I suppose I should say that Paramount owns all the characters, but in this case, they might not want to. Oh. If Viacom owns Paramount, should I perhaps be saying Viacom owns all the characters.
"On screen."
A man with flaming red hair sticking up in all directions and wearing long white robes covered with little satchels appeared on the screen.
"Welcome Captain Janeway and crew to Mocavia. I am the Minister of Primary Meetings."
"How...???" Janeway asked.
"My race is telepathic. I am here to inform you, that you are infringing on our space." The man's voice was a low growl.
"Excuse me?"
"Infringing, violating our space. You must cease and desist at once."
"Mr. Minister, if you would kindly tell us where your boundaries are, we will leave at once."
He laughed. "Our boundaries, Captain our boundaries are ubiquitous. You are infringing unless you follow our rules, not some sleazy organization like your precious Star Fleet."
Captain Janeway pulled herself up to her full 5'6" (plus a few inches because she remembered to wear her heels) height. "I have proudly served Star Fleet for many years. They are not a sleazy organization. And those rules have benefitted the alpha quadrant and Star Fleet considerably."
"You just don't understand." The red-headed man looked at Mr. Tuvok, "Mr. Tuvok, are you a lieutenant or a lieutenant commander?"
"According to official canon, I'm a lieutenant. But sometimes it is so confusing."
In a soft reassuring voice the Minister continued. "Yes I understand, but such things are truly meaningless. No one cares. Wouldn't you like to be a competent security chief, that is within my power to grant you those skills."
Tuvok looked up. "That would be a logical choice on my part."
"Ahh, but no one cares." The red-headed man's eyes glinted and he wiggled his nose. Mr. Tuvok was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts. "This is what people care about."
Janeway looked at the Minister, "Are you a Q?"
"Even the Q live in mortal terror of us. We are all powerful. To survive you must follow OUR rules."
"Which are?" Janeway asked.
The minister opened one of the satchels, pulled out a piece of paper and glanced at it, shook his head and tossed it on the ground. He repeated this action several times, before finding the right one, which he held like one would hold a scroll. In a most pompous voice he started reading, "No acts of procreation, unless it is totally meaningless, with no social significance. It is allowed for all the crew except the Captain, who must be the virgin goddess--worshipped from afar."
"What about loved?" Asked the Commander.
"Not at all. That would violate our First Rule: no meaningful relationships. And no children. The act of procreation is strictly for release of tension." The minister continued.
"No children?" Janeway asked as she looked at the data coming in from the scans. "Well, that explains why there are only 67 of you on a planet that was once very heavily populated. What happens when there is only one left."
The minister laughed. "No, we do not do a horta routine, the last one does not undergo parthenogenesis. We'll just disappear. But our rules are what are important. And they will be passed on to other cultures."
Janeway shook her head. "No thank-you. Tom set a course out of here, warp 9."
"Aye ma'm."
The minister remained on the viewscreen, the ship didn't move. "We are all powerful, you will not move *until I say so.* Another rule is: You must be inconsistent. Captain, you have a reputation for fairness, honesty, thoughtful planning. That won't due at all." Again the man wiggled his nose.
"I'm tired of this," Janeway said. "Harry, lock phasers on every humanoid target on Mocavia. Fire."
finis