Star Yecch! Wars Part 1

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE 9703.21. I have placed the ship on liberty, having successfully concluded Boobyprize's first diplomatic mission. We are leaving the orbit of planet Alta, home to the Altoids, a curiously strong people and difficult to negotiate with.

The Captain left his ready room and returned to the bridge. It was with satisfaction and relief to see that things were proceeding smoothly. He took his seat at the conn and addressed his XO, Commander Updike.

DLD: Report, Updike.
UPD: Things are proceeding smoothly, sir.
DLD: Yes, I read that in the narrative. I'm relieved to hear this.
UPD: Yes, sir. I read that in the narrative, sir.
DLD: Don't try to one-up me, Number Two.
UPD: Yes, sir.

As the officers continued to engage in their briefing, Input turned and addressed them.

IPT: Oh, C-Captain,...my-my captain, sir.
DLD: Yes, Input?
IPT: I'm picking up a strange disturbance on the long-range scan-scanners, sir.
DLD: Can you identify it, mister?
IPT: One, one moment, sir. I'm calibrating the sensors, sir. Bearing 148, Mark 42. It appears to be a cloud of Wat'sa matter, sir!
UPD: Wat'sa matter??
IPT: Nothing, sir! Wat'sa matter with you? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DLD: Input!!!
IPT: Sorry, sir-ir. I am having a problem again with my emotions chip, sir.
DLD: Mr. Input! I've had about enough of this out of you! Consider yourself relieved of duty! Return to your quarters and I'll have Mr. LaFart look you over!
IPT: Aye-aye,...sir.

Dejected, Input exited the bridge. Barf moved swiftly to replace him.

UPD: Captain, that was a bit harsh, sir. Input was only making a joke! And we are on liberty, sir.
DLD: Liberty or not, jokes like that will get us killed, Number Two!
UPD: I,..uh, know it's not my place to say this, sir,...but, until your recent success with the Altoids, sir,...well,...you weren't the most popular commander in Starfleet. And Input is a very prominent figure back home, sir.
DLD: Surely, you don't expect me to apologize, Number Two?
UPD: No, I don't, sir. And don't call me Shirley, sir.
DLD: One more upstage like that and you'll be commanding a Silurian freighter! You know about Silurians, Updike,..all male crews,..long transports,...
UPD: (Swallowing) Sorry, sir. It won't happen again.
DLD: See to it, Number Two. However, I will go speak with Input. You have the conn.
UPD: Aye, sir.

Dildeaux debated with himself as he made his way down the hall towards Input's quarters. Arriving at Input's door, he hesitated momentarily before ringing. In all his years of command, he'd never been called upon to reverse such a decision; but Input's special status required special handling.

Input did not meet the Captain at the door when it opened. Ordinarily, Dildeaux would have considered this a serious breach of etiquette, but let the occasion pass. He felt a familiar sensation against his legs and looked down to identify it. Much to his chagrin, it was Input's pet cat, a Rigellian striped Manx that Input had quirkily named "Spot." The cat continued to rub against the Captain's legs as he approached the seated Input.

DLD: (muttering) Out, damned Spot! Input, can you not do something about this creature?
IPT: Sor-sorry, Captain. In my research, I have observed that most felines have a remarkable streak of independence to them. Take the Omegan lion-cat for example...
DLD: Not now, Input. I'm here to discuss your behaviour today on the bridge.
IPT: I, I apologize for that, sir. As you suggested, I spoke with Georgi after being relieved.
DLD: What did Lieutenant LaFart suggest?
IPT: He gave me these books to read, sir.

Input handed the books to the Captain. Dildeaux was somewhat surprised to find a member of his crew in possession of such hardbound paper antiques. A quick glance at the titles piqued his interest.

DLD: "Emotions for Dummies?"..."The Idiots Guide to Self-Expression?" I believe your friend is having a bit of fun with you, Mr. Input.
IPT: On the contrary, sir, these books have helped me sort out some of the pathway problems I have been experiencing with the emotions chip, sir.
DLD: Well, Input,...I only stopped by to,...

Before Dildeaux could finish groveling, a hail from the bridge interrupted him.

DLD: Yes, Number Two?
UPD: Sensors indicate we have encounters a Chronos ribbon, sir. The gravitic pull is beginning top strain the engines!
DLD: Affirmative Number Two: Yellow Alert! Input, consider your self reactivated. Come with me!
IPT: Aye, sir.

As the two men (OK, one man and an android!) exited the turbolift, Updike briefed them over the whine of the engines as the ship struggled to break free of the string.

UPD: Georgi says the warp drive will overload soon if we don't break away from this thing.
BRF: Captain, why not launch a photon torpedo as the string's source?
DLD: Barf, this is not the time for Klingon-style brute force! Let's think this through, first!
BRF: (grumbling) P'Takh!
DLD: Excuse me, Mr. Barf?
BRF: Just sneezing, sir!
IPT: The Captain is correct, Barf. Exploding a Chronos string will destroy any potential time lines emanating from this point.
DLD Are you saying we ay be able to alter our present destiny and escape from our current fate at the hands of this insane Kurt Vonnegut-wannabe?
IPT: precisely, sir; but that's not important right now.
LFT: Engineering to bridge: Captain, the magnetic couplers are beginning to buckle. I anticipate a warp-core breach in approximately 5 minutes!
IPT: 4 minutes, 17 seconds to be exact, Captain.
DLD: Gentlemen, we're killing ourselves running away from this, right?
UPD/IPT/BRF: Yes, sir.
DLD: Then why not try running right at it? Ride the time distortion waves?

All eyes turned to Input, who looked dumbfounded.

UPD: Mr. Input, why didn't you think of that??
IPT: I, I, I'm dumbfounded, sir.
UPD: Yes, I read that in the narrative.
DLD: Excuse me, but I thought of it, so give credit where credit's due!
IPT: The plan is logical. However, according to the writings of such experts in time distortion as Scheissekopf and Tete du Merde, if we slip out into one of the wave's eddies, we may be lost in another parallel time line.

Dildeaux took his seat in the captain's chair and pondered for a moment before uttering his trademark phrase:

DLD: Input,....make it so.
IPT: Aye, sir.
DLD: Barf, sound red alert.
BRF: Aye, sir.
DLD: Updike, make me a cup of tea,...Earl Grey,...hot.
UPD: Aye, sir. (muttering) With a drop of curare to boot.
DLD: Did you say something, Number Two?
UPD: Uh,...a problem with the,..uh,..shields, sir. The replicators won't boot up, sir,..the power is being diverted.
DLD: Damn! My personality depends on Earl Grey tea! Have Giaboni send some up later.

Amid the klaxon and dimmed red lights, the crew swung into action like a well-oiled machine. Albeit, it was a machine desperately in need of an oil change. Ensign Yo's fingers moved across her control board with lightning speed, straining to keep the ship together.

YO: Captain, I'm having difficulty maintaining the ship's attitude, sir!
DLD: Barf, get up there and give Yo some help adjusting her attitude.
BRF: An attitude adjustment? With pleasure, sir!
DLD: Not her attitude, Mr. Barf, the ship's attitude!!
BRF: Oh,...sorry, sir.

Dildeaux turned to Updike and Barf and the Majoran ensign set about their task.

DLD: Number Two,...is it me, or does Barf seem a bit,..friskier since Dr. Chestcrusher put him on a high-fibre diet?
UPD: It's the quadrotriticale, sir.
DLD: Hmmm. A Klingon Tribble? What a paradox!
UPD: Not unlike good writing and this series, eh, sir?

Suddenly, the ship lurched and appeared to be shaking itself apart. The bridge was filled with chaos.

DLD: Dammit, Number Two! I thought we eliminated all of the chaos-yielding material after the last retrofit!!
UPD: I'll take it up with the chief mechanic at the Rube Goldberg yards if we make it, sir!

Just as suddenly as the lurching started, the ship stabilized. Damage reports flooded the bridge. An alert crewman pulled the drain plug from under the forward console, thus allowing the flood to drain away. Input turned to make a startling report to the Captain.

IPT: Sir-ir,..I cannot obtain a stellar landmark.
DLD: Try cross-referencing our position with the Altoids' database on forward star systems.
IPT: Aye, sir. Just a moment, sir.
YO: Captain, you're not going to believe this!
DLD: Ensign Yo, part of space exploration is believing the unbelievable.
YO: OK, sir, but,..the ship's chronometer is off the scale, sir.
DLD: I don't believe it!
IPT: Captain, I believe I have successfully plotted our location, sir.
DLD: Very good, Input. Where are we?
IPT: We appear to be in a place far, far away,.....in a time long, long ago.