Star Wreck: The Final Generation

Written Winter 1996

Captain's Log: Stardate 29827.67(Whatever that means) --

Our recent encounter with the Yeo forces finished on a positive note for the crew and myself. However, the Dentedprise is getting on in years, and I am not optimistic about how much more she can take. I' m afraid that if we engage in too many more battles, it would be lethal. The Federation has discussed plans for further funding, but so far it has not been very successful. We just have to keep our fingers crossed.

Captain James P. Dirk sat in his chair on the bridge of the ship, his head buried in his hands. Not only was he worried about the welfare of the ship and it\rquote s crew, but he had a huge migraine headache and there was no Extra Super Strength Tylenol to be found. Dr. MacDoe, the ship's chief medical specialist, was creating some capsules for the captain's cranial contusion. "Mr. Schlock," Dirk said, referring to this first in command, "Give me a damage report."

"Well, Captain," Schlock replied with a monotone but very intelligent sounding voice, "the transporters seem to be having some minor technical difficulties, but is does not seem to be serious. There is a much bigger problem, however. It seems that the tank holding our ship's power supply, pure unleaded gasoline, has been damaged, resulting in a small leak of approximately 2.327 klups per quadronanosecond. I highly suggest that we get to a gas station and repair shop immediately."

Dirk groaned. "All right Schlock, locate the nearest station and tell Officer Solo to set a course. I'll be going to Sick Bay to see if the good doctor has my prescription ready."

The captain walked into Sick Bay feeling worse than ever. It was like the forces of his mind were engaged in an all-out battle to the death, and he was an innocent bystander. "Doctor, are my pain pulverizing pills prepared?"

Dr. MacDoe had one eye in the microscope when Dirk walked in. "Yes, Captain, and I think you will find them to your satisfaction. They are fast-acting pills, and should work as soon as you consume them." Dirk swallowed the pills in one gulp. Nothing.

"They're not doing anything, Doctor," Dirk complained, "I thought you said they would work on contact. All they've done is given me a bigger headache."

"Hmmmm." the doctor pondered the perilous pill problem. "I guess I will have to work on it some more." Dirk was becoming very impatient, and began to storm out of the room. He did so with such fury that he ripped the seat of his pants. The doctor laughed. "Captain, the back side of your uniform seems to be split." Dirk was not in the mood to be joked around with. He lashed back at the doctor.

"You know what?" Captain Dirk yelled, "I should make you make you fix them, you good for nothing quack." This made MacDoe furious.

"Damnitt, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a tailor." At that, the captain stormed out, enraged, and headed toward the transporter room.

Scooty was the brains behind the beam. He knew every little control, could fix any kind of problem(especially snack crumbs caught between the keys - he'd done it many times). He was filling his fat face with frosted food when Dirk entered.

"Scooty," the captain's exclamation startled Scooty, making him drop his snack on the floor. "I want you to beam me down to the surface of that planet below us. If that idiot doctor can't make me medicine that works, I'm just going to get some cheap generic stuff from the planet's pharmacy." Dirk stepped onto the transporter.

"But Captain, the transporters are being repaired from the battle. They won't be operational again for another forty-eight hours," Scooty replied as he jammed a whole cupcake into his big mouth. "And this is the last of my snacks. I don't think I'll be able to take much more of this without my cupcakes and Twinkies and Ho-Ho's and..."

"Scooty!" the captain screamed, "Get a hold of yourself. There are much more important things to worry about than your stupid cupcakes. Get the transporters working, NOW!" Scooty dropped his head in shame. "Aye, Captain." He went back to work on the beams.

Back on the bridge, Schlock had just pinpointed the location of the closest station. However , there was one major problem. Schlock was about to retrieve the captain when Dirk entered the bridge.

"Captain, I have found a gas station approximately four hundred light years away. However, it is located in the territory of the evil Bringemons. If we go, we run the risk of running into some unhappy aliens." The captain thought for a moment.

"What is the closest Federation station location?" Schlock checked the computer.

"The closest is two-thousand light years from our current location. Taking into consideration the distance and the intensity of the leak, I have calculated, with my superior intelligence, that if we were to journey in that direction, we would not make it in time." Schlock continued gloomily. "We would be stranded, and our only hope of rescue would be to send an S.O.B. signal (Save Our Butts). Some enemy force would surely hear us, and we would be a defenseless target."

Captain Dirk could not believe what he was hearing. Neither situation was promising, but he knew that he had to choose the one that had a better chance of working. "All right, we have no choice but to enter Bringemon territory. Hopefully, with any luck, we can get through untouched. Solo, set a course for the petro place, pronto."

A short while later, the Dentedprise was moving right on course, and right through Bringemon territory. The crew could only pray that they would make it out alive. "Captain," Schlock reported, "We are approximately two-hundred light years from our destination and..." Schlock paused as he received a new transmission on his control screen. "Captain, there is a Bringemon vessel directly ahead of us, and it is preparing to fire."

Captain Dirk yelled out his orders. "Red alert! Raise shields and set photon torpedoes at full power. Fire when ready."

BOOM!! The Dentedprise was hit head on. Mr. Schlock gave the report.

"They have hit us squarely in our weapons supply. I am afraid that they are no longer operational." The captain was holding his head. This encounter was not helping his headache. Then, he came up with a plan. He picked up his cordless phone and made a super long distance call. "We have no choice. I 'm calling Rescue 911." He dialed.

"Thank you for calling Rescue 911. If you've fallen and can't get up, press one. If you are not breathing and/or have no pulse, press two. If your house or any family member is on fire, press three. If your starship is under attack, press four." The captain quickly pressed the appropriate digit.

KAARASH!! The Bringemons landed another direct hit. This one knocked Officer Solo out of his chair and onto the floor. He was out cold. The captain intercommed to Doctor MacDoe. "We have an officer down. Come and administer help immediately." The doctor responded. "Damnitt, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a doc... I'm on my way."

The crash had also jarred the phone from Dirk's hands. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"...and that is how to destroy your enemy. Thank you for calling Rescue 911, and have a great day." Dirk slammed the phone down on the floor, and it broke apart into several pieces. The pulsating in his head was increasing.

"Captain," Mr. Schlock had more bad news, "Our shields have been completely wiped out. One more hit and there will be nothing left." The entire crew fell silent. Mr. Schlock spoke again. "They have launched another torpedo, Captain. There is nothing we can do." The captain sunk into his chair, a beaten man. The only good thing that would come out of this was the fact that he wouldn' t have to worry about his headache anymore. Mr. Schlock was the last to speak. He was very calm. "Impact in five seconds, four seconds, three seconds, two seconds, one second..."