Vaxtrek 5 - Part II
(When we last left our heroes, they collided with a candy wrapper and
were destroyed. We now join the happy and carefree crew of the USS MINKOWSKI
in Five Foward, 3 days after the VAXERPRISE was destroyed.)
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LT. SAM: "So, what would you guys care to drink?"
DR. FRASIER: "I have often been fond of the epicurean delights of the
Origami Sector."
DR. LILITH: "You forget, my little dust mite, your penchant for alcoholic
beverages is severely limited."
DR. FRASIER: "Surely you jest, my little etruscan shrew. My ancestors
have been reknowned for their ability to imbibe alcoholic
fare. Behold! Woody, Déme una cerveza! And make it cold!"
ENSIGN CLIFF: "Ah! Espańol. La lengua de amor. Did you know that in German
the word beer is a homophone of its English counterpart."
LT. CARLA: "Really, Cliff? Whatever could it be? Could it be BIER?!"
ENSIGN CLIFF: "Most indubitably my fair, Carla. The history of beer goes
back to the 13th century when the first germanic..."
LT. CARLA: "Shut up, Cliff."
(At that moment, LT. COMM. NORM walks in.)
LT. COMM. NORM: "Afternoon, everybody!"
OCCUPANTS OF FIVE FORWARD: "NOOOOORM!"
LT. WOODY: "Good morning Mr. Peterson? Can I draw you a beer?"
LT. COMM. NORM: "No. I know what they look like. Just pour me one."
(Shortly thereafter, LT. ARIEL glides gracefully into Five Forward, and
waves at LT. COMM. NORM, as she approaches the bar.)
LT. ARIEL: "Howdy NORM."
LT. COMM. NORM: "Greetings kind lady. Would you care to join us?"
LT. ARIEL: "Sure. I would LOVE to." 8)
LT. SAM, upon noticing the young red head sitting next to NORM, walks over and
asks NORM the infamous question.)
LT. SAM: "Why, Norman? Could THIS be Vera?!"
LT. COMM. NORM: "With a lot of expensive surgery, maybe." 8)
SHIP'S COMPUTER: "WARNING. A TEMPORAL DISTORTION HAS BEEN DETECTED OFF THE
STARBOARD BOW. ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS."
LT. SAM: "Well kids, we've gotta close shop."
LT. COMM. NORM: "You're kidding, right Sam?"
LT. SAM: "We Malones NEVER kid. Well, as long as no babes are involved." 8)
DR. FRASIER: "Thank you very much for the beer WOODY."
LT. WOODY: "Actually Dr. Frasier it was a Figgy Fizz."
DR. FRASIER: "JUDAS!"
LT. WOODY: "It wasn't my fault! Dr. Lilith put me up to it."
DR. FRASIER: "Et tu Mrs. Crane?"
DR. LILITH: "Yep. Random acts of perfidy are a hobby of mine." 8)
LT. CARLA: "Sam? I've got some garbage to dump. Do you think they'll mind
if I jettison it?"
LT. SAM: "Hey. In space, no one can hear you litter. Go for it."
(LT. CARLA then places Five bottles of Figgy Fizz into the jettison tube.)
ENSIGN CLIFF: "Hold up, Carla. I've got one more piece of trash for you."
LT. CARLA: "A candy wrapper, Cliff? Can't you just throw it away when you
return to your quarters?"
ENSIGN CLIFF: "I've been carrying it around for the past three days. I
thought it was time to part with it."
LT. CARLA: "Oh all right. Give it here."
(LT. CARLA then proceeds to jettison the garbage, candy wrapper and all,
into the tepid bowels of space. Suddenly, WOODY notices
something extraordinary outside.)
LT. WOODY: "Hey guys, look! It's another starship!"
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DR. FRASIER: "Hmmm...it appears to be a Maple Class Starship. Can anyone
make out the registry?"
LT. ARIEL: "I think it's the USS...VAX...something. I can't make out
all the letters."
LT. SAM: "Wow! Now that's strange."
LT. CARLA: "What's strange Sammy?"
LT. SAM: "It looks like someone is trying to Transport the ship."
DR. FRASIER: "That's impossible!"
LT. CLIFF: "Au contraire, mein Doctor. There's a plausible theory behind
self transportation. If there's enough energy, a ship could
be transported by its own transporter."
DR. FRASIER: "Oh really? And where, pray tell, did you obtain this wonderous
piece of scientific clap trap?"
LT. CLIFF: "I read it in Transporter Chief Digest."
DR. FRASIER: "OH PLEASE! Not even YOU could be THAT naive! Your theory
violates the most basic of physical tenets. Primarily,
CONSERVATION OF ENERGY!"
LT. CLIFF: "Oh? Hmmm...Nevermind." 8)
(At that point, as it has done several times before, the debris that
just a few moments ago was ejected from the USS MINKOWSKI,
collides with the USS VAXERPRISE.)
DR. FRASIER: "Great SCOTT! Something just hit the other ship!"
LT. CLIFF: "What do you think it was?"
LT. CARLA: "Let me give you a hint, Mr. Potato Head. YOUR candy wrapper
did it!"
LT. CLIFF: "Well YOU jettisoned it!"
LT. CARLA: "Hey! Jettison THIS!" 8)
(Suddenly, the VAXERPRISE explodes...again.)
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LT. COMM. NORM: "WOW! That was FANTASTIC! Woody! Pour me a beer!"
LT. WOODY: "Uh...right away Mr. Peterson."
(Meanwhile...somewhere else in time.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "Captain's Log. Stardate 46007.4...The VAXERPRISE is currently
en route to Starbase 133 to be decomissioned. However, to
arrive in time for the Annual Rutabaga Festival, we've decided
to take a short cut through the Typhon Expanse; a largely
unexplored region of the galaxy. It is my belief that we are
the first vessel to traverse this area."
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COMM. CONDOR: "Your turn, Mr. LTCOMDATA."
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Aye, sir."
(LTCOMDATA shakes the Scrabble-Bag vigorously and then removes 7 tiles.)
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Hmmm..."
LT. VENKMAN: "HURRY UP! HURRY UP! We don't have all...day." 8(
DR. DOC: "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"
LT. VENKMAN: "I have the strange feeling, that I've done this before." 8)
(Suddenly, LTCOMDATA places ALL 7 tiles on the board.)
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Voíla!"
LT. MISTERB: "HEY! That's not a real word!"
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Why certainly it is! ZINCKING...Z-I-N-C-K-I-N-G.
It is a process whereby an object is..."
LT. VENKMAN: "...treated or coated with zinc; a bluish white crystalline
metallic element with an atomic number of..."
DR. DOC: "WOW! How'd you know that VENKMAN?"
LT. VENKMAN: "I TOLD YOU, I think we've DONE this BEFORE!"
LT. MISTERB: "Uh...huh. This is all VERY interesting, and I'm sure they'll
make a mini-series out of it but could we PLEASE get on with
the game?"
DR. DOC: "I agree wholeheartedly. What's the score, Commander?"
COMM. CONDOR: "Well...the word itself is worth...10...15...18...24 points.
There's a double letter score for the Z, and a triple word
score. So in total he has..."
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "82 points for a total of 365, altogether."
LT. MISTERB: "Well GEE! What's the point?! I quit." 8(
DR. DOC: "Why, Lieutenant? The night is young!" 8)
NURSE STIMPY: "SICKBAY TO DR. DOC."
DR. DOC: "DOC here. What's wrong?"
NURSE STIMPY: "LT. COMM. SIROTTO needs you in sickbay, Doctor."
DR. DOC: "I'm on my way. DOC out." 8)
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(A wee bit later, we join DR. DOC in sickbay as she patches up
the sick and afflicted.)
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "I don't know what happened. I was realigning the
dilithium crystals, when all of a sudden I got the most
intense abdominal pain. I thought I was going to die.
Good thing LT. FLOUNDER was there to give me a TUMS.
It's a long way to the bathroom."
DR. DOC: "Hmmm...have you suffered from abdominal pain before?"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "I'm not sure. I don't think so."
DR. DOC: "According to this tricorder thingy, your histamine count is way too
low. Curious. I seem to remember giving this examination before.
Are you pregnant?"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "What do YOU think?!"
DR. DOC: "Uh...no?"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "That would be MY presumption."
DR. DOC: "Hmmm....I can't think of anything else it might...WAIT A SECOND!"
(DOC runs into her office, leaps over her desk, and plops into her plush
and overly comfy chair. She then accesses SIROTTO's medical
file on the computer. Her curly brown locks of hair, still frizzy from
a long dead perm, cascade seductively over the alabaster nape of
her neck. The harsh flourescent lights of her office, reflect warmly off
her silky smooth skin. Her eyes are like limpid pools of...)
LT. COMM. SIROTTO (Running after her): "What's wrong, DOC?"
DR. DOC: "Take a look at this!"
.---------------------------------------------------------------------.
| |
| MEDICAL FILE (Updated Stardate 45651.2) |
| |
| SIROTTO, LT. COMMANDER (Michael) |
| AGE: 20...something |
| SEX: Male |
| OCCUPATION: Chief Engineer (USS VAXERPRISE) |
| HOME PLANET: Earth |
| |
| MEDICAL HISTORY: |
| |
| STARDATE 43216.7....Splinter removed from 2nd digit, left hand. |
| " " 43672.0....Splinter removed from 4th digit, right hand. |
| " " 44200.9....Stomach pumped after eating a tainted yam. |
| " " 44201.3....Complaining of abdominal pain, stomach lining |
| found to be deteriorating rapidly. Recommend |
| artificial replacement. |
| " " 44202.8....Surgery to replace original stomach with |
| bionic facsimile. (Model #FJ3-7) |
| " " 45123.6....Splinter removed from 3rd digit, left foot. |
| " " 45421.1....Chicken bone found lodged in esophagus. |
| Removed without major complications. |
| " " 45651.2....Figgy Fizz hang over. 4 mg of M&M's |
| prescribed. |
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LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "Yeah. What about it?"
DR. DOC: "You never told me you had a bionic stomach!"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "I guess I forgot about it. I had the surgery
done when I was stationed on the USS BULKHEAD."
DR. DOC: "Hmmm...and you've never had problems like this before?"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "Not until today."
DR. DOC: "Stand still. I'm going to run a level #3 diagnostic on your
duodenal implants. There may be a problem with the interface."
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "Will it hurt?"
DR. DOC: "Heh...do chickens have feathers?" 8)
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "*gulp*" 8(
(Later that evening...we join CAPT. TREKKER in his Ready Room as he
tries desperately to eat a Chips Ahoy Chocolate Chip Cookie WITHOUT
eating the chips.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "DARN IT! Foiled again! Oh well, what's a chocolate chip
cookie without the chocolate?" (*Chomp-chomp*)
(Suddenly, although for only a brief moment,
the room is filled with unintelligible chatter.)
*Mumble-mumble-mumble-blah-blah-blah*
CAPT. TREKKER (Dropping his plate of cookies): *SMASH* "WHAT THE...? TREKKER
to ENGINEERING! Did
you just hear that?"
LT. FLOUNDER: "ENGINEERING, this is Lieutenant FLOUNDER. Hear what, sir?"
CAPT. TREKKER: "Uh...nothing. For a second, I thought I heard voices."
LT. FLOUNDER: "No, sir. We have nothing to report here. Perhaps you're
tired. Maybe you should get some rest."
CAPT. TREKKER: "I think I'll do that. Thank you, Lieutentant. TREKKER out."
(As CAPT. TREKKER leaves his ready room, he glances at the broken plate
of cookies on the floor.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "Holy deja vu...Batman!"
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(The next morning, we join the senior officers in the recently repaired
Observation Lounge, during a rather...important meeting.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "Dang it! Why do these doughnuts taste like lime jello?!"
COMM. EINSTEIN: "Well sir, we haven't been able to correct ALL the
files yet. There are over 4500 culinary items that
have to be reprogrammed."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Nevermind, Mr. EINSTEIN. Mr. LTCOMDATA, what is your report?"
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "According to our data, we should arrive at Starbase 133
in roughly 3 days."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Hmmm...that's cutting it a bit close don't you think?"
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "On the contrary, sir. At full impulse, it is a miracle
that we have been able to make it this far, so quickly."
DR. DOC: "Captain, I have something to report."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Yes, Doctor? What is it now? Somebody stub their toe?"
DR. DOC: "LT. COMM. SIROTTO was complaining of abdominal pain yesterday
evening. At first we thought it was nothing, but then I had this
feeling that I should look up his medical report. So, I did. And
to my surprise, I found..."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Your point, Doctor?"
DR. DOC: "My POINT is, he has a bionic stomach."
CAPT. TREKKER: "So?"
DR. DOC: "Well, I thought it was marginally poignant to the plot."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Well, you were wrong."
DR. DOC: "So I see. Nevermind. Forget I brought it up."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Very well. Now, MR. EINSTEIN, about these doughnuts..."
LT. MISTERB: "BRIDGE to CAPTAIN. We're detecting a temporal distortion off our
starboard bow."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Hmmm...I'm on my way."
(CAPT. TREKKER and company leave the merry confines of the Observation Lounge
and head zippo-quick to the main bridge. As they enter the main bridge,
CAPT. TREKKER glares unhappily at the soot on his armrest.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "Darn it! I hate soot! Report, Mr. OVERDOSE."
LT. OVERDOSE: "We didn't detect it until we were almost on top of it, sir.
We had no warning."
(Suddenly, the lights go out.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "Emergency lights!"
COMM. CONDOR: "Neat! COMPUTER, activate the Dance Club!"
(At that moment, all the emergency lights begin to strobe.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "D'oh!"
LT. MISTERB: "Sir, something has just emerged from the distortion."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Hmmm...on screen."
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LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "It appears to be a FATHEAD class Starship sir."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Open hailing frequencies."
LT. MISTERB: "Frequencies open, sir."
CAPT. TREKKER: "This is Captain Jean-Luc TREKKER of the battle-weary Starship
VAXERPRISE. Please identify yourselves."
LT. MISTERB: "Hmmm...no response, sir."
CAPT. TREKKER: "What's that junk off its starboard?"
LT. OVERDOSE: "They appear to have jettisoned some debris."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Identify."
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Five bottles of Figgy Fizz, and a crumpled Snickers
Candy Bar wrapper."
CAPT. TREKKER: "What?"
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "I said, five bottles of Figgy..."
CAPT. TREKKER: "I HEARD what you said, LTCOMDATA. I just can't BELIEVE they're
jettisoning their GARBAGE into space!"
COMM. CONDOR: "The debris is on a collision course with us, sir!"
CAPT. TREKKER: "SHIELDS!"
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Shields are inoperative, sir. Impact in 36 seconds."
COUNSELOR BELGARATH: "Man. This seems awfully familiar. Uh...perhaps we
should move out of the way?"
LT. MISTERB: "Sounds good to me."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Fire aft thrusters."
LT. OVERDOSE: "Thrusters appear to be broken, sir."
COMM. CONDOR: "AGAIN?!"
CAPT. TREKKER: "Suggestions?"
COMM. CONDOR: "How about we fire a photon torpedo at the debris."
COMM. EINSTEIN: "LT. SILVERFIRE once suggested an interesting experiment.
How about if we transport the entire ship, one foot to
the left?"
COMM. CONDOR: "Oh PLEASE?! You CAN'T be serious?!"
COMM. EINSTEIN: "Hey! They don't call me wonderkid for nuthin!"
CAPT. TREKKER: "Make it so, MISTERB."
LT. MISTERB: "Aye-aye, Cap'n!"
(LT. MISTERB engages the transporter controls and attempts to transport the
entire ship one foot to the left. Needless to say, this is AGAIN
horribly unsuccessful.)
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COMM. CONDOR: "SEE! I TOLD YOU IT WOULDN'T WORK!"
COMM. EINSTEIN: "Oh gee! Everybody dump on ME!" 8(
COUNSELOR BELGARATH: "Now you see it...now you don't...not see it. NOT! I
think...not, no...wait!" 8)
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Impact in 2 seconds."
CAPT. TREKKER: "Brace yourselves!"
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(Suddenly, the ship rocks violently, and everyone is thrown to the floor.)
CAPT. TREKKER: "WHAT WAS THAT?!"
LT. MISTERB: "We just blew a tire sir. Engineering is attempting repairs." 8)
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Actually, a crumpled candy wrapper has impacted the
starboard nacelle, sir. We are venting drive plasma."
COMM. CONDOR: "BRIDGE TO CREW! ALL HANDS TO EMERGENCY ESCAPE...THINGIES!
SOON-TO-BE-CAPTAINS AND BABES FIRST!"
CAPT. TREKKER: "Belay that Commander!"
LT. COMM. SIROTTO: "SIROTTO to BRIDGE! We're losing antimatter containment!"
CAPT. TREKKER (Sounding like Rocky The Flying Squirrel): "Again!" 8)
LT. OVERDOSE: "Attempting to eject warp core, sir."
LT. COMM. LTCOMDATA: "Hmmm...ejection procedures seem to be ineffective, sir."
SHIP'S COMPUTER: "WARNING...ANTIMATTER CONTAINMENT AT 17% AND FALLING."
COUNSELOR BELGARATH: "Hmmm...aren't oxygen masks supposed to fall from the
ceiling or something?"
CAPT. TREKKER: "TREKKER to CREW! ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP! REPEAT! ALL HANDS
ABANDON..."
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Will the VAXERPRISE EVER get out of this loop?
Will TREKKER listen to DR. DOC next time?
Will Fuzzles the Barfing Cat make a cameo appearance? Probably not.
Join us in 3 weeks to learn the answers to these and other retarded
questions in the exciting conclusion
to VAXTREK V!
"Board #11: Boldly going forward, 'cause we done blowed up GOOD!"
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