(no subject)
Title: The Odyssey: Part One - The Illiad
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Extreme silliness / RPF
Disclaimer: This fic is a parody and is in no way to be taken seriously. My only defense is that I did it for the lulz.
The Illiad, or, The End and The Beginning
William Shatner stepped back, eying the building across the street warily. A large crowd of people had gathered there for a Star Wars convention, one of the first such conventions in a long line of conventions yet to come. The only problem was that here, in the building on the other side of the street, a Star Trek convention had been scheduled for the same weekend. Things had turned ugly quickly, with the 'Wars fans shouting insults at the 'Trek fans in Huttese, and the 'Trek fans responding in kind with words in Klingon that should probably not be translated or repeated, especially not in polite company. Shatner just hoped the 'Wars fans across the street couldn't see him through the window. It was unlikely that they could; the window was tinted, but Shatner didn't know that. Just in case, he took a step back, turning away so they wouldn't catch sight of him.
The insults and name-calling had quickly turned into all-out war. Just last night a delivery team had dropped off a life-sized replica of the Galileo, and... They should have seen it coming, but the convention directors had assumed it was a prop for one of the panels and had set it up in the main hall. In the middle of the night, while Shatner was enjoying a quiet drink in the bar with DeForest Kelly and Nichelle Nichols, a horde of 'Wars fans came pouring out of the replica shuttle, swinging plastic lightsabers every which way. Replica phasers didn't stand a chance against an onslaught like that. Shatner himself had suffered a black eye during the attack, which earned an eyebrow and an icepack from Kelley. Walter Koenig had a nasty bruise on his forearm, while George Takei had somehow managed to wrest a lightsaber away from one of the 'Wars fans and lead a charge against them, driving them back across the street with an army of kids dressed as Klingons and Vulcans and Andorians and God only knew what else at his back.
“Tough crowd,” Shatner muttered, glancing back at the 'Wars fans one more time. He caught sight of some schmuck dressed as a Jedi knight rallying a group of Stormtroopers, assisted by someone in a Darth Vader costume.
He made his way back to the main hall, where James Doohan was busy conferring with a group of teenagers in Starfleet uniforms - most of them red, with a smattering of blue and gold - making plans to build some kind of catapult to send a shower of Star Trek figurines raining down on their enemies' heads. It was a good plan, except for the fact that they'd have to launch the thing either from the roof or from the front of their building, and both options left them exposed to attack. The teenagers looked a little scared, but excited at the same time. One of the kids was actually drawing the plans out, doodling little equations in the margins. Shatner couldn't tell if the kid really knew what he was doing, or if he was just pretending.
He wished that Nimoy had been there, but he was back in LA, on the other side of the country, doing a book signing. They could have used his help here. A couple of kids dressed like Vulcans wandered past in a hot debate over the merits of siege engines vs. projectile weaponry, and Shatner just shook his head. This was ridiculous.
“Bill. Bill!” Kelley was at his side suddenly, waving his hand in Shatner's face. Shatner blinked and took a step back, giving himself a mental shake. He had to stay focused. “Bill, I just saw George Lucas working those kids into a frenzy. I think they're going to try and charge us.” Kelley glanced at Doohan, and then looked back at Shatner. “Damn it, Bill, where's Gene? Has anyone seen him?”
“I... I don't know,” Shatner replied, wiping his brow. “What are we going to do?”
“We're going to give them as good as we get,” Nichols said, walking up to the two of them, her hands on her hips. “You remember the episode Amok Time? Those staves you and Len fought with, Bill? There's a display full of them in the exhibit hall.”
“They're called lirpa,” Kelley said absently, and Shatner stared at him for a minute before asking, “How do you even remember that?” Kelley shrugged.
“All right, so we've got...” Shatner waved a hand. “The Vulcan things. Those plastic lightsabers won't stand a chance. What else?”
“I say we threaten them with corbomite!” The group turned to see a scrawny, pimply kid with Vulcan ears and a science uniform nodding at them enthusiastically. Shatner rolled his eyes and turned back to Nichols and Kelley.
“Someone wanna explain to 'Spock' why that doesn't work in real life?” he muttered sarcastically. “Come on. Let's go see what the 'Wars fans are up to.” They made their way to the front of the building, where a group of 'Trek fans were guarding the door. 'Wars fan shouted a few insults across the street, and the 'Trek fans shouted insults back.
“The dork is strong in that one!”
“Your mother was a Horta!”
“Let's see the Suckerprise make the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs!”
“bIjeghbe'chugh vaj bIHegh!”
“What did that kid say?” Shatner whispered, and Nichols and Kelley both shrugged. The 'Wars fans were apparently at a loss too, because they just milled around a bit for a moment, whispering amongst themselves.
“Oh yeah? Scruffy nerf herders!”
“Live long and suck it!”
“Losers.”
“Nerds.”
“Oh boy.” Shatner rolled his eyes again. “You don't think they'd be willing to negotiate a truce, do you?”
~*~
Hours later, back in the bar, Shatner sat nursing a drink, drumming his fingers against the counter. He didn't want to be a part of this absurd war, but his oh-so-loyal fans seemed to have appointed him as their leader. After all, he wasn't just William Shatner, oh no, he was James T. motherfucking Kirk. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. He'd been doing a lot of eye-rolling today.
Takei joined him after he'd downed a few drinks, and for a long while both of them just sat in silence, surveying the rest of the bar. “You were pretty impressive out there today, Bill.” Takei raised his glass in salute.
“Well, you know how it goes. When it's bruise or be bruised...” He reached up to poke at his black eye. Despite the icepack, the swelling hadn't gone down much. “Jimmy's catapult was something else, though, wasn't it? All those little ceramic Kirks falling from the sky, knocking out those trooper guys.”
“And did you see the look on Lucas' face?” Takei chuckled. “I wish Gene had seen it. Of course, I can't blame him for leaving when he could. I know if I thought I could get past those lunatics, I'd be out of here at warp nine.”
“They have to get tired eventually, right?” Shatner said. “They'll get tired of their little 'war' and just go home.”
~*~
A week later, they were still there. 'Wars fans had the building surrounded, and the 'Trek fans were now huddled in the basement, looking grim and determined. This was it. The last stand. If they didn't regain some ground this time, they were done for. All would be lost. The 'war council' had gathered in one corner, ringed by a group of kids in red uniforms, who'd taken it upon themselves to act as Shatner's bodyguards. He wanted to ask them if they'd ever watched the show, but he kept his mouth shut.
They'd been hearing noises up above all day. Wondered what the 'Wars fans were doing. But now it was quiet. Too quiet. Everyone in the basement spoke in hushed tones, as though speaking too loudly would somehow incite the 'Wars fans to come charging at any minute.
“What do we know?” Shatner asked. It was a rhetorical question, and he continued before anyone had a chance to answer. “We know that Lucas is in charge of that... horde. We know that Lucas likes to make things flashy.” He paced back and forth, hands behind his back. “And we know that our fans have been around longer than these 'Wars nuts, which means they're probably a little more loyal. On the other hand... the 'Wars nuts are pretty much insane. We're screwed.”
“Sir.” One of the fans dressed like Spock pushed his way through the ring of redshirted individuals, elbowing them sharply out of the way. Shatner was a little taken aback by how much the guy looked like Nimoy. It was a little eerie. “I believe I may have a plan...”
~*~
There were few signs that there had been a struggle, when it was all over and done with. No windows had been broken, no displays toppled over. A few people had sustained minor injuries, and one redshirt was still out cold (though Kelley had assured them the kid wasn't dead), but the building across the street was completely empty. There wasn't a single 'Wars fan to be seen. They'd been beaten, and beaten good. Shatner's 'troops' were celebrating their victory with some vile alcoholic concoction they were pretending was Romulan ale.
“Now what?” Koenig asked, peering dubiously into the glass that had given to him. Whatever was in it, it was blue, but it certainly wasn't Romulan ale.
“We go home,” Shatner said wearily, beckoning for the others to join them. “We go home.”
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Extreme silliness / RPF
Disclaimer: This fic is a parody and is in no way to be taken seriously. My only defense is that I did it for the lulz.
The Illiad, or, The End and The Beginning
William Shatner stepped back, eying the building across the street warily. A large crowd of people had gathered there for a Star Wars convention, one of the first such conventions in a long line of conventions yet to come. The only problem was that here, in the building on the other side of the street, a Star Trek convention had been scheduled for the same weekend. Things had turned ugly quickly, with the 'Wars fans shouting insults at the 'Trek fans in Huttese, and the 'Trek fans responding in kind with words in Klingon that should probably not be translated or repeated, especially not in polite company. Shatner just hoped the 'Wars fans across the street couldn't see him through the window. It was unlikely that they could; the window was tinted, but Shatner didn't know that. Just in case, he took a step back, turning away so they wouldn't catch sight of him.
The insults and name-calling had quickly turned into all-out war. Just last night a delivery team had dropped off a life-sized replica of the Galileo, and... They should have seen it coming, but the convention directors had assumed it was a prop for one of the panels and had set it up in the main hall. In the middle of the night, while Shatner was enjoying a quiet drink in the bar with DeForest Kelly and Nichelle Nichols, a horde of 'Wars fans came pouring out of the replica shuttle, swinging plastic lightsabers every which way. Replica phasers didn't stand a chance against an onslaught like that. Shatner himself had suffered a black eye during the attack, which earned an eyebrow and an icepack from Kelley. Walter Koenig had a nasty bruise on his forearm, while George Takei had somehow managed to wrest a lightsaber away from one of the 'Wars fans and lead a charge against them, driving them back across the street with an army of kids dressed as Klingons and Vulcans and Andorians and God only knew what else at his back.
“Tough crowd,” Shatner muttered, glancing back at the 'Wars fans one more time. He caught sight of some schmuck dressed as a Jedi knight rallying a group of Stormtroopers, assisted by someone in a Darth Vader costume.
He made his way back to the main hall, where James Doohan was busy conferring with a group of teenagers in Starfleet uniforms - most of them red, with a smattering of blue and gold - making plans to build some kind of catapult to send a shower of Star Trek figurines raining down on their enemies' heads. It was a good plan, except for the fact that they'd have to launch the thing either from the roof or from the front of their building, and both options left them exposed to attack. The teenagers looked a little scared, but excited at the same time. One of the kids was actually drawing the plans out, doodling little equations in the margins. Shatner couldn't tell if the kid really knew what he was doing, or if he was just pretending.
He wished that Nimoy had been there, but he was back in LA, on the other side of the country, doing a book signing. They could have used his help here. A couple of kids dressed like Vulcans wandered past in a hot debate over the merits of siege engines vs. projectile weaponry, and Shatner just shook his head. This was ridiculous.
“Bill. Bill!” Kelley was at his side suddenly, waving his hand in Shatner's face. Shatner blinked and took a step back, giving himself a mental shake. He had to stay focused. “Bill, I just saw George Lucas working those kids into a frenzy. I think they're going to try and charge us.” Kelley glanced at Doohan, and then looked back at Shatner. “Damn it, Bill, where's Gene? Has anyone seen him?”
“I... I don't know,” Shatner replied, wiping his brow. “What are we going to do?”
“We're going to give them as good as we get,” Nichols said, walking up to the two of them, her hands on her hips. “You remember the episode Amok Time? Those staves you and Len fought with, Bill? There's a display full of them in the exhibit hall.”
“They're called lirpa,” Kelley said absently, and Shatner stared at him for a minute before asking, “How do you even remember that?” Kelley shrugged.
“All right, so we've got...” Shatner waved a hand. “The Vulcan things. Those plastic lightsabers won't stand a chance. What else?”
“I say we threaten them with corbomite!” The group turned to see a scrawny, pimply kid with Vulcan ears and a science uniform nodding at them enthusiastically. Shatner rolled his eyes and turned back to Nichols and Kelley.
“Someone wanna explain to 'Spock' why that doesn't work in real life?” he muttered sarcastically. “Come on. Let's go see what the 'Wars fans are up to.” They made their way to the front of the building, where a group of 'Trek fans were guarding the door. 'Wars fan shouted a few insults across the street, and the 'Trek fans shouted insults back.
“The dork is strong in that one!”
“Your mother was a Horta!”
“Let's see the Suckerprise make the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs!”
“bIjeghbe'chugh vaj bIHegh!”
“What did that kid say?” Shatner whispered, and Nichols and Kelley both shrugged. The 'Wars fans were apparently at a loss too, because they just milled around a bit for a moment, whispering amongst themselves.
“Oh yeah? Scruffy nerf herders!”
“Live long and suck it!”
“Losers.”
“Nerds.”
“Oh boy.” Shatner rolled his eyes again. “You don't think they'd be willing to negotiate a truce, do you?”
~*~
Hours later, back in the bar, Shatner sat nursing a drink, drumming his fingers against the counter. He didn't want to be a part of this absurd war, but his oh-so-loyal fans seemed to have appointed him as their leader. After all, he wasn't just William Shatner, oh no, he was James T. motherfucking Kirk. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. He'd been doing a lot of eye-rolling today.
Takei joined him after he'd downed a few drinks, and for a long while both of them just sat in silence, surveying the rest of the bar. “You were pretty impressive out there today, Bill.” Takei raised his glass in salute.
“Well, you know how it goes. When it's bruise or be bruised...” He reached up to poke at his black eye. Despite the icepack, the swelling hadn't gone down much. “Jimmy's catapult was something else, though, wasn't it? All those little ceramic Kirks falling from the sky, knocking out those trooper guys.”
“And did you see the look on Lucas' face?” Takei chuckled. “I wish Gene had seen it. Of course, I can't blame him for leaving when he could. I know if I thought I could get past those lunatics, I'd be out of here at warp nine.”
“They have to get tired eventually, right?” Shatner said. “They'll get tired of their little 'war' and just go home.”
~*~
A week later, they were still there. 'Wars fans had the building surrounded, and the 'Trek fans were now huddled in the basement, looking grim and determined. This was it. The last stand. If they didn't regain some ground this time, they were done for. All would be lost. The 'war council' had gathered in one corner, ringed by a group of kids in red uniforms, who'd taken it upon themselves to act as Shatner's bodyguards. He wanted to ask them if they'd ever watched the show, but he kept his mouth shut.
They'd been hearing noises up above all day. Wondered what the 'Wars fans were doing. But now it was quiet. Too quiet. Everyone in the basement spoke in hushed tones, as though speaking too loudly would somehow incite the 'Wars fans to come charging at any minute.
“What do we know?” Shatner asked. It was a rhetorical question, and he continued before anyone had a chance to answer. “We know that Lucas is in charge of that... horde. We know that Lucas likes to make things flashy.” He paced back and forth, hands behind his back. “And we know that our fans have been around longer than these 'Wars nuts, which means they're probably a little more loyal. On the other hand... the 'Wars nuts are pretty much insane. We're screwed.”
“Sir.” One of the fans dressed like Spock pushed his way through the ring of redshirted individuals, elbowing them sharply out of the way. Shatner was a little taken aback by how much the guy looked like Nimoy. It was a little eerie. “I believe I may have a plan...”
~*~
There were few signs that there had been a struggle, when it was all over and done with. No windows had been broken, no displays toppled over. A few people had sustained minor injuries, and one redshirt was still out cold (though Kelley had assured them the kid wasn't dead), but the building across the street was completely empty. There wasn't a single 'Wars fan to be seen. They'd been beaten, and beaten good. Shatner's 'troops' were celebrating their victory with some vile alcoholic concoction they were pretending was Romulan ale.
“Now what?” Koenig asked, peering dubiously into the glass that had given to him. Whatever was in it, it was blue, but it certainly wasn't Romulan ale.
“We go home,” Shatner said wearily, beckoning for the others to join them. “We go home.”