From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 22:54:55 1999
Bev's Revenge, or NOW I Know How You Feel - by Lord Eccles

	This story may not be a pretty sight for the men, but it is
one for the ladies. It just occurs to me that ST:TNG seems to ignore a
few basic patterns of behavior inherent to human beings. It assumes
that any personality faults or levels of ignorance are minimal or
non-existent. I've yet to meet anyone like this. It also assumes that
some basic bodily functions either have been completely eliminated, or
have no effect on the crew and thus never turn up.
	The tale does touch on a delicate subject of this nature - the
menstrual cycle. Now, hands up all the lads out there in Internetland
who have comforted their girlfriends/wives at 'that time of the
month', and used that all-purpose phrase "I can imagine what it's
like"? Well I have some bad news for us fellas, we don't know shite.
Now in writing this, as a male, I could only speak from my own
observations of my family and friends, so I made sure two female beta
readers went through it to keep it on the right track (thanks to Quoth
& Dot!).
	Everything is, of course, exaggerated - so don't think that
these types of reactions are what I consider normal with regards to
menstruality. It only seeks to find what would happen if the
uninitiated male of the species happened to cop it.
	It's important to remember that this is thinking comedy. It's
not something you can just lay back and read like a zombie, you are
required to use your mind. So if the thought of reality scares you,
don't read this. Sod off and read some shithouse Mary Sue story, see
who cares.
	The names, characters, and various trademarks are the property
of Paramount. The story itself is mine, but I don't think Paramount
wants it. And as for whose property the menstrual cycle is, well,
anyone who does own it probably doesn't want it either.
	Feedback? Criticisms? Ideas? Licentious abuse? Please feel
free to hurl it at lordeccles@yahoo.com - and don't be afraid, I mean
if I can write something like this I think I can handle a bit of
constructive criticism.
	(Oh, and there is a scene from Planes, Trains & Automobiles
that I couldn't help but put in!)

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T MINUS 48 HOURS

	"God, not again."
	It had become a recurring thing in Dr. Crusher's life, but it
would never become a routine. Every four weeks it came back again, and
for two days she would become Dr. Jekyll transformed. For years
unending it seemed to have been going on, and what respite was there
in all that time? Nine months of it, that was all. And being pregnant
was hardly preferable. If given the choice of being moody and having
cramps monthly, or nine months of morning sickness, it wouldn't take
long to decide.
	Not that it was much comfort. "All those stupid males who said
they loved my body. Well let's see what they'd think if they had to go
through this all the time!" Beverly spat out ruefully. "Oooh yes, I
was SO beautiful, they said. How quickly would I swap this body with
them!"
	Many treatments had been discovered over the years, but none
of them had much of a lasting effect. Injections were a fad for a
while, but after fifty years humankind had slowly developed an
immunity to them. Surgery? A bit permanent, and she didn't trust any
of her underlings to put the knife to her, let alone with THAT.
	Great. Jean-Luc's coming. Go away if you value your life,
Captain....
	"Dr. Crusher?" Picard's monotone announced.
	"What?" Beverly snapped back.
	"Oh... is something the matter?"
	"No, no, it's nothing. Just a bit tired, that's all. Now, what
did you want?"
	Picard looked down on Beverly, in every way possible. Tired?
We're all tired! What's so different about her? "All right Doctor."
	Beverly noted an impatient edge in Picard's voice. He is going
to die, unless he leaves within the next thirty seconds. How DARE
he...
	"You would have received reports of some new strain of virus
that has affected various crew members." Picard continued. "What can
you tell me about it?"
	"Right now, not much. From my own diagnosis it is very similar
to a basic flu virus. Not terribly contagious, not dangerous at all,
very easily cured." And her own voice became impatient. "I think that
quarantine would be something of an overreaction."
	Picard of course detected the tone of superiority Beverly
enforced. 'Tired? I don't think so.' he thought. His voice changed
from the robotic monotone to the gentle father (as if Picard actually
liked kids). "Sorry Beverly, I was just unsure. Are you sure you're
okay? You seem very stressed."
	Bev saw his transformation. 'Okay, he'll get a temporary
reprieve.' she decided. "I know, I'm sorry. You wouldn't understand."
	"Come along, Dr. Crusher. You know me."
	Yes I do, that's why I know you wouldn't understand. "Don't
worry."
	"What's the matter?" insisted Picard.
	Oh all right. Anything to shut him up.
	"I'm... umm... having my period."
	-SNAP- Any sympathy Picard instantly disappeared. "Is that
all? I should have thought you'd be used to it by now."
	Kill. Kill! KILL!!!!!!
	"Used to it!!?" Beverly shrieked in utter disbelief. "You
don't know a thing about it!!"
	"Now look!" Picard was visibly enraged at something he thought
so petty doing this to one of his officers. "You are a Starfleet
officer! You do not let your personal problems interfere with your
work - you have too much responsibility! Now never let me hear of it
again! Do you understand?"
	Ooooohhh, he is mine. He is all mine....
	Her voice was suddenly calm - the calm of one who's just gone
insane. "Yes sir."
	Picard stared at her as she returned to her work, before he
stomped out of the room. "Women." he muttered.
	Beverly stared after him for a while after he left. "I think,"
she said to herself "that it is time. All those bastards! I'll show
them what it's like! Oooh, will I! Computer, bring up the Masculus
Menstruarite file."

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T MINUS 45 HOURS

	She needed some way to get all of the male crew to her, she
couldn't just go around injecting everybody. An epidemic was needed -
then they'd have to come to her. "Damn ventilation system! Not
designed for comfort, that's for certain."
	She planned to leave a large growth of a moss she had been
growing which emanated a gas that caused various minor symptoms,
headache, sweating etc. "Now, where the hell am I? Oh, this'll do!
It'll spread." She opened a petri dish, and liberally matted out some
of the moss onto a propeller shaft. Climbing out, her mouth flattened
out to an evil smile as she felt the effects of the moss on her
already.

	Beverly had spent many hours in the past creating the chemical
Masculus Menstruarite (or MM as she called it), just in case she got
the urge for revenge like this. It was designed to simulate the
menstrual cycle in beings where it did not normally happen. The only
place she could think of that it didn't happen was in men. Hence, she
could now give men periods.
	The thought of what their faces would be like kept her smiling
for days. But the solution alone would not cause anything. A second
agent, a gas, also had to be inhaled at some later stage to trigger
the process. On its own the gas was harmless, and it had no color or
odor whatsoever. But to those with MM in their system, the gas would
REALLY have an effect. And no one could possibly know how it happened.

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T MINUS 22 HOURS

	There was, of course, panic for a while. The moss lived up to
Beverly's expectations, and the mild illness spread throughout the
entire ship. The entire ship had to report to Sick Bay to receive
various shots. Normally her assistants would have helped, but she had
created a story that the various procedures for relieving the patient
were very precise, and she had to do it personally. "This is just too
easy." Beverly thought. "Come on in then, let the fun commence..."

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T MINUS 18 HOURS

	"Next. Right, sit down."
	"Yes sir." Ensign Johansen said obediently.
	"All right, we'll make this quick. There's that many people
waiting we can't hang about. A dose of this, and (she couldn't help
but smile at this part) another of this. There! If it doesn't clear up
in 24 hours report back."
	"Okay. Thank you sir."
	"Thank you..." And in five weeks, you'll get the shock of your
life.
	90 crewmembers had passed through. 57 of them males, 57
hyposprays of MM, 57 shocks soon to come. Beverly had, of course,
changed the dosage of MM so that the periods would come in different
time spans. A weak dose would cause the cycle to take three months, a
larger one two weeks, normal dose four weeks etc, otherwise half the
entire crew would be copping it at the same time. A deadly mixture,
especially for 'first-timers', so to speak. Beverly was trying very
hard to keep herself from falling about laughing. "Next!" she cried
out in a joy she'd never felt before. The door to Sick Bay opened.
	"Data..." Her voice trailed away, as did her smile.
	"Dr. Crusher." he replied in greeting.
	'I can't do this to Data.' Beverly thought. He DOES know about
it, although he's never been through it. He understands what it must
be like. He'd never be cruel about it. "Sit down Data." he did.
	Just the anti-viral shot for him. "There you go. Take care."
	"Thank you Dr. Crusher. May I ask you something?"
	"Of course."
	"You appeared to be very disappointed to see me when I came
in. Your voice seemed quite jovial before that."
	"Oh, never mind about that. No, it's nothing to do with you.
I'm fine."
	"All right. Thank you again." Data strode out of the room.
Beverly could only stare at him for a while. They're not all idiots,
she thought. But some of them do deserve it. I'll just be selective,
that's all.

	The entire crew of the Enterprise passed by. Bev found herself
acting as judge and jury (and usually executioner) of the entire male
crew, deciding whose character deserved punishment. She was thoroughly
enjoying herself. A fair few crewmembers copped her wrath, but the
greatest feeling of satisfaction came from the other officers. She
casted her mind back, and checked whether or not they made some
idiotic comment in the past.

	Riker. No contest - he HAS to have it! Deanna told me about a
chat they both had, what did he say to her?
	"You don't understand Will. You'll never understand." Troi
always did get so much more emotional that usual. Riker never was much
help, this time especially. 
	"I do, Deanna. I do."
	"NO YOU DON'T!! YOU CAN'T!!! You try going through this!"
	"Fine! Just put someone on mop detail afterwards!" he shouted
as he left. And then he had the nerve to nag about it to the rest of
the officers in 10 Forward. Just as well I overheard them.
	Well then Troi, soon he will be going through this. It's the
least he deserves. How about every... oooh... week.

	Worf. She thought about it for a while. What did he say in 10
Forward? I distinctly heard Worf say "That response is typically
human. If she is truly strong, she will overcome these difficulties."
	Let's see if you can overcome THIS 'difficulty'. Make it every
four weeks for Worf.

	Geordi. He never was the best judge of character. Gentle, yes,
but he will learn. His words were "I don't know, but how bad can it
be?" This bad, LaForge. Six weeks for you.

	O'Brien? No, he's a good man. His wife told me that he did his
best to make it easier, he knew he couldn't know. I'll give him a shot
of whisky though, he'll like that. Call it a reward.

	And then, there he was. That man. That 'Captain'. See if YOU
get used to it. No debate. No questions asked. He must
PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Every three days...

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T MINUS SEVEN MINUTES

	All the crew had filed past, Beverly sat alone in Sick Bay.
She was very tired - it'd been a long day. All was in readiness. At
the push of a button the ventilation systems would send out the gas
agent to simultaneously set the cycles in motion for all the pricks
out there. "I've come this far," she murmured. "why can't I just
finish the job?"
	One of Picard's words had struck a chord in her.
Responsibility. This would cause mayhem! Men having moodswings like
this all of a sudden could be very dangerous. Who knows what could
happen? Fights? Murder? It was quite possible, this would be quite a
culture shock for them.
	Hard as she fought with her conscience, she could almost hear
the demon whispering in her ear. "Overcome this 'difficulty' they
said... Fine, just mop it up they said... how bad could it be they
said... uh oh, the Red Baron's in town they said..."
	She knew who was winning.
	"You should be used to it by now, HE said..."
	-Beep-

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ZERO HOUR

	And it was done. The gas was released. Beverly had flipped the
switch that started the clock on a time bomb newly installed into 227
men on the Enterprise. And every time one went off, there would always
be another one. Later she realised that there wasn't a counter-agent
to MM, but this only made her happier. They'll never stop. Never! And
Captain, Jean-Luc, in two days you'll get a visit from the PMT Fairy.
And another one three days after that. And another, and another, and
another! Welcome to Hell. Welcome to MY world...

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WEEK 1, DAY 2

	The virus was history by now. Soon, however, there would be a
ground-breaking event in the history of the Universe. One more day,
Beverly kept thinking, just one more day. Still, today would be
entertaining enough. The thought of Picard with pre-menstrual tension
would've been enough. Another thought did spring to her mind. "Should
I tell Deanna about it? No, let her work it out for herself. I mean,
the moment she senses Picard feeling paternal to anyone would be
frightening enough."

	Picard awoke in tears. 'A nightmare.' he thought. But he'd
never reacted like that. Couldn't even remember what it was. "I don't
know, when's the last time I had any extended leave? I do need a
break."
	His nightrobe was soaked in sweat, and it was making Picard
feel clammy and annoyed. "Damned thing!" he raged as he tried to tear
it off, and he did just that. The thing split in two. "OHHH!!!"
Hurling the remains of the robe away (which knocked over one of his
golden ship models) in a huff he stormed to the shower, stubbing his
toe on a table. He tried to hold in a silent scream, but eventually
had to let it go. "AAAGH!! Who moved the table over there!?"

	"What's going on?" Picard asked himself later. "I've never
been in this bad a mood since I was locked in the turbolift with
those... euurrgh! Children!" He shuddered at the memory. In the last
hour he'd sworn at the table, the shower nozzle for spraying the water
too hard, the soap for slipping out of his hands, the air being too
cold after he turned the water off, the water for being too cold and
then too hot, the computer for making his tea too cold and then too
hot, his tea for spilling on his uniform, his uniform for being too
tight and unabsorbent, his hair for deserting him, his nose, bed,
entire quarters, Jack Crusher, and almost everything else he could
think of. He hadn't sworn this many times in the last seventeen years.
"I just haven't had enough sleep." Picard decided. "A bit of
relaxation time in the holodeck, everything would be fine..."
	His comm badge stole his attention away. "Bridge to Picard,"
Riker hailed. "You're needed up here, Captain."
	"Oh, all right!" Picard shouted. "On my way. I don't get any
peace on this ship."
	Riker was momentarily stunned. "....thank you sir."
	"He damned well should thank me." Picard moaned to himself.
"The man just can't handle this ship on his own. None of these people
can! If it weren't for me holding their hands, they'd all have been
killed YEARS ago."
	"Ahhh, yes sir. Your contribution to Starfleet is well
appreciated." Riker replied cautiously. Picard hadn't turned off his
comm badge.
	"Are you still listening to me Riker!? What kind of
eavesdropping pervert are you?"
	"I wasn't listening in, you just forgot to--"
	"Oh, so *I* FORGOT!!!!" Picard interrupted. "You know, you can
turn off your badge as well! Or did you momentarily forget that?!
Can't you leave me alone for one second!"
	"It was an accident sir, I'm very sorry." Riker said in the
voice of one who nabbed the last bit of pizza. "If you prefer we could
handle this problem ourselves--"
	Again Picard butted in. "NO! I'm coming up now. I've got to
make sure you lot don't do anything idiotic while I'm not looking.
Picard OUT! Did you hear that Riker? Picard... OUT!!" He punched his
comm badge to turn it off and broke his thumb. "OOOW! Oh, damn it!"
Checking that his ribs were still intact, he stomped out of his
quarters towards the turbolifts.

	Upon arriving on the bridge, Picard was stared at by everyone
on the bridge through the corners of their eyes. Only Data continued
his work unerringly. Picard, of course, saw all this. "What are you
all looking at? Haven't you seen me come onto the bridge before? It's
quite common, you know! Get back to work!"
	As one the crew all did just that, but occasionally they stole
quick glances at him. He strode over to the Captains' chair and fell
into it with a sigh of annoyance. "Alright Number One, what is it?"
	Troi was sitting in the other chair, and was sensing far more
emotion than she cared to. For a moment Riker stared at Picard before
he realised he had spoken. "Oh, uh yes sir. We're approaching a huge
nebula cloud that is on screen sir. It would take an extra three days
to go around it."
	"So?" Picard's eyes narrowed in imminent homicide.
	Riker was looking even more uncomfortable. 'The Captain isn't
normally that shade of red, is he?' he thought. "So, um, what do you
suggest we do?"
	Picard spat out a gust of breath. "Well what do you think?
What do we normally do? On this ship there is something that we call a
PROCEDURE! Do you remember that? Good Lord! Data, what can you tell me
about the cloud?"
	"Scanners are detecting nothing dangerous sir, except a small
amount of an unidentified form of radiation."
	"And what does this mean?"
	Data kept working with his instruments without looking up,
just as he usually did. "I cannot say sir. I do not have any knowledge
of this type of cloud."
	"WHY NOT!?" Picard shouted all of a sudden, leaning forward in
the chair as his face turned purple, the veins in his neck visibly
pulsing. "You are supposed to be our SCIENCE officer! And you don't
know!?"
	Data slowly turned around, his amber eyes wide open in a truly
blank expression. He had no idea how to respond. The truth seemed the
only remotely viable option. "No sir, I do not know. No records give
any recorded entries of encountering this type of nebula."
	Picard leapt to his feet. "And I AM SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT
IT!! I'm supposed to know how to handle it! The entire Federation
knows nothing about it! Not us, not the Klingons, my Science Officer -
the best in Star Fleet - he doesn't know anything either, but I DO, DO
I!!?!" Picard was spitting as he screamed at the entire bridge. "Oooh
yes! Let's call the Captain! He knows everything, doesn't he? Well
guess what children! I DON'T!!! I AM ONLY HUMAN!! For God's sake!" 	
	He turned his rage back onto poor Data. "What kind of bucket
of rust android are you!? You're supposed to be the greatest
scientific achievement of the Alliance! The crown achievement of Dr.
Soong's so-called genius!! And what do I get? You DON'T KNOW!! If you
don't know, what the hell use are you?! I am just about fed up with
you Data! You're always whining about 'wanting to gain emotional
experience', or 'becoming more human' blah blah blah. WELL YOU
CAN'T!!! YOU ARE AN ANDROID!! GET THAT?!! DROID!! MACHINE!! DO YOU
UNDERSTAND THAT!!?!" He stood staring at Data, panting for breath and
clenching his fists. 
	Data's only reaction was a slight jerk of the head. His face
held his completely blank look, and it only made Picard even more
enraged. The entire bridge was staring directly at him now, and it
wasn't long before Troi made that most tragic mistake someone could
make.
	"Captain, are you all right?"
	Of course I'm all right. Naturally. I'm always like this.
Sense this, you stupid tart, I'm going to disembowel you if you ask
another idiotic question like that!
	Picard slowly turned around, and stared straight at Troi. She
unconsciously backed further into her chair, a look of pure terror on
her face. Picard's face, however, slowly turned from a picture of rage
to a sort of maniacal peace.
	"Yes, yes. I'm fine! I'm just fine." Picard stared at Troi for
a while. He giggled a bit. "Just fine. Of course I'm okay. Perfectly
alright." He was looking up at the viewscreen by now, telling himself
how fine he felt and smiling like Lore. "Naturally. I'm perfectly
calm. No problems at all... nothing wrong with me... no worries...
at... all... couldn't be happier..."
	He kept on reassuring himself as he slowly walked off the
bridge, followed by twenty eyes. "What could be wrong with me? I'm
fine! Just fine." Picard had reached the turbolift when Riker broke
his spell.
	"So, what should we do about the cloud Captain?"
	"JUST GO THROUGH IT!!!! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!!!" The lift
shut. The noiseproof walls still couldn't hide the machinegunning of
expletives Picard let loose.
	Even the hum of the engines seemed silent after he left. No
one could speak. Data was still trying to figure out what crime he
committed to deserve that kind of tearing off. Troi's mind was reeling
from reading Picard's emotions. Finally Riker spoke. "I suppose you
could call that a direct order."

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 22:56:35 1999
For disclaimers see part one, and don't tell me you weren't warned,
because I *will* laugh at you.

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WEEK 1, DAY 3

	Word of yesterday's incident, as well as a few other things
Picard got up to afterwards spread rapidly, gossip being the second
fastest thing in the universe to bad news. "What came over Picard like
that?" "He's never shouted like that!" "And on the BRIDGE!!?" There
were as many people concerned about it as there were laughing about
it. Some said it was some alien possession. Others thought it was
about time Jean-Luc loosened up a bit.
	But no one was as cheerful about it as Dr. Crusher. She was in
heaven! 'Vengeance is MINE!!!' she thought proudly. It took a lot of
work, but it was worth it. Worth it all. "And the fun's barely
started! That was just the pre-game entertainment. Here comes the real
thing..."

	0821, ship time. Still very weary from the emotional exertion
the previous day put him through, Picard was preparing himself for the
day ahead. What was to come in only a few minutes there was no
possible way of preparing for - even if he knew it was coming he still
would've had no idea what was happening.
	As it was, he had just put on his uniform when the "event"
came to pass. It was an experience he would relive in many nightmares
to come, both real and sleep-induced. One moment, all was well. Smooth
out the wrinkles in the uniform, no problems. All of a sudden Picard
felt a very painful cramp in his abdomen area. The unexpected
stab-like rush of pain stunned his brain into THOUGHT=OFF mode.
'What's this?' he pondered after getting his senses back in order. It
didn't seem to be settling down at all, if anything it was becoming
slightly more painful.

	And then.
	Then...

	The moment arrived.

	Completely unbidden, totally unexpected, Picard felt
'something happen' in his trousers. A moment of confusion followed,
and then he got the first clue what it was. Stunned into paralysis,
Picard could only stammer out "What the hell is going on here!?" His
first thought was that he had somehow lost bladder control. VERY
suddenly. Taking the time to make a detailed scientific inspection of
what it was (ie: he rubbed his hand down there and had a look what was
on it), he saw the terrifying truth.
	Blood. Blood? BLOOD!!????!? What? How? Where? How? Why? What?
How? Why? What? Questions rocketed through his brain, and he couldn't
find any answers. If anything, the questions seemed to be breeding and
were multiplying in numbers dramatically. The feeling was like nothing
he had ever wanted to know. Even though the amount of blood was small,
it felt as if someone had poured a jar of honey in the front of his
underwear. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling to him, and an utterly
awful one as well.
	Still frozen to the spot, Picard finally decided how to fix
this with three simple steps:
	a) Get cleaned up,
	b) Get to Sick Bay,
	c) Since I can't, find someone else who can work out what the
hell's going on here.
	"Right, I'll do that." Picard reassured himself, still trying
to convince his legs to move. By now he was getting very annoyed at
what happened. Shock had given way to anger, and he was keen to find
someone to blame.
	After a shower, a new uniform, and a series of confused
expressions in the mirror, Jean-Luc tried to make himself look
authoritative for the day. If the crew found out about this, he would
become the biggest laughing stock on the Enterprise since Riker caught
an STD from an alien female, and his entire genitalia just fell off
and slid down the leg of his uniform, making a simple kick in the
shins a fine substitute for a stun phaser.
	The best thing Picard could think of in his harrowed state of
mind was to march. And so he did. Marching along the corridors, he
felt his confidence coming back to him. He felt that it gave him an
air of officialdom, of authority. Unfortunately, judging by the
sniggering he constantly heard behind him, it also seemed to give him
an air of silliness.

	O'Brien was also preparing to go on duty. However, he was in a
much more happy mood than Picard could possibly be. And O'Brien,
albeit innocently, made a dreadful mistake.
	It was something he did quite commonly. There was no malice in
his actions at all. On any other day it would have been no bad thing,
perhaps something quite cheerful. But today, it was a horrific thing
to do.
	He was singing.
	Alas, being the Irishman that he was, O'Brien was a patriot of
Ireland, and (like so many of his other Celtic cousins) he insisted on
singing songs about his homeland, even though he'd never even been
there. Just as Scotsmen on the Enterprise sang about Robert the Bruce
and the battle of Bonnockburn - even though they knew nothing about
either of them, O'Brien sang about the Green, Green Hills of Ireland -
completely oblivious of the fact that the hills he sung of were no
longer green, and were also no longer (strictly speaking) hills
either, since they had been strip-mined of anything they could have
possibly possessed decades ago.
	The singing, in itself, was forgivable. Irish folk songs have
a great charm to them. The problem was O'Brien had to sing it in the
great but unmistakable Irish style - a dreaded, nasal E-flat tone,
known and hated the universe over.

	Oh, won't you stay
	Stay a little while with your own ones
	Don't ever stray
	Stray so far from your own one

	And so on and so on.
	Beautiful and meaningful as it was, its' meaning was lost on
Picard whilst in this state. With his patience at an all-time low,
Picard had no time to care about Irish family values.

	Oh, the world is so cold
	Don't care nothing for your soul
	You share, with yo--

	"SHUTUP!!!" Picard shouted, enforcing the silence he wanted
both with his authoritative voice and a clenched fist.
	O'Brien was left stunned in Picard's wake. It took him a
minute to work out that someone had punched him, and another four
minutes to work out that it was Picard. The Captain punched me??
Bloody Frogs!

	Upon entering the bridge, all was as normal. Picard by now had
regained his composure and was, as Data would put it "functioning
correctly".
	Data would later rephrase that to "strangely erratic".

	The day passed by without major incident, provided you
consider, for example, the demolition of a planet a minor incident.
But towards the end of his stint on the bridge the Enterprise
encountered that triggered Picard.

	"Something coming up on sensors, sir." the helmsasexualalien
announced.
	"On screen." Picard replied.
	The image on the screen changed from a view of the stars to
another view of the stars with a miniscule glint in the centre of
screen.
	Picard waited. And waited "Well?"
	"Well what, sir?"
	"Magnify, you idiot! Isn't it obvious?"
	"Oh... uh, yes sir."
	The image changed again, and there floating in space was one
of the Borg.
	Picard gagged momentarily. His eyes widened, and he stopped
blinking. No one else reacted at all. "Orders, sir?" the helm asked.
	Jean-Luc didn't move. After a while he was receiving a few
stares. Still his gaze was fixed at the Borg in horror. He started
shaking slightly, and sweat was starting to appear.
	"Sir?" Worf prompted. Still no response. After a few more
seconds Picard let out a strangled scream of panic and sprinted into
his ready room.
	The bridge was stunned. By the time they had asked themselves
what they should do now the Enterprise had run into the Borg in
question, rendering it into something closer to a stew.

	After a minute or so, Worf went into the ready room to see
what Picard was doing. He was sobbing at his desk. "Captain, is there
a problem?" Worf asked in some concern.
	Jean-Luc slowly brought his head up. Worf, being unfamiliar
with the sight of a male crying, was stunned to see Picard's
red-rimmed eyes and his shortness of breath. He thought Picard must
have something wrong with him, and he immediately called Sickbay. In
the meantime, he walked over to Picard in some concern, thinking what
he could do to stop the swelling in Picard's eyes, when he immediately
had two arms flung around him and his waist was put into a bear hug.
	At least that's what he first thought. Closer inspection
showed Picard was just hugging him. Worf had been subjected to many
embraces, but usually from happy comrades after a victory of some
sort. Picard was clearly not a happy comrade right now, and there had
been no recent victory to speak of. Worf had no idea what to do.
	"Oh Worf!" Picard was crying. "Don't let them hurt me again!
Don't let the Borg take me away!" he continued a tirade of pleas to
not let the Big Bad Borg get him, unaware that the Borg in question
was now only posing a cleaning problem.
	Worf was lost. His widened eyes were scanning the room for any
unseen eyes that might be seeing this embarrassing scene, and perhaps
for someone else who could take over. He looked down again, and gently
patted Picard's head - he couldn't think of anything else to do.
	Picard continued unabated, then suddenly stopped. He looked up
at stared at Worf, right into his eyes. Worf tried to break the stare,
but he felt compelled to listen.
	"Thank you, Worf. Thank you for being my friend."
	This wasn't the first time that Worf had wished that he was
back in the wars again. Luckily for him a few seconds later the crew
from Sickbay arrived. Unluckily for him they were treated to a very
rare sight indeed. Three of the medics were only just holding back
their laughter. Two of them were only just failing.
	Worf remained completely silent whilst they disentangled him
from Picard's grasp, and took over the situation. He very quickly
marched out of the ready room and resumed his post as if nothing had
happened. Over the next eight weeks the braver members of the crew
went to great pains to remind Worf of this event and gave themselves a
great laugh over it.
	Of course, Worf would eventually have the last laugh.

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WEEK 1, DAY 7

	And here was Riker's day of reckoning. The preliminaries were
over, and it was time for the real moodswinging show to begin for him.
It would, of course, push his emotional responses to the extremes,
instead of a normal rational level to start off with. And Riker, being
the testosterone-driven being that he is, usually had only one
response - violence.

	Riker awoke with a painful cramp in his abdomen. He could also
feel something gurgling in his groin, a feeling he wasn't very
comfortable with. 'What could this be?' he thought, still only
half-awake. Then he felt something else, and this was more familiar.
'Ah yes, need to pee.'
	Alas for Riker, it wasn't the only thing coming. He casually
threw himself off the bed and walked over to his bathroom and relieved
himself, but it wasn't long before another completely different liquid
came along. This is exactly what he said when he was in there (see if
you can guess when he first saw blood):
	"-whistle-... ha da da.... ladadadee... Hmm hmm hmm hmmmmm...
But don't blame meeEEee.... for falling in love with yooOOOouuuu....
I'm under your spell.... But how can I help it if want t--WHAT THE
FUCK!!!?"

	Riker broke warp three getting to Sick Bay. 'A problem with my
manhood!?' he thought. 'Impossible! Although... maybe it was something
from that ambassador we met... really shouldn't be screwing all these
alien women, never know what could happen.'
	When he got there he was running so fast he was moving faster
than the doors were opening, and almost dislocated his shoulder
slamming into them. He jumped up onto the examination table, laid
himself out on his back ready for inspection, and explained to Beverly
exactly what happened.
	There was no response. Riker looked up. "Doctor Crusher?" She
wasn't there. No one was there. "Computer, give the position of
Beverly Crusher."
	-chirp- "Beverly Crusher is in her quarters."
	"When is she due on duty?"
	"Seven hours."
	"Oh great!" exclaimed Riker. "Now what am I going to do? What
the hell is this?"
	"I do not understand. Please rephrase the question." the
computer said.
	"Oh shut up!"
	"Understood."
	"Dammit, isn't there an on/off switch for that thing listening
to us? Anyway, what the hell is this? I can't talk to one of the other
medics, can't let them see Mr. Wunderbar like this... I'll wake her
up. This is an emergency!"

	Arriving at Dr. Crusher's room, he pressed the entry hailer.
No response. He pressed it again. No response again. "The thing's so
quiet it couldn't wake anyone up." Clicking his comm badge, he called
Crusher directly. "Riker to Crusher, please respond."
	There was about a minutes silence, then the voice of Satan
replied "Crusher here, this better be good. What is it?"
	"Can you come to Sick Bay immediately, there's been an
emergency."
	"No, I can't come to Sick Bay." it moaned. "I've had an hour's
sleep, and right now I couldn't work out 2+2, let alone anything
medical. The other orderlies should be there, can't they handle it?"
	"Ahhhh... no."
	"Why? Who's injured? What happened?" Bev said in sudden alarm.
	"Ahhh... I'm the patient, Beverly. It's a delicate matter, and
I wanted to discuss it privately."
	There was a short pause. "Riker?"
	"Yes?"
	"If you ever wake me up again, I'll cut your balls off and
tell Q they're maracas, do you understand?" Riker heard Beverly's comm
badge bounce off her door.
	"Selfish bitch!" Riker muttered. "Can't be bothered getting up
to help someone in need! What if we returned the favour Beverly? Then
where would--"
	"Bridge to Riker, where are you? You were supposed to report
for duty ten minutes ago!" Picard's anger was still evident even
through the comm badge.
	"Damn!" Riker shouted at himself. "On my way sir!"

	Things on the bridge were uneventful for some time. Riker was
getting very toey, and extremely bored. He kept pacing around,
throwing himself into his chair, muttering "Come on, something
happen!", cleaning his nails and picking his nose (often
simultaneously), much to the annoyance of the rest of the crew.
Finally, after three hours, there came something to keep Riker
occupied. Not long after it would grow to keep most of the rest of the
known universe occupied too.

	Worf's sandpaper-coarse voice penetrated the silence that
pervaded the bridge. "Sir, we are picking up another vessel."
	"About bloody time." Riker muttered, looked at the viewscreen.
"Data, half impulse power. What is it Worf?"
	"Romulan sir. A light cruiser, primarily used a scout ship. It
is changing course, heading directly towards us."
	"Shields up, go to yellow alert. Get a torpedo lock on it."
Riker barked out.
	Even Worf looked a bit puzzled at this. Data turned around and
said "That action seems somewhat hasty in my opinion sir. We have no
idea if their intentions are hostile."
	"I'll make the calls here thank you Data." Riker sneered.
"This is just a precaution. Worf, get a lock on it, but hold your
fire... for the moment."
	"Aye sir." Worf announced. "We are being hailed."
	"On screen."
	The viewscreen changed, and the most smug-looking Romulan
Riker had ever seen came into view. To the rest of the crew, it just
looked like another ordinary Romulan. Oldish, a veteran of the wars,
no doubt. But to Riker, this was a stuck-up little snob who needed a
few adjustments to his backside.
	"Greetings, human." He began, in a voice which sounded more
like he was saying 'You make me sick.' "I am Captain Vaas of the
Romulan Empire. What is your business in Romulan space?"
	The moodiness pendulum was swinging... wider... wider...
	Riker replied in a voice saying 'You pathetic little bucket of
snot'. "This is Commander William Riker of the Federation Starship
Enterprise. By our charts this is not Romulan space, we are in
frontier space. What the hell are you talking about?"
	Vaas looked shocked at this affront. What kind of greeting was
that? Who does this little pathetic wretch think he is? "I forgive
your ignorance, Commander Wiper, but we are here to make sure that you
humans do not mess about where you're not supposed to. I repeat, what
is your business here in Romulan space?"
	He wants a game of one-upmanship, well he'll get one. "And I
forgive your senility, Captain Vaastard, but we are here to make sure
that you Romulans don't stick your hallucinogen-ridden noses into
anyone elses business as you used to. Our business here in this part
of FRONTIER space is to leave and return to base. Who are you to ask?"
	Every ensign on the bridge was sniggering at this duel, and
every officer was hoping this wouldn't start a war, except Data who
was still trying to work out what hope was and what was funny. 'What
had come over Riker all of a sudden?' most of the bridge was thinking.
"Has he been at Worf's Blood Wine again?" an Ensign whispered.
	Vaas was somewhat taken back. He resorted to brutal ridicule.
"Well I'm very sorry children, but I can't let you play here. You're
not allowed out this far into space. Now change course before I give
your botty a thorough spanking!" He laughed momentarily before the
link was cut and the viewscreen reverted to the Romulan cruiser.
	Wider... wider...
	For a few seconds all was quiet. Riker was fuming, still
staring at the screen, his nostrils flaring.
	"Sir," Worf began, "We are receiving a message from the
Romulan ship. It appears to be a set of bearings they wish us to
continue on. Shall I--"
	"No!" Riker shouted. "Don't even think about it! Damnable
Romulans trying to tell us what to do! Send a reply."
	Worf pressed a few buttons "What is the message sir?"
	Riker paused for a few moments. "Fuck you." He said
matter-of-factly.
	Worf paused for a lot more moments. "Pardon me sir?"
	"You heard me, Lieutenant!" Riker shouted, his eyes turning
bloodshot. Was he pissed off...
	"Yes sir. Message sent." This will start another war, Worf
mused. "I think he's been at the dilithium crystals." another Ensign
whispered.
	"They are hailing us again sir."
	"Don't bother with it. Data, continue on previous course."
Riker responded dismissively.
	"Yes sir."
	Worf chirped up again. "Incoming message."
	The voice of Vaas echoed around the bridge. He was clearly
angry. "How DARE you speak to a Captain of the Romulan Empire with
such insolence! I demand an apology..."
	"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Riker shouted out.
	"...and that you change course to the bearing that we
requested immediately!"
	Wider... wider...
	"I've had enough of this prick." Riker spat out, more
rhetorically than anything else. His face was crimson, and his fists
were clenched. "Belay that, Data. Worf?"
	"Sir?"
	"Fire. Two torpedoes, no warning shots."
	Worf's eyes widened further than they ever had. The entire
bridge turned to him and gasped. Data was the first to protest.
"Commander Riker, I again believe that you are acting too
aggressively. Both you and Captain Vaas are too enraged to think
coherently. Perhaps Captain Picard should negotiate further..."
	Riker ignored Data completely. "Fine! I'll do it then." he
shouted, and pressed a button on his chair, firing the torpedoes
himself. "Now THAT, Data, is effective negotiating. I think you'll
find that they'll fall into line pretty quickly now."
	The cruiser was completely unprepared. Their shields weren't
up and only came up in time to stop the second torpedo. The first shot
hit the lower hull, and the second did plenty of damage as well, since
the shields were far from fully powered at that stage.
	"Report, Mr. Worf?"
	Worf was completely dumbfounded. He took a few seconds to get
himself together again before answering. "Romulans have sustained
heavy damage. Their warp core has been breached, main engineering has
been decompressed, estimate 60 casualties. Warp core damage may
destroy the entire ship."
	"That's much better. Hail them." Riker said without a hint of
pleasure. However when he saw Vaas's face on the viewscreen, his smile
beamed out.
	"What the hell are you doing you stupid bastard!!?" Vaas
spluttered, his finely-chiseled face contorted in rage. "Firing on us
like that, what's your problem?"
	Riker responded in tones of mock pride. "How DARE you speak to
a Commander of the Federation with such insolence! I demand an
apology, and that you stop behaving like a stuck-up little dickwhacker
immediately!"
	Vaas looked stunned. "I... I... but... huh..." he stammered
for a while.
	Riker turned around. "Turn it off Worf. Data, continue
previous course, warp three. Right, now that's more like it... about
time we showed what we're capable of... show them all that we can
stand up for ourselves... for what is right... fed up with that Picard
and his hippie attitude to combat, I don't know. Data! How many times
has Picard surrendered to any attackers?"
	"Seven, sir."
	"See?" Riker exclaimed. "The man's a weakling! He simply
refuses to stand up and fight! Always the bloody diplomat. Oh yes, he
can over-annunciate and sound very poetic, how wonderful. Tell that to
a Klingon warlord! Makes me sick."
	A long pause followed. Riker turned from Data and looked at
Worf, who was avoiding Riker's looks at all costs. 'What's going on
here?' thought Riker.
	"It is interesting to hear your opinions on my style of
command, Riker." Picard stated. He'd come in after he saw the torpedo
shots to find out just what was going on. "And having just witnessed
yours, I find your views somewhat lacking depth, Lieutenant."
	Riker stared back at Picard. "Commander, sir."
	"Nothing is forever, William." Picard warned. "Data, you have
the conn. Oh, and Data, disregard any advice the Commander may have
given you today. Riker... follow me..."

	As it turned out, Riker did not start a war thanks to his
actions - at least not an official one, anyway - however it was
largely thanks to him that the Romulan Empire was so successful in the
next round of negotiations over control of the Neutral Zone. When
initially questioned on his actions he was completely unrepentant -
like a motorist who shoots another motorist whilst in a road rage, and
then tells the judge "No one gives me the finger!"
	Within three weeks, the Enterprise was rated the second most
dangerous thing in the universe ahead of the entire Borg collective,
pipped at the post only by an ill-advised follow-up to the Voyager
probe; an ancient Earth satellite which broadcast Spice Girls songs in
a somewhat misguided attempt to be friendly. No one dared face that.
This probe was, in fact, the sole cause for the Borg attempt to
exterminate humanity by attacking the Cochrane rocket.

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 22:58:04 1999
For disclaimers see part one, and don't tell me you weren't warned,
because I *will* laugh at you.

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WEEK 2, DAY 2

	Beverly decided to answer Picard & Riker's questions about
what was happening to them. This is going to be wonderful, just seeing
their faces - how the hell am I going to keep a straight face? But
seriously, how do I explain it? I can hardly tell them I did it. What
about...

	"Captain, Commander" Beverly greeted them both in turn. "I
have managed to find out why you are suffering from the urinal
bleeding, amongst other things."
	"Yes..." Riker prompted.
	Beverly paused for effect. Quickly looking at both of them,
she forewarned "You are not going to believe this."
	"Well let's find out, shall we?"
	"Okay. From what I have gathered, you are both showing every
sign of going through the menstrual cycle."
	Both the men froze in disbelief. Menstrual? Isn't that... no,
it can't be! But, what else? "Sorry?" ventured Riker.
	"You are having periods."
	Riker passed out on the spot. Picard had a nervous breakdown
on the spot (today he had a period). "WHAT!?"
	"That's exactly it. You are having periods. Don't ask me how,
but you are."
	"Are you sure?"
	"Yes, I'm sure. You both show every sign of it. The
pre-menstrual tension, cramps, the blood matches. It's all there."
	"But... butbutbut..." Picard was searching for an excuse. He
settled on "But that's impossible!"
	"I know. But it's happening."
	"How!?"
	Beverly assumed a confused look. "I can't be sure. We did go
through that nebula cloud with an unknown radiation type the day
before you got your first flow, didn't we?"
	"Yes we did... could that have done it?" Poor Picard was
desperately trying to find something certain to cling onto.
	Beverly smiled. 'If the worst came to the worst, I can still
blame something else and have no retribution whatsoever.' "That's all
I can think of. Now I don't know if it's affected anyone else," Hold
in the smile, Beverly, don't crack up now, this is supposed to be
serious, "so I'll be doing some checks later on. But in the meantime,
you need to know your cycle. I'll tell Riker about it later."
	"Cycles? Sorry Beverly, but I'm not big on the terminology."
	Beverly let out an impatient breath. How could they be so
ignorant? She took up the voice of a parent trying to teach a child
how to count to two. "Okay, you now have what's called a menstrual
cycle. This ends when you have your period, and then starts again.
Hence, cycle. Understand?"
	Picard nodded. "Okay, so how long does my cycle take to repeat
itself?"
	Again, Beverly got annoyed. Well how long was it between the
first and the second periods you idiot! "Three days. That's
unbelievably short I might add."
	"But why is it this bad? I mean, you don't behave this
irrationally at that time, do you?"
	"No Captain... but your mind and body are not used to this
sort of thing at all. Quite a suprise, yes?"
	"Very much so."
	"Not to mention the fact that such a strong emotional rush is
not something you're used to. Your responses are, quite
understandably, a lot stronger that the typical one. The radiation
might also be a factor."
	Picard's head slumped. "This is all my fault." he said to his
palms. ('Oooh, how right you are' Beverly thought.) "I told Riker to
go through the cloud, what was I thinking? I was just so tired then, I
couldn't make a good decision..." he trailed off. He blathered on for
a while longer, before his dignity came back to him. "No matter then.
How long is Riker's cycle?"
	"A week sir. I've created a calendar so that you'll know both
when your future periods are, and also when any other crewmembers have
theirs. You will, of course, need to know since you're the commanding
officer."
	"How do you know there will be other crewmembers with it?"
Picard asked.
	Think quickly Beverly. "If this radiation cloud caused this
problem, and it is the only known probable cause, then it would hardly
affect only two crewmembers. There will have to be more, and I shall
add them as soon as I know who they are & what their cycle is."
	"Yes." Picard seemed satisfied with her answer. "Well, can you
give me something to stop them then?"
	Beverly looked baffled. "No sir, there is no way to stop
them."
	"Nothing?"
	"No sir."
	"Well find something then! I'm not going around like this all
the time, understood? It's a nuisance!"
	Oh, is that all it is? You'll see... "Yes Captain."
	"Thank you doctor, keep up the good work." Picard stated, and
pompously marched away.
	Beverly paused for a few seconds "I think after a while, your
attitude will change Jean-Luc." She smiled, and looked down at the
still motionless Riker. "And I know yours will."

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WEEK 2, DAY 7

	Picard was checking the calendar more than his logbook lately.
It was concerning him that more and more names were slowly being added
to it. It was getting crowded. A few days were utterly jam-packed,
sometimes entire sections would be out of action. But today, how bad
would today be?
	Looking down the list, he ticked off the victims. "Forrester,
Engineering... Reynolds, Security... Riker, 2IC... Riker? Oh dear..."
his voice trailed off.
	"I'm pre-menstrual, and Riker's is today. Well, that doesn't
matter! What difference could that make?" said Picard in carefree
tones.
	Suddenly the room seemed awfully silent. As if the walls were
horrified by his question. The silence gave Picard his answer - it
could make a HUGE difference.
	He would soon learn it the hardest way.

	By the end of the day, the Enterprise had disabled a Klingon
warbird, two Romulan ships, and their helmsman when he set the speed
to Warp 6.5 instead of 6.4 . Riker and Picard had been arguing for
most of their shift, some of which proved comical, some of which
proved almost maniacal. So far Riker had attempted to start a mutiny
twice, challenged Picard to a duel, and dismissed half the bridge
crew. Picard had demoted Riker seventeen times, relieved him from duty
four times, discharged him from Starfleet twice, and dismissed the
other half of the bridge crew.
	In the middle of a conversation with a Starfleet Captain,
Riker took objection to a completely innocent remark and immediately
closed comms, and beamed over the entire ship's stock of communicable
disease specimens the medical lab had for research, and made sure the
glass containers didn't go over.
	Admiral Loenitz had tried to contact the Enterprise, and upon
opening channels he saw two command officers alone on the bridge
arguing about who should have pressed the open channel button. They
ignored the Admiral completely, and when he tried to get their
attention, the reply was "Do you mind? We're trying to have a serious
discussion here!" In the end, they hung up on him.

	The next day Picard wondered why the confidence in his command
was so low all of a sudden. He decided to prove his worth by
challenging the entire bridge to an arm-wrestling competition. They
politely declined, and simultaneously checked when they'd be going off
duty.

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WEEK 3, DAY 2

	The joy of revenge faded pretty quickly for Beverly. Having
the commander of the ship in such an unbalanced state as Picard was
making life dangerous. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. 'I
need to find a cure.' Bev thought. "It shouldn't be too hard, I know
the basic chemical matrix of the cause, a counter-agent should be
simple."
	There had been little progress. Beverly had managed to ease
the discomfort slightly by supplying some kind of sanitary pads to the
affected crewmembers. Unfortunately, given the 'point of exit', the
mechanics of the design, the tightness of the uniform and the fact
that the men had no idea how to use these things, those who used them
walked around with a suspicious looking bulge. Lt. Junior Grade
Harrisburg had such a heavy flow he thought it best that he wore three
at a time, and as such gave himself such a huge lump that many ladies
made his acquaintance, only to be disappointed later.

	Picard was having one of his very few good days, in-between
period and PMT. He seemed very nervous about what was going on, since
he didn't have much of an idea of what it was. Stepping into Sick Bay,
he walked up to Beverly.
	"Doctor Crusher?"
	His monotone sounds very different now, thought Crusher. She
couldn't help but smile as she looked up. "Yes sir, what is it?"
	"Have you... um... learnt any more about this 'male
menstruation', as you call it?"
	"Not a lot, I'm afraid sir. It just seems more than a
coincidence that we encountered the nebula cloud just when it started,
that must be the cause. There is no other way."
	"Quite." agreed Picard. "How bad is the problem?"
	"Well, it's only affected the males from what I can tell, and
at the last count 72 of the crew were suffering from it to various
degrees, and I expect to find a lot more in the next few weeks."
	"Good lord..."
	"But I do know that not all the male crew is affected, but I'm
afraid most of them are. I can't give much in the way of specific
figures yet."
	"No matter. Are any other high officers affected, apart from
Riker?"
	"Yes. Worf and Geordi also show signs of the condition.
Riker's is particularly severe, although not as bad as yours."
	"Yes. And Data?"
	"No sir, he's showing no traces of it."
	"Good. I'll let you get back to work. Just how much
information have you managed to find?"
	"So far I've isolated the chemical that caused it. I can
reproduce it, but I have no idea how it came to enter the
bloodstream."
	"That's not important right now." Picard stated. "Just find
some way to stop it."
	"Aye sir."
	"Thank you." he said without a hint of a smile. Turning on his
heel he strode purposefully out of Sick Bay as if nothing was the
matter at all. He had to at least give some form of illusion that he
was in control - even if it was for only one day out of three.
	Beverly shook her head. "How did I come to like that man?"

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WEEK 4, DAY 6

	Today was marked out in Beverly's diary as a day to stay
inside, so to speak. The thought of Worf being angry was a dangerous
one in itself, but Worf with PMS? Images of supernovae sprang to mind.
"This could be lethal." Beverly muttered to herself, then after a few
moments' reflection added "What do I mean, COULD be lethal? Worf's
already short fuse won't even exist today." Thousands of scenarios ran
through Bev's mind. The mixture of Worf in this state and being at the
weapons computer gave an almost unlimited number of possibilities for
disaster. She couldn't think of a way to avoid this - they didn't
teach what to do in this scenario at the Academy.
	Beverly didn't believe in a God-like entity, but for some
bizarre reason she had taken to praying for mercy all of a sudden. Q,
the deity worshipped by everyone who enjoys being an annoying bastard,
had dropped in a few days ago, but when he saw what was going on he
decided things were quite bad enough already, and fled back to the
Continuum in fear of catching something or having his immortality put
to the test.
	Strangely enough, no one on the Enterprise ever thought of
Klingon women with regards to menstruality - mainly because it wasn't
a pretty thought. Klingons were impatient and temperamental enough,
the thought of anything intensifying it grew a great sense of fear and
sudden obedience.

	Worf did not have a good start to the day. He had, of course
been forewarned that this would happen, but he had chosen to ignore
it. Worf felt that he could keep his emotions and his temper under
control. In response Beverly asked him when he'd learnt to lie to
himself so well.

	One word could describe Worf's day:
	Rampage.
	If you loitered in the corridors, Worf 'encouraged' you to
move along. If Worf felt you were walking too slowly, he would speed
you up - but not tell you to speed up, HE would speed you up, usually
with a foot. If you talked too loudly, Worf would make sure you were
quiet. If you coughed or sneezed, thereby spreading possibly
infectious diseases into the air, Worf would seal your faulty
ventilation systems and throw you into quarantine - usually
unconscious from having your air supply cut off. If Worf felt you were
acting suspiciously, Worf would conduct a standard Klingon
interrogation and beat the crap out of you until you confessed to
something and everything. If Worf thought you weren't working fast
enough he would court-martial you, but usually would skip that part
and get straight to the punishment.
	And God help you if you tried to argue with him.
Unfortunately, God decided that today he'd be a little less
interventionist. 

	But eventually Worf left duty (four hours late), returned to
his quarters and went to sleep.
	And a great peace descended upon the land.
	Until the next day.

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WEEK 4, DAY 7

	Worf was ready. He was ready for anything. He could take
anything! Having spent the night regathering his thoughts and senses,
he was ready to go back into the fray - the stares wouldn't affect him
anymore. And as for the period itself, he told himself quite
confidently "Something as small as that! It couldn't possibly affect
me at all." he reassured himself. Worf kept this up for a solid hour
before the moment finally arrived. "How could such a minor thing like
that cloud my judgement... Such a thing is typically human, such
weakness... I am more than ready for it, in fact I welcome this
challenge!" Etcetera.
	Worf knew he was ready for it.
	It's coming any second now.
	It was 0914 ship time.
	"I'm ready for it."
	It came.

	Worf wasn't ready for it.

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WEEK 4, DAY 7, 0914 07secs SHIP TIME

	Work on the Enterprise was paralysed. Throughout the entire
saucer section there sounded a great agonised cry of suprise and
contorted rage. This guttural, almost shrieking sound, reverberated
through the decks, as if Hell itself had opened up and the voices of
the damned ones bewailing their pain could be heard. For moments no
one could move. The only thing that existed was that sound... that
scream...
	After a few seconds it was replaced by the more familiar sound
of Worf's swearing ringing through the decks. As one the crew
recognised the by now familiar Klingon words, and got back to work. A
few of the more perceptive crewmembers, however, made sudden
realisations, and looked suddenly slightly worried. A few harried
whispers were exchanged, some nods of assent, and pretty soon the
verdict had spread around the entire ship. Worf's day had come.
 	There was only one thing that they could do.
	Panic.
	It was if the teacher at pre-school had announced to the
children that the boogeyman would be dropping by during sleep-time.
The crew abandoned whatever they were doing, and immediately started
running in all directions. "FLEE!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!" was the cry
that rang through the serried ranks. Eventually the retreat became
slightly more organised, and the computer was being asked for Worf's
location at an average of seven times every three seconds. The
crewmember would check Worf's position, and plot a course to avoid him
at ALL costs. The airducts became traffic jams for Ensigns seeking
short cuts. People were being beaten up for Jeffries Tubes. Several of
the more wily crewmembers made a killing by selling anti-security
override chips for doors to quarters. Many turned their stun phasers
on themselves. Not even the Borg could generate this level of fear and
mass hysteria.
	Worf, however, was blissfully unaware of this. The hum of the
engines and the echo of his footsteps was the only sound he could
hear. The halls were barren. Not a soul. Quite confusing for him.
"Still, no matter. Obviously the crew are no longer loitering around
the corridors as they did before." he told himself as he did his
rounds.

	An hour passed uneventfully, and very alone. He still hadn't
seen anyone yet - by now he was getting suspicious. He had walked
through Engineering not long ago, and nobody was there. No one in
Engineering? Ridiculous!
	Just then, he heard footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Ragged breathing.
Getting closer. At last! Someone to talk to, to find out what's going
on!

	Ensign Walker was hopelessly lost. That in itself wasn't so
bad - on the Enterprise it was easy to get from place to place with a
computer happy to direct you every step of the way. The problem was
Walker didn't know he was lost. Worse still, he thought he WASN'T
lost.
	Being lost is bad enough. You have no idea of where you are,
and the worst part is you have no idea of how to get to either a)
where you're going, or b) anywhere where you have an idea of where you
are. The blind wandering can lead you anywhere - sometimes to safer
ground, but usually not. But when you don't know that you're lost
things get difficult. The confidence you have when you think you know
where you are makes you move a bit faster - leading you further and
further off course. But when you think you AREN'T lost, you are
guaranteed to end up on the wrong side of the continent.
	Walker was totally convinced that he was on Deck 14 heading
towards his quarters. He was regularly checking the computers to see
where Worf was, and it was telling him Worf was on Deck 17. "Fine!
Almost there!" he told himself happily as he rounded a corner. "I got
home without running into--"
	There he was.
	There HE was.
	Not five metres in front of Walker was the Klingon Pepe le Pew
that any living being with a self-preservation instinct was avoiding -
Worf. Walker suddenly found his legs had gone on strike from all this
panicking, and refused to move any more. His jaw was hanging loose,
and would have swung in the breeze if there was one.
	"Ensign Walker?" inquired Worf in his usual tones.
	Walker had temporarily lost the use of the English language.
"Huuuuhhh... wheeiiiii... bbbbrrrrraaaaahhhh..." he moaned out, still
not moving his jaw. What Walker couldn't know was he had actually
spoken an as yet unencountered dialect known as Si'rith, and he had
just asked Worf if the fire was put out yet. In the meantime his legs
were starting negotiations with the Jello Corporation as a new flavour
- Panic Passionfruit.
	"Is there something wrong?" Worf continued, the most idiotic
of questions. Walker had just lost a pound in weight with a method
which normally required a bilge pump, a shower and a change of
underwear. He blinked, lifted his head slightly, and his face formed a
look of recognition. Everything that had happened before was purely
instinctive. Now Walker was hit by the full realisation that Worf was
standing in front of him, and he immediately passed out, landing with
a wet thud.

	Worf simply couldn't understand it. Not only did it seem that
nobody was going near him, but Picard had just excused him from duty
on the bridge without giving a reason (in reality, Picard had foreseen
this weeks earlier). When word of this spread the Enterprise let out a
collective sigh of relief.
	By now Worf was getting annoyed. He could not understand why
everyone was avoiding him, and whenever he tried to find someone to
ask about it, he couldn't find them. He couldn't find anybody for that
matter. No one was responding to his communicator hails, when he tried
to get onto the bridge he was ordered off without even getting a word
in. In desperation he tried to talk to Guinan, but she wasn't in 10
Forward as expected, although Worf swore he saw a teardrop-shaped hat
behind the bar move.
	As it happened, the isolation was irritating him far more than
anything else he could have encountered (apart from a few alien
diplomats). By now Worf was stomping around the ship, searching for
signs of life. None came - no one else was sill enough to repeat
Walker's mistake, Worf thought.
	Walker!
	Of course! I'll go and talk to Walker - doesn't look like
he'll be doing much. "Computer, give position of Ensign Walker."
	"Ensign Walker is in Sickbay."
	"Excellent."

	Worf came storming into Sickbay like a Visigoth on the
warpath. Ignoring the seven crewmembers who ran out before he had come
in, he strode over to Walker, who lay in a med-sarcophagus, still
unconscious.
	A medical orderly approached him, looking like he was in an
advanced state of Parkinson's Disease. "Can I help you with anything,
sir?" Medical Officer Patrice said in a voice of a McDonalds
drive-thru worker.
	"I want to talk to Ensign Walker." Worf stated in a voice that
combined demand, threat and just-try-and-say-no.
	"I'm... uh..." Patrice didn't want to refuse his request (for
self-preservation reasons), and there was only one thing that stopped
him from allowing it. Namely, the laws of nature. Walker was in shock,
and wasn't taking any calls.
	"Well?"
	"He... uh... cannot be disturbed right now." Patrice tried to
sound like someone with authority. It came out sounding like a kid
that Urkel would bully.
	Worf looked down at Walker. "He looks alright to me."
	"He's in an advanced state of shock. It is best th--"
	Worf ignored him completely, and decided that Walker could be
woken up, with a little encouragement. To that end, he started
slapping Walker's face about a bit. Only gentle, swaying strokes,
lightly knocking Walker about the sarcophagus.
	"Ahhh... you can't do..." Patrice tried to object, until he
remembered who he was dealing with, realised that it was completely
futile, and joined the rest of the crew by fleeing to his quarters.
	Worf paid him no heed. With a little more of Worf's persuasion
Walker was starting to wake up. He looked up, saw Worf, and had a
heart attack.
	At least, it felt like one. He felt a sudden pain, and then it
was as if his entire body was being drained of blood. In actual fact,
he had just repeated the weight loss technique he'd done earlier. His
panic caused him to kick wildly, damaging the equipment and sending
sparks flying. He felt an amazing electrical current flow into his
nether regions, and he jumped out of the sarcophagus out of instinct.
	The combined panic and shock had now woken him up completely,
and he got his wits back about him.
	He saw Worf again.
	He lost his wits again.
	"Walker, I'd like to talk to you."
	"Ha...huu dan hu ee!" Walker jabbered out.
	"What's your problem!?" Worf asked in his interrogation voice.
	"Hook, hut dan hu ee! Ees!" In waking him up, Worf had broken
Walker's jaw, which was locked permanently open. Communication was
difficult. This did not please Worf.
	"Why were you running away from me!?"
	"Hee er aird!"
	"WHAT!!?"
	"Aird!! Oh ees!"
	"Dammit, answer me!!!!"
	"I hyin!"

	The interrogation moved on, in traditional Klingon fashion.

	By the end of it, Walker had four cracked ribs, fractured both
his femurs, bruises to thirty percent of his body, and his weight loss
program had allowed him to lose a further three kilos. And Worf still
didn't have any answers. In the end, he gave up, went back to his
quarters and got some sleep. He was in there two hours before anyone
had the guts to leave their quarters.

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 22:59:33 1999
For disclaimers see part one, and don't say you weren't warned because
I *will* laugh at you. 

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WEEK 5, DAY 3

	"This is not good." Dr. Crusher intoned.
	For weeks she had been working on a cure, but for the life of
her she couldn't find anything. MM was simple enough, as was the gas
that triggered it, but when they reacted something happened that she
couldn't simulate, or find out exactly how it happened. All she knew
was somehow, 'it' happened.
	The scope of the problem was full known. Everybody knew how
many victims there were, if they were one of them, and the warning
signs for when to avoid someone. The most unfortunate ones were those
that didn't know how long their cycle would take, and were living in
fear of themselves every day. "It's coming, I know it. When is it? Is
it today? Was that it!? Oh, just my stomach."
	It was ordered that anyone suffering from MM had to wear a
patch at all times to let the rest of the crew know that they were
sufferers. The patch was made so that it turned red when the person in
question was ovulating or pre-menstrual, so if someone was seen with a
red patch he was treated very gently, but usually avoided if possible.
For some people it brought back legends of WWII Germany. As days went
by the MM victims who were at the completion of their cycles were
referred to as Marked.
	"What have you found?" stammered Picard. By now he was quite
paranoid about what his body was doing to him, his reputation and the
rest of the known universe. The practice of the officer on duty
threatening to disintegrate any ship they encountered was becoming
routine.
	"Okay, I have no idea of how to cure it. The solution that
causes it is like nothing I've seen before. I'm not getting anywhere
with this. It does seem that the amount of the chemical dictates the
time between cycles. But there's a catalyst as well that I can't find.
Once I find it, then I could probably get somewhere." Of course
Beverly knew everything about the catalyst (having created it), but
she needed an excuse for not having any results yet.
	"Is that all?"
 	"Only one other thing, I have discovered that the effects will
eventually fade away."
	"When?" Picard's eyes lit up.
	"After thirty cycles, I'm afraid."
	Picard seemed to shrink, as if he was trying to hide inside
himself. "Thirty? How much longer will I have to put up with this if
there isn't a cure?"
	"Another eight weeks."
	"Oh no..."
	"Sorry sir, this shouldn't be happening! I don't know why."

	After a little comforting, Picard eventually pulled his pride
back to the forefront. "Alright then. I'll just have to cope." He
turned to Dr. Crusher. "Thank you Beverly, I know you're trying."
	Crusher saw genuine appreciation in his eyes. 'At last he's
learnt his lesson' she decided. "You're welcome sir. I know exactly
what you're going through, trust me."
	"I know, I know." He paused for a while as if he had something
else to say, but instead he abruptly walked away.
	"Poor thing." Bev told herself. "Eight more weeks of this, at
least it's rubbing off on him. Just when is Will going to learn?"

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WEEK 6, DAY 6

	Today it was Geordi's turn to feel the introduction to Mother
Nature's cruel practical joke on her daughters gone awry. He was never
too pleased about it after Dr. Crusher warned him about what would
probably happen. But like all the other men before him, he had
proceeded with a carefree It-Can't-Stop-Me-I'm-Invincible attitude the
first time it came along.
	And like all the other men before him, he would regret it.

	The pre-menstrual syndrome had caused a sudden change to come
over Geordi - he had gone into a cleaning frenzy. He decided that it
had been far too long since the warp drive had been cleaned (when
actually it had only been three weeks).
	"Engineering to Bridge." Geordi announced.
	Silence. More silence. "Engineering to Bridge!" Geordi
insisted.
	Still nothing. "What's wrong with my badge? Why isn't it
working?" he said to himself, somewhat annoyed.
	"You didn't activate it." a passing Ensign Cullinan answered
nonchalantly.
	Geordi stared at Cullinan as he walked away. "Thanks
Cullinan!" he called out. "...ya fat ugly slob." he finished after
Cullinan had turned the corner. "Engineering to Bridge." he repeated
after hitting his comm badge.
	"Go ahead LaForge." Riker replied.
	"We may have to shut down our engines temporarily. The warp
core components are due for a cleaning."
	"What?" Riker asked incredulously.
	"We need to clean the warp drive."
	"Geordi, the drive was given a thorough cleaning three weeks
ago. Why do you need to have it done again?"
	"How do you know it was done?" Geordi said accusingly.
	"Because Data told me that he had done it." Riker firmly
rebutted, his limited patience evaporating rapidly. Riker's Marked
today, Geordi remembered.
	"Well it's best to be sure sir." He replied firmly. "The warp
drive will be shut down for six hours. LaForge out."
	"Lieutenant you're not--" Geordi turned his badge off, and
threw himself into giving the dilithium crystals a good polishing.

	Despite all his attempts Riker could not persuade Geordi that
the warp drive was already clean, and that a few specks of
hypothetical dust actually wouldn't cause a breach in the warp core.
Geordi was cleaning the drive, and that was that. The argument was
very heated thanks to the two combined Marked men, and was on the
verge of violence a few times. If someone had come in and learnt that
an argument this strong was over the supposed existence or
non-existence of some dust, they would have sprinted for the
straight-jackets. Some considered sending for Picard to resolve this,
but upon discovering that he too was Marked, the idea was quickly
abandoned.
	After half an hour of debating, arguing and threatening, Riker
finally surrendered. "Fine! Have it your way! But do you have to do it
on your own? We can't just sit here for six hours, we've got orders to
fulfill!"
	"Well yes I do have to do it alone, actually!" Geordi
insisted. "I can't trust anyone else with this kind of delicate
operation. My apologies if I offended anyone."
	"What about Data then?"
	Geordi's will faltered. Damn. I can't say Data can't do it.
But I have to make sure! I'll just watch him do it with me. We won't
be separated. "Yes, Data would be a help." He replied smoothly,
without a hint of giving in.

	For a while the job went along just fine. An hour went by, and
it looked like they'd be done in another two. As usual, the pair were
chatting away, having an amiable chat about just about anything.
	Until Data brought up the ultimate in wrong subjects.

	Geordi was having a ball of a time so far tearing strips off
Riker and Picard. Lately their behavior had been an abundant source of
combined wonder, concern and hilarity. Data, however, was being
somewhat unresponsive to Geordi's bursts of laughter - no suprises
there.
	"That was brilliant, wasn't it?" Geordi gleefully cried after
relating another story.
	"I am not sure." Data responded in his usual polite tone. "I
do find it somewhat disturbing."
	"No! No! It's a laugh! Watching them running around like that
is such a scream!" Geordi was in raptures as he buffed a cylinder
head.
	"Be that as it may, I do believe the presence of MM on the
Enterprise is a somewhat unbalancing factor."
	At the mention of MM, Geordi became very sullen. "Yes...
well... it does make things a little difficult."
	"Quite." Data intoned, but with an edge to his voice LaForge
couldn't identify.
	"What? What's the matter?"
	For a moment Data looked unsure, as if he wasn't sure how to
start (which was exactly right). "It is just... for some reason I
think that it is somewhat disappointing that those infected with MM
view it as some kind of disease."
	Geordi was purely astonished. He turned and faced Data
directly. "Well how do you see it?" he asked in some aggravation.
	Data did not return his stare. "It could be seen as a chance
to see the other side of certain things. To see how females must feel.
I would certainly like to have this kind of opportunity."
	"Opportunity? OPPORTUNITY!!!" Geordi shrieked. "Trust me Data,
this is NOT an opportunity! It is a sickness, plain and simple! End of
story!"
	Now Data turned to face LaForge. "I think that comment is very
callous, Geordi. It is a complex part of nature, not an illness."
	"For women, yes! But for MEN, no! I don't enjoy the prospect
of bleeding every six weeks for the next 3 years, and I certainly
don't consider being this annoyed an OPPORTUNITY!!" raged Geordi.
	"I do not mean to--"
	"Look! Just forget it, okay!" Geordi snapped. "Just forget I
ever mentioned it. Alright?"
	"What, that you were suffering from--"
	"YES!!!!"
	Data stared at him vacantly for a few moments. "Certainly."
	"Thank you!" Geordi heaved out in satisfaction. At last he'll
shut up about it.
	Data certainly did forget it. He deleted all recorded entries
that Geordi was suffering from MM or periods, and to be certain set up
a subroutine that would ensure that if he heard Geordi mention it, the
memory would immediately be removed.
	Once this was done, of course, there was nothing to hold Data
back. Geordi wouldn't mind answering questions about it since he
wasn't personally involved with it. Not to mention he could give an
objective opinion on its' emotional effects.
	"Do you know what it is like?"
	"What?"
	"Having a period."
	"I thought I told you not to talk about it."
	"Do not talk about what, Geordi?"
	"ME HAVING PERIODS!!"
	-zzt- the memory was deleted. "What, Geordi?"
	"AREN'T YOU LISTENING!!!?"
	"Of course."
	"THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING ABOUT IT?!!"
	"I am sorry, Geordi. I do not remember you telling me."
	LaForge sucked in his breath. 'Sometimes a machine doesn't
make a good friend' he thought. "Never mind Data. You're still
learning."
	Data paused to finish clearing the coolant pipes, when he
continued unabated. "But as I was saying, what do you think it is
like?"
	"Data!"
	"Yes?"
	"I told you not to mention that!!"
	"Did I mention that before?"
	"Yes!" Geordi raged.
	"When?"
	"Half a minute ago!"
	"Oh." Data paused. "I do not remember mentioning anything at
all."
	"Well you did. Alright?!"
	"What did I mention?"
	"Oh God! Do I have to spell it out?"
	"Spell what out, Geordi?"
	"MM!!!! ME AND A LOT OF THE CREW ARE HAVING
PERIODS!!!!!!!!!!!"
	-zzt- Again, the reference to Geordi was deleted. "Oh. Was
that what you said? How many?"
	Geordi let out a deep, rumbling groan. "This is my first."
	Data held a quizzical look. "First what? I meant how many of
the crew have MM?"
	"What?!" Geordi looked hurt. "Don't you care about me?"
	Data looked confused. "Why should I? You do not have MM. But
it is quite worrying that so ma--"
	"I just told you! I do have it!"
	-zzt- "You only told me a lot of the crew had MM."
	"Yes, and I told you I did too!"
	-zzt- "Yes."
	"YES!!" Geordi shouted, starting to hyperventilate.
	"So, why should I be concerned about you? Do some sufferers of
this virus concern you?"
	"No, Data. You should be concerned because I DO have it-"
-zzt- "-and I am rapidly losing my patience with you denying it!!!"
	"I am denying what?"
	Behind his VISOR Geordi's eyes were growing bloodshot. "That I
have MM!!!"
	-zzt- Data waited expectantly. "What am I denying, Geordi?"
	"Data, is this some sort of game?"
	"No, Geordi. Why would I play a game on such a delicate
subject?"
	"I don't know!! Just why are you deliberately annoying me,
especially in this state!?"
	"I am not trying to annoy you. And what 'state' are you in?"
	"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT STATE!!!!!??" Geordi exploded, his
fists tightly clenched. "THE STATE OF ME HAVING A PERIOD AND THE SHOCK
OF IT!!!!"
	-zzt- "The shock of what, Geordi?"
	"Ohhhhhhh!!! I've had enough of you!!! Just get out, alright?!
Out!! OUT!!!!!"
	And despite the fact that Data was far stronger than Geordi
and a lot heavier, his rage was so powerful that Geordi actually
managed to throw Data out of Engineering. "AND NEVER SPEAK TO ME
AGAIN!!!" Geordi shrieked. "YOU INSENSITIVE PRICK!!!"

	Data was utterly confused. Why were so many people getting
angry at me all of a sudden? It must be because of the MM problem,
yes. But why Geordi? He does not have it, I must ask him about it -
but he gave me an order not to speak to him. But Commander Riker gave
me an order to assist Geordi in cleaning the warp drive. That has
priority.
	So Data strode back into Engineering, all eyes staring
wide-eyed at him. Without a hint of discomfort he walked into the shut
down warp core chamber, and continued the task as if there were no
interruption. Geordi was staring at him.
	"I thought I told you to get out." He said menacingly.
	Data did not even flinch. It was as if he didn't hear him,
though he clearly would have. "Data!! I told you to get out, and I
meant it!! You've hurt my feelings!"
	No movement. "DATA I'M WARNING YOU!!!" Geordi roared.
	Poor Data had no idea how to handle this. 'Geordi is insisting
I leave, but I cannot break my orders.' He wanted to explain this
problem to Geordi, but he couldn't speak to him. And all the while
Geordi was shouting at him. 'What should I do? What should I do?'
	In the end LaForge, with the help of a taser, made the
decision for him. One electrical surge and Data was down for the
count, and the count would end up in triple figures. He was
unceremoniously 'escorted' from Engineering, and dumped outside the
range of the sensor for the door.
	Geordi went back to his beloved cleaning in a frenzy, and
pretty soon the cleaning seemed to soothe him. He went into a lull of
tranquility, induced by the freshness of the scene. The sweet, sweet
smell of the cleaning agent. What is that? Pine, always pine. He took
a deep, long breath of air, and promptly fell unconscious from the
fumes of the disinfectant.

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WEEK 6, DAY 7

	Not even her wedding could compare to the level of emotion
running through Beverly's mind. It was just at the wedding it was a
feeling of love, here it was a mixture of worry and guilt. Everywhere
she went there were reminders of the curse of the Marked. Red badges
flared, especially today - this being a common day. But the real sight
that made the effect hit home for Beverly was in 10 Forward.

	She had gone there purely as a distraction, but there she saw
something that she wished that she hadn't.
	It wasn't anything special. It was just a man - Lt. Junior
Grade Morrison. A very likeable, if occasionally patronizing fellow.
Beverly knew him from Engineering - he was one of the few engineers
who were competent in repairing medical equipment. Occasionally he
filled in at Sickbay when there was a shortage of medical officers.
	Looking at him, Beverly was shocked at what had happened to
him. She remembered that he was one of the early patients to come
through when the "epidemic" swept the ship - before she started using
her discretion in who received the MM shot and who didn't. Had she
thought of it earlier, she never would have given it to him. As it
happened, he had been given the weekly dose.
	But here he was, the patch on his chest red as his bloodshot
eyes. He looked terrible. The lines in his face had grown much deeper.
He'd lost a lot of weight, and his skin was very pale. His hand was
trembling slightly. His eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into his face,
and were wide open in a familiar expression. She'd seen it on the face
of some prisoners rescued from an unfriendly alien military camp on
Rajiv IV. The signs of torture were obvious on them. And just like
them, Morrison barely moved. With his jaw hanging open slightly and
the only perceptible movement being his chest when he breathed,
Morrison looked for all worth a mannequin. On top of that, the bulge
in his pants where the sanitary pad sat only made him look ludicrous.
	Morrison was a kind, but sensitive man. He could handle just
about any situation without too much fuss. A warp core breach,
antimatter leakages - no sweat for him. But emotionally he was already
very brittle. And MM came along, and gave him a sledgehammer blow to
the head. He just wasn't quite in touch with his emotions as much as
most. Six great emotional explosions later, he looked drained. Empty.
Crusher couldn't look at him anymore, so she got up and left, giving
him a pat on the back as she went.
	Four hours later she came back with Deanna for a little
socialising, and he was still there. He hadn't moved, not even an
inch. She tried talking to him, and got no response whatsoever. Troi
tried to sense any emotions, and she did - she burst into tears.
Beverly called in a medical team, and they carried him away.
	He never spoke again. He never even moved again. His already
unsteady grip on reality, only held up for this long by the facade of
the generous, smiling, happy man, had been wrenched away. It would
never come back. 
	As many men do when they feel overly emotional (after they
admit they actually do have emotions), Morrison had been reliving all
the highly emotional times in his life. Every laugh, every memory,
every tear, every scrap of pain had come back to him. And on that
sixth time, he had snapped. Occasionally Troi would attempt to look
into his mind and see what was going through it, but it was always
either pure pain, or nothing whatsoever. All attempts to make contact
to whatever place he was in were met with more catatonia. The medical
team knew he probably would never, in a sense, live again, but still
he clung on to life. He only needed to be fed intravenously. He lived
like this for another 28 years.

	"Their emotional responses are that much stronger because the
men are so unfamiliar with it." Beverly had thought. "They have no
experience with this kind of sudden change. It's quite a culture shock
for them." She remembered her first experiences with menstruality. The
first few times were tough enough, and she had plenty of time to
prepare herself. She knew everything that there was to know about it,
done all she could to be ready for the onset, but still it hit her
pretty hard. The men here had no warning. They knew nothing, suspected
nothing, not to mention not being quite as in touch with their
emotional sides as women. Nobody ever told them anything about it - it
was always a taboo subject.

	This inspired Beverly to redouble her efforts to find a
solution, but the same no answer came back to her every time.

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WEEK 8, DAY 7

	Now was the winter of the Enterprises' discontent. Once again,
the crew prepared themselves for Worf's impending meltdown and nuclear
explosion. They were all ready for yet another day of mass hysteria
and panic.
	The previous day Worf was due to be first "in the red", so to
speak. Ensign Walker, who had the cruel misfortune of running into
Worf last time, was so panicky of the thought of Worf wandering the
corridors like that again that he actually shot Worf. Luckily, the
phaser was on stun so no major damage was done. Walker was arrested
and put in the brig - where his appreciative crewmates came round and
gave him everything he could possibly ask for as a reward for saving
them, even if it was just for one day.
	This time, however, Worf made sure the rest of the crew
couldn't escape. There would be nobody cowering in their quarters
today! Ohhhh no! Worf had placed a bar on the computer, not allowing
anyone to return into their quarters whilst he was on duty. In
essence, he was locking everyone out of their houses once they left.
	He barred the Jeffries Tubes. He barred the air ducts from
entry. He barred the service ducts. He barred the escape pods. He
barred the holodecks. Every possible means of isolation.
	There would be no way to avoid him.

	Worf decided to make this a little more interesting. Just
before he left the Security offices he made an announcement over the
PA system: "Attention all personnel. This is Lieutenant Worf speaking,
giving notice that I will be on duty in five minutes, repeat five
minutes. That is all."
	The result was exactly as he expected. Even before his finger
had reached the SPEAKER button to turn it off, he heard massed
footsteps running outside the door. He allowed himself a grin as he
thought about what the crew would do when they realised that their
quarters were locked.

	The first wave of panic hit the Enterprise after the
announcement was finished. Everyone did wonder, however, just why Worf
had given notice that he was going on duty. But that thought was
pushed aside quickly - there were more important things to do right
now!

	Lt. Junior Grade Denver had joined the mob, all seeking the
safe sanctuary of their quarters. He had run and run and run like
never before. His concern was so great that he paid no attention to
anyone around him at all. In his mind there existed one thing: Home.
Nothing else mattered. Finally, he found his quarters. He sprinted
into the entrance, and neatly bounced off it.
	The door didn't open.
	Denver looked up quizzically. Bringing himself to his feet, he
slowly approached his door, waiting for the sensor to see him and let
him in.
	It didn't.
	Only now did he get a firm grip on himself and took control of
the situation. He knew something was wrong.
	Very wrong.
	Looking around, he saw that he wasn't the only one having door
trouble. In fact, everyone else in the corridor was trying, in some
way, shape or form, to open their door. None of them were succeeding.
He saw Robertson kicking at the door. Ur'uk was shrieking every
command he could think of at the computer. Wessers was slowly moving
around, trying to trigger off the sensor. Dray was trying to shoot the
door down.
	Denver, being a somewhat perceptive young recruit, saw a
pattern here. Something was barring all entry to personal quarters.
"Computer, undo lock on personal quarters."
	"Quarters not locked."
	"State reason for refusal of entry."
	"Re-entry into quarters has been security barred by Lieutenant
Worf."
	"Initiate de-activation sequence!" Denver knew this wouldn't
work, but he wanted to see how the bar was put on so he could find a
way for it to be removed.
	"Request denied. Bar on timer de-activation."
	"Give time for de-activation."
	"Bar will be de-activated in 10 hours and two minutes."
	When Worf goes off duty, Denver thought. The full hopelessness
of the situation started to hit him. Paranoia began to set in.
"Computer, where is Lieutenant Worf?"
	"That information is security classified. Request denied."
came the answer.
	Denver felt like he was in a labyrinth with the minotaur -
only here he didn't have a ball of string or a sword to slay the
dreaded monster. "What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO!?" he kept repeating to
himself. Eventually, self-control surrendered itself to the
inevitable, and madness took over. Denver sprinted down the corridor,
shrieking out like some insane doomsday preacher "THERE'S NO ESCAPE!
PANIC!!!!!"
	One by one, the crew made the same discovery as poor Denver.
Their quarters were inaccessible - find another hiding place! And sure
enough, they tried everything that Worf had thought of. The air vents
were sealed, the service ducts shut off, Jeffries tubes locked and
unopenable. Only the corridors and all public areas were accessible,
and Worf had ensured none of them could be locked. Every corridor of
the ship had a terrified mob running through it, pleading with the
computer for some kind of sanctuary. None came.
	The seconds ticked by, and the moment arrived. As if Worf was
playing Tag or Hide-And-Seek with the entire ship, he counted down the
five minutes until he was on duty.
	Once the five minutes were up, Worf turned on the PA again,
and let out a great battle cry, freezing everyone in their tracks. And
to finish the job, he added "I'M COMING!!!" Then, very calmly, he
stepped out of his office to a deserted corridor. The crew knew where
he had started from. With a wry smile on his face, Worf started down
the western corridor to see who he could find.
	What followed could scarcely be described (consequently I
won't attempt to describe it). But for the entire day Worf was happily
strolling along, even skipping occasionally, and watching everybody
flee in horror on the sight of him. He felt great! In fact he had
hardly felt better, except perhaps for when he first discovered that
his part A actually could fit into slot B on Counselor Troi. He had
set up various cameras, which were recording the anarchy for his own
posterity. HE had caused this. He had created this fear, and a
tremendous feeling of power raged through him. Every time he felt
down, he could break out one of those tapes and laugh and laugh.
	Q had seen what was going on, and was laughing like nothing he
had seen before. He couldn't help but get himself involved. First of
all he dropped in on Worf and asked if he could play too - Worf was
that cheerful he couldn't see why not. So Q made six more identical
copies of Worf to wander the decks of the ship to make the crew
completely terrified.
	It worked. Superlatively.
	Many of the crewmembers were running down the corridor until
they saw Worf at the other end, only to turn around and see Worf at
the other end five seconds later. One unfortunate group of Ensigns
were cornered by three Worfs. It wasn't long before they passed out
from their pulse being too high.
	For the poor crew, it was as if they had been trapped in the
set of Alien. Pure paranoia and terror had ravaged the souls of the
Enterprise, and suddenly a lot of retirement plans were made in
people's minds. Others were making funeral or suicide plans.
	Beverly, of course, suspected the carnage that would eventuate
and as such made sure she would not be on duty that day. In fact, she
never even left her quarters - which was the only way to be safe from
Worf. Of course, not many people had foreseen what he would, and
could, do.
	Finally, the ten hours were up. Worf let out a breath in a
contented sigh. It had been a good day. So slowly, he walked back to
his quarters, unlocked everything, and announced over the PA
"Attention please. I would like to announce that I am now going off
duty." Then, in more happy tones, "See you again in four weeks!"

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 23:00:48 1999
For disclaimers see part one, and don't tell me you weren't warned,
because I *will* laugh at you.

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WEEK 12, DAY 4

	For the past four weeks life on the Enterprise was hectic to
the point of danger. The curse of the Marked made the running of the
ship change every day. On one very bad day half the security crew were
Marked, and made a number of questionable arrests; including loitering
with intent, offensive body language, willfully and with malice
aforethought picking their nose, and creating a public disturbance by
walking too loudly.
	Picard had become a kind of animal on the border of frenzy.
He'd lost 15lbs and his hair line had retreated a further
quarter-inch. And through all this he was totally unpredictable. On
his good days (one out of three) he tried to be his usual self, but
his patience was no longer the seemingly limitless thing that it was.
On the OTHER two days however, he acted as if he had had a massive
caffeine overdose. His actions and speech were manic, his decisions
unreliable, and his well-being shot to hell and back and forth again.
Picard was not having a good time with himself.
	Whilst watching the interplay between men who all of a sudden
felt overly emotional and short-tempered did sometimes send Beverly
into hysterics, it quite often did present enormous problems. A few
fights had broken out all of a sudden, and the Captain was hardly ever
in a state to make an objective judgement on anything. Last week
Picard court-martialled the computer for not starching his uniform
(when it actually did), and sentenced it to be hung by the neck until
dead. When Troi pointed out that he couldn't execute the computer and
that it didn't have a neck, Picard court-martialled her and sentenced
her to be burned at the stake. In the end he had ordered the execution
of thirty seven crewmembers, and was in such a frenzy he had to be
tranquilized.
	Beverly soon learnt that the worst was about to arrive. The
moment was going to arrive eventually, but there was no way of knowing
that the timing would be so excruciatingly bad. Yet another Inspector
was coming on board to assess the Enterprise. And, although the entire
crew let out a sigh of relief - since it would stop Worf's planned
game of Hide-And-Seek - as far as Beverly was concerned, the Inspector
came at just the wrong moment.

	"Why are they giving us another inspection?" Beverly moaned as
she cleaned up the Sick Bay. "Only been five months since the last
one. She'll be here for four days, no hope of a rest with that old bag
DeHirst."
	"I suppose they want to make sure." called Troi, who was
helping her out. She didn't mind the inspection at all, especially
since DeHirst knew she was an empath and thus would avoid her at all
costs. She was once quoted as saying 'They might as well be spies for
their Captains', which is just what they were. "It's been a bit hectic
lately, that's common knowledge. Speaking of which, do you think the
boys will be okay? You know, with their little curses?"
	"I don't know, I'll check their cycles." Bev put down the
sterilizer, stepped over to a terminal, called up the calendar, and
was immediately paralyzed.
	Troi wasn't looking. After about thirty seconds she looked up.
Beverly was trembling. "Beverly?"
	No response. Troi got up and walked over. She tapped Bev's
shoulder. "What is it?"
	Beverly didn't move. "We are doomed, Deanna. All doomed."
	Troi looked at the calendar. "Oh no...."
	There it was. The inspector would come tomorrow. The next day
Picard, Riker, Worf AND LaForge would all have PMT. Plus about 140 of
the crew, most of whom were on the very common 4 week dose. And then
the next day would all suffer the real thing. The next day, DeHirst
would leave. She would NOT have a good impression.
	"Better get that transfer request out, Deanna. We're all out
of a job."

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WEEK 12, DAY 5

	"Well, so far so good." Inspectorate-Commodore Sara DeHirst
reluctantly admitted as she marched along the corridors.
	"Glad to hear it, Commodore." replied Picard reverentially.
'Praise from DeHirst? It's unheard of!' he thought. He allowed himself
a momentary smile while DeHirst wasn't looking at him.
	"I think that concludes the guided tour. You know the usual
procedure for my inspections." DeHirst remarked coldly.
	"Yes sir. Please proceed, the ship is yours." Picard turned on
his heel and smartly walked away.
	"Patronizing twit." DeHirst mumbled as Picard walked away. She
was growing tired of this kind of work. And with Father Time slowly
battering down her door, she couldn't always gather the strength to do
it. Well into her sixties, and with twenty-five years of field time
behind her, she was certainly considered one of the veterans of the
Alliance.
	She was also known for her complete lack of lenience.
Penetrating the glass ceiling of Starfleet requires determination -
you have to be hard and uncompromising, or a fairly good assassin. Off
duty she was polite, but when she was on the job she made King Kong
look like Bonzo. There had been few ships that had met her every
standard, and plenty of Captains suddenly becoming Commanders after
her reports were filed.
	Marching along, she stole a glance into Sick Bay, and saw Dr.
Crusher looking positively suicidal. Stepping inside, Beverly
immediately looked up, and jumped to attention. "Sir!" she announced.
	"That's enough, doctor. Your inspection's over." DeHirst
solicited. "And spare me the sir crap, okay? I've seen it enough times
to know when I'm being bullshitted."
	Beverly allowed herself a smile. "I can imagine." She sat down
again and resumed her sullen look.
	"What's the matter?" asked DeHirst.
	"Oh trust me, you wouldn't believe it."
	"Try me." DeHirst rebutted with a smirk. She'd seen plenty in
her time. And she'd heard plenty of excuses in her time as well. Here
comes another one. What are they trying to pull on me now? Another
alien possession story? How many times have I heard that one...
	"I don't know how to say this..." Bev started. How can I
explain it?
	"Just tell it like it is." DeHirst impatiently spat out.
	That doesn't help. You won't believe THIS.
	"Um," Bev began, without any confidence. "Have you read my
report I submitted to Command about the... male menstruation on this
ship?"
	DeHirst looked utterly bewildered. "No. What about it?" she
stumbled out, her patience rapidly returning. This is a new one...
	"We encountered... some form of nebula cloud with an unknown
type of radiation about twelve weeks ago. After we went through it,
many male members of the crew began to have something identical to a
menstrual cycle. We have no idea how this happened, all we know it
that it will cease only when the cycle has been repeated thirty
times."
	If you'd asked Pamela Anderson to explain the theory of
cognitive dissonance in terms of post-Renaissance Guatemalan society,
she still wouldn't have looked as puzzled as DeHirst did now. "Huh?"
	"I told you you wouldn't believe me."
	"Do you... uh... have any proof?" DeHirst was still trying to
give the impression that she was on top of the situation, whereas in
reality she couldn't even catch up with the situation, let alone climb
on top of it.
	"I have the solution that caused it, and samples of blood from
all of the affected crew. I can prove how it works, but I've yet to
find a cure."
	"But..." DeHirst felt like she was in Home Alone 2. "My
god...."
	"I know. It's been a real struggle on the ship for the last
three months."
	"...so... what are you leading to?"
	"It's just... well... several of the senior officers will
be... reaching the end of their cycles two days from now. You might
run into some rather 'out-of-character' behavior during the rest of
your inspection here sir."
	Never in recorded history had a Starfleet inspector been
thrown into such confusion. "Uhhhh, okay. I'll umm... keep that in
mind." She stuttered out, slowly creeping away. Reaching the corridor
she sprinted straight to 10 Forward, she obviously needed a drink or
fourteen.
	Beverly watched her leave. "Lord, please, please, be gentle."

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WEEK 12, DAY 6

	DeHirst would never forget today. Beverly would try very hard
to. Both she and Troi had tried everything to make the other officers
to behave decently, but they would refuse to have any part of it. "Why
can't you leave us alone Deanna? We're fine!" Riker shouted at her
when she suggested it. Crusher had even considered drugging them all,
but that wouldn't look very good to DeHirst. In the end Beverly was
following DeHirst everywhere along with Picard, before he ordered her
to go back to Sick Bay or he'd call security. She returned to Sick
Bay, called Troi over, and had the computer keep a camera on Picard
and DeHirst.
	By the end of the day, Troi had to drink about a litre of
whisky just to cope from watching, Beverly about 2 1/2. Picard was in
fine bitchy form, tearing his ship apart ruthlessly, chastising
crewmembers for anything from slouching as they walked to blinking too
much. A lot of the crew ran away crying after their lecture, as they
too were Marked that day and in the same emotional state. And poor
DeHirst, for once in her life she looked positively terrified.
Watching Picard doing all the fault-finding did make her job a bit
easier, but she would have felt more comfortable in the middle of a
Borg cube. But it was in Engineering that the tears started to flow
for Beverly and Troi.

	DeHirst could not remember any inspection like this. She had
worked very hard to get the reputation of the toughest inspector in
Starfleet. Now, because Picard was being so harsh with any problems he
saw, she had to actually defend his crew. She'd never defended anyone
before. It took some getting used to.
	"This is not good enough Ensign!" Picard shouted. "How can you
explain that?"
	"Well, we've never done a level 5 diagnostic test." The poor
crewmember explained.
	"And why not!?"
	"Oh, come along Picard." DeHirst protested. "You know level 5
diagnostics are only used to test brand new parts. Nothing used for
longer than an hour could ever pass."
	Picard ignored her. "You were given a direct order to run ALL
possible tests for the Inspector. Explain why you saw it fit that a
level 5 was not necessary."
	"Uhhh... " the Ensign was wondering how Picard would take the
truth. It seemed to be the quickest way to get court-martialled
lately. "You told us it wasn't necessary sir."
	"Is that right? Haven't you heard of initiative?"
	"Yes sir, but..."
	"Ah, thank you Ensign, that will be all." DeHirst butted in,
seeking to let this poor innocent creature go. The ensign saluted as
he started running away, and he'd gone 100 meters before his hand came
down.
	"Again I apologise, Commodore. This crew used to work so much
harder. Lately I don't know what's come over them."
	I think I've got a vague idea, DeHirst thought. "No, no. On
the contrary, your crew is most efficient."
	Picard just snorted his disagreement. "Now, here we are at the
OH FOR GOD'S SAKE GEORDI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!?"
	Geordi was sitting on top of the warp core chamber,
frantically cleaning the plasma transfer valves. Again. He looked up
in annoyance. "I'm cleaning the valves, aren't I? What are YOU doing?
Still sucking up to the inspector to get a promotion? Yeah, that's
constructive, isn't it?"
	"Don't you start that!" Picard sneered in reply. "Someone's
got to escort her round the ship. And it's better I do it than any of
you lot! You'd just get lost. And Riker, well as soon as he knew the
visitor was a woman he'd be drooling over her AND his erection!"
DeHirst jumped at the shock of Picard referring to her like that.
	"WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!!?" shrieked Riker, who was standing on
the other side of the warp core.
	Picard looked surprised, but his resolve returned just as
quickly. "You heard me!" he retorted. "Oh, you always act the
gentleman, but everybody knows what you really want! You think we
don't know what you're up to when you lock the door to your quarters
after you get off duty, when shortly afterwards you GET OFF!!"
	Riker was bright red with rage and embarrassment. "You... you
BITCH!!! I'll show... you... Ohhh!" he wailed back as he ran out of
the room bawling.
	"YA MAMMY'S BOY!!!!" Picard called after him. "That's right!
Run away and cry to Deanna again! CALL YOURSELF A MAN!! God, I don't
know. When's he going to take his hand off hi-OOOOF!"
	Geordi had hit him with one of the valves. "DON'T YOU SHOUT AT
WILL LIKE THAT!!" he wailed as he stood over Picard, tears streaming
down his cheeks. "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN! You're such a horrible
old man! Just because he's young and athletic, and you're old and
balding, it doesn't mean he's any less of a man than you!! Oh, what's
the use?!"
	LaForge sprinted out of the room choking on his tears. Picard
was still sprawled out on the floor, blood flowing from his nose.
"Geordi! I'm sorry!"
	But he didn't listen. He just kept running away. "Oh, what
have I done now?" Picard moaned into his palms. "I just wanted them to
make the ship look good! Now, oh god..."
	And Picard began to weep. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Beverly, who was still watching this, was tempted to laugh. Then she
looked at DeHirst - who looked positively lost. She was staring at
Picard, a mixed look of horror and bewilderment on her face.
	Picard, in the meantime, was still bawling his eyes out.
DeHirst had lost complete track of time. She got a shock when she saw
someone else approaching Picard.
	"Come on Captain, it's all right. Let it all out." 
	Beverly and Troi sat frozen, jaws hanging loose. Worf?
Comforting someone?
	Picard eventually got himself vaguely together again. He
looked up, straight into Worf's eyes.
	"It's okay, you were just saying what a lot of us were
thinking. He'll understand. Just wait a while, and he'll forgive you."
Worf somehow had a look of compassion on his face (at least as close
as he could get).
	Picard's mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to
disagree. But he changed his mind quickly. "We all know what you're
going through." Worf continued. "All of us. We can't imagine what it
must be like. But we understand. We do now. We'll forgive you for
anything you do, we know that you're feeling more than a bit up & down
lately."
	Picard seemed to be going through a great battle in his mind,
clenching his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. "Oh Worf!"
	In a flash they were in each other's arms, Picard sobbing
away. Worf was rubbing the back of his head, a benign smile on his
face. "It's all right Jean-Luc, it's all right now. Come on, you just
need a rest. Let's get you back to your quarters." Worf slowly let go
of Picard but held him up as they walked out of Engineering. DeHirst
stood frozen, THE picture of disbelief on her face.
	Picard could barely speak, he was almost choking on his tears.
He managed to blurt out "I love you Worf. You've always been so good
to me."
	Beverly sprinted to a nearby sink and promptly threw up in it.
DeHirst fainted on the spot.

	That night Crusher and Troi went into mourning for their
beloved Enterprise. DeHirst saw THAT!! "She'll split us up in an
instant!" Troi mused. "And she's still going to be here tomorrow! What
will she think when she sees them in THAT state?"
	"Remind me tomorrow to make sure my phaser's always on stun."
Beverly intoned.
	"Why?"
	"I think I might shoot myself."

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WEEK 12, DAY 7

	Despite Troi's urging, Beverly steadfastly refused to leave
her quarters and enter the carnage she foresaw. "I am not going out
there and getting involved in THAT!"
	"Come on, how bad can they be?"
	"HOW BAD!? You saw them yesterday, can you imagine what
today's performance would be like? I'm not coming out until they're
all asleep."
	"Oh, whatever. You could at least keep trying to find some way
to stop it."
	"I've tried! There isn't one! Thirty cycles, that's all I can
find out."
	"There must be something else!"
	"Nothing. I'll keep trying, but not today! I am not leaving
this room, and no one is coming in! Beverly Crusher will not be seen
on the Enterprise today!"

	Time was to prove Beverly's decision was a wise one.

	Picard was just waking up. He was relishing that wonderful
feeling of the morning when you can't move, and you don't want to. It
was warm, so warm. He felt something move behind him, something touch
his ear. Ahh, my dearest. I love you too. I could listen to that sound
forever. That oh-so familiar rhythmic, husky breathing of...
	Worf!
	Picard was wide awake now, but still didn't move. Worf was
snuggled up behind him, hugging him from behind. His mind raced back.
Obviously Worf's comforting from yesterday hadn't finished. And even
more obviously it had been a while since either of them had slept in a
bed with another person. Did we do anything? No, no we couldn't
have!... maybe... no! He wouldn't have...couldn't have!... although...
"Worf?" he asked in some concern.
	"Hmmm?" Worf moaned, only half-awake.
	"Why did you kiss my ear?"
	Worf immediately woke up. His eyes flashed open, but he wasn't
ready to move just yet either. "Why are you holding my hand?" he
replied.
	Picard felt that yes, he was holding something - their senses
were only just coming back. He felt something else too. "Where's you
other hand?"
	"Between two pillows."
	Picard's eyes widened in horror. "Those aren't pillows!!!"

	DeHirst could not sleep at all. Visions of the day before
haunted her, as if Q had come into her quarters and was showing her
just how all the officers she had grilled in her career must have
felt. 0800 came eventually. She didn't want to go out there and see
those men ever again.
	"Excuse, my arse. This is really happening!" She cast her mind
back to Beverly's warning. Their cycle ends today! That means... no!
No! But I have to finish the... okay. Fine. I can handle this. I'll
grit it out, just like I usually do. I'm not here to make friends or
enjoy myself, so just treat them like they are, a bunch of schoolgirls
the lot of them. The report, well, they're normally pretty good. The
usual one will do.
	Preening herself up for the day, she ordered a glass of whisky
for Dutch courage, and strode out into the corridor.

	Time was to prove DeHirst's decision was an idiotic one.

	'Firm, be firm.' DeHirst kept telling herself. She was utterly
determined that she could and would take back control of her
inspection, and she would refuse to be put off by these idiotic men
and their behavior. It was just that a dusty corner of her
subconscious kept on whispering 'resistance is futile', and another
was telling her 'you'll be sorry!'
	DeHirst was so tense that her right hand was bleeding from
clenching her fist so hard. Occasionally her vision went red, and the
only thing that stopped her from breaking down on the spot was her
last 25 years in the Fleet.
	It was Picard. Picard was killing her. Every point she had
raised he shot out of the stars with an almost precise, vindictive
abandon. DeHirst's firm resolve to hold her ground had turned into a
desperate contradiction of anything he said. 
	It was only a matter of time before her patience gave out. And
it wasn't long before it did.

	The inspection had reached the shuttle bay, which was in a
frenzied state of activity. There was plenty of cargo to be moved; an
aid station was critically short on supplies, and the Enterprise had
volunteered to go there (actually, Picard had said "Alright! Enough
nagging already! I'll go!")
	Right now, Picard was abusing another Ensign for not dusting a
shuttle's engine. DeHirst was standing behind him, sighing annoyedly.
Finally, she butted into the conversation.
	"Thank you Ensign, you're dismissed." she said shakily, her
anger almost boiling over.
	"Yes sir!" the Ensign replied.
	"No you don't! I'm not finished with you yet! You still
haven't explained why you failed to clean the interior of the fuel
tank satisfactorily."
	DeHirst tried again. "Dismissed, Ensign!"
	"I'll thank you not to get involved in my internal
disciplinary procedures, Sara!"
	"Now Captain Picard, this is hardly necessary!" DeHirst had
had more than enough of this. "Frankly, I find your recent conduct
unbecoming of a Starfleet off--"
	"You shut up!" Picard cut in. "Or I'll tell Starfleet Command
about how you 'inspected' the captain on the Centurion last year! That
conduct was quite becoming, wasn't it? Apparently his ship didn't
measure up, but he 'measured up' quite well, didn't he!? He measured
up to 10 inches, I believe."
	DeHirst went white, then red, then white, then red again, all
in the space of eight seconds. She shook for a while, then collapsed
on the floor and burst into tears. She just couldn't take any more of
this - it had been a very long, very bad inspection.
	Riker stared at the two of them. He was very angry. His face
went crimson and his nostrils flared as turned on Picard. "YOU SEE
WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HER!!" he shouted as he swung a right cross at
Picard, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
	In an instant Worf was in Riker's face. And in another
instant, Riker had rebounded off the wall of a shuttle. "How DARE you
attack the Captain!" he snarled.
	Worf helped Picard to his feet, still trying not to look at
him. "Are you all right sir?"
	"Yes, thank you Worf I'm fine..." his voice trailed off as he
looked around.
	There were at least thirty men staring straight at him. He
recognised them all as men he'd given a tearing off yesterday. They
had tears in their eyes, and they were all Marked, their red patches
shouted a warning to anything in their path to change theirs. There
was an odd look on their faces. They were slowly walking towards him.
	"We've had enough of you!" a young lieutenant shouted at him.
"Always shouting at all of us like we're just robots! Well we have
feelings too, you know! TAKE 'IM!!" he shouted, as they all charged
towards Picard.
	At once Worf gave the pose of a white knight defending his
queen, but when he saw that it wasn't fooling anybody his
self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he buggered off as quickly
as possible.
	Picard was marginally less alert than Worf. Never much of a
hand-to-hand fighter, he only realised what was happening just after
it happened, ie: when thirty men simultaneously dived on him and
started punching the crap out of him. He tried to fight back, but
thirty to one weren't the best odds in the world. Life is a matter of
majorities, and right now Picard was outvoted.
	But it didn't stay that way for long. Some of the rest of the
shuttle bay crew came to his rescue, trying to prise the men off
Picard. This only started even more one-on-one fights as old scores
were suddenly given a chance to be settled. Riker led a counter-attack
for the Rebellion, Geordi got in on the act, and in the end the entire
shuttle bay had erupted in a huge battle with itself. Men, fists,
screams, teeth, and cargo boxes were flying everywhere. Ensigns had
ganged together and were saluting officers, then promptly gang-bashing
them. "Stop it, all of you! Stop this mindless aggression!" Troi
shrieked as someone floored her. Outside in the corridor no one could
hear what was going on through the noiseproof walls. Data called
security and they rushed in to break people up, only to get lost in
the carnage as well. Eventually the entire security crew were also in
the fight, and seemed to be losing it. Data himself got involved,
trying to delicately render people unconscious somehow, only to
receive a wayward phaser stun blast from a trigger-happy security
crewmember and was put out of commission. The guard that shot him
paused for a moment and saw what he did to poor innocent Data.
Thoughts of guilt washed over him, his shoulders slumped, a
bittersweet tear in his eye, and *THUD* he had a cargo box hit him in
the temple (that'll teach him to get sappy in the middle of a brawl -
there is no Walden Pond on the Enterprise). Geordi had his VISOR
broken and knocked onto the floor, and not long after three ribs were
broken and he was knocked onto the floor. The fourteen men now trying
to attack Picard simultaneously had got into a brawl when they ran
into each other, and they all completely forgot about him. Picard
meanwhile had gone into a frenzied rage just at the thought of his
crew attacking him, and was diving on the nearest man he could get to,
even if it was someone that tried to rescue him. Riker had opened some
cargo boxes full of paints and dyes, and was throwing whatever he
could find at anyone he could see. Soon, the shuttle bay & its' crew
looked like something out of Yellow Submarine. In a matter of minutes
everybody was wearing not only a red uniform, but a green, blue,
pearl, tangerine, mustard yellow, white, grey, brown, and violet
uniform. Worf gave an ancient, blood-lusted Klingon war cry, which was
responded to by a splash of brown paint. A group of practical jokers
had centered themselves around the food dispenser, and were throwing
in everything they could make. Pies, cakes, custard, anything. Some of
the crew saw this, and a few gangs with a similar sense of humor
charged for the remaining dispensers. Soon, along with the paint,
desserts were covering the shuttle bay crew. A green security guard
covered in strawberry mousse was kicking a magenta engineer with a
chocolate mud cake dribbling down the back of his head. Worf was hit
by a bag of sugar which exploded all over him, and combined with the
paint made him look like a donut. 'Is this some advanced human form of
war?' he thought, licking some of the sugar off his finger. Data had
recovered from being knocked out earlier and re-entered the fray, only
to have a crate of melon synthenol hit his power switch and render him
unconscious for a second time. Picard was about to dive on Riker when
he was hit in the face by a pavlova, lost his balance, and slipped in
a patch of lemon sorbet. Riker laughed at this before he was struck
down by a flying fruit platter. Geordi gingerly stood up, blood and
rasberry jam running down his face and a shit-eating grin decorating
it. He blindly stared into the fray and, half-concussed, said "Bye
Tasha, I'll see you at the clinic." before being knocked unconscious
when he was sandwiched by a box of PCB spares and a rice pudding.
	And in the middle of this technicolour apocalypse stood
DeHirst. No one was even looking at her, it was as if she didn't even
exist. She was looking around at the devastation with the expression
of a four-year-old lost in the woods. Long past tears, well past
confusion, she was totally convinced that she had gone insane. 'This
is some kind of shared hallucination. It must be!' she thought. When a
crew member collapsed unconscious on top of her, she realised this was
only too real. 'Escape! Get out of this place!!' She ran screaming out
of the shuttle bay, found an escape pod, jettisoned it and flew away
to her rendezvous point.
	She never set foot on the Enterprise again. Normally the notes
on her inspection reports were as long as seven pages. The Enterprise
got one word: Satisfactory. When the High Command asked her to expand
on that she got a wild look in her eyes and started frothing at the
mouth, so they didn't ask about it again.

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

From lordeccles@yahoo.com Mon Oct 04 23:02:28 1999
For disclaimers see part one, and don't tell me you weren't warned,
because I *will* laugh at you.

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WEEK 13, DAY 7

	It was a bad time for the Federation.
	Their flagship, the universally known and respected ship, the
Enterprise, was now put under a strict quarantine. No ship, either
Klingon nor Starfleet nor Romulan, was to approach it or make contact
with it. Those who did, the proclamation read, would suffer the
consequences of whatever was dished out to them. This order was made
partially to prevent any further 'incidents', but mainly to prevent
the Romulans from citing the Enterprise for breaching any laws and
bringing complaints to the Council.
	The poor innocent nebulae cloud was also labeled as a
"Never-Approach-Even-Whilst-Being-Attacked-By-The-Entire-Combined-Klingon-And-Romulan-Fleets"
area. Since it was given the mantle of scape-goat and what had
happened on the Enterprise, no one was brave enough to go back in.
Which was a bit of a pity, as the nebulae contained various asteroids
with mineral deposits which served as an energy source twelve times
more efficient than dilithium.
	Actually, some three centuries later, an exploratory team
composed entirely of female crewmembers did explore the nebulae, as
they reasoned that they would not be affected. Unfortunately, just to
keep the joke running, a Q with a twisted sense of humour made half of
them grow penises, which gave some of the more refined officers great
blows to their pride as they had to learn how to urinate standing up,
a skill that took a little time to master for the uninitiated.
	That was the final nail. No one ever did go back, except the
Q's who were still laughing and held it up as one of the few areas of
space that McDonalds weren't putting up restaurants.

	Riker was well approaching insanity. After the debacle of a
week ago, he had now learnt more than enough about having a period.
And it was that day today. Oh, not again! Why? It's not fair!
	As the day wore on, he got more and more paranoid. Picard, who
had gone through his 30th and last cycle the day before, had to
relieve him from duty eventually since he was shaking so much. His
have gone, why not mine? Oh, come on! Get it over with!
	But it never came. Riker was more relieved than ever. And they
would never come back to him again.

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WEEK 15, DAY 5

	Dr. Crusher really had her work cut out now. She needed to
find a cure for MM, otherwise, as she calculated, Geordi would be
copping it for three and a half years. She had tried everything else
she could think of, but nothing was working at all. The only option
she could think of was a hysterectomy, but on a male? Certainly a
first for surgery, and quite possibly her last if she screwed it up.
It was definitely a last resort. She was running a few experiments
when Riker came in, looking positively pale.
	"Doctor Crusher?"
	"Will? My god, you look awful. What's the matter?"
	"You tell me, I've got no idea."
	Beverly had to sigh. Gee, thanks Riker. A lot of help you are.
"Well, what's wrong? What are you feeling?"
	"It's been for a few days now. I've been vomiting a bit, some
nausea, and there's a pain in my... you know..."
	"Ahh yes. Just sit down, I'll check you out." She got out her
PADD and ran it over Riker. For a while she stood frozen.
	"Beverly?" Riker asked. She didn't move. "What is it?"
	Bev came back to her senses. "Hang on, I'll check you again,
this can't be right." She swept the PADD over Riker again, an utterly
serious expression on her face frightening Riker somewhat. But once
again, she had a look of disbelief on her face after checking him. "Oh
my god... this is impossible!"
	Riker had turned snowy white. "What? Wh--wh--what is it?"
	"Umm, Riker, you are suffering from male menstruation, aren't
you?"
	"Yes... but it stopped last week."
	"Oh my... how could this happen?"
	"What is it?!" Riker was gripping the med-sarcophagus so
tightly his knuckles were white.
	Beverly cleared her throat a few times. "Riker... it seems
that you are... um... pregnant."

	Three hours later Riker woke up. "Huh? What happened?"
	He looked up and saw Beverly. She had stripped him down and
was giving him a physical examination. "Oh, hello again. You just
fainted, that's all."
	"I can't remember. What happened? What's wrong with me?"
	"Yes, it's true I'm afraid. You're pregnant."

	Four hours later Will awoke again. He was back in his quarters
and his uniform. Deanna and Beverly were sitting not far away, talking
about something inaudible. Both were obviously very worried. Troi
looked over and saw Riker was awake. "Oh Will!" She threw her arms
around him and held him close. "Beverly told me everything."
	Riker couldn't say anything; he was still in deep shock from
the news. After a while Troi let go, but kept her hands on his
shoulders. "I'd better leave you both alone, Dr. Crusher has some
things to explain to you." She gave him a long eye-to-eye stare and
Will could see the tear tracks running down from her eyes. Suddenly
she turned away and ran out holding back her sobs.
	Riker was tempted to pass out again. The last four months had
been hard enough, but THIS!? Pregnant? How? When? Why? Who? What the?
	"How are you feeling?" Beverly asked, coming close.
	"Right now, I have no idea. What the hell is going on? How did
this happen? I mean, sure this period thing I know about, but this?"
	"Well, as best as I could work out, it seems that you have
impregnated yourself."
	Riker's eyes popped open. "Hey!?"
	"I did a few DNA tests, and the foetus has the exact same DNA
code as you. It would appear that at some stage not long ago you...
ah..." she faltered for a moment to find the right phrase. "You
engaged in a common form of solitary sexual practice--"
	"What? I don't understand." Riker blathered out. He was still
in recovery.
	"You were having a wank, William."
	He was wide awake now. "Oh. Uh yes... well..."
	Beverly put him out of his embarrassment - he had enough on
his mind as it was. "Yes, well anyway, it would appear that at the...
right time, shall we say, your sperm met the ovum in the Vas Deferens,
and fertilized it."
	"Oh no..." His head fell into his palms.
	"Yes. I didn't think this was possible! But it would seem that
the MM virus has effects I still don't know about. Even the morning
sickness has come far earlier than usual. But the normal conception
time still would apply."
	Riker started clawing his hair out. He didn't understand
everything Crusher said, but from what he worked out it still bode
evil. "How could this happen? This can't be happening!"
	She draped her arm around his shoulders. "Yes, I'm afraid your
timing was somewhat bad."
	"What in the name of Q am I going to do?"
	"Well, in nine months you are going to learn the ultimate
lesson about being a woman, and boldly go where no man has gone
before. And probably never will again."
	"Hold on!" Riker leapt up and backed away a few steps in
protest. "Ohhh no! I don't think so! There is no way I am carrying
this thing around for nine months in my... my... where is it anyway?"
	Beverly bit her lip. She didn't want to tell him this. "The
foetus is ah... growing in your... scrotum."
	Riker turned white again. Even his beard seemed to grow a few
gray hairs. "Are you telling me that in nine months I am going to be
carrying an 11-pound baby in my marble bag??"
	"Ah, yes."
	"It's gonna expand to fit THAT!? Can you imagine how much it
would hurt when it's kicking? Forget it! There is no way I am taking
this on!"
	"But Will..."
	"I don't care frankly! History in the making, well this is a
part of history I don't want a part of thank you very much!" And Riker
announced a phrase never used by a man before: "I WANT AN ABORTION!"
	"Will, you can't. The Prime Directive forbids--"
	Riker was in a frenzy. "STUFF THE PRIME DIRECTIVE!! When they
wrote it, I don't think they would've thought of a male officer
getting pregnant! I am NOT going to give birth, end of discussion! I
mean, do you think I'd make a good mother anyway!?"

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A FEW WEEKS LATER....

	Eventually Riker had to call Starfleet Command for a meeting
of the Admiralty to get their interpretation of the Prime Directive on
this point. They told him that they could not allow an abortion, even
for males. Riker asked them what they would do in this situation, but
as they were all men who were not pregnant and therefore biased, they
didn't answer that one.

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Epilogue

	Word spread of the outbreak on the Enterprise quickly, and it
was met by either grave concern, or howling laughter. Riker was
court-martialled but exonerated for his actions against the Romulan
cruiser on the grounds that he was not in control of his actions. The
two judges who made this comment found themselves very unpopular with
the females of the universe, which explained their bachelorhood
(although they claimed it was voluntary).
	Beverly never did find a counteragent to MM, however she did
find an indirect solution. Noting that it always wore off after 30
cycles, she gave the sufferers a dose of MM so strong that they
ovulated every half hour, and locked the victim in a holodeck for two
days just to be sure it wore off. Even in the all the potential
comforts of the holodeck, those two days they spent in there were the
most traumatic of their lives for many of the victims. But Bev
certainly got her wish - the men finally learnt their hardest lesson
on what it was to be a woman.
	Riker learnt it best of all. After nine months, several
uniform redesigns, a long time walking like John Wayne and a fair
amount of time in a wheelchair (in the end the weight of the baby was
breaking his back and making him walk like ET, not to mention just
going to the toilet was turning into a balancing act) he did give
birth and had a boy (this scene was cut from the fanfic on the grounds
that if it were here the fic wouldn't even qualify for an X rating).
He tries not to show off the Caesarian scar though.

The End (Thank God:)

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Copyright Scum Inc. Publishing

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