a factual manner. I did not mean to cause offence to you, if this is what I have done."

"And you haven't. You brought up a very good point and I thank you for it."

Spock tilted his head slightly. "You are welcome, Captain." He turned and went back to his station.

Kirk gave McCoy a sideways glance and winked. McCoy grinned back.

Scotty turned from the console. "All ready, Cap'tin. Torpedo loaded into the tubes and ready to go."

"Good." Kirk looked to Sulu. "Distance to area of impact."

Sulu glanced at his console. "Holding at 2,000 meters, Captain."

Well within safety range. "Good. Mr. Chekov you may fire when ready."

"Aye, Keptin. Ready to fire." Chekov's deft fingers played across the board. A red light winked on. The torpedo was armed. Another toggle blinked orange. "Firing." The toggle snapped.

There was a faint high-pitched whine and a small dot of glowing orange appeared on the screen, streaking away. As soon as it had fired, a red button had flickered on. The navigator's finger now hovered over it.

Scotty intently watched the flicker of orange glow on the screen, as did the rest of the crew. "Fire on my mark, Mr. Chekov. Give me the distance, Mr. Spock."

Spock leaned over the visual scanner, a soft blue hue illuminating across his dark eyes. "1,500 meters," the low, even voice came. "1,200 meters … 1,000 … 900 … 700 …"

All watched the torpedo streak away, growing smaller and smaller until it reminded Kirk of a little firefly against an earth night sky. Spock's low tone was the only noise to be heard in the gathering excitement, joined only by the soft purring of the scanner.

The readings slowly came faster. "100 … 90 … 70. 50. 30. 20."

The leather squeaked as Kirk sat forward, apprehension rising. Now for the moment of truth.

"10. 5."

"Now!" Scotty nearly shouted.

Chekov's finger jabbed the red button. By the time human reflexes could respond and tell the instruments what to do and the microsecond it would take for the command to reach its destination, the torpedo would be directly on its mark. Highly responsive and trained, it all happened in less than a second. A blinding flash of unearthly white light filled the screen. All cringed as it stung at their eyes. A second later the faint vibration could be felt from the shock wave that struck the hull. Then it ceased and the flash diminished, leaving an iridescent orange and yellow glow swirling in its wake. Slowly it began to fade until the darkness of space swallowed it up.

Eternal seconds ticked by on the chronometer. Outside, the stars continued to twinkle at them, undisturbed. Faces and shoulders slowly drooped as they stared dismally at the solid emptiness of space.

"It ... it didn't work," Chekov muttered.

Kirk looked intently at Spock, the blue glow still across his green tinged face. "Spock?" he asked hopefully. Maybe it just took a little time.

"All readings of explosion were as anticipated, Captain," the first officer replied, voice unchanged. "But I read no other disturbances. No indication of the dimensional shift or the reappearance of our door." He straightened as he came to the railing, somehow he didn't look surprised. "There is nothing."

Kirk's spine hit the chair's leather back with a soft thump. It then squeaked mournfully as his shoulders went limp with a discouraged sigh.

Sulu also exhaled. It seemed to be going around the bridge in a mournful wave. "Well, we tried."

"A hair-brained scheme in the first place," McCoy muttered, glowering at the empty screen.

Leaving the upper level, Scotty swiftly strode up to the command chair, his face filled with disbelief. "Cap'tin, I j'st don't see how this could be! We had everything carefully figured out and according to our readings everything went exactly the same. It should'a worked!"

"What went wrong, Spock?" Kirk asked.

The Vulcan studied the screen with intent absorption. "I cannot specifically say. But it may be that we did not count in all the variables."

Scotty spread his arms. "What other variables? We had nearly everything in that torpedo exactly the same as the T-X4! Anything that was off was only by less than the merest fraction!"

"The elements in the T-X4 were a large factor in opening the dimension," Spock explicated. "But we have overlooked the cosmic storm. The ionized gases, the electromagnetic radiation, along with whatever could have also been caught within the cloud could have been important ingredients in creating the opening when the torpedo detonated."

Scotty nodded slowly, eyes deep in thought. "Aye. I didn'a think ah' that. I was goin' by the assumption that it was the torpedo alone that did it."

"An error on both our parts," Spock shared the blame.

"But again," Kirk added in, trying to grasp at any possibility that it wasn't true, "that's only a theory. If it was the torpedo, then we might be able to try it again. Maybe we could add some of the missing components from the storm."

Spock didn't look reassuring as he moved down to the lower level. "True, Captain. But even if it was the torpedo alone or its combination with the storm that created the opening in the first place, the fact that it is a cartoon dimension may be explanation enough for our failure."

"What do you mean?"

Spock's hands clasped behind his back, as they usually did when he was about to give his explanations. "Our own dimension, our universe, is made up of specific rules and set facts. Cartoons have no such restrictions. There is only the fact of existence, but no binding rules. Anything can happen – whether realistic or not. So the explanation may just be as simple as that the dimension also follows the same nature and has a certain unstable reliability to it. What worked once; may not work the same the second time."

Kirk felt the words sink down to the pit of his stomach and settle there like a rock. "You mean, it's a random hit and miss of chances?"

"Correct, Captain. We could keep firing anything we had at this point for weeks, with every attempt being precisely the same as the first encounter with the storm, without opening it up. Or one could suddenly happen tore act right away. There is no telling; therefore, there is no certain answer."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I figured you had already gone through enough, Captain."

Kirk choked back the moan he so desperately wanted to wail. He sank into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with eyes shut.

"Bones," he mumbled.

McCoy moved close.

"I think I'm about to have a relapse."

An hour later, Kirk dragged himself into his own quarters. As soon as the doors shut behind him, his shoulders sagged with an overly noisy sigh of relief. Now alone, he allowed himself the pleasure. He had literally spent the entire hour trying to console their despondently distraught guest. After having to tell Bugs the news that they had no idea how to get him back, Kirk had literally had to carry him from the transporter room as Bugs wailed and sobbed in the usual cartoonish drama into a more then slightly embarrassed captain's shoulder. And even after getting him to his quarters, Bugs had mournfully continued on, sprawled out across the bed with tears flying while depicting sorrowful scenes of how his life would now be; "homelessly, friendlessly begging pennies in streets" as one way he put it. Kirk didn't know why he could have just left. He couldn't decide if he actually felt bad for him or it was guilt to just walk out. But as before, he ended up getting drawn into the drama, trying to comfort the rabbit. It had taken a while, but he had finally left with Bugs only sitting sadly on the bed with paws cupped under the fluffy cheeks and ears drooped.

It had been a long hour and that dazed feeling was beginning to return. Kirk debated a moment whether to go up to Sickbay or not and finally decided he would but not at that moment. First he would recompose himself before walking back out into those corridors. The discrete stares he had received coming here told him just how frazzled he must appear, not to mention the ones during the trip from the transporter. He could still feel the patch of damp material on his uniform where Bugs had cried into it.

What he needed was something to relax himself. Something hot. He went to a back wall and punched in a code on his own privet servitor. The servitor door opened and a standard issue cup appeared inside. He took it and looked at the steaming stuff inside that was laughingly called coffee. It had been debated whether it was someone's idea of a joke, whoever had created synthesized coffee. Kirk took a sip and swallowed, wincing as he paid the price for forgetting let it cool. It was hot; that was about its best quality. With his cup, Kirk scuffed to his desk and slowly lowered himself into the chair. He sat there staring into the brown stuff, trying not to see the cartoon face that had been in front of him nearly day in and day out. The still slightly damp spot on his shirt stuck cold against his skin as the cool recirculated air dried it. He was just wondering how cartoon tears could actually be wet when the high whistle sounded.

"Come." Kirk figured it would be Spock with a report. Before leaving the bridge, he had told the first officer to continue watching for a while to make sure nothing was going to happen in desperate hopes that the effects of the blast might just be delayed. Like Spock had said: it was a cartoon dimension and anything could happen. But it seemed he was going to have to face the bad news now.

The doors opened and the blue of a jersey uniform appeared in the corner of his eye. He looked up, but not to see the inexpression face of dark eyes and pointed ears and brows. Instead a square jaw, brown hair, and blue eyes met his gaze. Kirk sat back with a sigh. "Well, well. Now what could possibly bring you down here?"

"When you're a doctor, your regular patients get predictable."

"And you predicted I was in need of assistance and decided to make a house call."

"Let's just call it a friendly visit to make it sound unofficial." McCoy came up.

Kirk could feel himself being scrutinized even though the doctor wasn't really trying to analyze him. It had simply become second nature. Kirk noticed a small tray his friend held, a piece of green cloth covering whatever was on it, making the cloth look slightly like a small peaked mountain. McCoy glanced into the steaming cup.

"Coffee? You're going to need something stronger than that."

Kirk nodded grimly. "About five aspirins, three doses of stimulant, and a month's leave."

"Well, I've given you enough painkillers and stimulants this last week and I can't do anything about the leave. But, I assure you I never come empty handed." McCoy removed the cloth, revealing two glasses of blue liquid on the tray.

A small smile came to Kirk's mouth. "Time for another of your alternate prescription?"

"I think we could both use a dose." McCoy set one glass in front of the captain, taking the other and settling himself in the other chair. For a moment they drank in silence. McCoy looked to the captain, this time not with second nature. "You look tired."

"Good guess." Kirk leaned an elbow on the desktop, rubbing his face wearily. "I don't know, but after trying to keep up with that rabbit for an entire week plus fix everything else…" He uttered a deep sigh. "All I'd really like right now, is just a nice little quiet breakdown for about five minutes."

"If we don't get rid of this rabbit soon let me know when you're going to have it."

"Why? Afraid you'll have to revive me?"

"No. I'll join you."

"That's your professional help?"

"Best I can do under these circumstances."

"Lousy."

"Not arguing that. But if things keep going like they have been the last week, I'm putting in for a transfer."

"And leave all this?"

"If that rabbit is a part of it, yes."

Kirk breathed a single laugh. "I'm almost tempted to go with you. When I think that he may be stuck with that cartoon–"

"Don't say it," McCoy said speedily.

"It's not that he's really…" Kirk's face puckered as he searched for the correct word, "Bad," he finished then thought it wasn't right, so he changed it. "Difficult. He's just…"

"A menace," McCoy finished with his own version.

"That's not quite what I was going to say."

"No? He's constantly getting underfoot, he always seems to be everywhere at once, you can't catch up to him, he's constantly talking or touching things, and he has an uncanny knack for making just about any situation difficult to handle."

"He doesn't really mean any harm, Bones. That's just the way cartoons are. You just have to try and understand their way of thinking and–" Kirk's face went shocked. "Did that just come from my mouth?" A hand slapped to his forehead. "I'm defending a cartoon! This is getting crazier by the minute. Or I'm going crazy."

"Now you have a small taste of what I went through when a certain animated fur ball was sent to my sickbay." The blue eyes stared hard over the rim of the glass as the doctor took a drink.

For one brief moment, Kirk almost felt a bit guilty. Almost. Not wanting to leave the doctor with the upper hand, a light smile played across Kirk's lips. "Then again he is quite interesting. Almost fun when he's in the right spot at the right time."

"I have yet to see them."

"You just focus too much on the negative."

"Have you found them?"

A moment of silence then a relenting sigh. "Not … recently."

McCoy raised his glass. "There you have it."

Kirk surrendered the round as he saluted back. A second later the door whistle sounded. Kirk signaled it to open and this time pointed ears and brows did enter. Spock acknowledged the doctor's presence with only a casual glance before turning his attention to the captain. "I must report that there has still been no dimensional fluctuations or disturbances of any kind, Captain."

Kirk nodded. He had already been expecting that answer. "I didn't think there would be, but…" He spread his hands in a but-I-thought-we'd-check-anyway gesture, before letting them drop to the desktop.

Spock's hands went behind his back. "I would like to apologize for our failure today and my failure to present all facts."

Kirk stood to his feet with a limp wave of his hand. "It's not your fault, Spock. We simply tried something that didn't work. Nothing that hasn't happened before. And you were only trying to help me." Leaving the nearly emptied glass on the desk, he slowly made his way near where Spock stood. McCoy made no effort to move from his spot and continued to sip his drink, perfectly comfortable.

"This may be true, Captain," Spock answered. "But I realize it was a critical error on my part. I was trying to spare you of your human emotions and succeeded in only making them come on all the stronger."

"And that's bad, right?" McCoy tossed out sardonically. "You can't only not have any emotions but you can't induce any either."

Spock didn't answer the doctor directly as he continued to address the captain. "As part of my role as first officer aboard this ship, it is my duty to informed you of all variable possible. I failed in this responsibility and in doing so may have impeded your ability to command this ship with your usual efficiency."

Kirk's mouth twisted into a weakly, tired grin. "I thank you for the compliment. But there's no need to beat yourself up. You thought you were doing me a favor. Besides, everyone makes mistakes."

"It's only human," McCoy added cheekily.

Spock ignored the remark.

"But as to what we're to do now," Kirk spread his hands in a half effort shrug, "I don't know." He noticed the slight shift in the Vulcan's face. He knew that look. "What is it, Spock? Something?"

The dark eyes mirrored the deep analytical thoughts going on behind them. "While I was watching our instruments as you ordered, I reviewed some of the things that our guest has at randomly told us. One item in specific has come to mind that I merely dismissed at the time as an oddity of their world. He had stated that on any occasion a new individual joins them, there is always a bright light that appears from above, then vanishes directly after."

"A light? Rather odd, but what's the significance?"

"If you recall, Captain, when the 'weak spot' in the dimension first appeared, we saw it in the form of a cartoon doorway that opened."

Mentally, Kirk watched it again. "Yes," he mused. Then louder, "Yes, and when it opened, there was a bright whitish light that came from inside. I remember."

"Excuse me, but just how is light imitating from inside cartoon dimension doors going to help us?" McCoy asked with heavy skepticism.

"Possibly everything," Spock replied.

McCoy held up his glass. "You're the science officer."

"A fact I find highly enlightening, Doctor." Spock turned away from McCoy's frown. "Captain, putting all known facts together, it is my belief that whenever a new cartoon is added to the dimension, the door opens."

Kirk grinned. "Kinda like putting a 'welcome to the dimension club' mat out." Even with the witticism, his face was thoughtful. "We've seen firsthand how things don't have to work by the rules there. What's crazy to us is normal for them, so there's every chance it's probably true." He looked to Spock, now puzzled. "But I still don't see how this is going to help us any."

Spock took in a breath before answering. "I have given the matter much thought, Captain, and I believe I have come up with one last possible alternative. One which may be our last hope of getting our guest back where he belongs. While there is a high amount of uncertainty that it could work, I have calculated that it does have a chance of success."

"Great, Spock! Anything's better than what we've got right now."

"Yes, Sir, but..."

"Yes, Spock?"

"I fear that you may think it too … irrational."

McCoy choked on his drink.

Kirk's brows flew up. "Me? Think you irrational?!"

"It is a bit ... farfetched, as you might say."

"Spock," Kirk said lowly. "Right now, I'm willing to listen to anything." He squared his shoulders and stood a little taller. "Alright, Spock. I'm ready. What's your idea?"

"We must create a new cartoon character."

There was a dull thump as Kirk's limp back smacked the wall. McCoy's glass clattered on the floor. Spock's brow swept up, wondering if he had stated it too bluntly.

All bridge personnel and ship's officers were gathered near one side of the helm in an excited huddle. Bugs Bunny was there as well, his packed suitcase nearby. Yeoman Rand sat in a seat that had been set on the lower command deck. A small stand, resembling an old fashioned music stand, was in front of her with a special drawing tablet on it. In her hand was a stylus.

Kirk stood beside her and called for quiet. He took a breath as he began. "You have all been briefed on what we may have discovered. I know this may seem a little crazy to some of you–"

"A little?" Chekov muttered. Sulu grinned.

"–but it's the only chance we seem to have. Yeoman Rand, being an artist, will draw the creation for us."

"Hurray!" Bugs cheered and clapped. "Have at it, Beautiful!" He whistled.

Rose on her cheeks, Janice smiled at him. "Thank you very much." She cleared her throat awkwardly under the amused looks and brought the stylus up to the blank white screen. "Well, first I need to know what kind of character I should make. Do you want it to be a person? An animal? Alien?"

Ideas were run by and Janice started a few sketches, but nothing seemed quite right and each was deleted. The idea of a tribble was thrown around but finally disregarded. This continued on for nearly ten minutes.

"Well, this is certainly going well," McCoy joked blandly from where he leaned against the rail with arms folded. "Maybe we should've just had a drawing contest."

"I must say I've a lot more respect for creators now," Chekov said.

Uhura spoke up. "I've been thinking. Why don't we try to make it something that will remind us why we're making him?"

"Who wants to remember that?" McCoy muttered quietly.

Kirk nodded. "I like it. Why don't we make it a rabbit? In honor of our friend here." There was a ripple of agreement.

Fluffy white cheeks blushed pink, Bugs looked bashfully away with a flip of his hand. "Awwww, shucks. You're too kind."

Kirk pretended to rethink. "Well, if you feel that way about it, we can think always keep trying to think of something else."

Bugs jumped up on the railing, balancing himself there as he leaned on the captain's shoulder. "But I don't object."

"Alright," Kirk chuckled. "Then a rabbit it is."

Janice nodded with finality. She began to sketch again.

Bugs laid his head on Kirk's shoulder, ears wrapping around the captain's neck. "Gee, you really are a swell guy, Doc." Kirk tried to smile courteously as he peeled off the unwanted muffler.

Spock's brow raised. "He has already told you on multiple occasions that he was the captain."

Bugs stood straight, balancing happily on the railing. "Yeah, I heard him. I got 20-20 hearing you know," he said proudly.

"Yet several times you have called him "doc"."

"Ain't'cha ever heard of a catchphrase before," Bugs answered nonchalantly. "People come to expect it. Can't let me public down, ya' know."

Spock's brows quirked and he became silent as he watched from the upper level. They commented on how the rabbit should look and gave ideas. Some were taken and others discarded. All watched with admiration as the character slowly took form, evolving before their eyes. Half an hour later Janice had a much more refined sketch before her.

She sat back to let the others see better. "What do you think?"

In a way, it resembled Bugs slightly. This rabbit though wore no gloves and the cheeks and face were slightly different but he still stood upright with a similar happy expression. Bugs was elated.

Leaning in, McCoy peeking over Janice's shoulder. "Shouldn't he … well … have something on?"

Janice nodded as the stylus hovered again. "Okay. What do you want it to wear?"

There was a moment of hemming and hawing, but nothing suggested seemed to fit.

Scotty leaned his hands on the railing. "Since we're the ones makin' the little beasty up, why don't we make him kinda' reflect us?"

"A space bunny," Uhura grinned.

"Maybe a space suit?" Chekov suggested.

"An engineer jumpsuit?" Scotty said eagerly. Kirk suppressed a smirk.

Sulu hooked an arm over the back of his chair. "Well, if he's 'spose to reflect us, I think he should have a uniform on."

Bugs got right up to Kirk's ear. "Can it be one of these snappy une'forms that you all wear?" He tugged at the sleeve of the shirt he still wore. He hadn't taken it off for a second since Kirk gave it to him.

Kirk grinned. He looked to Janice who was waiting. "Make that a Starfleet uniform."

"Coming up." Janice began working again, first sketching in the uniform's front, collar, sleeves, then a pair of trousers over the legs, fitting it all over the rabbit's crude form. It was agreed that it would look too strange to put boots on the long awkward feet, so they were left bare. That finished the sketch.

With quick strokes the stylus again skated across the tablet screen, this time in more sure movements as smooth dark black lines appearing over the thin rough ones beneath. The more minutes that ticked by, the more it came together, shapes and outlines suddenly coming alive. More blocking and sharpening, deleting old outline layers. Then when it had body, colors came into play. A rich tan was agreed upon as the rabbit's base color with a light cream to accent the fluffy cheeks and feet. The pants were the usual deep blackish-blue.

Janice was then ready to set the base color for the uniform shirt. The stylus hovered over the color palate in the screen's corner. "What division?" she asked.

"Command," Uhura said without hesitation. All agreed.

Bugs swung his feet, now sitting on the railing. "Wow! That's what I call fast promotion."

Janice picked a rich gold from the screen's palate. When finished, the final details and touches were added. Her hand was confident as it chose different shading colors, even making her own when needed. Light blending and shadowing, colors layered on; breathing the true spark of life into flat outlines. Bringing depth and feeling; bringing the character to life.

With a last stroke, Janice sat back and observed the picture. She looked up smiling, asking for opinions.

Uhura touched a hand to her chest, she didn't know why she wanted to laugh as she smiled. "Oh, isn't he the cutest thing!"

Scotty grinned. "Aye. Ya' did ah' good job, Yeoman."

Many similar compliments were given.

Bugs admired the drawing. "Gee, you're a regular Miss. Lee Nerdo Vinche." McCoy rolled his eyes.

Janice snickered. She understood what he meant though. "Why, thank you."

"Very, very good, Yeoman," Kirk praised the work, then addressed the science station. "Mr. Spock?"

Spock was bent over the visual scanner, the blue glow illuminating the upper half of his face. "Scanning, Captain."

All eyes turned to the screen. Several agonizing seconds ticked by slowly. The points of light continued to twinkle merrily in their black bed.

Chekov shrugged confusedly. "Where is it?"

"I don't see anything," Janice said, peering closely at the screen.

"Spock," Kirk said slowly, "isn't there anything happening out there?"

The first officer changed a few settings, punched a few buttons, turned a dial – still nothing. His voice had a low, puzzled tone to it. "My scanners are negative. No shift or change of any kind detected." He straightened, pointed brows puckered. "Curious," he muttered, though only he could hear it.

The same sinking feeling Kirk had had before began to return. But he was going to make absolutely sure before he admitted defeat. "Mr. Sulu, are we still holding position? Maybe we drifted from the spot somehow."

Sulu's eyes flickered over his console. "No, Sir. We're at the exact same co-ordinance we were when we first saw it. We haven't moved an inch."

"But nothing's happening," Uhura said perplexed.

Scotty sighed heavily. "Well, it was ah' chance. Ah' crazy chance, but at least we tried anyway."

The railing pressed into Kirk's spine as he leaned heavily against it. He felt bad, though he didn't know whether it was for himself or Bugs. He decided it was both. Slowly, he craned his head around so he could just see the Vulcan in the corner of his eye. "What's wrong, Mr. Spock? Why didn't anything happen? What'd we do wrong?"

Spock didn't reply as he stared at the peaceful screen, brow lined in a very near frown.

"Oh well," Bugs said sadly as slipped from his perch on the railing. "You tried, fellas (sniff). That's all (sniff sniff) I could've asked (sob)." He plopped down on the second level step, fluffy cheeks cupped in paws, long ears dropped down his back. Overly large clear tears rolled down from big sad black eyes. Kindly, Uhura crouched down beside him and put a hand comfortingly on Bug's shoulder.

Not really knowing what to say to a cartoon you can't return home, Kirk reached down and patted the rabbits head. Warmth and a type of softness touched his hand, but not fur. He almost expected his hand to pass right through as though trying to touch a holographic image. Bugs sniffed again.

A soft, barely audible breathing caught Kirk's attention and he suddenly noticed that Spock was beside him. With his catlike style, his approach from the upper deck to the lower had been soundless. Spock stood there as he studied the drawing carefully. Kirk watched him a moment. "Becoming an art critic, Mr. Spock?" he joked flatly.

Spock paid no mind to it. "There's one thing missing," he suddenly said. All eyes turned to the first officer.

Kirk frowned, puzzled. "Missing?"

Spock looked up at the curious faces. "A cartoon has many of the same principles as any of us possess. They have a personality, a body, unique features. But they also have one other vital element that every one of us must have."

"What's that, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"A name, Captain. As all of us must have for individual identification; it must have a name."

Scotty tilted his head. "Now why didn't we think ah' that?"

Janice picked up her stylus again. "Okay. Well first of all; is a girl or a boy? That will have a large baring on the decision."

At that, half said "girl" and the other half said "boy".

McCoy crossed his arms. "Well that was a lot of help."

Uhura looked over Janice's shoulder. "It looks like a boy bunny to me."

"Sounds good," Scotty put in, "we've been calling it "he" all this time anyway."

Kirk looked to the yeoman. "Janice drew it. I think she should make the final decide."

"I think I go with Uhura," Janice said only after a moment's thought.

Kirk gave an approving nod. "Okay. That's a start. Now we need to think of a fitting name for it … I mean him. Any ideas?"

At that, names began shooting out from every direction.

"How 'bout Galaxy?"

"Cosmos."

"Star Rabbit."

"Milky Way."

"Spacy the Bunny."

"Space Hopper."

"Miroslav."

"Miroslav?" McCoy's brow wrinkled at the last. "A Russian space rabbit?"

Chekov straightened. "Of course. After all, that's where rabbits originated from."

McCoy almost rolled his eyes. "Oh. Now why couldn't I have figured that out?"

As names continued to be suggested, Kirk stared at the drawing. A name, a good name, he thought. For some reason, Scotty's words came to mind: "Since we're the ones makin' the little beasty up, why don't we make him kinda' reflect us?" That would apply to this too. And what was it they did? They explored, roamed the galaxy, sought out new places. Their mission was to trek among the stars…

A pinpoint of light came to his eyes. It slowly spread to a smile on his face. "That's it." It was no more than a whisper, but every ear had heard it.

"What is it?" all asked.

Kirk just smiled. Without a word took the stylus from Janice's hand. He leaned over the desk and put the tip to the screen. Everyone crowded round and watched as the stylus moved in quick strokes. A few breath-holding seconds later Kirk returned the stylus and straightened. Neatly printed just underneath the rabbit was the words:

STAR TREKKER

Uhura straightened, face glowing with approval. "It's perfect, Captain."

Janice smiled. "And that gives me an idea."

Again the stylus danced over the screen. A second later it pulled back. Beside the name in quotations was:

"TREKKIE"

"For short," she explained.

Kirk's eyes flickered over the new creation once more. Then a confirming nod and a satisfied smile. "It's perfect." He straightened as he announced, "As captain of the Enterprise, I officially name this cartoon creation: Star Trekker."

The bridge chorused with applause.

Chekov's excited voice brought everyone's attention to the screen. "Keptin! Look!"

All eyes went wide with excitement.

"There it is!" Uhura gasped as she pointed.

A chorus of cheers went up from the bridge as the cartoonish door appeared in the field of stars. Bugs bounded into the air with arms outstretched in a victory jump. Kirk took a breath, one he didn't realize he needed so badly. Breath hadn't seemed to come so easily or freely the last week.

Slowly, the door began to open from its frame and the over brightened scenery could be seen inside once more. No time to waste though or they would have to start all over again, and that Kirk did not want to do. He turned to the dancing rabbit.

"It'll only be open for a short time. Mr. Scott, you'd you escort our friend to the transporter."

Scotty gave a smiling nod. "Would be my pleasure, Sir."

Bugs leapt straight into the air. "YYAAHHOOOO! I'm goin' home!" In a gray flash he'd grabbed his suitcase and was back at the captain's side.

"When you get there, be sure to look up our little friend," Kirk said with a grin as he shook the rabbit's paw.

"I sure will!" Bugs promised. Suddenly, in one bounce, he was wrapped around the captain's torso. Kirk grunted at the sudden hug attack and nearly fell into the railing. "Thanks a million for helpin' me, Doc! I'll never forget cha' for this!"

"Don't mention it," Kirk wheezed.

Then, to the captain's mortification, Bugs slapped a huge noisy kiss on Kirk's face. There was a loud "whoopee!", a whooshing streak of gray, and the rabbit was across the bridge and in the turbo lift were Scotty waited. He waved a hand over his head.

"So long everyone! See ya' on television! Adios! Arrivederci! Au revoir! Farewell!" Bugs called as the doors closed over him and the crew gave last second goodbyes.

McCoy looked at Kirk. He amusedly watched as the captain continued to wipe his face over and over with his hands and sleeves. He opened his mouth.

"Don't … say … anything," Kirk growled with a dark glare.

With a raise of his brow, McCoy closed his mouth, but there was no hiding the boundless delight he was enjoying at the moment. Silently and self-consciously, Kirk moved up to his chair and sat down. Janice gathered up her stylus and tablet, folded up her stand, and moved up next to the communication's station to stand by Uhura. Together they watched the strange scene before them once more, and probably for the last time. A moment later, the ship com buzzed on Uhura's console. She answered and swiveled in her chair.

"Mr. Scott calling from the transporter room, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Kirk punched a button on his armchair panel. "Yes, Mr. Scott?"

The Scotsman sounded rather pleased. "I just thought I'd let you know I just beamed the little beasty back home safe and sound, Cap'tin. Everything went fine. No trouble at'tall."

A satisfied grin came to Kirk's lips. "Good work, Scotty."

"Not a second too soon. There it goes," Sulu's announced.

All watched as the slowly the door closed into its frame. Then, like a dissipating vapor, it began to fade into the void of black and stars. Flat colors becoming thinner and thinner until only the stars remained.

"Scanners read normal, Captain," Spock spoke up from his station, having gone back up when the spectacle had reoccurred. "The dimensional shift has closed. Our friend is safely home."

Uhura gave a small sigh. "I guess that's the last we'll see of him."

Chekov grinned over at Sulu. "At least we did do what we promised. We got him back before that 'contract' or whatever it was of his expired."

"And," Sulu added, "with a whole day to spare."

"He was awfully cute," Janice added, a touch of sadness in her eyes. Then a tinge of pink colored her cheeks. "And he could say the sweetest things. I do hope they'll like our new little space friend over there."

McCoy ambled up beside Kirk to lean on the chair's armrest. "If he's anything like our new furry friend, those two should get along just fine."

"I'm going to kinda miss him," Uhura said.

"Yes, we all will," Kirk mumbled without feeling. He took a breath and said louder, "But it's time we get underway." Kirk almost punched up the transporter room comm, but changed his mind. Instead, he pushed the engineering section. "Engineering. Scotty, you there?"

As he expected, the Scottish lilt answered. "Right here where I should be, Cap'tin. I didn't realized how much I missed these lovelies down here 'til now. It's like comin' home to yer family."

Kirk chuckled as snickers sounded around him. "Glad to hear it, Scotty. Now you can work full time on getting those engines into top shape."

A long breath of relief came from the other end. "Oh, I thought this day'd never come! It'll be my greatest pleasure, Cap'tin."

"Good. And now, if you will kindly persuade your 'family' to give us some speed, we'll be on our way."

"Aye, Sir. With the rest they've gotten, they'll gitya' where yer goin' in double time." The comm flicked off.

"Thank heavens for that," McCoy mumbled.

"So anxious to leave?" Kirk teased.

"You want to stay?"

Kirk stared for a moment, then turned. "Helmsman, factor 2; warp three."

Sulu's fingers worked the controls. "Aye, Sir."

"Uh, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, Sir?"

"Make that warp five." The order was quickly carried out by the grinning helmsman. The engines purred in a throbbing hum as warp drive kicked in.

Daring a quick peek, Kirk saw McCoy eyeing him amusedly. Kirk quickly shifted his eyes back to the view screen to watch the stars fly by in streaks of rainbow haze.

McCoy folded his arms with a playful smirk. "He must've really liked you, Jim. At least judging by the farewell sendoff he gave you."

Kirk stared hard at the screen. "I was almost going to tell him we'd miss him to be polite."

"Well don't feel too badly about it, Jim. After all, it's not every ship's captain who gets to say that he was affectionately hugged and kissed by a cartoon rabbit."

Slowly, Kirk's head turned to glare at the doctor. Behind them, he could hear the two girls stifling giggles. Inclining his head slightly, Kirk cleared his throat and sat straighter, trying not to notice as the laughter contagiously spread across the bridge like a virus. As the warmth began to creep over his cheeks, Kirk wondered if Spock were human if he would have joined them.

"So what did you say?"

Kirk leaned back in his desk chair as he looked at the doctor sitting with arms folded across from him. It was two days since having returned their cartoon friend home. Right after, Kirk had contacted Starfleet to give his report about the incident. After receiving it, they had been informed to proceed to the nearest starbase where technicians would be standing by to give the Enterprise a full checkup. They were now on route there and would be arriving in a few hours. Scotty had all necessary repairs nearly finished and rest would be taken care of at the starbase.

It was about the report that McCoy had asked about.

"I told no fibs if that's what you're asking," Kirk answered.

Spock spoke from where he stood nearby. "It would be interesting to know how you explained our incident without Starfleet being prompted to conduct a psychoanalyses on the chief members aboard this ship."

"Could that possibly be taken as a joke?" McCoy eyed the Vulcan curiously.

"Hardly, Doctor. Because I believe they would have done just that."

"And that's no fib," Kirk added.

"Then what'd you tell 'em?" McCoy prodded again.

"Simply that we found a weak spot in space dimension and accidently beamed an entity from it and recreated the circumstances of the first explosion to send him back."

Spock's brow furrowed. "Captain, that is not the process by which we finally succeeded in sending him back."

"I never said it was."

"So you did not tell the entire story."

Kirk laced his hands on the desktop. "I told the more important aspects of it. Who's interested in little details?" McCoy smirked.

Spock's head tilted slightly. "Then … we are not going to tell the entire truth."

"Did everything I put in the report actually happen?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did I change any of the happenings which I mentioned?"

"No, Sir."

"We did get our "entity" back home, didn't we?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then I didn't lie."

"And if they ever find out what parts you failed to mention; how would you explain it then?"

"An error. But I have no want to be discussing any of it in the near future or the distant future so I find that prospect quite unlikely. And I don't think we have to worry about any of the crew mentioning it either. Do you, doctor?"

"Not unless they like funny houses," McCoy said.

Kirk made a nod. "So there you are. My report can stand perfectly solid without the fine print details. I did not lie, and told the main points to avoid trouble later on. So therefore I am saving both Starfleet and ourselves a messy hassle and one very big headache. Also therefore saving both our reputations. When you stop to think what could be reflected upon us if others heard the entire story, it could not only affect our own efficiency but possibly also Starfleet's value to the entire galaxy. In reality I'm saving the Federation. Now that's a logical deduction of the situation, wouldn't you say?"

A slanted brow rose, showing the Vulcan was thinking. A moment went by before he nodded slowly. "Logical in a most … irregular manner of presenting it. If you don't mind me stating it that way."

"I don't."

"Then I do. And might I add that I find it surprisingly sound as well."

"Thank you."

"Oh, by the way, Jim," McCoy suddenly cut in with an inexplicable air. "I've been looking through my medical records lately."

Kirk saw the sneakiness in the doctor's face. That couldn't mean anything good. "So?"

"Well, I had been thinking of doing some rearranging of the physicals schedule. Just to make sure I got everything planned as smoothly as I can."

"Well, I'm so happy to hear you're adding your contribution to this ship's efficiency," Kirk said without meaning a single word of it. "So?"

"So I did."

Now he knew this couldn't be good. Kirk observed the doctor suspiciously but said nothing. He thought about when he had come in on the doctor the few days before and found him working on the Sickbay computer.

McCoy continued casually, "In fact the way I rearranged it, turns out you're due next for a physical. Now how about that?" He grinned with a fake chuckle.

"Yes. How about that," Kirk answered flat, still staring.

"So whenever you have some time you can just come right on up and pay me a visit. In fact I was thinking. After all that stress and craziness you just went through and all that pressure you were under, I think it would be a good idea if we even ran a few of the routine psychoanalysis tests as well. Just to, you know, make sure everything's still ticking away as it should. Mis'well get everything done and out of the way. Right?" All innocent, he smiled impishly at the captain who stared back in dismay.

The little monitors that were stuck to your temples and made your head feel as though it were swimming in zero gravity, the little colored lights that were flashed in front of your eyes, the special tranquilizing injections that made you feel uncomfortably fuzzy warm inside; it all made Kirk feel queasy with dread. "Bones, you know I hate that."

"I know."

Kirk glared at the doctor, eyes slightly narrowed. "You do realize, this means war."

McCoy made a slight face at the phrase.

Kirk's turn to grin this time. "Something I learned from a passenger of ours. I think you know him. About so high," he gestured with his hand to what would have been just about Bugs Bunny's height minus the ears, "whiskers, fluffy tail, smiles a lot–"

McCoy suddenly slapped the desktop. "I knew it! I was right! I said he was contaminating you! Next thing you know you'll be thinking you've got long ears and running around the ship chomping on carrots and saying those idiotic phrases like 'what's up, Doc' and all that other fur ball nonsense!"

The two stared at each other for a moment. Though desperately trying to control it, the corner of Kirk's mouth flickered upward. It was enough to crack the doctor's stiff poise and they broke out into a friendly laughter.

From where he quietly observed from the sidelines, the Vulcan science officer's black brow swept up. Retaliation. Just as he had predicted. He didn't know why the captain should be so surprised. Spock knew Kirk was expecting it. Maybe it was just the manner of the retaliation that was surprising and not the action itself. But now they were laughing about it. "Totally illogical" was the only description that came to the analytical mind.

Just then the door buzzed. The two men quickly composed themselves.

"Come," Kirk said and Janice came into the room.

She looked from one to the other and could tell they had been discussing something amusing. The only exception was Spock's face which was its usual stolid self. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Captain."

Kirk shook his head, side-glancing at the doctor. "Not at all, Yeoman. What can I do for you?"

Janice came up, eyes and mouth smiling. "I have something for you."

"For me?"

She held out two transparent tablet sheets; like paper but transparent except for what is printed into it and also electronic to make the picture cinematographic.

"Speakin' of the devil," McCoy muttered when he saw.

Kirk gave a crooked grin as he took them. His eyes flickered over the well-drawn pictures on the transparent surfaces. On one was printed their own cartoon rabbit. On the other was a new drawing of non-other than Bugs Bunny himself.

"I made them after our bunny friend left," Janice explained.

"Why thank you, Yeoman. Just what I always wanted." Laying the one of Bugs on the desk, Kirk held the one of the tan rabbit in the Starfleet uniform. He tapped the glowing green play spot on the tablet. Like magic, the image seemed to come alive. The tan rabbit waved with a large grin at the watcher, seemed to walk to the right for a second before stopping, then doing a military like turn he saluted proudly. He did a few other small cartoonish actions before returning to his first position and the little show ended.

Kirk looked up at Janice, who stood watching expectantly, and smiled. "Very well done, Yeoman. Very impressive."

Janice blue eyes sparkled happily.

"But are you sure you don't want this one? After all you created him."

"We all created him, Captain. And I thought it only proper that you should have it, especially since you named him. Call it a memento of our experience. And, after drawing Trekkie, I thought it would be fun to make him a true cartoon by making a little cinematographic of him. I made the other one of Bugs Bunny because …" She giggle. "I guess just because I thought it would be fun to. Also this way we won't forget what he was like. And you can keep both. I made copies."

Kirk nodded. "I see. Well, again I thank you very much."

"You're welcome, Sir." With a last smile, Janice spun on her toes and walked out to continue with her daily duties.

Kirk laid the tablet of Trekkie down and picked up the one of Bugs Bunny, standing happily with fists on hips with that large toothed grin of his. He tapped play. Bugs suddenly came alive before his eyes once again as he also waved, did a little over exaggerated happy jump, spreading his arms with an openmouthed smile, and hopped in and out of the screen a few times while doing elaborate cartwheels and moves. He made a silly face and did a little dance before ending it with a hop, bowed a few times to the watcher, and returned to his original pose.

"Very well animated," A voice said beside him. Kirk looked up to see Spock had moved closer to also watch.

"And a very good likeness," Kirk added with a grin. "Very energetic."

McCoy gestured to the one on the desk. "I don't mind our little friend, I think he's actually kinda' cute, but that one," he pointed to the one in Kirk's hands of the gray rabbit, "I'd keep that one in the bottom drawer."

Kirk looked up amusedly. "Was it all really that bad?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Really, Jim. Should that even be a question?" Kirk just chuckled.

Spock crossed his arms. "I, for one, found the entire episode quite the fascinating experience. But I must say, I have no want to entertain such an … unusual guest as that again anytime soon."

"Here, here," McCoy cheered drably.

Kirk looked from one to the other. "You two make it sound like we had some kind of monster aboard."

"A miniature cyclone then," McCoy rephrased.

"I don't know if I'd call him that." Kirk thought back over the last week. He smiled to himself. "You know at the time it may have seemed like the worst week in the world, but when you really think about it, in reality it was actually… uh…" He paused as he observed the others.

McCoy sat staring hard. The captain looked to Spock. The Vulcan merely raised a slanted brow. The smile turned lopsided and Kirk let out a breath as he set the tablet of the smiling gray rabbit on the desk.

"Was actually a very, very long week," he finished, wondering which drawer he would put it in.

McCoy folded his arms, gazing in almost a glare at the tablet. "Well, I don't care what you think; but I've had enough cartoons to last me the rest of my life. I wouldn't care if I ever saw another cartoon again. Especially a rabbit!"

The End