Author: Anthony Butler, Alan Decker, Brendan Chris
Copyright: 2022

With all of the new Star Trek that’s been produced since we last did one of these, there’s lots of scenes and series for the Star Traks characters to explore in…

Thank the Great Bird They Weren’t There: Volume 5

Star Traks: The Vexed Generation in…

Star Trek: Into Darkness!

“I can’t believe it,” Commander Conway said, pacing the bridge of the Enterprise. “After all we’ve been through, Captain Baxter is really dead.”

“He’s not dead as long as we find a way to remember him,” Lt. Ford said helpfully from the conn.

“Oh shut up,” Conway snapped. He stared at the viewscreen, as the dreadnought Vengeance sailed through Earth’s atmosphere. “We’ve got a lot of other plot points to worry about. How are we going to stop Khan?”

“Stab him a lot of times?” J’hana offered from the tactical station.

“Yeah, that’s real creative,” Conway said. “Pursuit course, Mister Ford, take us down into the atmosphere. That should look pretty cool, if nothing else.”

Counselor Peterman tossed her ear bud to the floor and stood up, adjusting her way too snug skirt. “Conway, you bitter, angry little man. Andy’s dead, and all you’re worried about is saving Earth?”

Conway looked back at her over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something, when the comm system trilled.

“Browning to bridge! I have an exciting new plot point! I mean news!”

“Go ahead,” Conway said, still looking at Peterman.

“Well, I was feeling kind of bored, so I decided to take that little sample of Khan’s blood we have, and I injected it into that dead Tribble.”

Ford leaned over toward Larkin. “Is this really a thing that happened?”

Larkin cocked her head. “Accessing database. Yes. Yes, this actually happened.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “For Pete’s sake.”

“And…? I don’t have all day, Janice!”

Browning continued: “The Tribble came back to life! Khan’s blood somehow brought the Tribble back to life”

“Oh, well good for the Tribble,” Conway quipped.

“No, don’t you see,” Browning said. “We can save Andy!”

Larkin turned in her chair. “Doctor, have you put this theory of yours through rigorous scientific study?”

“Well, no, but the Tribble is alive again, and it’s super fluffy and cute!”

Peterman grinned. “Aw.”

“So we can save the Captain? Well, thank the Great Bird,” Conway muttered.

“So what do we need to do, Janice?” Peterman asked.

“We need a sample of Khan’s blood,” Browning said. “Is he available?”

Conway looked at Peterman, then turned to the viewscreen, watching as the USS Vengeance crashed into San-Francisco in a smoldering heap.

“Not really,” Conway said.

“You have to go after Khan,” Peterman said. “Get Khan’s blood so we can shoot it into Andy!”

“This is gross,” Ford muttered.

“Yeah, but…” Conway pointed at the screen. “It’s chaos down there.” He leaned forward on the navigation console and tapped a few buttons, bringing up an enhanced image. Sure enough, there was Khan, running through San Francisco, shooting at things with his phaser rifle. “Nah. I’m good.”

“You’ve got to go down there!” Peterman shouted, stomping her foot.

Conway sighed. “Fine.”

Peterman brightened. “I’ll go with you, to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

“Really?” he looked her up and down, once again taking in her tight skirt and boots. “In that? You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?”

Peterman grabbed Conway’s arm. “COME. ON!”

Conway sighed. “Whatever, okay okay. Ford, you have the bridge.”

Moments later, Peterman and Conway materialized in the midst of a chaotic San Francisco. In the distance, the Vengeance burned, sending smoke into the sky. Ahead, Khan ran at lightening speed through the streets.

“There he is!” Peterman cried, and tugged Conway along.

“We’ll never catch him like this,” Conway said, huffing after only a brief jog.

“There!” Peterman pointed, as a hover platform sailed by. “Let’s jump on one of those.”

“Are you freaking kidding!”

“I’m not kidding. It makes sense!” Peterman said, and bodily pushed Conway onto the platform, jumping on with him.

“How do we even steer this thing?”

“Do it like a surf board.” Peterman grabbed Conway’s hips. “Use your feet.”

“I feel ridiculous.”

Peterman pointed as they gained on Khan. He looked over his shoulder and saw them coming, quickly hopping on top of another hover platform. “There he is! We’re gaining on him!”

“There are a lot of these just flying around the city. It’s a safety hazard,” Conway commented.

“Now we jump!” Peterman said, as their platform pulled alongside Khan’s.

“Wait one…”

She gave Conway a hard shoved and pushed him off the platform, and down onto Khan’s.

“Stop pushing me!” Conway shouted, and pulled his phaser, waving it at Peterman.

“Don’t you point that thing at me! Shoot him!” she turned Conway around to face Khan.

“So, you finally caught me,” Khan sneered. “Well, do your worst.”

“No, I just,” Conway looked at Peterman. “We need your blood, man.”

“That’s gross,” Khan said.

“I know.” Conway limply pointed his phaser at Khan as they stood on the flying platform. “Still…”

“Fight him!” Peterman said, standing behind Conway.

“I mean I just need to stun him right?”

Peterman rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just attack him!”

Khan sighed. “This is taking way too long. I have to meet my chiropractor in Alameda at two.”

Conway advanced on Khan. “Okay, Khan. Time’s up. This action sequence has gone on far too long. Give me your…” he shuddered, looking back at Peterman. “Really??”


He turned back to Khan. “Give me your blood, I guess.”

“Never!” Khan said, and launched himself at Conway, knocking him to the deck.

“Oof! Get off me!”

“Fight him!” Peterman insisted, rushing over. She tripped and fell to her knees. “Damn these heels!”

“I have no motivation here! I barely know the guy.”

“Well, not if we get his blood.”

“She’s right, you fool!” Khan spat at Conway. “You insufferable Starfleet people. You all deserve to die! You, your crewmates, your friends…even that little dog you keep in your cabin.”

Conway paused, looking down at Khan. “Wait, the corgi? Bucky?”

“Yes, I know all about him. He’s got a ridiculous shape. He’s all body and no legs!”

Conway glared down at Khan. “He is fluffy and cute, you son of a bitch.”

“He’s a joke! I wish I had pushed him out an air lock.”

Peterman saw the look of madness flash in Conway’s eyes and stepped back. “Oh no.”

“Nobody talks about Bucky like that!” Conway snapped, and drove his fist into Khan’s face.

“I’m genetically enhanced. I barely felt that!”

“Oh yeah? Well enhance this!” Conway continued to pound his fists into Khan, slamming his head into the platform.

“Stop! Conway! You’re killing him!” Peterman shouted.

Conway gripped Khan by the throat. “I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“We have to bring him back alive!”

Conway looked back at Khan. “We do? This is so complicated.”

Khan squirmed. “I hate your ship. And your dog.”

“Let’s go, man, this adventure is already an hour too long.”

Back on the Enterprise, Conway stood beside the bed and looked down solemnly. “I was worried about you. I’m glad everything’s okay. You had us all worried.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand.

Bucky looked at his hand and yarfed.

Conway slowly petted Bucky and pulled him into his arms. “You’re okay buddy. That’s all that matters.”

“Browning to Conway. Great news! I shot Andy full of Khan’s blood and he’s totally fine now!”

“Thanks,” Conway said, and closed the channel.

The Original Star Traks in…

Star Trek: Lower Decks

Captain Alexander Rydell looked around the bridge of the USS Cerritos and sighed. “We’re not really doing this, are we?”

“What do you mean?” Commander Jaroch asked distractedly as he checked the consoles at the rear of the bridge. “Is there an actual science station back here anywhere?”

“I’m all set,” Lieutenant Commander Patricia Hawkins said, resting her hands on the console just behind the command chair.

“I mean,” Rydell said, “isn’t this too easy?”

“I don’t follow,” Jaroch replied.

“Come on. A Starfleet ship with a…quirky crew travels the cosmos getting into silly situations along with the occasional actual bit of danger. It’s already us, Jaroch. How are we supposed to parody ourselves?”

“He’s got a point,” Lieutenant Commander Emily Sullivan said from the helm.

“Maybe we parody it by being serious?” Lieutenant Andrea Carr offered from ops.

“So…you’re saying I should tone down the sarcasm?” Sullivan asked.


“Ok. Sure. I can totally do that,” Sullivan said, rolling her eyes.

“Not a great start, Sullivan,” Rydell said. He settled back into the command chair. “But lacking any better ideas, we’re going with Carr’s plan. All ahead serious.”

The bridge was silent for several moments.

“This feels so wrong,” Hawkins said finally.

“I like it,” Jaroch said.

Rydell looked at the empty chairs to his left and right. “Hang on. Has anybody seen Dillon?”

“I was hoping you would not notice,” Jaroch said. “And before you ask, no. I had nothing to do with his absence.”

“All righty then. We shall, as the song says, ‘Enjoy the Silence.’”

“Which song is that?” Carr asked.

“You’ve never heard that one?” Rydell said, getting excited. “Jaroch, check the archives for…”

“I THOUGHT we were trying to be serious,” Jaroch interrupted.

“Ehhh…I’m bored,” Rydell said. “No one wants a bored captain. Cue the music.”

The turbolift doors swooshed open, and Commander Travis Dillon raced out screaming, “I’m a cartoon!”

“We have been aware of that for years, sir,” Jaroch said.

“You’re all cartoons, too!”

“A keen observation, Commander,” Rydell said.

“This is demeaning! I am a Starfleet Officer! I will NOT be treated like this!”

“Sit down and relax,” Rydell said, waving his first officer over to the chair beside him. “This will all be over before you know it. Now, as I was saying, Jaroch, check the database for…”

The turbolift doors opened again, and two human junior officers stormed onto the bridge. Two things immediately caught Rydell’s attention as they took up positions in front of him. First, the male had quite the head of purple hair. Second, and more concerning, was the bat’leth the woman was wielding rather threateningly.

“What have you done with my mother?” she demanded.

Rydell looked back at his science officer. “Don’t they usually remove the show’s actual characters for these things?”

“Presumably they just swapped out the command crews, sir,” Jaroch replied.

“On a show called Star Trek: Lower Decks?”

“That does seem to be a bit of an oversight.”

“You think?!?”

“You’re not helping your case here, folks,” the bat’leth wielding ensign said. “Now what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Rydell smiled weakly. “Do you like Depeche Mode?”

Star Traks: Halfway to Haven in…

Star Trek: Picard

Admiral Tyler Virgii strode into the reception hall of Starfleet Command. He barely spared a glance around the spacious foyer, but noted with satisfaction that the hologram of Picard’s dreary Enterprise-D had been replaced with one of Virgii’s first command: the USS Roadrunner.

He strode to the reception desk and was about to identify himself when the junior lieutenant saw him and gasped.

“Admiral Virgii, sir!” he said, bowing respectfully, “This is just such an honour! Of course the C-in-C is waiting for you. Please, go right in.”

Virgii gave a satisfied nod, deeming the underling unworthy of any further consideration. He strode across the foyer, up the stairs and into a turbo-lift. Within seconds he was in Fleet Admiral Clancy’s spacious office.

“Admiral Virgii,” she purred, “Such a pleasure! I always welcome your advice,”

Virgii puffed up his chest and drew his hands behind his back.

“Fleet Admiral,” he began, “I have been approached by a young woman. A beautiful young woman, one whom I believe to be of great significance. One of a kind, from a deceased race. After begging me to let her bear my children, she informed me of her plight. And do believe who should aid her,”

“Of course,” Clancy replied at once, “Will you be wanting to take back the position of C-in-C for the duration? Presidential elections aren’t for another year, but we could probably arrange a stewardship…”

“Oh, you are SO kind to offer,” Virgii smirked, “But I think it best to-“

“VIRGII!” Clancy suddenly snapped, “WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

“Why, Fleet Admiral, I-“


Commander Virgii woke with a start, nearly tumbling out of the compact command chair on the cramped bridge of the USS Roadrunner.

“Wha? Who? Wha?” he shook his head, trying to clear the thick fog that was obscuring his brain, “Who am I? When am I?”

“It’s the end of the night shift, and you’re supposed to be patrolling the Matrian border!” Captain Elizabeth Simplot shouted from the communications screen superimposed over the front window, “I don’t know who Clancy is, but you’re supposed to be watching out for Qu’Eh ships, not having dreams about your imaginary girlfriend! Haven, I mean, Starbase 341 OUT!”

Simplot’s face vanished from the screen. With a groan, Virgii stood and stretched his lanky frame. OK. So he wasn’t a respected admiral, about to embark on a brave quest to aid a mysterious woman. But a man could dream, right?

Star Traks: The Vexed Generation in…

Star Trek: Discovery

“It’s all been building up to this!” Captain Baxter shouted, above the din of the pulse beacons, as a tear appeared in space. “Chris, make sure the electromagnetic pulses don’t overload the suit!”

“They’re maxed out!” Richards said, monitoring with a tricorder. “It’s now or never, sir!”

Baxter looked up at the tear. “It’s happening! Something’s coming through! We’ll finally solve this Red Angel mystery that’s been building for ten episodes…I mean weeks!”

And, just on cue, the Red Angel did indeed appear, drifting out of the rift and landing on the deck plate in front of Baxter, falling to its knees.

“It’s working!” Richards called out. “The electromagnetic pulses are deactivating the time crystals!”

Baxter nodded. “Man, your technobabble is working overtime.”

The figure in the red suit lurched toward Baxter, holding out its hand.

“Time to finally reveal who you are, you pesky Red winged freak!” Baxter said triumphantly, and reached forward, unclasping the helmet and pulling it off. He gasped. “Oh come on!”

There before him sat Lucille Baxter.


Lucille stood up and swiped the helmet back from him. “What did you do that for? Do you know how hard it is to find time crystals? Now I have to go all the way to Brenthalmens on Corsair Four to get new ones! And they aren’t open on weekends!”

Baxter followed her as she walked off the platform. “Mom?”

Lucille marched over to Chris. “I figured you’d be caught up in this. You were always such a bad influence on Andy!”

“Me?” Chris gulped. “What’d I do?”

Lucille looked around. “So I guess these electromagnetic pulse cannons just appeared on their own?”


She turned to the woman standing next to Chris. The dark-haired woman looked quite menacing in her skintight black suit. “And you? What’s your deal?”

“I’m from Section 31. I came here to kill you.”

Lucille stepped closer to the woman. “And do you think that would be a good idea?”

“Well,” the woman responded.

“Really think about your answer.” Lucille squinted at the woman.

“I mean I…the Red Angel has to be stopped?”

“You want to stick with that answer?” Lucille snapped.

“I…” the woman shifted. “Well, no.”

“Get out of here!” Lucille snapped, and turned on Baxter. “And you!”

Baxter had been slowly stepping back, hunching behind the platform. He ducked up. “What, who, me?”

Lucille strode over to him. “You’re the whole reason I had to build this suit!”

“I am?”

Lucille nodded. She reached within the suit and pulled out a small padd. “Stardate 1432. Eight years from now. Look at you. Paunch belly. Beard. Bad clothes.”

Baxter shifted. “It just looks like a new Starfleet uniform?”

“You don’t even have the collar buttoned!”

“I’m probably just relaxing!”

“You become a slob!” Lucille turned. “I had to go back in time to stop it.”

Richards stepped forward. “Let me get this straight. You built this red suit. Stole Klingon time crystals. And went back through time, creating massive paradoxes, just so you could tell Andy to take better care of himself?”

“He’s an only child!” Lucille snapped.

Richards put his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, never mind!”

“Perhaps we should leave,” the woman from Section 31 said, taking Richards by the arm.

Meanwhile, inside the observation room, Lieutenant Spock, along with the ship’s doctor, looked on.

“Maybe we should aid the captain.”

“No way,” Doctor Janice Browning said, looking up from her ham sandwich. “She’ll come after us next. I say we hide in here until this blows over.”

Spock looked at Browning. “You should not be eating in here. The radiation levels are extremely high.”

“I know that. It’s just a snack. I’ll put my helmet back on in a second!”

Spock considered Browning, then looked through the glass at Lucille berating Baxter. He seemed to be weighing the variables. “I think, in that case, the appropriate course of action would be retreat.”

Browning finished her sandwich. “I’m all for it. This place creeps me out.”

Star Traks: Silverado in…

Star Trek: Into Darkness

Captain Chris Stafford clung to his chair as the Enterprise plummeted towards the Earth. Looking out the front window, he could see the front rim of the saucer starting to glow as atmospheric friction built up.


“Simon,” he shouted over the wailing alarms and sparking consoles, “Why is there a window on the bridge?”

“Ah dunno,” Jeffery shouted, “But aren’t ye supposed ta be in the warp core, sacrificin’ yerself for the ship an’ crew?”

“Wait, what?” Stafford pulled out the script, “No, that can’t be right. After the ship is safe, I’m supposed to turn around and notice the science officer is gone, then come to the heartbreaking realization that they sacrificed themselves. Right?” He turned to the science station. “Sorry, Fifebee,”

“I believe radiation is involved,” Fifebee added helpfully.

“Yer thinkin’ ‘Wrath of Khan’, mate,” Jeffery pointed out.

“Ah, I see,” Fifebee nodded, looking at her own script, “I was wondering why I, as a hologram, would be bothered by radiation.”

“That’s a good point,” Jeffery scratched his head, “Sooo…speakin’ of…do ye think..?”

“One moment,” Fifebee disappeared from the bridge. A moment later the ship lurched, then pulled out of its descent as full power was restored with a suddenness that was a convenient as it was unlikely. Fifebee reappeared. “I have realigned the…the…BWA-HA-HA-HA! The designers of these sets think THAT’S what a warp core should look like? There is NO logical reason a humanoid should fit inside a matter-antimatter reaction chamber!”

“At least it’s not a brewery this time,” Jeffery shrugged.

There was a spark of light, then Jall appeared in the middle of the bridge. He had a steaming latte in one hand and held a gym bag in the other.

“Where the hell were you?” Stafford demanded, “We just did the big climatic fight, and-“

“HOLY FUCKING HELL!” Yanick abruptly screamed, hammering at the panel, “Come ON you sluggish old brick, MOVE!”

“Wha-“ the rest of the staff had barely turned when out the window they saw a second starship, bigger and evidently designed with the ‘dark theme’ setting turned on, flash right past them and crash into the planet.

“Sorry,” Yanick said, “Hey, I least I got to do something in this movie that wasn’t a love triangle or a fistfight,”

“Where were you?” Stafford turned back to Jall as the latter sipped his coffee.

“Only place you can get a good latte,” Jall said.

“Italy?” Stafford crossed his arms, “You beamed down to Italy? How? Main power was out!”

“No man, I meant to get it from this little cafe outside ShiKahr on Vulcan.” Jall said, “But this ass-hat director was handed the franchise and was like ‘Oh! How do I make this interesting? Hey, I’m going to blow up Vulcan! That’s a cool idea! The fans will love it!’ So I had to go to the Vega Colony instead.”

“Vega Colony?” T’Parief grumbled, “So you stole a shuttle and deserted during combat? Captain, I recommend his immediate arrest!”

“No, I used this thing,” Jall hefted the gym bag, which apparently wasn’t a gym bag, “Did you know we can just BEAM around the galaxy now? Because reasons!”

“That,” Fifebee said slowly, “Is an interstellar transporter? We are doing interstellar transporters now? Portable, miniaturized interstellar transporters?”

Everyone read their scripts.

“We are,” T’Parief rumbled with displeasure.

“I quit,” Jeffery dropped his script (and his accent) and unbuttoned his collar. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an iPhone, “Siri, call my agent,”

“Yeah, I gotta go find my contract,” Stafford said, dropping his script and heading for the door, “I know there’s an exit clause in there. There’s got to be!”

“From the film?” Fifebee asked.

“From this whole fucking Kelvin-verse timeline!”

Star Traks: Boldly Gone in…

Star Trek: Prodigy

“This seems inadvisable,” Lieutenant Commander Tovar said as he and Captain Reginald Bain climbed the stairs to the bridge of the USS Protostar.

“Nonsense, lad,” Bain replied, clapping his adopted son on the shoulder. “There hasn’t been a Starfleet vessel ever made that Reginald Bain couldn’t handle. This one may be a bit older than we’re used to, but we can bring it to heel.”

“I was referring to the writers taking on a series that has barely started airing. They have no idea where the show’s story is heading.”

“They don’t usually know where their own stories are heading.”

Tovar thought for a moment, then nodded. “A fair point.”

“Besides, it’s not like we’ve wandered into a big mystery here. There’s a starship on a planet. We just need to get her airborne and make with the boldly going,” Bain said.

They had arrived at the bridge level. Bain put a hand out to stop Tovar from taking another step. “Hear that, my boy?”

Tovar listened…to nothing. The bridge was dark and completely silent. “I do not hear anything.”

“Precisely. How often do you ever get to stand on a starship bridge that isn’t filled with bleeps and bloops and the chatter of your shipmates? Take it in. This moment of quiet before it awakens and becomes the command center of this vessel.”

“So I should enjoy the silence?”

“Are you doing a callback?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stop it. I’m trying to be poetic here.”

The pair stood quietly for a moment.

Bain suddenly clapped his hands together. “Right! Let’s get to it. Tovar, power us up.” He pinched his commpip as he strode over to the command chair. “Bain to Marsden. Did you find the engine room?”

“You mean the place with the warp engine that’s tied into a protostar?” Marsden’s voice snapped back. “Sure did. Doesn’t remind me a bit of our engine. Nope. Not at all.”

“You can grouse later, Marsie. For now, just focus on getting things online, so we can take off. Starships should not be sitting on planets…or asteroids, or wherever the deuce we are. Bain out.” As Bain sat down, systems all around the bridge flickered to life.

“We have full power,” Tovar reported from the helm console.

“Capital! Now let’s…”

“Welcome aboard, cadets.”

“What the devil!” Bain exclaimed, leaping out of his seat then whirling around to see where that voice had come from. He found himself face to face with a human woman, probably a good thirty years younger than him, wearing a Starfleet uniform from well before his birth.

“I’m Kathryn Janeway,” she said, “Your training advisor. I’m a hologram based on one of the most decorated captains in Starfleet history, programmed to assist the Protostar’s crew on their journey back to Federation space.”

“Now see here! I am Reginald Bain. I’ve spent the last half century of my life serving on Federation starships, and there’s not one bloody thing that I can learn from the likes of you!”

The holographic Janeway glanced over at Tovar. “Is he always like this?”

“Captain Bain hasn’t had the best experiences with holograms of Starfleet captains.”

“I…see. Carry on then, Captain Bain. I am at your disposal when you need me. Or if you get in over your head.”

“NOT BLOODY LIKELY!” Bain shouted as Janeway vanished.

The captain plopped back down in his command chair with a harrumph. “Blast it, Tovar. I was actually looking forward to this. Now we’ve been saddled with that holographic babysitter.”

Something on Tovar’s console caught his attention. “Captain, we’re being hailed.”

“Really? By whom?”

“He says his name is Drednok, and he’s here to claim this ship in the name of the Diviner.”

“Here? As in outside?”

“Yes, sir.” Tovar brought up the image of a metallic, multi-legged being on his console as Bain peered over his shoulder.

“Is that…”

“…a robot. Yes, sir.”

Bain smiled. “Is he now?”

“I thought that might improve your mood.”

“It does indeed,” Bain said. He cracked his knuckles. “You and Marsie keep working on getting us ready for liftoff. I’m just going to pop out for a moment and have a word with this Mister Drednok.” He headed off down the bridge steps, whistling as he went.

Tovar had no idea who Drednok was expecting to find in the Protostar, but he was certain that the robot would not be prepared for the reception he was about to get from Reginald Bain.

Star Traks: The Vexed Generation in…

Star Trek: Picard




“Now let’s get our stories straight, Kristen,” former Captain Chris Richards said as he and Larkin made their way down the corridor. “We’re going to be honest. We’re going to explain that you understand that it’s necessary to take certain precautions after the…” he swallowed. “Thing that happened.”

Larkin cocked her head. “I do not believe it is right that I should be removed from service just because of a few malfunctioning synths.”

“People are scared, Kristen, and it’s going to be dicey in there. Just act natural, try to convey an image of calm, and let’s get out of here with both of our heads still attached to our bodies.”

“Father, this is the United Federation of Planets. I’m sure everyone will be perfectly–”

“Get the Androids out of Starfleet!” a voice rattled from inside the conference room.

“Oh no,” Richards said. “Maybe we should have taken Keefler up on his offer to make us disappear on a remote planet in the Hashnon system.”

“We are not running. We will explain. Perhaps I can persuade!”

“Go on! Go back to your planetoid and ponder existence somewhere else!” the voice boomed again from the conference room.

A pale, impassive figure came marching out of the conference room.

“Commander!” Larkin said, a spark of recognition crossing her processors. She reached out to shake the man’s hand. “It’s good to see you after, what, six years?”

The man looked from Larkin to Richards. “Yes, it is good to see you, Commander Larkin.”

“Captain now, actually,” Larkin said, tugging on her tunic.

“Yes, well,” the man said, and turned to Richards. “Ah yes, I have heard much about you. Lieutenant Commander Vernon X-4. Starship Farragut.”

“Oh yes,” Richards said. “Well, how’re you doing?”

“Not great,” X-4 replied. “I just got removed from Starfleet and am scheduled for the next transport out of here.”

“You seem to be functioning within normal parameters and I am glad for that,” Larkin said, and tugged on Richards’ sleeve.

“Great to see you, Vernon!” Richards called after him as they entered the room. He looked at Larkin. “How do you know that guy?”

“Don’t ask.”

“You didn’t…”

Larkin pursed her lips.

“Ok, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Larkin shrugged. “He was more trouble than he was worth. And we were not compatible.”

“Different hobbies?” Richards offered, still trying to withdraw from the conversation.

“No. We are using different operating systems. Mine is a Soong type AI-Four. His is…” she visibly shuddered. “Linux Twelve.”

“Poor guy.”

Larkin followed Richards as they entered the conference room. “Father, I have queried my ethical subroutines for several nanoseconds now and I am committed to facing my fate like a grown android. It is the right thing to do.”

Richards gripped Larkin’s hand. “I know. I’m here with you, Kristen.”

The two walked into the room and faced a large conference table with three admirals gathered at the head. At center sat Admiral Kirsten Clancy.”

“Kirsten,” Larkin nodded.

“Kristen,” Clancy said, easing forward and folding her hands in front of her. She nodded at the other admirals and pointed at Larkin. “Kristen.”

“Yes, Kirsten,” the Admirals said. “Kristen,” one replied.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” Clancy said. “What may we do for you, Captain Larkin?”

“Well,” Larkin began. “I came as soon as I heard about the synth ban.”

“Yes, it’s damn the hell unfortunate,” Clancy said. She looked at the admiral on her left, a gruff looking Tellarite. “Spatz here has been yelling at the poor souls all day. But it must be done. For the good of the Federation.”

“Indeed. That’s why I’m here,” Larkin said.

“Oh?” Clancy raised an eyebrow. “Are you aware of a fucking synth working in Starfleet?”

“Well, yes, I…” Larkin blinked.

“Is that language really necessary?” Richards asked, but Larkin stood in front of him.

“I have news to share, Admiral,” she said earnestly.

Richards looked around the room. At the Admirals gathered and various subordinates milling about. None of them were hurling epithets at Larkin. None seemed to even be paying her any mind at all. “Kristen,” he whispered.

“I have queried my ethical subroutines and come to only one conclusion…”

“Which is?” Clancy asked, her face empty.

“Larkin!” Richards jabbed her in her side. She turned.

“Father, this is not the time to…”

“Captain Richards, do you have something to add here?” Clancy asked. “If so, hurry the hell up!”

Richards stepped forward. “Yes. We do.” He looked at Larkin. “We just want to wish you luck with the synth ban. And um, to say…good job! And if we see any androids we’ll surely send them your way.”

Clancy pursed her lips. “Well. Good.”

Larkin turned to Richards. “I don’t understand. Father…”

“Back out of the room slowly,” Richards whispered as he sidled toward the door. “And may I say, Admiral Clancy, you are building a lovely fascist state here in Starfleet!”

“Oh shut up and get the fuck out of my conference room!” Clancy snapped.

Richards turned and bolted out, Larkin in tow.

“Sir, what was that all about?”

“They don’t know,” Richards said, and burst into laughter. “After all these years, no one in Starfleet is even aware of your existence as an Android. Or…” he faltered. “Or any of my work.”

“I mean, other than building me, your portfolio is rather limited,” Larkin said flatly. She looked back at the conference room. “So…what do we do now?”

“We hope that cooler heads prevail, and until then, keep a low profile.”

Larkin pursed her lips, a telltale sign of her annoyance subroutine. “Father, I hardly think that’s proper for a Starfleet Officer.”

“Have I taught you nothing?” Richards said. “Now let’s get out of here while we can. I want to hit the Tom Paris Souvenir Shop on the way out.”

Star Traks: Waystation in…

Star Trek: Beyond

“Um…are we in the right place?” Captain Lisa Beck asked. She and her command crew were in a room full of various screens and consoles that was surprisingly calm considering all of the running around, leaping, and blasting these sorts of things usually entailed.

“I’m not sure what constitutes the right place, but this is the operations center of Starbase Yorktown,” Beck’s first officer, Commander Walter Morales, said checking the readout on his console.

“So no Enterprise for us, huh? Fine. Ok. My feelings aren’t hurt or anything,” Lieutenant Commander Craig Porter said.

“I think they already crashed it,” Lieutenant Commander Sean Russell said.

“Right. This is one of THOSE movies.”

“But they still have a ship somewhere, and we should be on it,” Beck said. She looked up at the sky…well…ceiling exasperated. “Is this because we run a space station? Seriously? We can do other things! There’s a whole movie happening out there!”

Porter’s attention was drawn to the science console in front of him. “‘Out there’ is very rapidly becoming right here. We’ve got a massive cloud of…ships! It’s thousands and thousands of little ships coming right at us!”

“All right! I guess we are in the right place!” Beck said. “Red alert! Russell, arm all weapons, and try to hail them. Morales, coordinate the crew. Take everyone you need. We have to get the civilians to secure locations. Porter, see if you can find me a weakness. Anything that…”

Beck suddenly realized that instead of the flurry of activity she was expecting, her officers were just staring that their consoles in confusion. “Is there a problem?”

“We’re locked out, Captain,” Morales said.

“Locked out? How is that possible? This is our station…kinda sorta.”

“But not our movie,” Porter said as Beck took a look over his shoulder at the console in front of him. On the display in bright red letters were the words “DON’T DO ANYTHING UNTIL JAMES T. KIRK TELLS YOU TO!”

“This is ridiculous. We’re just supposed to sit here?”

“We’re being hailed,” Russell reported.

“Since you’re being allowed to receive it, I’m guessing it’s Kirk?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s sending us a song to broadcast at a frequency to disrupt the ships out there.”


“My console says I’m allowed to do that.”

“How nice of it,” Beck muttered. “And let us hear the song. Might as well get some entertainment out of all of this.”

As the Kirk-commanded USS Franklin made its way through the exploding swarm of ships outside Starbase Yorktown, Beck and company stood around listening to the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” playing over the speakers of the operations center.

“What do you know? A song from the Twentieth Century,” Porter said.

“It’s such a shame that we lost all records of Earth’s popular culture after that period and never bothered to pick up any from the thousands of species we’ve encountered since then,” Beck said.

Russell looked confused, “But we didn’t…”


“A few of the swarm ships made it inside the shield,” Morales reported.

“I don’t suppose we can do anything about it,” Beck said.

“Not so much.”

“But I am reading a human and a Vulcan on one of the ships, so they’ve probably got it,” Porter said.

“And Kirk’s ship just entered the station,” Russell said.

“Can we just put all of this excitement up on the viewscreen, so we can watch it? And find some chairs,” Beck said.

“I’ll get the popcorn!” Russell said excitedly rushing toward the door.

“I demand nachos!” Porter called after him.

Several minutes later, Montgomery Scott and Jaylah charged into the operations center. They needed to get to the atmospheric control systems and shut things down fast or Krall was going to release a pathogen that would kill everyone on Starbase Yorktown. Scotty just hoped that none of the Yorktown’s personnel would get in his way.

He needn’t have worried. The Waystation/Yorktown officers were all seated on the other side of the room watching video feed of Captain Kirk chasing Krall. A red-headed woman glanced over at him. “You from Kirk’s ship?”

“Aye,” Scotty replied.

“Do you need us for anything?”

“Er…no. The lassie and I can…”

“Yeah yeah. Do your thing,” she said with a dismissive wave as she turned her attention back to the screen.

“This feels a little weird,” Porter said.

“Didn’t you say once that you wished you were still a minor character?” Beck asked. “Well, here you go. Enjoy it.”

“A good point. But I would be enjoying it more if SOMEBODY had remembered my nachos!”

Star Traks: Silverado in…

Star Trek: Discovery

Captain’s Log, Stardate: ‘Relax this is not a prequel’,

“Blah, blah, experimental drive system, blah, blah, obnoxious scientist, blah, blah, possible death.”

“Christopher Stafford, that was NOT a proper log entry and you KNOW it!” Sylvia didn’t even bother to manifest herself as a hologram throwing her arms up in exasperation. She didn’t have to. Her voice said it all.

“Come on,” Captain Stafford said, “This happens so often it’s cliche. It’s a trope. Everyone knows this is going to end badly and we’re just going to be stuck using warp drive for another century.”

“For once, I think I’m with him,” First Officer San Jall looked thoughtful, “And if Starfleet was really going to be that insistent about log quality, they’d let us use a template for this sort of thing. Instead of coming up with something new and fresh. Every. Single. Time.”

“So, shall we go down to Engineering and see what this Staments guy has planned for us?” Stafford asked, getting out of his chair and pushing the button to summon a crowd of nameless extras to take over the bridge stations.

“My money is on quantum slipstream,” Jall nodded.

“A foolish waste of currency,” Science Officer Jane 5-B arched an eyebrow, “QS drives are already in limited use. No, I expect this to be some form of enhanced wormhole-based propulsion,”

“PUPPY POWER!” Lieutenant Yanick giggled. Everybody just stared at her. “I mean, not seriously. But have you seen those little things go when they get the zoomies?”

T’Parief was about to respond, but he caught Fifebee silently shaking her head out of the corner of his eye and remained silent.

A few moments later the senior staff was gathered in Main Engineering, staring at a big, transparent cube and a weird-looking console. Well, most of the crew was staring. Chief Engineer Jeffery was having an argument with a blond, irritable-looking human.

“It’s simple,” the blond man was saying “It’s the simplest part of this entire spore-hub drive. You flush the excess energy through a rotational dispersal mechanism! The resulting cavitation provides the rotational-“

“Oy, mate,” Jeffery shot right back, “Ah keep tellin’ ye, we don’t have one of those!”

“Just spin your saucer!”

“It doesn’t SPIN!”

“Why the hell not? Spinning is, like, WAY cooler than not spinning!”

“Maybe if he was an admiral he could just make it spin,” Jall murmured to Stafford out of the corner of his mouth.

“Or a general,” Stafford murmured back.

“OK,” Commander Staments, the blond scientist, made a visible effort to collect himself, “We really just need part of the saucer to spin. So go take that conduit, route it to something spinning, and we’ll be good to go.”

Jeffery’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. Stafford quickly moved over and put a hand on his back.

“Jeffery, how about the…er…spherical refractory array on Deck 12? That rotates, right?”

Jeffery spun to Stafford and for a moment the Captain wondered if his dear friend was about to lose his temper. But then he saw the gleam in Jeffery’s eye as he caught on.

“Ohhh…aye. Easy. Ah can do that.”

“Spherical refractory array?” Fifebee asked.

“I’ll explain later,”

As Jeffery moved off to grab the conduit, directing one last dirty look at Staments, Yanick pointed at a glowing canister next to the weirdly-shaped console.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Ah,” able to finally tell them about his invention, Staments suddenly looked a lot happier, “Those are mycelium spores of prototaxites stellaviatoir!”

Yanick just stared at him.

“Mushrooms,” he clarified.

“You’re installing a…mushroom drive…on my ship?” Stafford started biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“A displacement-activated spore-hub drive!” Staments said, crossing his arms, “We can go anywhere in the galaxy in the blink of an eye.”

“Uh-huh.” Jall didn’t even bother to hide his laughter, “Are we going to start powering the replicators with coffee grounds?”

“Perhaps we can replace dilithium with wishful thinking,” Fifebee crossed her arms.

“Oh, you all laugh now!” Staments snapped, “But this WILL work! The science is behind me on this one!”

“Indeed,” now even Fifebee couldn’t hide a derisive grin, “Quite a distance behind you.”

“I’ll show you! I’ll show you all!” Staments shoved the glowing container into the console, then spun towards Jeffery, “Is the refractory array ready?” he demanded.

“Oh, aye. It’s connected. And it’s…spinning…” Jeffery snorted.

“Computer! Black Alert!”

“You watch your RACIST MOUTH you horrible little troll of a man!” Sylvia snapped.

“I’m not…oh forget it!” Staments’ fingers danced over the console, which was starting to make a loud humming noise, “You don’t believe me? Neither did the big-wigs at the Cochrane Warp Institute! But the spore drive WORKS, I tell you!”

The Silverado officers nervously stepped back from the loudly-humming experimental drive system.

“Is this thing going to blow us up?” Stafford whispered to Jeffery.

“Nope. No possible way. It’s not drawing enough power to blow up a bag of popcorn.”

“Oh, good.” Stafford cleared his throat, “OK, Mr. Staments. Show us what you’ve got.”

Staments slammed his hand down on the panel. With a crackle of energy and a flash of light Staments, the clear cube and the weird console all gave a weird flippy-spin-and-drop, then vanished. Completely. Taking a spherical bite out of the deck, ceiling and the nearest bulkhead with them.

“Well shit,” Stafford said slowly, “I wasn’t expecting THAT to happen,”

Jall gingerly poked his toe at the neat edge where the deck had been sliced away, “So…is there any chance of figuring out where he went?”

“Or when,” Fifebee added, scanning with her tricorder, “I am detecting a space-time…nope. It is gone. As is Commander Staments.”

“OK,” Stafford sighed, “Notify Starfleet. Let them know our guest has disappeared.”

“That won’t be hard,” Jall grabbed a padd, “There actually IS a template for ‘Propulsion Expert Vanished Without a Trace’. Apparently it happens a lot.”

“Steiger to Stafford,” the comm chirped.

“Yeah, Steve,” Stafford tapped his comm-badge, “What’s up?”

“My disco ball just disappeared. Into thin air. And it wasn’t a transporter beam!”

“Ah,” Fifebee nodded, “Spherical refractory array. Now I understand.”

“Ah guess spinning really was better than not spinning,” Jeffery said thoughtfully.

“Sorry, Steve,” Stafford grimaced. “We’ll get you another one.”

And that’s a wrap! Join next time, for more exciting…hmmm. Hey, Alan? They’re not really exciting. Interesting? Intriguing? Amusing. Yes, join us next time for more amusing…ok, no, Alan says I have to say ‘intriguing’. Joine us next time for more intriguing tales of…

Thank the Great Bird They Weren’t There!