Random bit of cracktasticness from a Ship Wars Battle Post
I wrote this for the "OMG OUR CAPTAINS/XOS/MODS ARE BAMFS LET'S LOVE ON THEM" post on Ship Wars, but I got it in just under the wire and I don't know if anyone actually . . . y'know, saw it. XD And I wanted to have it somewhere, because I'm a bit fond of it. Any resemblance to any persons, real or imaginary, is purely coincidental. (Except when it's not.)
Disclaimer, blah blah, don't own it, blah.
“Report, Mr. Spock.”
“No information as yet as to how they got on board, Captain.” Their footsteps, clipped and swift, echoed through the corridors. “Security is holding them in the brig, but have been unable to ascertain any additional information concerning their identities.”
“What do they want?”
“I do not have enough information to say for certain.”
Kirk shot him a look. “Speculate.”
Spock’s eyes went briefly unfocused as he compiled the facts. “Security apprehended them with no resistance, which would seem to indicate a certain lack of training in hand-to-hand or weaponry combat. It is therefore doubtful that their mission is one of violence. Recording devices bearing traces of their DNA were found in the bridge crew’s personal quarters, as well as several public areas of the ship including the observation decks, the recreation rooms, the exercise facilities, and Sickbay. Based on what limited-” he shot a pointed glance at his captain there, “-knowledge, I would speculate that their motives are either sabotage or information.”
Kirk’s blood ran cold at the mention of sabotage. “What are the odds of these possibilities?”
Before Spock could answer, the sound of voices drifted to them down the corridor from the direction of the brig.
“The captain, I’m telling you.” From the sound of the voice Kirk would guess at a woman around his own age. “I mean, the way they antagonize each other? That reeks of sexual tension.”
“You’re overlooking the obvious,” a second voice argued. “The way he defended Uhura in the bar is a clear indicator that he harbors a secret, possibly forbidden, love for her.”
“Why would it be forbidden?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe she’s secretly a princess, or heir to an intergalactic mining conglomerate or something, and he’s just a simple working-class boy who doesn’t think he’s good enough.”
“Oooh, classic! I like it! But what about McCoy? He could get injured on an away mission and the doctor would have to patch him up.”
“Or he could save Nurse Chapel from a crewmember who was trying to take liberties.”
“He could save Chekov from a crewmember who was trying to take liberties.”
“He could save them both, and then-”
Kirk and Spock rounded the corner and came into view of the holding cell where two dark-haired women were sitting, talking animatedly with each other. Lieutenant Giotto, or ‘Cupcake’ as Kirk still affectionately thought of him, was standing guard outside, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Lieutenant.” The two women broke off their conversation at the sound of his voice, scrambling to their feet with suspiciously eager looks on their faces. Giotto looked intensely relieved as he saluted. “Who are they talking about?” Kirk asked in an undertone, surprised to see his Chief of Security shifting nervously.
“I think they’re talking about . . . me, sir.” His face colored as red as his shirt. “They started in as soon as they figured out who I was. I think they’re speculating on . . .” He shot Spock a nervous glance. “On who I might have, um, engaged in sexual relations with.”
Kirk blinked. Really, considering the situation, he was surprised that he retained even that much motor function. “I see.” He glanced over at the prisoners, who were staring back and forth between him and Spock with undisguised glee. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. Spock and I can take it from here.”
“Yes, sir.” Giotto’s relief was clear as he hightailed it away as fast as he could.
Spock was casting a considering gaze over their mysterious stowaways. “They are not members of my Science team, he said with a pointed glance at their tunics.
“See?” the one on the left hissed. “I told you we shouldn’t have chosen blue.”
“Well I sure as hell wasn’t putting on red,” the other one shot back, to be met with an acknowledging nod.
“And neither of us look good in gold,” the first woman agreed gloomily.
“You will tell us how you arrived on this ship,” Spock interrupted sternly, “and what your intentions were in boarding.”
“Oh.” The first woman’s eyes had glazed over at his clipped tone, and she swayed slightly towards the forcefield that contained them. “Well, see we-”
“Shh!” Her companion elbowed her hard in the side and stared at the Starfleet officers in grim determination. “You won’t get anything from us but our names, ranks and serial numbers.”
“We don’t have serial numbers,” the one on the left protested. “Or ranks.”
“Well, just our names, then.”
“We’re not supposed to give our real names.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“I told you we should’ve thought of code names.”
“Ladies!” They both jerked to attention at Kirk’s shout. “This is no joking matter,” he scowled. “You’ve put my ship at risk, and you will tell me who you are.”
“Okay,” the woman on the right said dreamily. “We’re-”
It was her turn to receive an elbow in the side, then. “Shut up!”
“But he’s being all stern and captainly!” Longing eyes lit on Kirk. “It’s not playing fair!”
“I know,” came the sympathetic reply. “But you have to be strong. Resist the pull of his captainly allure.”
“You hear that, Spock?” Kirk murmured to his First. “They think I have ‘captainly allure’.”
“They are also quite clearly mentally unbalanced, Jim,” Spock answered dryly, and to their surprise both women lit up at his words.
“He called him ‘Jim’!”
“Take a drink!”
One of them produced something that looked suspiciously like Scotty’s flask, and they both took a quick gulp of whatever was inside. Kirk’s head was starting to hurt.
“Who are you?” he asked, baffled.
“You can call me . . . ah . . . E,” the woman on the right said, screwing the top back on the flask. She nodded her head at her companion. “This is M.”
“Yeah, okay, those are like the lamest code names ever. This is why we should’ve come prepared! I could’ve been Red Dragon or Shadowcat or something.”
“I fail to see the logic behind giving us names that you fully admit to as false,” Spock said, his forehead as close to furrowed in confusion as a Vulcan ever came.
“Well, it does make it easier to refer to them,” Kirk offered.
“Exactly!” E beamed, and Kirk couldn’t help but wink at her. She clutched at M’s arm for support.
“I think it might be best for you to surrender your flask.” Spock pressed a button on the console next to the door, and a small drawer popped open inside. “Please deposit it inside, or we will be forced to confiscate it by force.”
A pout formed on M’s face, then cleared an instant before her hand passed in a brief arc through the air between them. “This is not the flask you’re looking for.”
E patted her shoulder. “Wrong franchise, sweetie.”
“Well fine.” She tossed the flask into the drawer, her face sullen. “Killjoys,” she muttered in their direction, and Kirk refused to feel guilty.
“Maybe we’re taking the wrong approach here,” he suggested to Spock. “Maybe they’d be more receptive if I talked to them one-on-one.”
“Yes!” E agreed enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Yes, that would make me very receptive.”
“Captain, I can not with the dubious wisdom of such a plan,” Spock said stiffly. “To expose you, alone, to such obvious irrationality, would be a breach of duty on my part as your First Officer.”
“Oh, now, it’s not fair to do that if you’re going to take away our flask,” M complained.
Kirk was about to answer-and whatever he had almost said, it would have been brilliant and diplomatic and sorted out the entire mess, he was sure-was lost in the whistle that sounded in that moment from the intercom set into the wall. He stepped over and hit the ‘call answer’ button. “Kirk here.”
“Captain, we’ve found another camera.” The voice was tinny over the intercom, but the Scottish burr was unmistakable. “This one was set into your captain’s chair.”
“It’s Scotty!” E cried, practically bouncing in her excitement. “Hi, Scotty!”
“Ah . . . hello, there,” came the cautiously interested response. “Who’s this, then?”
“No one to concern yourself with,” Kirk said firmly. He glared at the prisoners, which only made them smile weakly and flutter their eyelashes in his direction. “Keep me apprised of the situation. Kirk out.”
“Perhaps more . . . forceful measures are required for interrogation, Captain,” Spock suggested darkly. If he hadn’t been so very Vulcan he might very well have looked insulted at the yawn that met his words.
“Is that supposed to be scary?” E asked blandly. “Please. You’d never actually hurt us to get information. This isn’t the Mirrorverse.”
“Thank god we didn’t draw that short straw,” M muttered in agreement.
Kirk pounced on the information, miniscule though it was. “Are you saying that you’re aware of other, parallel universes beyond our own?”
“Crap,” E said softly. “Um. Maybe?”
“We can be in many places at once,” M added cryptically. “There are many copies.”
E shot her a disgusted look. “Seriously?”
“Well, we do have a plan, you’ve gotta give me that.”
“Captain.” Spock seemed to be taking the expedient measure of ignoring them completely. Kirk envied him his ability to tune out that sort of chaos. “It seems that the direct approach might be our only option at this point.”
“Direct, like . . .?”
“I suggest a mind meld with one of them to ascertain what they will not tell us.”
M dropped into a dead faint.
“Is she all right?” Kirk might find both of them irritating as all hell, but they were his responsibility as long as they were on his ship.
“She’ll be fine. Just overwhelmed.” E fanned her companion’s face. She glanced at Spock from beneath lowered eyelashes. “Since I’m still conscious, I think I’m the logical choice for that meld you were talking about.”
M awoke from her swoon and straightened in indignation. “No, he’s going to meld with me.”
“How come?” E whined.
“I outrank you.”
“Do not! We don’t even have ranks, remember?”
“Well, the uniform I stole has more braids than yours.”
“Curse your logic,” E gritted. Spock nearly frowned.
“On the contrary, logic would-”
“Not now, Spock,” Kirk said, laying a restraining hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder. “Arguing with them isn’t going to solve anything. And I don’t think I like the idea of you melding with them, in any case. They appear to have gone space-mad; what if you caught their crazy?”
“I hardly think that ‘crazy’, as you say, is infectious, Captain.”
“Oh, don’t be dense,” M said with a roll of her eyes that would have done McCoy proud. “He just doesn’t want you melding with anyone else.”
“He’s jealous,” E provided helpfully, and Kirk flushed.
“That’s not . . . Spock, I don’t . . .”
“Aww, look at him getting all flustered!”
“That’s IT!” Kirk’s fist smashed into the wall as his patience finally gave way, and he was gratified to see both women step hastily back. “I want to know who you are and why you’re here. Right. Now.”
They looked at him, then each other. Dark heads leaned together in whispered conversation before they straightened to regard him again.
“We’re what you might call . . . independent contractors,” E said.
“Our client,” M continued, “hired us to discover certain information pertinent to her interests and those of her community.”
“What sort of interests?” Kirk demanded tersely. “What are you looking for? Schematics? Defense codes?”
“Boring,” E said with a roll of her eyes. “Our specialty lies in interpersonal relationships.”
“Of the Enterprise crew?”
“Among other things.” M shot him a sly look. “And don’t think we didn’t catch what Scotty was doing in Engineering earlier today.” She nudged E. “Didn’t I tell you that camera on the warp drive was a good idea?”
“You know what?” Kirk rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t care. I don’t care why you’re here, I don’t care what you were after. We have your equipment, and the two of you are staying confined to the brig until we can hand you over to Command for trial, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Oh, Captain.” E looked almost pitying. “There won’t be any trial.”
M grinned. “No power in the ‘verse can stop us.”
“Okay, now you’re not even trying.”
“There is no way out of your confinement,” Spock broke in. “As the likelihood of your managing to convince any member of this crew to release you is infinitesimal, I do not see how you plan to avoid the consequences that the captain has mentioned.
“No? How ‘bout this one?” M closed her eyes, spread her arms and smiled. “Beam us up.”
And against all odds the swirling light of transportation began to form around them until their shapes were blurry and indistinct. Spock and Kirk scrambled for the controls to deactivate the force field across the door, but they were already too late. The last thing they heard was M’s voice saying smugly,
“See? I got it right in the end.”
Several hours later-three point five seven, if he had asked Spock, which he hadn’t thank you very much-Kirk looked over his final report.
“There’s no trace of them,” he told Spock wearily, and tossed his PADD down on his desk. “They’re just gone.”
“We still have their equipment,” Spock reminded him. “Whatever they came to this ship to obtain, they have had to leave without it.”
“Silver lining, eh Mr. Spock?”
“Indeed, Captain.” He retrieved Kirk’s PADD and added his own signature to the bottom. “It appears that all official business is concluded.”
“So it seems.” Kirk waited for Spock to deposit the PADD back on the desk, aligning it at careful right angles to the edges. “All the cameras are gone?”
“We have done a full diagnostic sweep of the ship; the only technology that remains is our own,” Spock confirmed.
“Good. So . . .” Kirk cocked his head, grinned. “Wanna fuck?”
Spock considered for a moment, then nodded.
“Affirmative.”
Disclaimer, blah blah, don't own it, blah.
“Report, Mr. Spock.”
“No information as yet as to how they got on board, Captain.” Their footsteps, clipped and swift, echoed through the corridors. “Security is holding them in the brig, but have been unable to ascertain any additional information concerning their identities.”
“What do they want?”
“I do not have enough information to say for certain.”
Kirk shot him a look. “Speculate.”
Spock’s eyes went briefly unfocused as he compiled the facts. “Security apprehended them with no resistance, which would seem to indicate a certain lack of training in hand-to-hand or weaponry combat. It is therefore doubtful that their mission is one of violence. Recording devices bearing traces of their DNA were found in the bridge crew’s personal quarters, as well as several public areas of the ship including the observation decks, the recreation rooms, the exercise facilities, and Sickbay. Based on what limited-” he shot a pointed glance at his captain there, “-knowledge, I would speculate that their motives are either sabotage or information.”
Kirk’s blood ran cold at the mention of sabotage. “What are the odds of these possibilities?”
Before Spock could answer, the sound of voices drifted to them down the corridor from the direction of the brig.
“The captain, I’m telling you.” From the sound of the voice Kirk would guess at a woman around his own age. “I mean, the way they antagonize each other? That reeks of sexual tension.”
“You’re overlooking the obvious,” a second voice argued. “The way he defended Uhura in the bar is a clear indicator that he harbors a secret, possibly forbidden, love for her.”
“Why would it be forbidden?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe she’s secretly a princess, or heir to an intergalactic mining conglomerate or something, and he’s just a simple working-class boy who doesn’t think he’s good enough.”
“Oooh, classic! I like it! But what about McCoy? He could get injured on an away mission and the doctor would have to patch him up.”
“Or he could save Nurse Chapel from a crewmember who was trying to take liberties.”
“He could save Chekov from a crewmember who was trying to take liberties.”
“He could save them both, and then-”
Kirk and Spock rounded the corner and came into view of the holding cell where two dark-haired women were sitting, talking animatedly with each other. Lieutenant Giotto, or ‘Cupcake’ as Kirk still affectionately thought of him, was standing guard outside, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Lieutenant.” The two women broke off their conversation at the sound of his voice, scrambling to their feet with suspiciously eager looks on their faces. Giotto looked intensely relieved as he saluted. “Who are they talking about?” Kirk asked in an undertone, surprised to see his Chief of Security shifting nervously.
“I think they’re talking about . . . me, sir.” His face colored as red as his shirt. “They started in as soon as they figured out who I was. I think they’re speculating on . . .” He shot Spock a nervous glance. “On who I might have, um, engaged in sexual relations with.”
Kirk blinked. Really, considering the situation, he was surprised that he retained even that much motor function. “I see.” He glanced over at the prisoners, who were staring back and forth between him and Spock with undisguised glee. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. Spock and I can take it from here.”
“Yes, sir.” Giotto’s relief was clear as he hightailed it away as fast as he could.
Spock was casting a considering gaze over their mysterious stowaways. “They are not members of my Science team, he said with a pointed glance at their tunics.
“See?” the one on the left hissed. “I told you we shouldn’t have chosen blue.”
“Well I sure as hell wasn’t putting on red,” the other one shot back, to be met with an acknowledging nod.
“And neither of us look good in gold,” the first woman agreed gloomily.
“You will tell us how you arrived on this ship,” Spock interrupted sternly, “and what your intentions were in boarding.”
“Oh.” The first woman’s eyes had glazed over at his clipped tone, and she swayed slightly towards the forcefield that contained them. “Well, see we-”
“Shh!” Her companion elbowed her hard in the side and stared at the Starfleet officers in grim determination. “You won’t get anything from us but our names, ranks and serial numbers.”
“We don’t have serial numbers,” the one on the left protested. “Or ranks.”
“Well, just our names, then.”
“We’re not supposed to give our real names.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“I told you we should’ve thought of code names.”
“Ladies!” They both jerked to attention at Kirk’s shout. “This is no joking matter,” he scowled. “You’ve put my ship at risk, and you will tell me who you are.”
“Okay,” the woman on the right said dreamily. “We’re-”
It was her turn to receive an elbow in the side, then. “Shut up!”
“But he’s being all stern and captainly!” Longing eyes lit on Kirk. “It’s not playing fair!”
“I know,” came the sympathetic reply. “But you have to be strong. Resist the pull of his captainly allure.”
“You hear that, Spock?” Kirk murmured to his First. “They think I have ‘captainly allure’.”
“They are also quite clearly mentally unbalanced, Jim,” Spock answered dryly, and to their surprise both women lit up at his words.
“He called him ‘Jim’!”
“Take a drink!”
One of them produced something that looked suspiciously like Scotty’s flask, and they both took a quick gulp of whatever was inside. Kirk’s head was starting to hurt.
“Who are you?” he asked, baffled.
“You can call me . . . ah . . . E,” the woman on the right said, screwing the top back on the flask. She nodded her head at her companion. “This is M.”
“Yeah, okay, those are like the lamest code names ever. This is why we should’ve come prepared! I could’ve been Red Dragon or Shadowcat or something.”
“I fail to see the logic behind giving us names that you fully admit to as false,” Spock said, his forehead as close to furrowed in confusion as a Vulcan ever came.
“Well, it does make it easier to refer to them,” Kirk offered.
“Exactly!” E beamed, and Kirk couldn’t help but wink at her. She clutched at M’s arm for support.
“I think it might be best for you to surrender your flask.” Spock pressed a button on the console next to the door, and a small drawer popped open inside. “Please deposit it inside, or we will be forced to confiscate it by force.”
A pout formed on M’s face, then cleared an instant before her hand passed in a brief arc through the air between them. “This is not the flask you’re looking for.”
E patted her shoulder. “Wrong franchise, sweetie.”
“Well fine.” She tossed the flask into the drawer, her face sullen. “Killjoys,” she muttered in their direction, and Kirk refused to feel guilty.
“Maybe we’re taking the wrong approach here,” he suggested to Spock. “Maybe they’d be more receptive if I talked to them one-on-one.”
“Yes!” E agreed enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Yes, that would make me very receptive.”
“Captain, I can not with the dubious wisdom of such a plan,” Spock said stiffly. “To expose you, alone, to such obvious irrationality, would be a breach of duty on my part as your First Officer.”
“Oh, now, it’s not fair to do that if you’re going to take away our flask,” M complained.
Kirk was about to answer-and whatever he had almost said, it would have been brilliant and diplomatic and sorted out the entire mess, he was sure-was lost in the whistle that sounded in that moment from the intercom set into the wall. He stepped over and hit the ‘call answer’ button. “Kirk here.”
“Captain, we’ve found another camera.” The voice was tinny over the intercom, but the Scottish burr was unmistakable. “This one was set into your captain’s chair.”
“It’s Scotty!” E cried, practically bouncing in her excitement. “Hi, Scotty!”
“Ah . . . hello, there,” came the cautiously interested response. “Who’s this, then?”
“No one to concern yourself with,” Kirk said firmly. He glared at the prisoners, which only made them smile weakly and flutter their eyelashes in his direction. “Keep me apprised of the situation. Kirk out.”
“Perhaps more . . . forceful measures are required for interrogation, Captain,” Spock suggested darkly. If he hadn’t been so very Vulcan he might very well have looked insulted at the yawn that met his words.
“Is that supposed to be scary?” E asked blandly. “Please. You’d never actually hurt us to get information. This isn’t the Mirrorverse.”
“Thank god we didn’t draw that short straw,” M muttered in agreement.
Kirk pounced on the information, miniscule though it was. “Are you saying that you’re aware of other, parallel universes beyond our own?”
“Crap,” E said softly. “Um. Maybe?”
“We can be in many places at once,” M added cryptically. “There are many copies.”
E shot her a disgusted look. “Seriously?”
“Well, we do have a plan, you’ve gotta give me that.”
“Captain.” Spock seemed to be taking the expedient measure of ignoring them completely. Kirk envied him his ability to tune out that sort of chaos. “It seems that the direct approach might be our only option at this point.”
“Direct, like . . .?”
“I suggest a mind meld with one of them to ascertain what they will not tell us.”
M dropped into a dead faint.
“Is she all right?” Kirk might find both of them irritating as all hell, but they were his responsibility as long as they were on his ship.
“She’ll be fine. Just overwhelmed.” E fanned her companion’s face. She glanced at Spock from beneath lowered eyelashes. “Since I’m still conscious, I think I’m the logical choice for that meld you were talking about.”
M awoke from her swoon and straightened in indignation. “No, he’s going to meld with me.”
“How come?” E whined.
“I outrank you.”
“Do not! We don’t even have ranks, remember?”
“Well, the uniform I stole has more braids than yours.”
“Curse your logic,” E gritted. Spock nearly frowned.
“On the contrary, logic would-”
“Not now, Spock,” Kirk said, laying a restraining hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder. “Arguing with them isn’t going to solve anything. And I don’t think I like the idea of you melding with them, in any case. They appear to have gone space-mad; what if you caught their crazy?”
“I hardly think that ‘crazy’, as you say, is infectious, Captain.”
“Oh, don’t be dense,” M said with a roll of her eyes that would have done McCoy proud. “He just doesn’t want you melding with anyone else.”
“He’s jealous,” E provided helpfully, and Kirk flushed.
“That’s not . . . Spock, I don’t . . .”
“Aww, look at him getting all flustered!”
“That’s IT!” Kirk’s fist smashed into the wall as his patience finally gave way, and he was gratified to see both women step hastily back. “I want to know who you are and why you’re here. Right. Now.”
They looked at him, then each other. Dark heads leaned together in whispered conversation before they straightened to regard him again.
“We’re what you might call . . . independent contractors,” E said.
“Our client,” M continued, “hired us to discover certain information pertinent to her interests and those of her community.”
“What sort of interests?” Kirk demanded tersely. “What are you looking for? Schematics? Defense codes?”
“Boring,” E said with a roll of her eyes. “Our specialty lies in interpersonal relationships.”
“Of the Enterprise crew?”
“Among other things.” M shot him a sly look. “And don’t think we didn’t catch what Scotty was doing in Engineering earlier today.” She nudged E. “Didn’t I tell you that camera on the warp drive was a good idea?”
“You know what?” Kirk rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t care. I don’t care why you’re here, I don’t care what you were after. We have your equipment, and the two of you are staying confined to the brig until we can hand you over to Command for trial, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Oh, Captain.” E looked almost pitying. “There won’t be any trial.”
M grinned. “No power in the ‘verse can stop us.”
“Okay, now you’re not even trying.”
“There is no way out of your confinement,” Spock broke in. “As the likelihood of your managing to convince any member of this crew to release you is infinitesimal, I do not see how you plan to avoid the consequences that the captain has mentioned.
“No? How ‘bout this one?” M closed her eyes, spread her arms and smiled. “Beam us up.”
And against all odds the swirling light of transportation began to form around them until their shapes were blurry and indistinct. Spock and Kirk scrambled for the controls to deactivate the force field across the door, but they were already too late. The last thing they heard was M’s voice saying smugly,
“See? I got it right in the end.”
Several hours later-three point five seven, if he had asked Spock, which he hadn’t thank you very much-Kirk looked over his final report.
“There’s no trace of them,” he told Spock wearily, and tossed his PADD down on his desk. “They’re just gone.”
“We still have their equipment,” Spock reminded him. “Whatever they came to this ship to obtain, they have had to leave without it.”
“Silver lining, eh Mr. Spock?”
“Indeed, Captain.” He retrieved Kirk’s PADD and added his own signature to the bottom. “It appears that all official business is concluded.”
“So it seems.” Kirk waited for Spock to deposit the PADD back on the desk, aligning it at careful right angles to the edges. “All the cameras are gone?”
“We have done a full diagnostic sweep of the ship; the only technology that remains is our own,” Spock confirmed.
“Good. So . . .” Kirk cocked his head, grinned. “Wanna fuck?”
Spock considered for a moment, then nodded.
“Affirmative.”