If Starfleet was like the Mo…
STAR TREK – THE X-BOX GENERATION
FADE IN
Cue: Theme music. It’s the theme music from the original series, and it sounds scratchy. The original series ship flies past in a series of swooshes. Unfortunately the swooshes are out of sync with the flybys.
PICARD (voice over)
These are the voyages of the Starship
Enterprise. Her five year mission…
(pause)
…well, we aren’t really sure what her five
year mission is. One year it was something
about new life and new civilizations, and then
the next year it was all about army
transformation and the revolution in military
affairs. And then there was the reserve
restructing program, and the Warrior program,
which became MLOC which was downgraded to ELOC,
which was downgraded to IBTS, which isn’t really
funded for. And then one year it was all about
Y2K. And then they restructured the reserve
restructuring program. Sometimes we have ARCON
in August, but then other times its MAYEX, which
is now in April…
(pause)
Anyway, it’s all very spacey.
INT: The bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Riker is at the con, Wesley at the helm, Troi at her place beside the Captain’s chair, Data at the science station and Worf at weapons control. There are many coffee cups on the floor with their rims rolled up.
Riker looks annoyed at the theme music, and it cuts off abruptly.
RIKER
Executive officer’s log, Stardate 2004. We are
on routine patrol in Sector Tango Hotel. I’ve
been growing a beard, and now look grizzled and
manly. Maybe now Troi will think I’m hot.
DATA (interrupting)
Incoming signal from Rigel Seven Sir. The
political situation has destabilized and
revolutionaries are besieging the prime-minister.
We have to rescue him to prevent total collapse
and a humanitarian disaster.
TROI
I sense hostility, Commander.
RIKER
Set course for Rigel Seven, warp factor nine.
Counselor Troi, tell the Rigelians we are on our
way. Mr. Worf, organize an away team and meet
me in transporter room twelve in thirty minutes.
WORF
At once, Sir.
RIKER (keys his communicator)
Sickbay, prepare to receive casualties. This
Could get messy. Data, you’re with me.
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
Understood.
DATA
Aye Commander.
RIKER
Wesley, you have the con.
WESLEY
Me? But I’m not even trained on the
communicators.
RIKER
Look, just push there to talk. We are callsign
“Enterprise.” If anyone calls for Enterprise,
just tell them to wait-out and wake up the
Captain. Clear?
WESLEY
I guess so. What if the Captain doesn’t want to
wake up?
But RIKER and the others are already out the door.
WESLEY (looks bemused, then smiles)
Cool! I have the con!
He looks keen and alert for a few minutes, then less keen, then bored,
then distracted, then finally starts playing Xbox games on the bridge
display. Counselor Troi finishes notifying the Rigellians and, lacking
further direction, puts some Betazoid megaporn on her console.
INT: Transporter Room 12, thirty minutes later. WORF is there, ready at the port arms in full Klingon camouflage battle armour with about a hundred kilos of
weapons and gear hanging off him. DATA is there in just his Starfleet uniform. Behind the controls is an uneasy looking ENSIGN BARCLAY. RIKER comes in.
RIKER
Where’s the away team?
WORF
This is the away team, Commander.
RIKER
I mean the rest of them. We’re going in to a
hostile situation. We need at least a dozen
armed security personnel, a heavy weapons
detachment, a negotiator, comms specialist and
medical support.
DATA
I believe you’ll find them in sickbay, commander.
WORF just looks disgusted.
RIKER (keys his communicator)
Riker to Crusher.
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
Sickbay here.
RIKER
What’s wrong with my away team?
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
They’re all suffering from a mysterious gut
malady.
RIKER (suddenly excited)
You mean we’re dealing with a lethal alien virus
for which there is no cure, spreading
relentlessly through the crew at the very time
we have to handle a dangerous uprising on a
mysterious world that could destabilize the
entire Federation!
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
No, I mean none of them have any guts. One has
A toe blister, another has a headache, one has a
funny feeling in his nose…
RIKER (in disbelief)
A funny feeling??
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
In his nose, commander.
RIKER (in even more disbelief)
In his nose??
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
The left nostril, to be specific.
RIKER (truly stunned disbelief)
The left nostril??
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
It doesn’t help when you repeat everything I say,
commander.
RIKER
It doesn’t help when… (he shakes himself)
Don’t tell me you believe any of that.
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
No of course not. The real problem is there was
a rumour it was raining down on the planet.
RIKER (in even more disbelief, were it possible)
A rumour it was raining??!!??
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
It doesn’t help when you repeat…
RIKER (cuts her off)
I know, I know… (he shakes himself again) OK Dr.
Crusher, I understand. Get the malingering sons
of banthas up here. Stat!
DR. CRUSHER (off camera)
Unfortunately I can’t, commander. If one of them
got hurt I could be held responsible. That’s why
I’m not coming myself. I have to be here to watch
them.
RIKER bleeps off his communicator with an obscenity.
RIKER
Forget it, we’ll go ourselves.
WORF
Excellent decision, commander.
DATA
Technically sir, the troops are correct. We are
speaking of an entire world. It is certain to be
raining somewhere down there.
RIKER
Shut up Data.
DATA
Also, Banthas are from Star Wars.
RIKER gives him a look. They all stand on the transporter disks.
RIKER
Energize!
BARCLAY (looking slightly embarrassed)
I can’t sir.
RIKER
What do you mean you can’t?
BARCLAY
I’m only qualified to transport non-dangerous
goods. I can’t transport troops, or dangerous
goods.
RIKER
You used to transport troops.
BARCLAY
I have to requalify every year. I’m not
qualified his year.
RIKER
Didn’t you just run a transporter course?
BARCLAY
You can’t get the qualification when you’re the
instructor.
RIKER
Get Mr. LaForge up here. Is he qualified?
BARCLAY
Yes sir, but Starfleet Regulations prevent him
from leaving engineering when…
RIKER
Chief OBrien then.
BARCLAY
Yes, but he’s off duty.
RIKER
Well call him and get him on duty.
BARCLAY
Sir, he worked a full shift last night and is on
mandated downtime until twenty hundred. Starfleet
Regulations clearly state that…
RIKER
Never mind, we’ll take the shuttle.
They all troop down to the shuttle bay and load up the attack shuttle.
Then they realize they can’t carry live phaser power cells and personnel
in the same shuttle. They unload the power cells and load them on the
cargo shuttle. Then there is a discussion over who is qualified to pilot
a cargo shuttle with phaser power cells in the back. It transpires that
WORF can only pilot attack shuttles, while DATA can only pilot cargo
shuttles, and he has to be supervised if it’s carrying phaser power cells.
WORF is qualified to supervise him, but then he can’t fly the attack
shuttle. While RIKER looks up the regs in more detail, DATA and WORF do
daily inspections on the shuttles. Unfortunately the attack shuttle has
to be grounded due to missing emergency flares (which PICARD borrowed for
the volcano at the 10-Forward Hawaiian Luau party and forgot to replace).
RIKER comes back with a legal solution to fly both shuttles, only to find
it is now useless because the attack shuttle can’t go. They all get into
the relevant Starfleet Regulations and discover that if RIKER declares an
emergency war situation DATA can pilot a cargo shuttle with both phaser
power cells and personnel on board if WORF supervises him and RIKER
supervises WORF. WORF argues that they should take the attack shuttle
anyway, since they might well see combat. RIKER agrees, but points out
that while Starfleet Regulations allow him to permit DATA to fly a cargo
shuttle with both phaser power cells and personnel if properly supervised
in an emergency war situation, they do not allow any shuttle to fly
without a full complement of safety gear at any time under any
circumstances no matter who pilots it. WORF tries putting the cargo
shuttle’s emergency flares In the attack shuttle’s emergency flare tubes,
but they’re a different version and don’t fit. RIKER immediately begins
filling in the paperwork to declare the emergency war situation. He signs
as requesting authority since PICARD is sleeping, and they uplink it to
Starfleet HQ for approval. Unfortunately HQ is shut down since it’s
Friday afternoon on a long weekend. After frantic hours trying phone
numbers they get a junior officer who says he thinks the sector commander
has gone to his cottage. RIKER is about to pop a cerebral artery, when
DATA rereads the regs on emergency war situations (Section 51-5,
Declarations) and learns that PICARD, as captain, can approve the
declaration as long as the mission involves fewer than five people. Since
PICARD is asleep RIKER is acting captain anyway, so with the vague feeling
that he’s setting himself up for trouble later, he signs his own emergency
war situation request as approving authority. They crossload everything
back to the cargo shuttle and take off.
EXT: Rigel 7 planetary surface. It is raining. In the background are burning buildings. In the foreground an alien grandmother is pushing an alien grocery cart, picking up alien trash. Suddenly the Enterprise cargo shuttle screams into the scene under maximum deceleration. The landing skids come down and it
slams into the landing zone, throwing fountains of
dirt in all directions. The alien grandmother ducks.
INT: Shuttle cockpit.
WORF
Cool!
RIKER
Dismount dismount dismount!
EXT: Shuttle landing zone. There is a slight pause while DATA unchains the back ramp and lowers it. WORF launches himself out the back with a war cry and dives to the ground on the port side, weapon in the shoulder in the approved manner, scanning for the enemy.
WORF (yelling)
Port side CLEAR, Sir!
However DATA has lost the momentum with the delay in unchaining the ramp,
and is more leisurely in securing the starboard side. He looks vaguely
around. RIKER follows him.
RIKER
OK, we’re good.
DATA (still looking around)
It is raining.
RIKER ignores him. WORF gets up and joins them.
WORF
That alien look hostile.
(he raises his weapon and points it at
the grandmother)
Shall I engage?
RIKER
Lets not start anything. We have to locate the
Prime minister ASAP. Data, what’s our
location?
DATA (consulting a gadget)
According to the satellite locater system, we are
twelve hundred metres beneath the Rigelian Sea.
RIKER
Well obviously that can’t be right.
DATA
Sir, the satellite locater system is accurate
to the nearest metre. It cannot be incorrect.
RIKER (sarcastic)
Do you see twelve hundred meters of water here?
DATA
It is raining sir.
RIKER (exasperated)
Rain, Data. Just rain. Not really an ocean,
is it?
DATA
No sir. Obviously some force or creature has
removed the entire Rigelian Sea. Fascinating.
RIKER
Did you have a power surge or something on the
way down?
DATA
No sir, why do you ask?
RIKER
Never mind. Let’s get going. We have to find
the Rigelian prime-minister.
WORF (looking at the alien grandmother)
Commander, I recommend we take prisoners and
interrogate them.
He smiles evilly on the word ‘interrogate’ and his fingers go to the
wickedly curved (and strictly non-regulation) Klingon Vengeance
Dagger on his belt.
Cut to:
INT: Enterprise Bridge. WESLEY is busily evading copdriods in a game of Grand
Theft Skycar XXXI – Vice Planet. TROI had moved on from the megaporn to a bad Betazoid science fiction movie which is only slightly less lurid. The door slides open and LAFORGE comes in, oblivious to Starfleet Regulations that require him to be in engineering at all times when the ship is in orbit.
LAFORGE
I got a call from Ensign Barclay. Something
about needing a personnel-qualified operator in
transporter room twelve?
WESLEY
Commander Riker said something about that, I
dunno…
He doesn’t look up from his video game. LAFORGE nods and keys his
communicator for CHIEF OBRIEN, oblivious to Starfleet Regulations
mandating downtime for technical personnel who have worked a full shift
the previous night.
LAFORGE
Chief OBrien, report to transporter room
twelve for duty watch.
Cut to:
INT: Chief OBrien’s quarters. CHIEF OBRIEN is lying on his bed looking ill. He’s just been awakened by LAFORGE’S call.
CHIEF OBRIEN
Vodka, why do you hate me?
He looks at his clock. It isn’t twenty hundred yet. He pulls a pillow
over his head and tries to go back to sleep.
Cut back to:
INT: Enterprise Bridge. LAFORGE is waiting for CHIEF OBRIEN to answer, but gets distracted when a space-creature with a lot of suggestive tentacles ramps TROI’S bad Betazoid science fiction movie up to a luridity level that even megaporn would find disturbing.
LAFORGE
That looks… interesting…
He keeps his voice low so WESLEY won’t hear and puts a hand casually on
her shoulder. She turns around.
LAFORGE
Wanna see my impulse drive?
TROI
I sense arousal, lieutenant commander.
Cut back to:
Ext: Rigel 7 Landing Zone. It’s still raining. RIKER, WORF and DATA are huddled around the back of the shuttle. The alien grandmother has hobbled off
somewhere. DATA has full raingear on and looks dorky.
RIKER (plaintive)
Look, all I said was you didn’t have to carve
up the first alien grandmother you saw.
WORF
No, you said only a Klingon would want to
carve up an alien grandmother.
DATA
He is correct sir.
RIKER
Whatever, it means the same thing.
WORF
Except the way you said it is discriminating
against my species.
DATA
He is correct sir.
RIKER
Well I didn’t mean to. What I meant was…
WORF
I don’t care what you meant. What you said
was…
RIKER
I know what I said already!
WORF
Well, it’s harassment, and I object.
DATA
He is correct sir.
RIKER
Shut up Data.
DATA
That’s harassment too, sir.
RIKER
Can we just get on with the mission?
Cut to:
INT: Enterprise Bridge. WESLEY has achieved the rank of Uninsurable in Grand Theft Skycar XXXI – Vice Planet and looks very pleased with himself. Voices come from behind the command console
TROI (off camera)
I sense turgidity, Lieutenant Commander.
LAFORGE (off camera)
Energize me, baby!
Cut to:
EXT: Ruined alien city. WORF, RIKER and DATA are moving single-file down an alleyway full of rubble. WORF is on point moving in the approved tactical manner, weapon in the shoulder at all times, covering his arcs, taking a
knee when he stops and passing signals back to the other two. RIKER is moving tactically but without WORF’S keen-ness. DATA is just following along with a vague air of caution. DATA’s rainpants make a noisy swishswish as he walks.
WORF
Must you wear those?
DATA
It is raining.
WORF (sarcastic)
So what? Afraid you’ll rust?
DATA
Yes.
RIKER
Where are we?
DATA (checks his locator)
We are approaching the remote island of Engolia.
Depth now four hundred meters.
WORF (rolls his eyes, and points at
an imposing, half-ruined
complex)
That’s the prime-ministerial palace there,
Commander.
A chanting mob of aliens runs past dragging a bloodied body.
RIKER
I don’t like the looks of that mob.
WORF drops to cover behind some crates and takes a fire position.
WORF
Away team! Range three hundred, quarter right,
alien mob moving right to left! Request
permission to engage!
RIKER considers it, but realizes if a firefight starts he’ll have to kneel
in a puddle. Unlike DATA, he doesn’t have rainpants on.
RIKER
No Worf, they trained us for these situations
at Starfleet Academy. Lets try diplomacy first.
We have to show them that violence doesn’t work.
(he steps out into the open, where the aliens are
stringing their twitching victim from a lamp post)
Rigelian friends! I am Commander Riker of the
Starship Enterprise. I come in peace!
The aliens scream in bloodlust, turn as one, and advance behind a barrage
of stones, Molotov cocktails and sporadic small arms fire. RIKER, WORF
and DATA run like rabbits.
Cut to: Enterprise Engineering Section. LAFORGE and BARCLAY are partly working on a disassembled dilithium crystal resonator chamber, but mostly just socializing.
BARCLAY
Right there on the bridge?
LAFORGE
Behind the command console!
Cut to:
INT: Chief O’Brien’s quarters. The pillow is still over his head, but he isn’t sleeping. He looks like he’s about to barf.
CHIEF OBRIEN
Is it because I’m not Russian?
Cut to:
INT: Transporter Room Twelve. It’s empty.
Cut to:
EXT: Alien dumpster in an alien alley. The alien mob runs past, chanting and screaming for Federation blood. After they’ve gone by three heads emerge from the dumpster, RIKER, DATA and WORF. They are covered in chunks of alien garbage dripping nameless alien slime.
WORF
…so I said “Request permission to engage.” But
then you said…
RIKER
I know what I said Worf. Let’s focus on the
present.
WORF (sarcastic)
“We have to show them violence doesn’t work.”
That’s what you said.
DATA
He is correct, sir.
WORF
Violence sure worked for them.
RIKER
Worf…
DATA
He is correct, sir.
RIKER
Data…
WORF
Maybe it would have worked for us too.
RIKER
Worf…
WORF
Did they teach you to plan like that at the
Academy?
RIKER
Come on guys. We still have to find the
Rigelian prime-minister.
DATA
Actually sir, I believe we no longer do.
RIKER (he’s had it with DATA)
And why is that, turbo brain?
DATA
Because that was the Rigelian prime minister
they were stringing up right before they came
after us.
Long pause.
RIKER
Oh.
Longer pause.
WORF
Now what?
DATA
I believe we should leave. That mob is
coming back.
RIKER (toggles his communicator)
Enterprise, this is away team. Three to beam
up.
Nothing happens.
Enterprise, this is away team. Three to beam
up. Immediately!
Nothing continues to happen. Angry chanting rises in the background.
DATA
Sir, I suspect the problem is that the
communicator is set to the wrong frequency.
RIKER
You have got to be kidding me.
DATA
They usually are.
RIKER
Nobody could be that incompetent.
The chanting grows louder.
DATA
Well, the communicators are very complicated.
RIKER
You’re telling me that with your positronic
brain technology you can’t figure out how to
program the communicators?
DATA
That is correct sir. There are two encryption
modes, plus plaintext mode, one frequency
hopping mode, two fixed frequency modes,
over-the-air rekeying for hop keys and both types
of encryption keys, direct keying, datalink,
three power settings, multi-frequency retransmit
mode, emergency zeroize mode for each key set and
over fourteen thousand possible frequencies.
Malfunctions are indicated by sixteen different
tone sequences. When networked in a vehicle with
Control Indicator boxes…
RIKER (looking wildly around)
Just shut up and fix it will you. We’re trapped
here!
The alien chanting grows still louder.
DATA
It won’t do any good.
RIKER
Why not?
DATA
Because even with all modes correctly set, the
portable communicator has a maximum range of
only three kilometres. Less if it’s raining.
RIKER (totally snapped)
It’s raining Data. It’s raining!
DATA
That is correct, sir.
WORF
I brought my cell phone.
DATA
Starfleet Regulations expressly prohibit the use
Of personal cellular phones on operational…
RIKER
Shut up Data.
He takes WORF’S phone and starts to dial, then stops to look at it more
closely, looks at WORF..
Who do you know at 976-FOXY??
WORF would blush if he could. He grabs the phone back.
WORF
I will dial, commander.
The alien chanting grows ominously loud.
Cut to:
INT: Enterprise bridge. A phone is ringing, but the sound is masked by roar of simulated engines as WESLEY wildly evades the copdroids in Grand Theft Skycar XXXI – Vice Planet.
Cut to:
INT: Sickbay. A dozen perfectly healthy red-shirt security guards are lying on examination tables. One is boots-off to air a toe-blister, another has a bandage covering his left nostril. TROI and DR. CRUSHER are hanging out at the reception desk.
DR. CRUSHER
Thirty seconds?
TROI
And I’ve seen bigger Arcturean
nanoworms.
Cut to:
INT: Chief OBrien’s quarters. He’s sitting on his bed with the pillow on his head like a misshapen hat, and he looks like he’s about to die.
CHIEF OBRIEN
We can’t all be Chekov!
He throws up messily.
Cut to:
INT: Transporter Room Twelve. It’s still empty.
Cut back to:
INT: Enterprise Bridge. WESLEY has finally heard the phone ringing. He fumbles around, punches buttons wildly.
WESLEY (very excited)
Hello!? Starship Enterprise Bridge! Ensign
Crusher at the con! Wait out!
He punches what he thinks is the hold button, then hurries over to
PICARD’S ready-room door. He pauses, knocks gently.
WESLEY
Captain? There’s a call…
No answer. WESLEY tentatively knocks again.
WESLEY
Captain?
Still no answer. WESLEY looks around, unsure what to do. Finally he goes
back to the console, only to discover that he pushed DISCONNECT when he
meant to push ANSWER. There’s no-one on the line. He looks around
sheepishly in case TROI or LAFORGE saw, but they’re gone. Finally he
shrugs and goes back to the Spaceyard Mission in Grand Theft Skycar XXXI –
Vice Planet. If he can shave another minute off his time he’ll gain the
rank of Road Hazard.
Cut to:
EXT: Rigel 7 surface. It’s still raining. The alien mob is closing in on our heroes.
WORF (puts the cell phone down,
looking worried)
They don’t answer, Commander.
RIKER
We’ll have to fight our way back to the shuttle.
Mr. Worf! Set phasers to meltify and ENGAGE!.
WORF
Uhhhm…
RIKER
Come on you stupid Klingon! Blast them!
WORF
Uhhhm…
RIKER (wild eyed and losing it)
What’s wrong now!?
WORF
The phaser power cells are dead.
RIKER (lost it)
What do you mean, the power cells are dead??
We went into combat with dead phaser power
cells?? I had to declare an emergency war
situation just to get them on the shuttle!
WORF
Well, the charger was broken from last time, so
we put a non-servicable tag on it and sent it
back to Starfleet. They sent us a new one, but
it wasn’t working either so then…
RIKER
Shut up!! Fusion rockets! Now!
WORF
These are just drill rounds…
RIKER
Plasma grenades!
WORF
No fuses…
RIKER
You idiot! Why did you bring all that firepower
if none of it works!?!?!?
WORF
Uhhh… it looks cool?
The aliens reach the dumpster and grab them.
Cut to:
INT: Starship Enterprise bridge. The captain’s ready room door slides open and PICARD emerges in his pyjamas. He yawns and stretches and goes over to the
food materializer. WESLEY quickly clicks off Grand Theft Skycar XXXI and puts the main screen back to navigation mode.
PICARD
Did I miss anything?
WESLEY
Commander Riker took an away team down to
rescue the prime-minister of Rigel Seven. We’ve
lost contact with them, but local broadcasts
show extensive rioting throughout the capital.
He brings up a local broadcast on the main screen to prove he wasn’t
playing videogames the whole time. As advertised it shows an alien city
full of alien rioters.
The door slides open and TROI and LAFORGE come in, slightly disheveled and
breathing hard. They stop, obviously surprised to see the captain on the
bridge.
TROI
I was just, uhhhm, counseling the patients in
sickbay. With empathy.
LAFORGE (not oblivious to Starfleet
Regulations preventing
sex on duty)
And I have the dilithium crystals almost fixed!
TROI
Counselling with empathy.
(nods rapidly)
I’m an empath. Those poor patients. One has a
funny feeling in his nose.
PICARD
A funny feeling?
TROI (nodding more)
In his nose.
PICARD
In his nose?
TROI (nodding even more)
His left nostril.
PICARD
His left nostril?
TROI (nodding lots more)
To be specific.
Dr. Crusher was there, she’ll tell you. Nothing
happened with any nanoworm. I was very empathetic.
LAFORGE (looks at her, offended)
Nanoworm?
PICARD (oblivious to everything)
Oh… Well… uhhh… don’t let me interrupt.
He turns to the food materializer.
Tea, Earl Grey, hot.
The tea materializes, he takes it and starts back into the ready room.
Wesley punches buttons, and the main screen shows a struggling trio in
Starfleet uniform, being dragged through the streets by a screaming mob of
aliens. DATA looks confused, RIKER is badly wounded, WORF has lost all
his cool gear.
WESLEY
Wait, I found them.
PICARD turns around to watch the screen. All looks hopeless as the aliens
prepare to string up RIKER, WORF and DATA beside the still-twitching
prime-minister. Then suddenly the Enterprise attack shuttle screams into
the picture, phasers blasting. It slams into the crowd, and skids to a
halt beside the captives in a shower of alien body parts. The back ramp
slams down and ENSIGN RO charges out with her phaser rifle set to
Overkill.
RO
Fucking die you fucking fuckers!
With short, accurate bursts she takes out the aliens holding the away
team. A well-aimed shot cuts loose the prime-minister, who falls to the
ground in a heap. While WORF scampers aboard the shuttle she heaves the
wounded RIKER over her shoulders, kicks DATA in the ass to get him moving,
and grabs the alien prime-minister with her free hand. Carrying RIKER,
dragging the prime-minister, and laying down one-handed cover fire, she
backs up the ramp. Once inside she kicks the ramp retractor lever, dumps
RIKER on top of the cowering WORF and dives for the cockpit. She punches
the Flare Launch button and a salvo of plasma grenades fountains from the
emergency flare tubes. Even before the ramp is closed the shuttle is
lifting out. A cascade of explosions covers their take-off as they head
skyward. The few surviving aliens are too stunned to get off a shot.
RO (on communicator)
Enterprise, Enterprise, this is Attack Shuttle
Delta, inbound with two pri-one casualties.
Approach bearing two-seven-zero mark
three-three, arrival in ten mikes. Clear the
pattern and prepare sickbay. Ro Laren out.
PICARD (to no-one in particular)
Were those plasma grenades in the emergency flare launcher?
LAFORGE
Looks like it, sir.
PICARD
Do Starfleet Regulations allow that?
WESLEY (clicking keys, eager to please)
No sir. Also, she’s was on shift with
Chief O'Brien last night. She’s supposed to be on
mandated downtime until twenty-hundred.
PICARD
Well we can’t have that. Mr LaForge, write up a
recorded warning for Ensign Ro will you?
Something about downtime and safety gear.
And bad language.
LAFORGE frowns. He doesn’t want to do the paperwork.
LAFORGE
Are you sure we want to do that, sir? If she
fights it we might look bad.
PICARD
I suppose you’re right.
TROI
Ensign Ro has her name in for that promotion spot on Deep
Space Nine. We could just not approve it.
LAFORGE
Plus then we wouldn’t lose her. Our numbers are
pretty low.
TROI
Just tell her we lost her file.
PICARD
We have to send them someone though.
LAFORGE
How about Chief O’Brien? He’s… uhmm… good.
WESLEY
But isn’t he an alco…
TROI (gives WESLEY a look
like a terawatt phaser beam.)
Quiet, you!
PICARD
What was that?
LAFORGE (hurriedly)
I was just saying that I’m going to write Chief
O’Brien a stellar performance review.
TROI
The crew is emotionally ready for him to be
transferred.
PICARD
OK, we’ll give them Chief O’Brien. Oh, and send
a signal to Starfleet and tell them the mission was
accomplished.
WESLEY
Yes sir. Should I clear the pattern and inform
sickbay of the casualties?
PICARD
That’s good too. I’ll be asleep if anyone needs
me.
He goes back into the ready room and the door slides shut.
Cut to:
INT: Chief OBrien’s quarters. CHIEF OBRIEN is now lying on the floor, face down in a puddle of his own vomit.
CHIEF OBRIEN (mumbling semi-coherently)
Damn you, Chekov.
Cut back to:
INT: Enterprise Bridge. The main screen shows ENSIGN RO’S attack shuttle sliding deftly into the hanger. The hanger bay doors slide closed behind it.
WESLEY (looking around)
Uhhmm… do we have a course or a direction or
anything?
LAFORGE ignores him. He’s still pissed at TROI.
LAFORGE (offended)
Nanoworm!?
TROI
I sense futility, Captain.
FADE TO BLACK